Dizzy spells

Inchie: Tue 31 Mar 2026: Problems increase – Solutions decrease. Humph!

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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I did not get around to starting this blog until Wednesday night. You will read why, if you are brave enough to read the reasons listed below. Haha!
If I ever get Wednesdays finished, you will read of me knuckling with Carer Mizra in celebration. No kidding… one of the many outstanding worries has been removed. I’ll not let on yet as to the reason, for my rare moment of joy, laughter and glee. Hehehe! For I have a lot of the miseries of Tuesday to record yet. The frustrations & failures… usual sort of day then.
Oh, did I mention that I lost my reading glasses? Not that it matters to Left Eye Gladys-Glaucoma, or right eye Cataract-Katie. Tsk!
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I woke up. I know that, ’cause when I got out of bed, I stubbed my toe on the walker. Removed the night bag and headed to the Porcelain Throne. For the first of many visits today. This one was a failure. I went to Hoover, the hallway, and the front room, but couldn’t find the charger. Ejaz or Mizra are my compensation for having bad eyesight. One of them will find it, I’m sure. Carer Dilon arrived. I told him of the difficulty I’ve got seeing without the eyeglasses. Med’s given. The Nurse noticed the Catheter bag was nearly full and asked if the Carer had checked it this morning. I said he was just about to. He produced the wee-wee jug and emptied it. I sprayed the disinfectant on his gloves, the Catheter nozzle and in the jug. After a quick but fruitless search for the glasses again, she said, “You’ll find them when you’re not looking for them. Let me know where they were!” A lovely smile offered, and off she trotted. Followed by Carer Dillon. I undertook another hunt for my Hoover’s charging plug. I searched all odd places that I was sure would prove a failure. Where oh where could it possibly be? A good question, but no success followed my best efforts, and looking in even odder places, fruitlessly.
The right shoulder, my back and Fractured-Knee-Frank all seemed a little less painful. I soon appreciated that this was down to the Oxycodone+.

I looked them up on Google. This is what it revealed.
Oxycodone+ is an opioid medicine used to relieve severe, debilitating pain.
It is not usually recommended for the treatment of chronic (long-term) pain.
Oxycodone+ is only available with a prescription from your Doctor.
If you stop taking Oxycodone+ suddenly, you may experience withdrawal symptoms.
There are challenges associated with taking any opioid medicines, so make sure you take these medicines exactly as prescribed by your Doctor.
If you are concerned that you are becoming addicted to or dependent on Oxycodone+,  let your Doctor know so that you can get help. You can also call the National Alcohol and Other Drug Hotline (1800 250 015) for 24/7 support and treatment information.
Continue to take Oxycodone+ for as long as your Doctor tells you to. If you stop taking any brand of Oxycodone suddenly, you may experience withdrawal symptoms.
Oxycodone+ 30 mg is a high-dose, potent opioid with significant side effects. Common reactions include severe constipation, nausea, vomiting, profound drowsiness, and dizziness (I’ve had these two for years now). also headache. Serious risks include fatal respiratory depression (slowed breathing), addiction, severe low blood pressure, (Mine has gone higher?)
The higher the dose of Oxycodone+, the greater the chance that you will get side effects.
Do not take any other medicines to treat the side effects of Oxycodone+ without speaking to a pharmacist or Doctor first.
Serious side effects: Sleeping disorders, vertigo, Confusion, and muscle stiffness.
Genital itchiness or rash.
Oh, I’m glad I looked it up. Hehehe!
But it is working a treat so far.
Carer Ejaz and Mizra have both identified that my balance is much worse than usual. Both of the lads are urging me to use both sticks or the walking frame.
Bless them both. Best if I do not mention the other.

ANOTHER DISASTER!
The computer started showing a graph of needed repairs. Usually, I leave this until activities are showing, save work done, turn everything off, give it a good few minutes, and restart. Not over-technical, is it? Hehe!
The Blue-Screen-of-Death filled the monitor! I resigned myself to this. I’d was just sort of expecting it for a year or more.
I could not get anything to work at all, adding to all the work I’d lost. Then, having a mini-seizure with a series of shakes after coming out-of-it, I should have been heartbroken and suicidal… really, I ought. But, no!
Disappointed and frustrated, yes.
But a strange acceptance of the situation, almost comfortable with it. So many things are going wrong again. I cannot spend any money or get any. Little things like rent, Grammarly, WordPress, and Asda are cancelling my order. No chance of getting Asif to look at the computer when no cash is available to pay him.
I knew I was going to be in trouble even further. But knew of the mass of medication on the desk to my right was available. At that time, it was not angst or fear affecting me; it was just the only way to go. No fear about it. Then I remembered what Jenny said last time I spoke with her on the phone. She really is My Angel.
I pulled myself mentally together, as far as I could anyway, and tried to start the computer again. No chance. But I kept trying… several attempts, turning it on and off again… Google opened! But I could not get into any of the programmes or apps. Give up? No, I tried yet again. This time, when I clicked the Google icon, it appeared for a second and then disappeared three times. I turned it off and, one last time, readied myself for the end of my computer, RIP. 
Astonishingly, everything Google loaded all the apps and icons as usual, albeit they were minuscule, and could not be made bigger. Then a box appeared and disappeared within seconds. I’m sure it read something like ‘Google (something) has been updated’
Well, bugger my lugs! All was working again, although a little slower than before.

Mizra made a call; he and Ejaz are nice lads. He gave me the painkillers, then rang the bank to try and get to the bottom of why the card was frozen. Then we got an email telling us it was unfrozen and now active. Because Mizra checked on a couple, Grammarly and Norton, and both were still unable to access their dues. Of course, the usual AI waffle to get through, 0355 number, so that will have cost me about £2 a minute, plus a connection charge. Mobiles can cost up to £6 a minute! When the robot had eventually finished saying ‘I’m sorry I did not catch that (8 times), and went through a lot of passwords, favourite this or that… Mizra got to talk to a humanoid! When I needed to give permission for Mizra to speak on my behalf, I had a witty, sarcastic quip ready, but chickened out. I thought Mizra had explained things clearly, but the humanoid kept asking for confirmation of the answers given. I heard him say, “Ah, I can see what happened… then he asked Mirza to wait a while… It seemed like an hour, but it was obviously not. He came back and said the card has now been cleared. Mizra & I agreed that, with Dilan being told the same yesterday and it still being blocked, we’d wait until tomorrow to check. A wise decision, considering the bank’s failings before. 
I relaxed a little; nothing to do but wait now. Mizra will check again tomorrow evening.

I called Angel Jenny, hoping to ask her to get in touch with Asif to give him the go-ahead on the new computer… realising, as I dialled, that, with the lack of money and just a £10 note, this would not be a good idea. We nattered, somehow that gal settles me when I’m all uptight, it’s a gift, a gift from an Angel.💟 

I made a start on Monday’s blog at long last, and was making decent time with it…
ANOTHER DISASTER!
Typing away, and when I pressed for a Cap G, lines and lines of Craig ccc CraigCccccCraig filled the entire page! Well, that was the end of a short life for the fifth time, of an Amazon cheapo plug-on Keyboard. I turned the computer off again and back on, tried typing G in MS Word, CorelDraw and Google, all filled up with lines and lines of Craig ccc Craig cccCraig. 
I had a look at the first abandoned Amazon cheapo keyboards. All with the keys printed incorrectly, except for the first black-and-grey one, whose key numbers were so small that I found it difficult and time-consuming to use. By now, I had to try it again to see if it worked, and it did. With my eyes getting worse than ever, it’s so hard to use. At times. near impossible!

The Carer’s times are now varying a lot. I had asked for a list of their ETAs as a guide. All these changes are getting me out of sync and confused.

Ejaz came this time, nice to see him again. I’ve got this on my reminder pad: 152 – 233 13. I wonder why?

Carer Nizra did the last call. Helped me cook a meal. The computer had long been abandoned.
Medications, and left me eating in the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping recliner.

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Afternoon Shots I missed, Tsk!
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🤎 Can’t finish. Eyes are too bad. Cheers each.🤎

Inchie 17th to 29th March 2026: 11 more days in hospital. Mega Depressed!

/ Inchie / 17 Comments

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Today’s ailments in charge, and I believe enjoying giving me pain, the most uncomfortable are: Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley in 2nd-second place, well below my so-painful newly developed one. Going by the name of, currently anyway, Cracked-Rib-Craig. Later in the day, Crack Rib Craig’s pains tripled. Carer Ejaz called ICC & was advised to call 111. Which he did. As a result, an ambulance is on the way. These were the 11 days in 2 hospitals and 5 different wards: utter frustration.
Ejaz could only stay until the paramedics arrived; he had to shoot off when they arrived. I asked him to contact Paul with the details via email, and showed him where the link was in the Excel Contact listing to pass along for me. That was a comfort, stops folks from fretting at my absence. I suppose. 
The ambulance men were also in a rush, and asked me to leave my big coat and not to take any sticks with me as they would only get nicked. I was in no state to argue, but paid the price when I realised I’d left my camera, mobile, card and cash in the greatcoat. Naturally, in all that time, with no pen, pad or contact, the only person who tried to contact me, not surprisingly, was Jenny, My Angel.

We got to the QMC, and I joined an estimated 34 trolleys in the A&E corridors. Someone came shortly to diagnose me, and I was wheeled ahead of the corridors on a trollied patient’s stretcher straight to the cardiac PET team in a side room. I only managed to catch a few readings, but a smidgen concerned, at my blood sugar showing 4.5. After some of the sickly sweet bottles were forced down me, and off the scan, then the X-ray rooms. Then I was moved into a Geriatric Neurology Ward. In the evening, after scrounging a pen and a paper towel, the readings I noted were 169-68, 8. Blood oxygen 92 71. Apart from the blood sugar at 2.6 now, I thought I’d be okay and on my way home soon. 

The chest pains got worse, though. The deep breaths they asked me to take on the second visit from the cat team were the most painful to date. 
Overnight, many regular checks were taken, but… the blood sugar did not increase despite the clumps of sweet water it was, and sugary drinks were taken.
The next day, they moved me to the Geriatrics, Blue ward. I had visits from the neurology, Cardiac, and Warfarin-INR checks, which I was sure would be okay, because they have been for weeks now, not NO! The INR returned as 1.2; my target was 3 to 3.5. This prompted them to start giving me Enoxaparin injection in my tummy. The nurse who gave the first one to me left a large blood spot and asked if they are usually this big. I explained that the Enoxaparin was injected in a downward direction and the full length of the needle was not fully in before she injected it. She looked agaog. I did them myself after that one. Here is a snap I took when I finally got home. I’ll explain why later. I got home many days later to take this snap just before midnight, of the original injection. It’s been weeks since I self-injected, but I can remember how they told me to do it. A smug mode sneaked in amongst the frustrations. Haha!
Then, the 24-bed Geriatric Assessment Unit (GAU) was launched in July 2024. (4×6 Beds wards What a nightmare. Little knowing what was to come later. I reassess it as not a very good experience. Hehehe!
But this was my most confusing period. After the 2nd day in there, things were beginning to feel easier, and the blood sugar level was up to 4.8. Don’t laugh, but I cannot recall which department the next Doctor was from. He pointed out the bruises from the blood tests, which two days earlier were bright, were now fading very fast; my pallor was ghostly, and I needed some specialist investigations. Also, that morning, my BP was 187/63, temperature was down to 25.0, and Blood Sugar was back down to 2.6. I think she was a diabetologist. Anyway, I was stuffed with orange juice, more rock-solid lumps of cake, and sickly-sweet boosters. The next day, I was transferred to the City Hospital. By then, Toothache Tiffany had started to kick off, and my urine colour was a 7 for the next three days. Each time I went to the loo, which averaged five or six visits a day, a frame supplied to get there, there was blood on the gown from my external haemorrhoids, every time. Then, whatever it was called up the bum to get samples, photos and cream applied. The outside ones were the more painful. I suppose,  due to all the lying on my backside for so long. The INR slowly rose a smidgen, showing the benefit of the prefilled 9-foot-long hypodermic syringe, inserted in the belly, times a day. Obviously, that was a joke; it wasn’t that long or anywhere near it, just felt like it. I believe, for some unknown reason, I cheered up a little that day and wandered into another of the mini wards, Yellow. And started a chinwag with two of the people in there. I called on the last two days as well.   
Then the night shift ignored every call for help from men needing to use the toilet, empty their catheters, or drink. I found out why: from my bed, I could see the outer door and some of the staff coming in with coats over their uniforms, carrying takeaways. As soon as they’d noshed it, a nurse returned to the bay. He reminded me of Sonny Liston, but didn’t speak as much. This was another bad night because, apparently, as Dave from Yellow Ward told me, the TVs were being repaired, and it was terrible listening to them with the hearing aids in, so I took them out. But forgot to open the battery compartment. They ran flat. Plucking up the courage the next day to ask if they had any, a nurse who had not responded to my attempted forms of wit before, yes, yes, I’ll get you some, and returned minutes later with a pack of eight, for free! The tinny cracking coming from the night watch lady’s desk and the chap in the next bed’s TV. The atmosphere improved when I had a visit from the Cardiac and Warfarin folk, who told me that if all goes well with the next set of checks, they would be able to sign me off! I hoped for the best, and my parole would come through in the morning.
The diabetic tests, well, all four were much improved, and he said he’s signing me out later that day. Oh, the Joy! Getting back to see my Jenny Angel before she goes on her trip to see her Chesterfield relatives with Frank. Great! How hoopefull and stupid I was to think it would happen!
The Neurologist then gave me the all-clear. Bags of new medications to sort out. New painkillers, back on the Morphine again, but by gum, they do work. Others that they may have told me what they were for or not, but you know me. The only certainty is certainly a matter of credence, rather than factuality sometimes. My rare doubtlessness is misunderstood credibility. I think?
Some, well, masses of paperwork to get help with. I won’t bother Jenny or Frank until they get back from their break. That was the plan… Dang dang, fang Dang!
I was due to be parolled at 1030hrs the following day.
I nipped into Yellow Ward to tell the lads, and got back into bed, ready for my vegetable balls in gravy, onions & courgette medley meal.
Dare I say it, I was feeling chirpy! Yee-Ha! But as I was enjoying my meal, a nurse informed me that the Neurologist had not passed for parole! Sob! I may have got the department out of sync here? His results would be known in the morning. If they are good enough, he will sign me off. We felt they would be, and encouragingly, they told me I’d be leaving in the morning, lift arranged for 1330hrs.
Very early in the mornings, a nurse was getting my carrier bag and keys out of the locker, and I just knew it was good news. And, it was! All cleared! But again, a new course of medication to be sorted, and three bags of medications to add to take home with me. So many things to take in at once.
I enjoyed the online. shower of the hospital visits, as I did the earlier one shave they let me have.

Saturday: Full of joy and hope, after the shower, they bunged my things into carriers, cleaned my bed for the next victim, then moved me into the Departure lounge, to await the promised lift home in plenty of time for the 01330hr lift. And, only two escapees to go, me and an old Scottish chap. At 1500hrs, a lady rang to see where the lift was. It’ll be here shortly. 
1600hrs: She rang again. It will be here at 1700hrs.
The poor Scottish man decided to take a taxi, which was not an option for me due to Chloe & Carol’s cartilage in my knees. I did mention that DG supply a larger type of taxi that Jenny Angel uses. But I could not remember the name of it. And she called again. It will be here by 2000hrs.
Not surprisingly, my confidence was low, very low. The room I was left in was so cold. Medical staff kept walking through it in a back room, the smell of poo permeating into the room as they left again. 
There seems to be another call to them, that the City Hospital did not want to give me a lift, cause it was the QMC’s job? So sayeth the computer lady.
All I had on was a hospital gown, and it had not been washed for 12 days. I started sneezing. That brought back the rib pains as I waited. I found a crossword book, but without the reading glasses, I could not even have a go at that. Then, I wonder what I will find when, or if ever, I get back to the flat.
I think it was nearly ten o’clock when the ambulance arrived. The tension was sensed immediately in the two ambulance personnel, stand-offish at first, I thought, but how I felt after an 11-hour wait, mixed with the worries of what I would find. In the ambulance, I used my humour to force them to communicate. By the time we got back to the flat, they asked if I could manage with the walker and bags to get up there. Ahem! As we got into the lift I let my fears pour our and told them that British gas sai9d the metere will stop working unless I supply them with a read,  and it me £26 for the tow failed calls to them to explain we do not know how to read the meter, finally the human we got to0 talk to, spent an hour telling Carer Ejaz how to read the meter, but the coloured buttons where no on the box. He emailed them photos, but eventually she asked me if I wanted an engineer to come and look at it. I replied Yes, please, that would be marvellous! 
No one came, now threats of turning off the power!
They mellowed when we got in the flat, and they saw the great stack of mail delivered while I was in the hospital, 9 letters that need reading and reacting to. The Bank, City Council, and two medical ones were amongst them that I recognised. Then I opened the carriers. As you see, loads of new and old medications.
Paperwork that I cannot read must be baffling to anyone without cataracts. How can I rely on someone to know enough to be confident to sort them for me? I’ve already got boxes, some opened, some not, of Catheter Caroles Contraption, medication all over and under the Carers table, and the prescription medical stuff has spread into another drawer. Recognising the new will be risky with the Morphine and antibiotics. Which am I to keep taking, which am I to stop taking, if any? This could be a dangerous situation. And the poor Carer has to
He keeps to his timetable and does not even get time with the extra time to catch up on anything.
A Social lady said that Age UK can provide help with shopping. That would be grand, but they said that last time I was in the hospital. I’ve heard nothing. I’m all het-up now again. It got worse. I had to throw away all the fresh food in the fridge that was out of date, except the cheese. I lost the plot there, back to couriers at home. They asked me to press the alarm alert, and I did. They told the operator who I was and of my returning home. Then, something I’d been looking forward to so much, a good, strong mug of Glengettie. I got the kettle on and noticed that the slow cooker had been left on for 11 days, with cracks appearing, and it was bone dry.
As if all this was not enough for suicide, the Bank had blocked my account. Great, if anyone does come to help with the shopping now, I can’t afford any. Who can I get to go to the Bank with me, after helping me find the problem and if one, a solution?
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To think, yesterday all I was looking forward to was getting home to see Jenny & Ejaz. I think my mistake was asking the nurses to update my situation. I think this morning at around 0800hrs is the next call.
So, nobody had checked on the flat! ,

I got this update done up to here. It’s now 0620hrs, Sunday morning, and I’m in a worse state than ever.
Which indicates that Ejaz didn’t call once to let Paul know the situation, or do a safety check.

Mind you, he was in a rush when he’d called the ambulance. My fault.

I’m not sure I’ll be able to do a blog for a while, so much to get sorted, and I just don’t know if I’m going to react, medically, over the situation.
I can see things still not getting done, Oh, dearie me.
Now I may lose Grammarly and the internet connection, not to mention the landline and mobile.
British Gas is still telling me the meter is being shut down? Not my fault. Carers have tried their best to help, but the amount of money it costs when they put them onto AIs without the required “why are you ringing” list? Cut you off three times, and you have to pay the connection fee and ridiculous per-minute charges, not to mention the Bank wants to see me.
That’s another thing, who can I get to go with me to the bank meeting? Last time I had to take a Carer with me… the problems are too much.
Thanks for reading this pathetic winning crap.
Away for 11 days… what do I come back to… I’m so sorry. No point in moaning, I know. But I’m getting deeper into a maelstrom of uncontrolled situations. None of my fault, I believe. This makes things worse; I still need of so much help that is not coming.

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I’m turning into a blubbering, worry-wracked
nervous, incompetent, incapable waster.
Just mentioning the obvious.
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Something’s gotta give…
CHEERS
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Yours, Inchie The Defeated.
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Inchie Today: Thursday 19th March 2026

/ Inchie / 11 Comments

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06:15hrs: The rib injury was bad to start with. Large intakes of breath, coughing, laughing, all hurt. Pouch taken off. I took a snap of the morning kitchen view.
Any of the following may be out of sync, for vagarity and confusion spread their wings. Until , when the electrical and technological problems all arrived one after the other. I panicked and rang Jenny, my Angel, to ask her to please call the computer man in the morning. As per usual, her logic and understanding were perfect. She read the stress in my voice. Calmly telling me to turn everything off until morning and try again. Which I did, and it came back on. Albeit with different, too small icons that I struggle to see. At least now I can cross my fingers (well, I can’t actually, but I can figuratively) and see how it goes.
Thanks to Jenny. 🤎

Whatever is under my man breast that appeared yesterday, the top picture taken by my Carer Ejaz, this morning, showed a great improvement, and the bleeding had stopped altogether. I can’t say the same for the rib cracking. This remains a blinding, blooming nuisance. I can’t see any bruising at all. But when it happened, I was bending to retrieve a dropped remote, and felt pain and heard a sort of grinding noise. I think it must have been a rib causing the problem. It is the same today (Fri), the slightest bend, stretch, even when I press down on the walking stick it hurts. Yet not moving, sitting down, unless I stretch my arm out or up, there is no bother? Which is excellent, because I’ve got a Little Inchies fungal lesion going through agony as well, from the refitted Catheter tube.  
No more moans, I promise: well, I’ll try. Haha!

Belatedly made a start on Wednesday’s blog. Talk about a backlog, I’ve got an ever-increasing backlog of backblog blogs to do. 😄

Carer Rashid changed the leathery, crocodile-like legs. Well, more ankles now. Foamed them and rubbed in ointment in the cracks.

The sun broke through as it rose behind the prison, offering me a photo opportunity. Oh, prison? I meant to write block of flats. Or did I?

Ejaz was pleased with how the hand injury was now healing and was now awaiting the scab to fall off.
He offered to pick it off for me, jokingly, of course.

Then the computer froze!
First, as I was in CorelDraw, which often does this to me. I knew it would not let me save the work I’d done. Depressing, more time lost! I could not close the programme either. Cursing and praying it would come back on, I turned off the power. 
Gave it ten minutes or so, and rebooted.

Opened CorelDraw… message told me this file is not saveable – you can work on it, but not save your work – something like that. So, I closed it again.

Then I turned off the computer properly and restarted Windows. What a mess. All the widows’ desktop icons were so minuscule that it was impossible to identify which was which. All off again.

All on Again. The icons were even smaller this time. I upended CorelDraw, this time it opened the last edited without any warning messages… Ahahaha! Great.
An hour later, all the things became unresponsive, bar the mousse, but clicking on anything on the CorelDraw page produced various different, some never been seen before options, but never the binding box.
I decided that I’d close CorelDraw down, and ring Angel Jenny to ask her to call Asif, the computer man, for me, as this problem, or I should add solution, was well out of my reach. I opened Google to search for advice…
ARRGH!
I could not input any text in the search bar at all!
Clicking to open programme icons, nothing!

I turned everything off again and walked away.
I was distraught to say the least. Angry, Frustrated, Sorry-for-myself… pathetic really.
Depression grew even stronger now. I felt so low, and yet I took two photographs as I wandered hobblingly around the cell… no… the flat.
My mind went from raging to almost crying, and a loathsome self-hatred joined in. I felt what I was, I’m afraid, so sad!

Later, after a good while of musing and confusing myself, I returned to the computer. I knew it was not going to work, yet still I gave it a go. Huh!
This time, the desktop icons were all over the place, and still too tiny to identify. I tried Google, Notepad, Corel ’rotten’ Draw, and MS Word. And the screens started to shudder a little. But this could have been due to Galucoma Glady’s, Cataract Katie, or my being in such an uptight condition, my Neurotransmitters. Turned everything off yet again and left it. 

I called Jenny 🤎 to ask her to please contact Asif for me. The connection was not good; I struggled with the fast speech and an echo on the line.
I think Jen advised me to turn everything off, which I had been doing for the last three hours, Hahaha! Jenny said she leaves hers off overnight, and it can come back on in the morning. I felt so tense, so I decided to do that and try it in the morning.

To keep my mind off of the computer, I got the meal prepped. Ejaz called and served it up. But it feels all wrong eating with someone sitting there on their mobile phone, making a report. Nothing wrong with it, but for years I’ve lived and eaten on my own, and the habit of eating while watching a TV programme is part of my way of preparing for sleep, I suppose. Also, I forgot to take a photo of the nosh.

After finishing the meal, after Ejaz left, saying he would lock the door for me, bless him, I went to wash the pots, and just had to take these snaps of the latter part of the sunset.
A warmth emanated from the view, with maybe perhaps including a hint of a threat? 

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Can it get any worse?
Have I been given a curse?
Why am I penning this verse?
Cause my problems are diverse?
BrainStorm, thinking in Morse?.
Who can help with my annoyances?
Starmer, Einstein or Zeus?
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TTFN
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Inchie: Wednesday 18th March 2026

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It will save me a lot of time in my efforts to catch up if I mention things that took place here and include the few photos taken afterwards, with a little detail where I can remember anything. Which is not a lot.
Up at 06:30hrs. Pouch taken off – Ocado order arrived.
Carer Rashid. Feet done, meds. According to my notes, the next item was… bintop usl nurse, bnge log?
Blog, Carer Mizra called to tell me the extra hours start this week. Offered to make a meal, but I thanked him, not feeling hungry at all. Mizra did a mail-check. One, I think, is needed by Deana or NCC’s Assessment. I must find out from Deana, I must. An NCC form to be filled in online. Mizra said we’d do it later, together.
He also said we would go shopping together in Sherwood sometime. Mizra took the laundry down, and Jenny, my Angel, bless her, will sort it from there. Frank is bringing it back up for me. Mizra changed the day Catheter, from a butterfly to the last T-tap one. Ordered some more via the District Nurses. Bless him.
Nurse two. Window cleaners arrived. £12 for cleaning the balcony pod. Nice lads.
CorelDraw problems, that cost me 2 hours to get right… Well, I say right, it went again in the evening, and I had to leave it and cross fingers I could remember what I did last, it froze… Getting myself confused here.
Frank returned the laundry for me, all Jeny-folded and properly dried. Thank you, Jenny, my Angel.
Another bit of guesswork or translation is needed on the next line of the notepad; Best my evening -time eyes could make out, of what I’d written: Bert (likely best?), robs mosd fod gle?/t, hop. I spent a while trying to work out what I meant, and gave up.
The next lines were as plain as brass! Written with a pressed-on pen and in much larger writing.
“ARRGH!” I bent forward to pick up the TV remote to watch ‘Heartbeat’ on the box. Pulling it out of the chair sleeve, visited and I dropped it back into the sleeve. I quickly bent further in an effort to grab it again, and I felt and heard a short crunching sound from the left ribcage. That was without my hearing aids in. Oh, by gum, it did hurt! It still does, 16 hours later! I gave up on the computer; even moving my left arm to type was too painful. I’m naming it “Rib Cracking Ruby”. I’m praying it will have eased in the morning. (it didn’t!) Ejaz later took a shot of it.
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Morning view.

What a load of laundry to get done.
Thanks to Jenny & Frank, all got done.


The last food delivery was delivered to me.
I hope, at least. To be going out to the shops, or am I hoping for too much here?

Scars from whatever happened as I bent down to get the TV remote. Confused? So was I when I first looked at this photo. The blue bits on top are Carer Ejaz’s gloves. He was holding up my left man-breast to get at the ribs for a photograph. I assume it is internal bleeding caused by the rib cracking.
I get pain whenever I move, to varying degrees from “Rib Cracking Ruby”, when I put pressure on either walking stick, she stings as well. When I lift, stretch or bend even in the slightest bit, I’ve got new ailment,  “Rib Cracking Ruby”, old ailments “Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley” and “Back-Pain-Brenda” giving me stick.
As I was typing this, “Anne Gyna” kicked off!
Unease expands and thrives uncontrollably as I struggle with whether to call 111.
After my last two experiences at A&E, the last thing I want to do is go there. It will involve me washing and shaving, getting dressed, and catching a bus and then a tram to get there. Last visit, it was stored for 18 hours in a corridor before I got to see a Doctor. So, you can see my concerns and doubts. Then, after 23 hours in the hospital, I got sent home at 01:30 hours, with no money for a taxi, no buses.
I  think it’s best to give it a day or two to see if things improve. Fingers crossed. Well, I would cross them but for “Colin Cramps” & “Arthur Itis”.

Still, on the bright side… erm… er… like, well, 
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🌻 Thanks for viewing 🌻
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Inchie: Tue 17 March 2026. Bloodied (3) & Wee’d on (2).

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Such a busy, calamity-ridden day today.
I have just got around to creating this blog, and it is Wednesday, 18 March 12:30hrs. And has started as an even busier day. Confusion reigns. Hopes destroyed, Brainbox baffled. A smidge fed-up.
BUT, I MUST CONCENTRATE ON TODAY’S BLOG
Try to avoid chronological and fact mix-ups. Shortage of time means cutbacks on detail again.
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05:00hrs: I leapt out of the bed, yodelling as I removed the Catheter night bag. Then the innards demanded that I attend the
ASAP. So, I did. The flow began, the flow continued, on and on and on… During the longest ever flow of semi-liquid I’ve ever had, I remembered I had a food delivery arriving. I thought I’d mention this to anyone who knows me and my conditions, so I can brag, for once. 👍🏼 Hehe!

Into the kitchen to take some snaps of the view on offer.
Not very good efforts, but I did my best. Then washed the pots, left in the sink from last night’s evening meal. Then back to the
. Where was it all coming from? Got my ablutions done while in the wet room. Cleaned the teggies first, then had a wet shave (3 cuts, little nicks really).
Cleaned and medicated or Little Inchies bleeding fingal lesion. Lost a good bit of blood this time.   
A third visit, this time, Trotsky Terence was overcome by Constipation Colin. A complete reversal. So much so, the next thing was Harold-Haemorrhoids bleeding! But today’s habit of bleeding had only just started.

The memory notes are getting harder to decipher now; from here on, they mysteriously grow smaller. Some of them were unreadable. I made no guesses. I just skipped them.

As I was making a brew of Co-op 99 tea, guess what I needed again? The ! Yet another turnaround, back to Trotsky Terence mode! And a lot of it. I am beginning to worry about these changes so regularly, and on the same day. The blood had gone onto the Kaghoule, and I had to change it. Putting it in the already full laundry bag.

08:10hrs. The Carer arrived. Checked the ankles and, as he changed the Catheter to make it less painful, noted blood on the PPs from Harold’s Haemorrhoids. And the new scar on the Catheter leg. He creamed it and photographed it.
Just to prove that I am a bit of a high-quality, dimwitted twit, I lost my reading glasses. I did a thorough search, but it proved unsuccessful. Which is me all over.

Carer Mizra called to tell me the extra hours start this week. Offered to make a meal, but I thanked him, not feeling hungry at all. I explained the problems with the butterfly catheters. He said he would sort it later on in the week. 

The blood sample taker arrived, and while she was here, Carer Rashid arrived. A smidgeon of confusion between the three of us cost me dearly.
She did not press and hold the cotton wool on long enough, and a few minutes later, I felt the warm liquid, formerly known as blood, as it trickled down my arm on the inside and spread over the new dressing gown. By the time I’d got it off, unaided, I may add, blood was all over my arm, leg and right foot. Mostly, though, on the new dressing gown. This is the third dressing gown today, and the second kaghoule that I’ve had to take off and put into the laundry bag! Lucky? Me? No, more Accifaupas to come yet, the day is not done…

Carer Ejaz sneaked this photo of yours truly, the luckiest man alive. I was battling with the computer to get it to respond to my requests. So, I took one back of him as he was making his report of this visitation. A handsome young brute of a lad. Looks like a male model to me. Jealous? Me? Well, maybe just a little tiny, weeny bit. Haha!

I took this snap from the kitchenette window, of the slowly darkening skies. Then had to hastily shoot off, yet again, to the . And would you believe it, was back in charge of the evacuation process? With a well-watery squirting out session that pebble-dashed the porcelain, and bounced back on my bottom! I don’t suppose you needed to hear that. Sorry. Took me an aeon to get cleaned up again.

I went to make a rare-today mug of Glengettie, as my eyes grew tireder and blurrier as the evening dawned, followed by, and I finally got on WordPress.

I found the unreadable notes and gave up until tomorrow, with the idea of writing a blog. However, I did make a start on the Ode, using MS Word. After an hour or so, I realised that I had a wet right leg. I investigated the Catheter, but all seemed okay. Puzzled, I put it down to sweat and carried on. 
After a while, my groin felt wet, so I investigated again.
ARGGH!
It was the new Catheter the nurse fitted, with the top connector near the groin, that came off this time! By now, I realised the slipper sock and foot were soaked. Lucky? Me?
ARGGH!

TTFN

Inchie Today: Monday 16th March 2026

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0630hrs: I removed the nocturnal Catheter pouch and bounded out of my bed… Well, to be more accurate, painfully slowly got my legs on the floor and did my balance exercises. This indicated care was needed in standing and hobbling about this morning. To err on the safe side, I sat down on the bed and gave it about 10 minutes before trying again. Much better.
I picked up the night bag and changed plans as the innards indicated an urgent need, which was virtually on the way, to use the services of the Porcelain Throne.
I made it in time, but only just. As I bent to connect my bottom to the plastic lid, the orange-coloured torrent began flowing. Messy again. I used that much toilet roll, the bum was sore as Hell by the time I’d cleaned things up. And the Anusol ointment tube was almost empty after use. A quick wash, teggies, olive-oiled the earholes, and hobbled off to make a brew of Glengettie tea.
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Took a shot from the kitchenette window. I dropped the milk getting it out of the fridge, a carton, so at least I didn’t have glass to clean up again. Splashes of its spurting milk, I reckon, were found on every wall, counter, and cabinet. Not to mention my dressing gown, legs, slippers and the floor. I now have a rather full laundry bag, after changing clothes and cleaning up. Noticing that I’d missed some milk between the cooker and the cabinet, I got a paper towel in and bent down a little to reach the stray milk…  I hit my lip on the corner of the cabinet top. Thus, started, and a cut lip. 

So, nothing unusual was happening here, yet. 

I took a snap of the end of the car park from the balcony. However, I feel I’d taken this earlier and already posted it? Hum?

A new Carer, Rashid, arrived. Helped with foot medicating and cleaning. Offered to make breakfast and a cuppa, but I’d had a cuppa and would not eat breakfast. Though I may have some bikkie dunking in Glengettie or Co-op 99 tea sessions.
I tried to get Rashid to call the Falls Team for me, but it toook a while. I thanked them for coming and agreed to their chosen day and time. Asked him to arrange for some more Anusol.

Two Nurses came in. They were going to remove the old and put in a new Catheter contraption for me.
See silly Ode. We had a laugh and a natter as they did it. It didn’t take them long this time. They walloped me on the bed and set about me. (Nice!) They got the tube back on the first try. Nice ladies.

A very interesting few lines on the memory pad here. As best I can read or guess my own handwriting & version of shorthand. Email frugle dank jen away. Purt cal on LL. Cado ord made. Must ring HRP. Nost. 1620 Ejaz bak, in trup cold happy.

Ejaz arrived as I was taking these two snaps of the late-day skies from the kitchen windows. Medications issued, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley and Back-Pain-Breanda were both  Phorpain-gelled. Before leaving, Ejaz helped me get the nosh prepared, and as he went, the lad reminded me not to leave the stove on or the tap running. 
The chips were slightly undercooked, and the chicken sausages were soft and served with garden peas. This appeased a little. Then, as I left the things in the sink to soak overnight, I took a quick point-and-snap of the offer view. It was not until Tuesday that I got around to dealing with this blog, and I realised how it had come out… Artistic?
I swear there were no greens, light blues or yellows when I took the shot. Admittedly, I did it quickly without lining up as I usually would. I don’t think the moon was out either; then again, the moon doesn’t shine like that, does it?
Ah, I see repetitive sorts of lighting shapes. By Jiminne, I think I’ve worked it out, and who to thank for the artisticness . Or, with a possibility of playing a part. But the last two come under the umbrella and lack of control of  so I needn’t have said all that.

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The Nurses’ Input Helped!
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Overall, a better day… but I’m not
getting Smug, for I now know…
What will happen to me on
Monday… Much loss of blood, via
three separate Accifauxs. 
Yes, back to usual tomorrow!
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🌸 TTFNski each 🌸
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Inchie Today: Sunday 15th March 2026

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This will be a little bare, sorry. Time rules.

Morning views

I found another piece of
the jar I dropped & broke.

Carer’s medicines table

Another mystery,
Why did I take this?
Did I take this?
When?

Evening meal, soup
and bread again.
Oh, I do live well!

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Note that due to time going so fast,
being so far behind with the blog,
and time spent with the comput…
No, no, No Moaning!
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Inchie Today: Saturday 14th March 2026

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I thought I’d start this long-delayed blog off with a selfie that I took this morning. Yes, well, I may have been fibbing a smidgeon there. Look at me then, no hearing aids, had hair, had teeth, no glasses, skinny, not obese, full of hope. No electricity, no running hot water, 1d gas meter, crumbling walls, dimples, pimples, seems I was as tall as nine bricks… 
Memory Moments over, on with the blog.
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I woke up at 06:30hrs, bounded out of the bed, jumped over the recliner while taking off my night Catheter bag, landing on the recliner and bounced with a double somersault to the balcony doors, whipped open the door, and took this snap of the much flooded end car park while yodelling good morning to the world…
Oh, all right then, back to reality. But it’s a terrible thing, that’s reality, I prefer fantasy. Hehe!
I’ll start again, it’s not pretty…
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I had to force my aged, gargantuan flobby-body out of the bed, cause somehow I’d tangled the Catheter tube, and little Incies’ fungal lesion was bleeding more than usual. To the wetroom to clean things up, do my teggies and have a quick wash.
Taking this snap on the right of the end of the car park’s bigger-than-normal mudslide. They need to put wellies on to get to the car.
Off to the wetroom, hobbling casually, and the moment my bottie was over the porcelain as I was bending down to land on the plastic seat…
Whoosh, splatter, all done!
But, it wasn’t yet. Six times I had to visit today, then again when I’d got settled into the bed, get up for one yet again! My bottie is sore.

Got on the computer, and remembered to check o my NHS site to see what they have put about my tumble on Wednesday. As usual, it kept signing me out every two minutes if I didn’t enter anything. Well, I can’t remember the three links it takes to get into it, or what it is called. Humph! After getting signed out twice and having to get an email with the login number each time. I thought, I’ll try one again, one last time. No, can’t find anything. Swift visit from Carer Ejaz, Phorpain gelled the right shoulder. Medications given.
I took two snaps of the sun coming over the back left earlier, but forgot to upload them. Amazing that I should forget anything, innit?

I got on the computer with trepidation because I knew how far I was behind, and it would take me all that was left of the day to complete it (Friday’s blog). It did.

Foggy outside, usually a sign this time of year that the sun will come out later on.
I found another piece of glass from the broken jar.

I was having problems reading my own writing again. I must stop rushing and remember to write larger. I just can’t understand why I don’t, or can’t do this. The notes start all clear and so easy to read, indeed distinct. But as the day goes on, Whoopsiedangleploppery, Fred’s Frustrations, computer problems, health problems, Memory-Mangling-Malcom, Arthur Itis, Fractured Knee Frank, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley, Shaking Shaun, Anne Gyna, Struggling as my eyesight fades and fogs later on the day, Concentration-Crippler-Crippen, Backpain Brenda, Seizure-Sandra, Toothache-Tiffany, Ingrowing-Toenail-Tony, Earache Erasmus, Stuttering Stephany, WordPress headaches, Excel bother, CorelDraw failings, Glaucoma Gladys, Letters, Texts, Instructions & Emails that I cannot read, Deep Dank Depression Darius, Ménière’s disease, Reflux Roger, Replacement Aorta Valve Victor, Diabetes Doris, High Cholesterol Christine, Hydrocephalus-Hilda, and Catheter-Contraption-Carol.  Neurotransmitters Dying, Lymphorrhea Leslie,, Cartilages Chloe & Carole, Receptive Aphasia Phyllis, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, Premordid-Cognitive- Impairment-Inchie, the brains TBI, or any of the other hassles, in any permutation, arrive daily to Woodthorpe Court Flat 72, with the mysteries of the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, grotesque succubae, ectoplasms, Whoopsiedangleplops, ailments, extraterrestrials,  spirits, Accifauxpas, rent increases, food price hikes, and the Fata Morganas strike again! 
Still, you don’t like to complain, do yer?

Late in the day, the sun did get through. When I went into the kitchen to take this shot, I was surprised it had got out. Very bright, it blinded me while taking this snap for about five minutes. Cataract Katie was most annoyed at me. Heheh

I was pleasantly surprised when my Angel called to see me, Jenny. 🤎 She thought it best not to give me her old mobile phone yet, while I was having so much hassle with so many things at the same time. Very perceptive of her. She knew that the extra tension it would cause me learning a new mobile & how it worked. She is so discerning and pragmatic. And lovely with it.

Caught the sun on her way down, with two oil paintings, like photographs around, I think 2000hrs. So much I cannot read on the notepad, hope I’ve not missed of anything important on this blog.
I must try to avoid the usual inane waffle. It’s too late now. Haha! 

Tonights Meal
Baked beans. flavoured with Gung Ho sauce, water chestnuts, cocktail sausages, and Keiklbasa chicken sausages. With some Milk Roll soft bread for dunking in the juices.
A Rating of 8.3/10

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Tara!
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Inchie: Saturday 14th February 2026

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PHOTOS HIGH & LOWLIGHTS
Woke up with little effort. With grinding away at me. So painful, I wondered how I’d managed to sleep at all. Very odd. Took the Catheter bag off. Checked the taps, etc., and turned the kettle on. I took this first snap of the morning (left). It was not as cold as I thought it would be when I opened the window. This is often a sign of snow coming. The forecast was a yellow warning for snow in Nottingham. But it didn’t fall. Unlike me, when I went to the wet room. I fell against the sink after using the Throne, and went to have a wash and do the teggies, with the prescription toothpaste. Very, very carefully. I could not avoid it hurting with the darned teeth, several of them that had somehow come loose. As much as I took care not to overly pressure them, it was a painful job. I think it must have been the crispy, cheesy potatoes I had last night. I really love them, but dare not have any more with the state of my teggies. Instant mash and cheese from now on. Not the same, but needs must. I pondered things over, and realised that the super tasty seaweed snacks, the hot ones with chilli, are much harder than the green bags ones that are lighter and thinner. And dearer too. So that’s baked cheesy potatoes, crispy seaweed snacks, and Choc Chip Cookies to remove from my favourites list. I could sob! But I’ll not yet, plenty of time for that later.

The intercom rang; it was the delivery of a Morrison order. I let him in by pressing the door release button and waited for him to arrive. This is a doorstep delivery. And waited… a little longer… and a few minutes more. Went to check on the Amazon site, “This order was Delivered Today”
I struggled to get my shoes on, my back and right shoulder were irritated, even before my treks up and down to the lobby began. I suspected that the 6 bags had been left in the ground-floor lobby. Got down and it proved right. I’d taken the three-wheeled walker with me and got two bags in it, one balancing on top between the handlebars. I fought to keep the top bag from falling off en route, then got up to the flat and put the bags in the flat’s lobby near the flat door. 

2) Back down to the lobby with the three-wheeled walker, got two bags precariously in it. I fought to keep the top bag from falling off en route, then made it to the flat and set the bags in the lobby by the door. Pain is increasing more now.

3) Back down to the lobby with the three-wheeled walker, got two bags precariously in it. I fought to keep the top bag from falling off en route, then made it to the flat and set the bags in the lobby by the door. Pain is increasing even more now. I took some painkillers before putting the food away. I was fuming, but the physical aches kept me from getting mad, if that makes sense. Then got the bags, one by one, into the flatlet in the hallway. I had to leave then, and sit down to recover from my chest pains to ease the breathlessness. 

Got the things put away, taking this snap of the view from the kitchenette. My anger was not easing, though. I got on the computer to try to complain to Amazon. Typical oligarch tricks again. Just like British Gas and Virgin Media… GITS! THUNDERTURDS! SWINE!
I asked Google how to complain about an Amazon delivery. Followed their advice, but couldn’t find the tab they said to click on the Your Order page. 
I tried to contact Customer Services. Got through the AI’s lists until it came to selecting a reason from the following list: Nonem et my criterior. Snookered again by the Oligarchs. I didn’t find an option to ring them, but it was a 333 call, Minimum £2 a minute, plus unstated connection charges. Sod that you Oligarchs! British Gas charged me about £20, and the problem remains unresolved. The Virgin calls have cost me even more, with frequent connection drops, and they can charge a connection fee each time we have to ring back. Ejaz reckoned I’d spent £50 quid, plus connection charges, on the three calls we’ve had to make!
Back to the Amazon Oligarchs Problem.
I found where I could get them to ring me! I couldn’t, well, wouldn’t believe it, so I went through the pick you option of what to talk about, and again, my criterion was not available, but this time I found a ‘Something Else’ option that, for once, did not take me the same number of useless options. They needed my landline number. I put it in and was told, ‘That number is not recognised.’ And went back to where I started my search. I had to work hard, as the physical and mental pain Amazon had inflicted on me was getting to me more each time the telephone number was rejected.
Which was four times, four times I had to go through the system again to get to the comically-called, so-called, Customer Service to phone me.

How the Hell does Amazon get away with this and increase its turnover every year? Silly question… they are Oligarchs, of course. Virgin, owned by Liberty Global oligarchs who own or hold shares in 82% of European internet and telecommunications service providers, and, according to Forbes, pay their CEO millions of dollars a year, plus guaranteed bonuses… Jealousy on my part? Yup!

Getting like my confidence, hatred, health and mental disaffection; a little darker now. Just like Dank Dark Darius Depression is.

I’m not sure which is the most painful right now. The Physical pains, frustration, mental disruption, or the purest hatred that I’ve formed for years.

Well pee’d off, I made a brew of Glengettie, and finished off yesterday’s blog. My heart was not in it. That’s a first. I felt, and still do, so downhearted. Thanks to Amazon oligarchs.

Hello, a final, nae, first blast of the powerful but fading sun got through. Those little clouds have been showing for hours. Do you know what that means? No, nor me. Hehe!

The sun faded shortly after taking the Kodak-Tim-2 camera photo.
I went to wash the tea mug, to find that I’d left the bloody hot water tap on to run cold – Again!
The earlier depression that I thought was my lowest all year was beaten by a Mega-Depression, during which I sank to my lowest point all year.

Where is when you want him?

Well, what about food? Well, that’s controlled by  .
I bought a soft sourdough sliced loaf; it was delivered, well, almost delivered today by Oligarchs Amazon. But let’s not get back on that subject. It’s still sore! I have some soft bread, but what to go on it? No-butter butter, of course, I’ve some soft blue cheese to go with the bread. Some pickled onions, I can suck them but not bite them. Huh! Luckily, I bought the cheaper but softer chicken sausages (Not hostages, Keir!), which I should be able to manage to eat. The Spanish tomatoes are out of season ones, and fat to hard skin and flesh for me to tackle, so I’ll dish them. I have a jar of sliced green tomatoes in water. I’ll see if they are manageable for my poor, cracked, broken, painful, rotting, just been checked by the dentist, who told me they’d be fine until the next visit, teggies to handle.
That was a mouthful.

Well, better get on and make the sarnies then.
Took this snap with Kodak-Tim-2, and as I closed the window, I knocked a jug of kettle water off of the window ledge. I laughed loudly, smiled, sang ‘The Hills are Alive, with the Sound of Music,’ did a backflip as I was mopping up the water… no, you’ll never believe that. I cried!

I’ll, well, I’m hoping to be back in the morning to pick up where I left off updating this fascinating, irresistible, captivating blog… No, you’ll never believe that either. I wouldn’t believe that.

SAD TOOTHACHERS MEAL TONIGHT
The sourdough bread was extra
soft and tasty. A lot of the no-butter
butter, and tomato sauce on top
of pork slices. I made an error
in not putting some of the green
tomato salad on the dish.
The seaweed was thin, but
the most tasty item.

I can’t recall him calling.

Got my head down as soon as Carer Ejaz finished the last call. Sleep came quickly, and stayed with me through until the morning Carer arrived…
More on this tomorrow!

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TTFN, have a good day!
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Inchie Today: Wednesday 15th October 2025

/ Inchie / 10 Comments

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I’d like my annihilation of Starmer to be true,
Absolute, painful, embarrassing & thorough,
I’ll not use a gun, a knife or thumbscrew…
But when he crumbles, this is long overdue
His actions reveal he’s a true-blue,
A Barrister seeking power, a well-to-do,
His defeat or death would be my Xanadu,
No details, this Ode is but an aperçu,
He’s more an oligarch, with no affettuoso,
We cannot rid ourselves of him impromptu,
We know how to work out what we need to do,
But I’ll do my best for you, toodeloo!
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Good Morning, Afternoon or Evening

I am not placing any… well, just a few photos below, to see if this stops them disappearing when folks view the blog. Had a lot of them recently. Grrr! And I haven’t the foggiest idea why.

It was even harder to force myself out of bed this morning than it was yesterday. Summat wrong here. I’ve always been a morning sort of bloke.
I woke around 04:00hrs. And thought I’ll beat this unknown morning drowsiness, and get up now. My determination was strong & decisive. ZZZ!
Then I woke again at 06:30hrs. I whipped back the quilt and checked the night catheter bag. ZZZ!
Another waking at 0645hrs. I forced myself through sheer determination to rise: Okay, the truth is I felt the rear trap-door gurgling and a lot of wind escaping. That was enough; the fear of another not getting to the Porcelain Throne on time encouraged me. I was still sitting there, awaiting the torrent to stop as the door chime rang, and Ejaz came in. He shouted out, ‘Are you alright, Gerry?’ Just be a minute, I replied. But of course, with all the cleaning up of the spurted mess, it took me much longer. 
Ejaz carried out a body check and applied barrier cream to three areas (back, groin and belly). Foamed the lower part of my left leg, which was getting a little worse, with crocodile red skin patches. Then he Phorpained the left knee all the way around to help with the knee fractures, Arthur Itis, and Catheter Chloe. He colour-rated the urine and emptied the pouch for me. Medications were issued, and Peptac was taken. He then sprayed the eyes with Blether cream and the dry eyes spray. For the last task, he did the Health Checks with me and ensured that they were appropriately recorded on the graph. Both of today’s BP readings were on a HIGH level. Which was acceptable to me cause they followed a HYPER & HIGHER ones from Monday & Tuesday.

Inevitably, when I got on the computer, Ape-Shit describes the events. It would not let me open Google from the icon, or from the Control thingy. 
Total frustration!
I closed down CorelDraw and gave up.

I was at the end of my tether. Every day this happens. The battle to do the graphics, an Ode, and the HC chart is getting overwhelming, not to mention tackling the rest of the blog.
For a few minutes, I was lost in hatred of my accursed, lousy luck and the impossibility of getting any help. Boy, was I feeling down and out.
Can’t remember ever being this depressed.
Then, I just wandered into the kitchen, not really knowing why, and took some snaps of the view.

Straight ahead…
Then slightly to the left.

I think that maybe I’d resigned myself to the situation without realising it.

I won’t lose any memory or time in putting any of the others on. Bear in mind how low I was.

I returned to the computer after a good while, almost thoughtlessly looking out of the kitchen window, fearing the worst with the damned computer. I think I tried to tell myself that I knew this would happen eventually – no computer, no blog, no email, no ordering food (but that bit was great!).
Could I live without it?

I reluctantly got back to the desk, convinced this was the end, the finish, the death of the computer… Now, had it been Starmer who died, I could live with and possibly celebrate that. Hehehe!

A partial saving grace was when I got the computer back on. Fair enough, Google would still not open, but I tried opening Firefox, and it did! Of course, I could not get to or remember all the Google-saved passwords. So, still could not get into WordPress.
I got on Google from the icon, but it wanted passwords, verification, etc..

A strange inspiration came over me, and I told the computer my problem, asking what I could do to correct it. Unfortunately, I’m not a Computer specialist, a computer technician, a computer software or hardware engineer, a computer scientist, or a computer guru. I think that the collection, as mentioned earlier, might have understood what the advice meant for me and how to implement it collectively. A few of the eighty tips from the site’s advice I was brave enough to try.
But only the ones where I knew I could cancel or remove after they failed. And they did. Not only that, but I was getting more het-up again.
Three hours later, I was again at the point of giving up. Ejaz did a quick call but didn’t understand what I was telling him, and I couldn’t figure out what else I could try. Thanked Ejaz and off he went.
I seem to recall that the last gasp chance would be to close everything, give it a few minutes, and restart, as I did yesterday to get CorelDraw’s problems sorted. This would be about 13:40hrs.

I had no idea it had taken place, but it was confirmed when I came back to reality, with the acidic, horrible-tasting, and smelly gust of wind that came up into my mouth. I thought I had had a mini-seizure; they are the ones that usually have the acid after them. But the after effects were scary this time. I could not get up for a good few minutes. It felt like the room and I were swaying in different directions. I made sure I stayed where I was in the chair. I did not risk standing or walking until things had cleared in my head. Which took ages. While waiting, I made sure I hadn’t been on the computer and caused a mess of anything. I realised I must have been out of it for over an hour. The door chimed, and in walked my ILC (Independent Living Coordinator), Oberstgrüppenfuhreress Warden, and Primo Ballerina, Warden Deana. She had only called to do a Lifeline wristlet check with the NCC controller, which she did first thing. I must have looked and sounded a little odd after the Seizure.
I told her briefly of events and problems I was having.
She asked if I was ready to go into a home yet. I replied, I think it’s inevitable. Because I’m struggling to get help, doing everyday tasks is getting harder and longer. I told her of the farce of ending up with two chairs, but can’t afford a Carer to take me out. And can’t get help with making the self-propelled one safe to use. I can’t get help with the dwindling finances.
Bless her, she looked at a wheelchair for me.
I mentioned that while she was trying to work out how to get footplates on. When I was in the hospital, a social worker said they would see if they could get me help with my finances. A Red Cross person said they would know if they could provide some help. The team included a physiotherapist, an occupational therapist, a representative of Age UK, and a member of the Falls Team. But no one has contacted me. And mentioned the problem with trying to arrange lifts to hospital appointments. Deana (What an Angel) asked for the appointment letters for next Wednesday with the orthopaedic surgeon. Deana rang them there and then. She arranged for a lift each way. This temporarily helped my lack of faith and prompted a visit. 🌺 THANK YOU DEANA 🌺

NOSH
I ate well, at least. (Slurp-gobble)