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THURSDAY 13th AUGUST 2O26
NOT VERY GOOD TODAY
Mentally struggling, and my Coccyx is bleeding.
Bit of a curt, catching-up job, Friday AM. Sorry.
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Passed well last night?
Condiment shelf
Morning shots
Taken by the Carer
Afternoon, by Inchie
Carers organised desk
Evening snap
Blue cheese sarnies,
Sliced potatoes, Tiriyani’s,
Some sweet fish sticks,
Topless Pork Pies,
With on-top pickles.
In the morning I got the s_ _ts,
One giant torpedo, concretish!
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FRIDAY 14th AUGUST
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The most frustrating one for years!
Although it started with actual hope in my heart.
I am in low spirits. So another below-grade, humourless blog is in the offing. I’ll do my best. Doom & Gloom!
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0650: I woke and got the night Catheter bag removed; I actually felt a smidge perky. (Hahahaha! I didn’t know what was coming then!)
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I waddled off to the wet room to get a wash, shave, clean the teggies and, as seems to be the pattern lately, a session on the Porcelain Throne first. It took me even longer than yesterday. The thick, broad, single green-looking torpedo edged its way out. But it took a lot of pain and effort on my part to encourage it.
I imagine it must have been a full ten minutes before it fell into the water below. Oddly enough, the Coccyx was bleeding but not the haemorrhoids.
I set about getting the teeth cleaned. A simple task, you’d think? Not for Inchie, oh, no. I dropped the toothbrush, which hit the edge of the sink and dived almost gracefully into the centre of the WC bowl. I recovered it and left it soaking in a basin to sterilise it. I used an old one and carried on. The old brush was a lot harder than the new one. I was spitting out blood all the time while cleaning the teeth. To my surprise, I’d broken more bits of off a few teeth again. The gap in the top row is so much wider; the top of a water bottle stuck itself between the two teggies left at the front of the mouth later in the day. The lower two teeth around that gap was so loose I think I’ll lose one of them in the day. (I didn’t, though, yet) 
I washed, then shaved with only one teeny-weeny cut, 
I washed, dried, and applied Barrier cream to each area in need that I could find. Privates, belly-fold ones at the front, and under my man-breasts. On the last tube now, but I think Carer Mirza has ordered some.
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 I got some potatoes in the crock-pot. The uninterested Carer arrived while I was finishing off and asked me to pass him a protection pad. No offer of any help in getting them on. He put the Barrier cream on but missed the Coccyx; no blood this morning. I had to remind him as he got on his mobile again. I took just one Oxycodone painkiller. Then put the Barrier cream he’d left near the computer and the skin cleanser he’d left where he was sitting, in my 1963-built, falling-to-pieces Hopewell’s E-Plan Sideboard, with the doors falling off. I asked him to order some night Catheter bags on his next visit.
No answer. He didn’t, of course.
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Today the toe-cutting lady is arriving in the afternoon. So I got out the £35, ready to pay her. I sorted a drawer out and made a tentative start on the daily doggerel.
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Thank heavens it was Ejaz who came to do the long call.
Ejaz did a body check and told me the Coccyx was clear of blood. Issued the medication. We spoke of the British Gas problem, and he asked how Jenny was.
He decided to call the bank early on. To transfer money from my savings account into my current account.

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THIS TURNED OUT TO BE A FARCE!
I) First call: The usual AI voice: “We are very busy, please be patient…” with some piffle added and repeated over the ten minutes we waited.
2) Then the inquisition started. I was expecting them to ask how many spots I’ve got on my bum! Ejaz kept cool, and persisted and was eventually put through to someone else. A full-of-himself, smarmy-speaking snotbag answered the call. Ejaz was repeating what the lady had asked earlier. The line went dead!
Ejaz kept his composure and rang back again.
Me? I was all churned up inside, Livid, shaking, and I thought I had a short seizure while Ejaz waited for the call to be answered. The acid taste pulled me out-of-it. I was not in a good place. 
3) Ejaz went through the ID checks again. The poor lad was near the end of his visit time. He persisted. That lady spoke with me and asked if anyone could vouch for me. That got to me deeply, because I hadn’t! 
The lady then transferred the call to someone else.
4) Another long wait to get through; AI messages got to Ejaz a bit. The whole incident had done me in.  
5) The snotty-voiced one came on again. I’m looking forward to seeing him when we go to the bank on Monday. Ejaz was getting worried about the time.
I was handed the phone and asked him why he was refusing to move my own money between my own bank accounts. Security: cannot and will not do it unless you tell me why and call the bank. No appointment needed, just turn up, can’t you? That got me over the edge.  
Why? Because I have to have Carers, and they cost me about £485 a week. So, £1700+ a month. My pensions are well short of that figure. That is why my bank account has suddenly gone from £18,000 to £3,000 since having the Carers… he just repeated his refusal and demand that I call the bank. “Me: Taxis will cost me £60, Carer will cost me a fortune, so I could run out of money for minor things like paying my rent, buying food, paying the dentist, optician, audio, Internet, Virgin, rates, Norton, Grammarly, window cleaners, toenail-cutter, or even the taxis that I’ve been told to use when the Catheter blocks to the hospital, & cost of the Carers rescort duties, and the £760 montly bill the them. But I don’t suppose you could give a toss!”
I got no response, of course.
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During the losing battle against the oligarchic, uncaring TSB Bank, which took so much longer to lose than I expected.
Here was Ejaz and me; me being naked but for the protection nappy and the Catheter Contraption, and in came the toenail cutter gal. So, in the middle of Ejaz being cut off on the phone by the objectionable antisocial and gerontophobic scum at the TSB Bank. Another person gets my banking details. Every Carer has them, the Warden has them, the NNC Social has them. And the repugnant TSB still won’t let me have my own money! ?!&🏴‍☠️#ers!
I could write a book! A biography, and give it the title of ‘Embarrassing Moments’.
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Toenails clipped at last, for only £35, for a five-minute job. Taking this snap of my feet, I noticed that my legs were still so far reduced in swelling that they looked seriously skinny; the left one. Some new blotches were appearing on both legs, and the feet were down enough for me to get the slippers on, with help.
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Late night before I got the day’s meal prepped & on the tray. Stilton cheese, pickled onions, the last of the pickle-topped pies, gherkins and sliced potatoes.
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SATURDAY 8th AUGUST
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An even worse day today, for memory.
Notes virtually unreadable. Made a lot of them as well; I deciphered a few bits. Not a lot, I admit. I’ve got to stop doing this. I cannot understand why this new affliction has come on so quickly, as well. Three days now.
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Porcelain Throne a Constipation Conrad style.
Carer: Oxycodone taken. Arthritis in neck, far worse.
Phorpained shoulder, neck and knees.
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Carer Ahmed: Said he would arrange a takeaway meal for me from the Willow House. Then found they will not enter our flats; we have to fetch food from the lobby door. I thanked him, but gave up on the idea. Ahmed said he could collect it on his way in. Smashing!
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I called Jenny. She offered to get the British Gas non-showing of electricians on four occasions, on Monday, bless her cotton socks.
The next page was total rubbish; I could hardly make of a handful of words. Eyesight is the problem, I think, the Cararact? Don’t know.
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Ahmed returned, and I realised he meant another day. The Willow was closed. Jenny 🧑🏼‍❤️‍🧑 said she could go down to fetch me the meal. So kind. But, of course, it did not come. I had to have a meal of bread, tomatoes and crisps. Just too tired to make anything.
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SUNDAY 9th AUGUST
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Up unwillingly just before six. After an even more regularly jumping-awake-all-night session was enjoyed. When I did eventually give up trying to get any worthwhile sleep, and gingerly, slowly, very slowly, I bent down to take off the oddly well-filled Catheter night pouch, the need for the Porcelain Throne developed.
Making the hobble to the wet room, I had so many bodily pains, I didn’t know which was the worst.So many to choose from this morning; Arthrits in the neck and right shoulder was noticed first. Then, the bruised coccyx as soon as I sat on the loo, knocking my injured left arm wound. Constipation ruled this session. I spent ages urging, pushing and could feel the blood coming from my haemorrhoids. 
When finally getting up from the porcelain, I grabbed then dropped the new toilet roll. I don’t think I need to tell you what it fell in, do I?
I cautiously bent down holding the grab bar, and gave myself one heck of a toe-stubbing! Right on the longest-nailed toe, the big one! I realised that my stomach, just emptied, was swelling up almost visibly! Naturally this pain and cock-uppery was taken with a smile. Ahem!
Then I cleaned up, and limped into the kitchen, to make up a 2-litre spring water bottle to keep the Catheter happy.
The Carer arrived later, taking a photo and commenting on my expanded middriff. The feet and toes were a bother all day. I can’t wear slippers of shoes. I may manage to bear the slippers on, if I get someone to help, and cut a knick in them? Of course I’ve not had the Catheter leak on me for several days, so I might risk cutting them, so I can wear them for the hospital visit on… on, erm… just checked on the calendar, this Wednesday. I’ll get it in the neck for not taking a Carer, but can’t afford to. My shoes are simply too painful to wear; no wonder the toe-stubbs hurt so much. And both legs have gone really thin again? Chicken legs!
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Carer Ahram came while I was working on the first part of this blog. Barrier creamed the belly mould, underarms and Phorpain gelled shoulders, underarms, man-breasts and neck for me. Heeven spees mopped the kitchenette floor. This lad only needs asking once.
He remembers, and is a nice, gentle bloke.
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Ahmed: Surprisingly, on his teatime call, when I asked him to change the Catheter pouch for me, he didn’t do it. But did give my feet a wash and dry, putting on athlete’s foot powder afterwards, and issued the medication, followed by a full safety check of the flat.
The feet are now feeling a little less painful.
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Having very little fresh food left, I’ve made an order on Iceland for Tuesday or Wednesday. I investigated what tinned food I can pick from. (Five out of date found).
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I was so worn out, mentally and possibly physically, that I did not eat the prepared meal. I’ll have it tomorrow, earlier if things work out, before the fading and tiring-out dawns on me, and Arthur Itis and Shaking Shoulder Shirley kick off. These two and Colin Cramps are virtually guaranteed around 20:00hrs.
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MONDAY
BLOOD WORK.
From the Warfarin Nurse.
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Dodgy BP on second mock run.
over 180, did not ring 111. 
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ICC Carers phoned in reply to my request to stop the longer visits, due to their ineffectiveness and financial limitations. I was told that Ejaz would be doing all the long calls this week; the days would be changed. No mention of stopping them? No mention of the times they did not come, and I was still charged. At the time, I was just glad that he would be serving me once again.
The rest of the day was mental mayhem.

I was so far behind with the blogs and medical things, and this made it harder to recall. There were some notes on Monday’s page on the pad, but written so poorly I had to guess at some bits, but could only decipher about 15% of it. It is now Tuesday morning, and I’m only just starting to update this blog. I’ll see what I can get from my notepad. Fingers crossed. Self-Note: I must write larger letters!
Argh! I woke up to find that the new nocturnal bag had leaked all over the carpet! Took ages and a lot of back pain to sort it out. ICC phone call (above).
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Carer Ejaz did the long visit. A great help in sorting things as usual. As I stood up to get paperwork, my dizziness came on, and I fell over into the chair, as the knee gave way. Hitting my coccyx and head at the same time. Struggled around in the chair so as not to fall out-of-it. Ejaz was in full control and was a blessing.
(Oddly, I recall all this bit)
A day of Catheter shortage, and Ejaz called for supplies for me. All the rest of the page? Unreadable.
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Sorry, I made a mess of this.
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TUESDAY
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‘Orribly Oracled Ode
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04:00hrs, I woke up with a very painful coccyx. Much worse than just after I hit it on the armchair on a Whoopsiedangleplop Accifauxpas, yesterday.
I decided, well, very nearly, that I had to get up earlier today. Remembering my last two mornings, which took ages for me to stir and to get up and were filled with many droppings-offs. When I actually tried to get up, the agony from the coccyx bone was so bad, it took such a lot of gentle manoeuvring to ease the pain; it was 06:30hrs!  
But I dropped off! This was followed by at least a dozen more trips back into the land of nod. Once on my plates of meat, the agony had turned to a little bit of discomfort.
For the rest of the day, it remained the same. It only stung me badly when I stood up or sat down. Curious about this, I took off the night Catheter bag and got the computer on to ask Google about the coccyx bone. Fearing another injury that I couldn’t afford trips to the A&E anymore, I gave the details and got this reply. 
“A bruised tailbone causes lower back pain, swelling, and tenderness that typically heals on its own within four to eight weeks. (Good to read) Relief comes from using an ice pack wrapped in a cloth, taking over-the-counter pain medicine like ibuprofen, and sitting on a special ring or wedge cushion.” An ice pack? Would that mean me going shopping for some? I can’t afford a Carer to go with me, so that is out. Ibuprofen. With the arthritis being so bad, I’m already using my max-allowed three times a day in liquid form to control arthritis in the fractured knee & wrist, lower back, neck, and right shoulder and arm.  
But I was pleased it would dissipate later.
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While on the computer, I got emails coming in. One got to me and started self-lambasting and swearing at myself,
Your order will be delivered today at…
The times I do this! People say, well don’t order any then! 
Thanks to a mixture of the TBI, Depression, frustration & premorbid cognitive impairment, maybe helped along by 
Concussion: A mild hit to the head can disrupt brain work and cause short-term confusion or memory loss. Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI): Hard blows or accidents damage brain tissue, making it hard to form new memories. Stroke: Blocked blood flow or a silent stroke harms brain cells and leads to sudden or slow memory decline; I’ve had them all!
Depression and Anxiety:  Emotional stress and low mood make it hard to focus and remember daily details. (Oh, yes!) Vitamin Deficiencies: Low levels of vitamin B12 hurt nerve cells and cause forgetfulness. (I’m on B12 vitamin tablets, but they are not given to me by the Doctor; a Nurse brought some. The carers will not issue them or remind me to take them; I forget. Of course, they must be out of date by now. Sleep Apnea: Bad sleep deprives the brain of oxygen and harms recall. 
I’ve had or got them all! I’m just greedy for agony!
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The sun came out; temperature got up to 29°c, later.
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Off to the Porcelain Throne now;
Core-Blooming-Blimey! Phooey!
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The late sky clouds…
I swear they spoke to me…
Full of awesome beauty,
Fearing mankinds complacency!
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Reading my notes, with difficultly…
Writing too small, you see
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Meal of the day,
Beetroot, Stilton cheese, tomatoes,
smoked mackerel, mini gherkins, 
pickled onions, soft sourdough
bread with no-butter, butter.
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SUNDAY 2nd AUGUST 2026
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Topsy-Tervy Today
Shortened due to time lost with the blood pressure issue. Not a lot… but being the dedicated young rascally lad that I am, I started this blog as soon as it was possible.
Monday morning at 04:00hrs.
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Short but not sweet, I fear.
So many changes, so many new problems. So far behind with everything. So many phone calls; Doctor, INR, and Cardiac blood, British Gas, so many unsolved issues…
Oh, that’s for Monday. Tsk!
I may not be back, Humph!
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Whoops, missed these last night.
BP Check results. When the Carer left, I called 111 to ask advice on these high readings. According to the list the nurse made me, so high should have been a 999 call.
I rang them and told them I’m feeling unwell. She put me through to another department. I answered the questions. And they sent an ambulance to check me out. I feared the very thought of going back into the hospital. I’ll try to cut this short, as it is now 19:30hrs on Monday.
Q&As, many tests, and they gave me a leaflet thingy, telling me not to do BP tests until after the Carer comes, as the ticker and blood tablets are given in the morning. I thanked them, apologised for bothering them, and they were packing up their tackle when one got a phone call.
I was whisked off. Many tests, much sitting around waiting for the results, and I got a lift back home.
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Near teatime, but I’d thoughtfully told the Carers not to call at lunch or teatime, and I’d ring if kept in, back to some out of sync & timing events.
Sorted waste.
Early view
Feet with the longest toenails ever
Bit of fat around the ankles.
Disappeared by morning.
Potatoes, Curlies & Stilton, with a mini pork pie.
TTFN.
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Friday 31st July 2026
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A Little Moan & groan to start… Sorry.
I/ve had a few days of bad depression; I sometimes get to the stage when I lose interest and despise myself for doing so. Take it as it comes. But not this week.
My invented helper, , has not visited for ages. Although maybe I created him to help me cope? This indicated to me that I have lost interest in all my failings, flundering and fearsome unsolvable problems. I can go on as long as there is money to pay my direct debits… Little things like electricity, rent, etc. Then what?
My problems in tackling problems are not something I want. The Dementia is getting worse; no question. I cannot do something one day and can the next. Obviously there is more to the effects. Like remembering what has and hasn’t been done. Many folk in my position have these and other problems to cope with. How come this morning I can write things like this? Yesterday, another example, both bad days for depression?
I loathe myself for dropping, walking into things, forgetting things, but most of all, my inability to get to the bank to sort money out. If I go, it will cost a fortune that I don’t have; my balance is that low. Taxis & Carers to go with me, likely to be £60, based on what I have to pay for taxis to and from the QMC-A&E when the Catheter blocks. (Why they sent me to A&E is unknown.) The nurse told me to get a taxi as it would be quicker than an “ambulance.” And classed as a medical emergency. I arrived at A&E, and it took 4 hours to be seen. During which, the Catheter remained painful and blocked;  Then he could not get the tube back in on two tries, went to another office, and it took that man twice to fit it in. I’m missing chunks out from here on, after seeing the waffle I’ve already put on.
Last time I went, the taxi there cost more than usual, and I did not have enough to get one back. I got no guides or facts given about frequencies of changes. Or how to undo and refit the tube collection array on my leg. The only thing said was: do not let the array fall loose! It fell off the following morning.
I’m due a visit to the Nuthall Hospital in August. But will not be able to take a Carer to answer questions. Hopefully I can get a lift from Easy Link, if their bus does not break down again like last time. 

So, you see here approx’ 15% of my problems. Huh!
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I gorrup at 06:40; (depressed without cause) The first thing I noticed was the night bag on the floor, in the same position it was when I got my head down. I cannot recall being woken up overnight. No acidy tastes in my throat, so no seizures had. Yet I felt so tired and worn out!
There was plenty of urine in the bag as well. I got the BP tackle out and left the night bag on the recliner, and did the BP tests. BP high; BP was 170/70, pulse 68, Temp 35.5, blood 95 high, 78 low. Had it much worse these last three weeks. I think this is why Matron took a photograph of the Excel recording sheet with her.
Ah, Matron, my only hope to get in a home.
Matron said that it is getting harder to find space.
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A most rapid sudden requirement for the toilet arrived. Nothing new about this, this last week. I think it was a fourth first-morning visit on the trot, and I barely got there in time; my excrement suits itself when it wants to evacuate. A Trotsky Terence job again.
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I emptied the night bag and returned to the recliner to record the reading. You’ll notice in the photo above that the urine in it was bright and orangy. Minutes later as urine began to flow… Scarily, it was mostly blood!
That got me worrying. The very thought of going to the damned uncaring QMC A&E deepened my depression and frustration. Not to mention the £30 or so that would be needed to get there and back, for the taxis.
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I started to get things ready, paper towels and glasses put in the three-wheeled walker as I got it from the balcony. Got the trousers and jumper out. Could not get the shoes on, but managed to get a pair of slippers on. I was going to ring DG. Realising the Carer’s due around 0800hrs, and decided to wait for him so he could get my proper outside shoes on for my feet, and help with the trousers. 
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I got a giant potato in the crock-out while waiting, and cleaned up a bit, and did the teggies. When I got back to the room, I noticed the urine was now much lighter and much less bloody. Another flipping mystery! But the joy of not having to go to the A&E briefly visited me. Great!
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0800hrs, the Carer arrived. I did not mention the blood problem for fear he would ring for an ambulance.
Medications: Porphyrin pain in the shoulder and neck.
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I got today’s grusone daily Ode created; I’d sunk back down again in spirits, self-pity had to be avoided.
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Then caught up with finishing yesterday’s post. But throughout the day, my concentration was once again cognitively weak. Easily sidetracked, disoriented, warped at times. None of these was helped with the eyesight getting worse. I’ll be glad to get one of the eyes done; when? No idea, waiting for the summoning appointment to arrive. My mind was the second concern today. 
The Bank situation being the top one.
I’m missing .
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Checked the overcooked potato in the crockpot. I overcooked it a little when I say little… I mean a lot. Tsk!
It’ll have to be eaten mashed.
Or maybe roasted slices?
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I went onto the balcony; the heat hit me when I opened the door to take some cloud and sky shots. No signs of rain amongst them today.
The floor greenery is going yellow and brown out there.
Still look beautiful up in the sky though. 
But the lack of rain and too much heat is destroying the greenery all around. 
The end of the car park, which usually had wet mud slides from the Woodthorpe Park behind us, looked bone-dry. The lawn bit is now 80% destroyed. Sad! I imagine the wildfires may spread to more areas when this cooler spell returns to hot weather.  
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Chicken sausages, boiled, sliced and then baked potatoes; with Teriyaki sauce. Tomatoes and some raw garden peas.
Taste Rating: 7/10.
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Short but Welcome!
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My last photographic adventure,
I thought I’d caught an alien invader.
Come to see Europe’s raging wildfire?
I had a minutes-worth of Ataxia,
Did they bring weapons, armamentaria?
“‘Twas the light bulb’s reflection, “I get dafter!
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Last night’s meal left me with digestion,
How did it taste? A Good question,
My rating was 3.5 out of 10!
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TUESDAY 28th JULY 2025
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06:30hrs: Bounced out of bed, removing the night pouch as I jumped over the wheelchair and did a few minutes of shadow boxing, as I hummed the National Anthem.
A hundred or so press-ups later, then some squats and toe touchings, and I needed the Porcelain Throne…
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Alright, I’ll start again then…
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I begrudgingly woke up with bladder pains of the flowback nature. My immediate thought was: Shit! I’ll have to get a taxi to the QMC A&E now. Naked, I instantly started finding problems before checking first. 
Another £30+ in taxi fares, then a wait of four-and-a-half hours like last time, waiting to be seen. Blood and urine bursting out through the fungal lesions on my sadly shrinking minuscule, battered mini-pinkie… The embarrassment, frustrations, and a mega-depression to cope with…, then realised there was nobody to help me get dressed! I’d have to go with the clothes in the walker-trolley, and a dressing gown on. 
I checked the night bag to find I’d left the smaller day bag on overnight! That was the problem giving me the backflow to the kidneys. I emptied it straight away, and slowly, after emptying & taking an Oxycodone.
I noticed my eyesight was much worse this morning, put oil in the ears, and drops in the eyes.
Then all the other unsettled, unsorted, not solved issues came flooding in. Oligarchal British Gas & Virgin Media. CorelDraw, the bank farce, Neurology, EENT, Nutall Hospital… on and on these worries worried me. 
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Some bother with the Carer this morning. I was in a right bad, gruff mood, and I kept finding things for him to do each time he sat in the recliner to use his mobile. I told him yesterday that we would go down on his longer call to get the keyboard I can see. He went through each of the clapped-out keyboards I had and found one that had packed up yesterday. Got it going, but it is still too much hard work seeing it in such a worse state.
I suggested we go to the computer shop to get a replacement; then he told me the man rang him and said he had no lit-up keyboards in stock. Doubts showed their faces, but I said we would go to the shop tomorrow. Then get some spuds, then call at the opticians to explain that I had a seizure at the pre-op meeting at the EENT, and had to wait six weeks to get another appointment; that was for two weeks later! Then we can catch a bus outside the opticians back to the flat. If I have time, he said.   
I got him to mop the kitchen floor; it needs it nearly every day, with me being barefoot. Got him to clean between the fridge door; it was filthy. He returned to his mobile in my recliner. I asked him to check the dates on some food in a box behind the chair. Five minutes later, he was back sitting on the recliner, mobile recording.
I asked him to clean between the cupboards in the kitchen. But he just watched me do them instead. I did a decent job too. Then realised it was me who did them. I asked him to sort the dates in the fridge, and he said, “I’ve done enough now”!
So, I was busier than before he came on his second hour-long visit. Which meant that when he arrived for the 16:00hr medicine call, I’d barely started this blog!
I used to love doing the blog. I was so weary, foofy-eyed, and frustrated that I let him do his usual: more time spent on his phone than doing anything.
Which tempts me to accept the offer from the lady to be Carer for me, and get rid of the pathetic young Carer I’m stuck with. No problems with Misra, but he calls on me less often, and Carer Ejaz doesn’t call at all now.
I still sense an ulterior or hidden truth about the way I’m being treated. Shame.
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Sister Jane rang me, but I was at my lowest ebb in years at the time. I may have been less than appreciative, forcing a thanks for calling as I put down the phone.
Feeling ashamed and guilty.
The last time my balance was as low as this,
would be around about 1966.
I can’t write anymore.
I’m a gibbering wreck.
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I’m hoping that Carer Mirza comes tonight.
He did not come; another vote in favour of
getting rid of the Carers altogether.
Without the help of Mirza & Ejaz,
it’s just not working. I cannot see it working, and I cannot afford it. I need intervention from a safe source, PLEASE!
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Carer in other room as I prepped the meal.
Mizra would help me when using knives, knowing I drop and lose grip on things later in the evenings.

Dropped the mug Jenny gave me last time I broke one, grabbed at it and clouted my knuckles on the counter edge and missed the mug, which shattered on the floor. Carer appeared and got the mess cleared for me.
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I wondered for a moment if my plea to go into a home is proceeding or has been rejected? No communication re the situation. But with the crisis in Social Care and the NHS, I can understand if it is being refused.
But I can’t go on much longer financially, or emotionally, with the cost of the Carers, and the bank statements not being looked at yet, weeks after they arrived and I informed the relevant people. The Warden and the NCC Procurement. No communication re the situation.
Understandably, methinks, but it still makes one think about an existence amidst billions, and feeling useless, pathetic and abandoned.
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Sourdough breag, bacon, fresh peas,
potato Curlies. I ate the lot!
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