Inchy Today

Inchie: Saturday A.M. in Hospital/Sunday P.M. back to jail… I mean home

/ Inchie / 7 Comments

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My grasp of the ungraspable,
Seems no longer available,
My mind is no longer terrestrial,
Friday was mentally tumultable,
Definitely it was seriocomical,
A.M. was great, afternoon, sepulchral,
Morning fine, the P.M. was Seizural,
Early, I felt fine, then a schlemiel,
Whoopsiedangleplops, feeling celestial,
At first sybaritical, then self-critical,
Why ever did High-Horis skedaddle?
Spent most of the day sort of phantasmal,
Seizures rampant, leaving me quixotical,
Had thoughts that were ragmatical,
Concentration was bad, indeed risible,
Seems my good luck comes sesquicentennial,
Help, obviously needed, but not available,
Seizures, Dementia leave me in mental trouble,
Glaucoma, Cartilages, Catheter, endurable…
Arthur Itis, Duodenal Donald always painfully,
Peripheral Neuropathy, I respond nervously,
My heart’s aorta, still working mechanically,
But it’s the seizures I find inexplicably…
Going into one, I feel it coming sensorily…
Not every time, one out of four, or three, maybe,
The shorter ones can come on instantly,
Coming out of them, aggravatingly…
It’s the part that most bothers Inchie,
I’m confused, have insufficient balance, and feel dizzy,
That’s when a Carer or nurse calls, usually,
For a while, I’m speaking incoherently…
Yet it sounds to me, as I’m talking clearly,
Sometimes things might clarify swiftly…
I feel embarrassed, mumbling inaudibly,
Troubles with problems mentally & physically,
I don’t claim I manage admirably,
Like yesterday, I felt self-pity,
I’d love to get help from someone in authority,
I’ve not seen anyone about the seizures or Neuropathy,
Premorbid Cognitive Impairment, you see…
I have just looked it up …
Cognitive impairment: a decline of mental ability,
Pre-onset of a mental illness, psychologically,
Yet still I can make up this silly ditty?
So why am I feeling self-pity?
Now I feel all guilty…
I await the next thing, cataclysm, I’ll probably drop my mug of tea!
Fall over and break my knee…
Or burst the catheter full of pee,
Break another tooth, pay for dentistry,
Do a Google search for camaraderie…
I hope I’m not writing sarcastically?
Am I going from comically to cynically?
No question about it, I’m going doolally!
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I was up and about (feeling deeply vague) when I realised that it was 03:55hrs. I recall what I was doing and what I was thinking at the time. Oh, yes, I was sitting on the Porcelain Throne, painfully forcing some movement from the evacuating monster torpedo! Through sheer willpower and determination, I’d freed myself of that 15-inch torpedo within 15 minutes !

During this period, to take my mind of off the pain, I mused over what lay ahead for me today. What disasters, failures, Whoosiedangleplops, Accifauxpas, cock-ups, bloomers & bloopers, oversights, foul-ups, oversight, glitches would be launched at me today?
They started after Carer Mirza had called.
Well, here they are:
Approx. 09:00hrs, I emptied the catheter and started working on this blog. About half an hour later, I felt the urine soaking onto my leg, pouch bag, my sock and my slipper! Oh, dear, another urine leak! The carpet was soaked under the leg. I struggled to get the socks off, so I decided to wash them straight away and hang them to dry, along with the pouch.
I closed the pouch, put the slippers in the laundry bag, and hobbled carefully, with just the kargoul on and the socks, which were diabetic ones that had to be hand-washed and hung to dry. So, I hung them up on a coat hanger above the sink. (The nurse who came later was kind enough to take this photo and email it to me. I found it on my return from the hospital on Sunday morning.) This is when I stood back from reaching up to the bar and took the tumble.
The catheter pouch had still been leaking, even in the closed position. I went down on one knee, banging my head on the metal serving trolley. There was a lot of pee! I went on all fours to the recliner and somehow managed to get myself up. Then I returned to the kitchenette to clean up the mess. Initially, use kitchen towels. But the pouch was still leaking. On closer inspection, I saw that the plastic covering the exit tubing had come away from the tube. I stopped cleaning up and depressed my alarm wristlet alert button. I think I’ve got the following in the correct order; I told the NCC Controller of the tumble and the faulty day catheter bag.
Asked him if he could advise the Community Nurses and ICC (Carers) for advice, as the scuff mark on my head was getting more painful as I spoke, turning into an increasingly throbbing pain.
He said he would and will get back to me.
I restarted the kitchen clean-up, and the chap rang back on the alarm box.
A nurse would be coming, and he would leave the line open in case I had a turn for the worse. Kind of him!
He spoke again in a few minutes; He’d talked with the District Nurses Matron, Jackie, and said she’d rang for an ambulance. A nurse should arrive first to assess the problem, but I must go with the ambulance after the nurse has left. This may be a little mistaken, as I did take a turn for the worse; the throbbing was getting near my pain level. 
The controller kept asking if I was alright and checking on me.
I sat down quietly. The throbbing did die down shortly after.
The nurse arrived and put on a new catheter bag. It was a different type, with the better, more reliable stiffet release valves. So that was one confidence booster I was pleased with.
The ambulancemen arrived. I got into a semi-panic thinking of what I would need to take with me. I should have done this beforehand, but naturally, being me, I didn’t.
The men spoke, telling me they would bring up their wheelchair and take me to the hospital in it. Nice chaps. They did a Q&A session, then got the equipment out. Pulse, temperature, BP, Lung checks, breathing checks, and a heart check thingamagig. I think it’s called an electrocardiogram (ECG) machine.
I got on another Kagoule to go in. (A mistake, I know that now!) The lads gave each other looks as they read the first heartprintout. Then did another, and spoke about that one, and did a third one.
At this stage, they said, “It’s best if we get you there swiftly”. I mentioned that I had to do safety checks in the wet room and kitchen, and I thought I had done them while the wheelchair was being brought up.
I felt sure I’d checked the stove, taps and fridge in the kitchen, and faucets in the wet room. I was sure I had. Then the lads got me seated in their wheelchair, with a seat belt fitted. I’d made sure I’d got the mobile phone, crossword book & pen, bus pass, the prison…no, no, I mean flat keys, and some cash.
Despite the injury, I was so glad to be getting out of the flat, even if it was only to the hospital. Hahaha!
The trip to the QMC was, for some odd reason, vaguely remembered. Other than the bumpy ride.

ARRIVAL AT THE QMC
(Old photo reused).
The ambulancemen wheeled me out of the ambulance and into and through the A&E wing.
Well, what a sight. Corridors with patients and relatives were so crowded that they barely had enough room to navigate the wheelchair through them, with many short waits for someone to move a trollied patient out of the way to let us through. Gawd Blimey… they were so busy. We got into a lift and found the same thing on the ‘D’ floor. Trolleys of patients all over the place. I had no idea where I was, not that I was bothered at the time; wherever it was, I was not in my cell! I mean flat.
I was then transferred into a cubicle and was then moved onto a trolley. In which I resided, unmedicated (pain-killer or prescription), no drink, no food, for the next 20¾ hours of misery. But, I had sneaked some crisps into a bag and took them, flipping good job I had taken them with me, with my precious crossword book. (Cunning, or what?)

Twenty minutes later, I was collected and taken to the QMC Emergency Department surgical unit, in the Outpatients Department, in the blue zone, N4 area, and given a whole brain CT scan. I think they found one. Haha! These photos were taken from the web.
Then back to the Emergency CT ward. I was locked up, never to move again, until I was freed. And some 20 hours of misery awaited me. This photo of the ward must have been taken when it was new. So different today. Packed solid with patients, and fed-up staff.
The trolley I was on was so painful to lie on. The first Carer to visit me, for BP checks, I asked if the head of the trolley could be moved higher and forward, please. Explaining my inability to lie flat causes me dizziness and back pain. Eventually, she answered me, saying, Yes, it can be moved… and disappeared, saying she’d be back, a little like Arni spoke those lines in the film. Hehe! I never saw her again.

The cubicle was so cold. One nurse brought me a small throw, bless her cotton socks.
Then, a lady arrived for blood extraction. He left a plastered contraption on my arm, saying someone will take my blood for testing every fifteen minutes from now on. Don’t knock this tube off! Oh, I didn’t.
Then a mini CT test. Leads stuck on my chest, back,  and arms. Saying someone will be doing this every 20 minutes. By the time four CTs were done, my kaghoule was split so much, and right up beyond my bum, others were laughing. Air enough, so was I.
I looked like… well, I don’t know. Each time they got me out of bed to access the points for putting the clips on, a bit more of a tear or two would grow.
When they finally told me I could go home, many hours later on Sunday, and gave me a list of things not to do, and to do. As I stood up, I could hear the laughter harder than ever. What have they been doing to you – did they rape you?” And “God, you look like you’ve been beaten up!” As I got in the wheelchair, I was displaying my bottom, hips, and Little Inchie and his accoutrements. The comments I got varied from pointing at my lower regions, accompanied by “Hahaha!” To, “Ah, how dinky! r cute, or quaint!” I could hear them because I took my newly battery-powered hearing aids with me!
Still, it gave them and the ambulancemen a laugh, and I was happy to do that for the overworked angels.
Gone out of sync there, Tsk!
I was cold and uncomfortable in that trolley in that cubicle. Late on, about three hours before getting my freedom, and an actual Doctor called on me, early hours of Sunday morning. She put a small, thick blanket over me, and at long last, moved the top of the trolley up and forward for me. t was heaven compared to what it was before. Thank you, Doctor, whoever you were. 🤎 X
On the last mini CT scan, a different shift lady, who I assume had just started her shift, came out with a quote to beat them all! I laughed so much, it hurt!
“You know you’re a nurse when your finger has gone in places you never thought possible.”
As she checked out Hammorhoid Harold’s bleed!
A highlight of my stay in the hospital!

The above helped me through to when the Doctor returned with all the diagnoses, to tell me, with a cunning smile on her face, that I could go home.

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THE AMBULANCE HOME
I wanted to get home for once, after leaving hungry, drinkless, my Khagoul torn to shreds and no sleep.
But, despite the joking, my esteem for nurses 
remains as high as ever, probably higher.
As I was pushed through the maze of corridors on my escape route, my heart went out to the staff at the QMC. Every corridor still had patients on trolleys queuing in them. Far less than yesterday, thankfully. The staff on their way home had a twinkle in their eyes; those arriving didn’t!
The same ambulance men were in a better mood than yesterday, although they were pleasant enough chaps, just cheerier today. he ride home was even bumpier than the one going to the hospital.
BY good fortune, we drove along the road where I have to go in November, to discuss my upcoming
Trephination surgery, the driver confirmed it was the building I needed. It’s on Leen Gate in Lenton, and we passed it, and the driver confirmed that it was the place that I needed to get to. Then we got back to the flat, my haemorrhoids were bleeding, and my cartilages were hurting. A bouncy ride, and just as we got on Citrus Grove, where the flats are, we went over the unseen speed bumps, and I suffered again.

Humph! A bit of a mind blank here. I can’t recall getting into my flat! But once inside, the heat in there scared me to death! I hastened to the obvious place the heat was coming from, the kitchen, and found that I had not, as I thought I had, turned off the stove, and it had overheated the place. No signs of damage were found. t must have been on a low heat level. But it could have been dangerous leaving it for all that time. Blimey, I could have easily caused a fire. What a Silly Stupid Iriot!
I searched Google Maps for the neurosurgery place and found it. Now I think it will have to be a taxi to get there and back. Buses with numbers, as well as their timings, are all affected by my Arithmaphobia. I must ask a Carer to help me with that.

I opened the windows and went to the toilet for the first time since Friday night, hoping to pass something smaller than a granite-sausage, this time.
I DID… NOTHING! ehehe! Tsk!
Three days now without any rear-end flow,
Will I want, or be able, to go?
Well, I just don’t know!
While sitting there, an evacuation was a no-go…
My mind mused again, on our UK Dumbo,
The unworthy Prime Minister who misleads & lies,
Brewing up problems as yet to be addressed,
Driven by greed, self-wealth; he’s not a theopneust,
The perfect, cunningest solipsist!
I just had to have a go at him, Keir the schiziest,
Who hides his empathylessness!
I liked scribbling that, I’m at my wittiest!

Carer Mirza, formerly Carer Mizra, because I was misspelling his name. I seem to be doing a lot of that lately, doing things, making choices, wrongly.

Telling Mirza (I got it right then!) about the ambulance driving by the neurosurgery place, and matching it with what he said about the scan revealing a lot of fluid on the brain, gave me hope that this may be the worrying problem lately with my brain-power loss. Just maybe, they can slow down my decline. I know the Doctor said it can’t be stopped, but I’m clinging to the hope that the Trethination procedure could slow it down. You don’t know how much this gives me hope for carrying on living in the flat, and not being sentenced to living in some old people’s care home. PLEASE! Anyway, Mizra… Mirza understood what I was saying. He gave me the… Crapllemongers, I spelt his name wrong again, sorry mate. Mizra… Got It! Mirza had followed what I was saying and wished me all the best with it. Telling me I am a lovely man and patient.
Double, nae, treble Smug mode utilised! Bless him. edications were issued, and he had to dash off to catch the bus to his next client.

I phoned Sister Jane to tell her I had escaped the hospital and was now back in the flat. 

I got on like a house on fire with the blogging catch-up. When the teatime dilapidation started. Tired, weary. No chance of finishing it today. I thought I’d aim to make a meal: Sausages, garden peas, and eat each sausage with a slice of Milk Roll bread, with sauce, naturally. I’ll test the yoghurt before deciding if it’s alright, as it’s one day out of date. Then try to get an early night, so at long last I can get up in the morning bright & early (Ahem!) and get a full ablutioning session in, but we’ll see.

Carer Mirzra snapped the outdated calendar clock. Then he made the necessary changes and adjustments for me.

Someone unknown sent me this via email.
It may have been from Ejaz from last week. I can recall us looking at the partial moon. Ejaz must have snapped it for me and forgot to send it earlier? Thanks, mate.

I felt terrible later on when I found the LU biscuits I bought to thank Jenny; I still haven’t taken them to her flat. I need to text her to find the best time for me to take them down. Please remember!… I’ll do it now… Huh, the battery’s dead, I’m charging it.

 I think one of the Carers took some shots for me. I’ll put them on tomorrow’s blog when I get them. I’m sure that the Carer took a night shot and the meal. Oh, such an excellent meal. If he did, you’ll salivate at it, well, maybe not, but it was lovely to me. I’ll be disappointed if I’ve got this wrong.

Now, being so short of sleep, will I nod of and dwell with Sweet Morpheus, and awake refreshed? eeply contented, with a warm feeling inside of me… I suppose something will ruin my rest, just a feeling that has come over me… We’ll see. I might be wrong, of course, but this has been known.

I need to dig around again on Monday. I know I had two spare SD cards that worked on Kodak Tim 2. I’ll have to find them or at least recall what I did with them. How to do that is another query that I anticipate may end up in the ether-full of so many other forgotten and/or misforgotten recent things, events and intentions.

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WORRA WEEKEND!
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Inchie Today: Thursday 7th August 2025

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

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Based, of course, on my own experiences,
Your brain will not be so capacious,
Your cerebrum will not be as duteous,
Your memory will fade, fail or turn factitious,
You will be open and liable to fraudulencies,
Your decision-making will turn into faff,
According to your mood, you may well laugh…
There are many dementias that we may have,
Diabetic dementias, bringing delirium or psychosis,
Depressions, dingbats, Psychological disorders, 
Second childhood, neurasthenia, mental distress,
Hydrocephalus Dementia, Huntington’s diseases,
Frontotemporal dementia, or mixed dementias,
Lewy body dementia, or Diabetic dementias,
Lewy affects your mind & body, that’s crass! 
Senile dementia, or diabetic dementias,
Peripheral Neuropathy; You’ll see neurologists,
Your cognitivity declines, maybe find brain disorders,
Mental decrepitudes, possibly going subdelirious, 
This is a fair warning, not spurious,
Knowing what may behead is sagacious,
No matter if it’s agony, harmful or heinous,
So keep on writing and reading in WordPress…,
NHS not interested, rely on charities,
You’ll change your opinion of hilarities,
After your first session with a hypnotherapist, 
Hilarity, joy will go all minimalist…
When scorned for the appointment you missed,
You lose your watch and find it on your wrist,
Problems will turn you into a hypothesist,
You’ll consider suicide; you must resist!

Coming Soon: Part Two, How to cope!
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When I stirred in bed, all the signs were of having had a nocturnal seizure. The disorientation was so intense that I actually thought at first that I was going to fall out of bed! Getting out of it, slowly and carefully, proved to be a good idea. Dizzy Dennis and or Balance Loss pestered me for a few minutes. Soon to be joined by Cartilage Carol; she gave way a few times over the day, but no tumbles. A few close calls, though, she didn’t have me over, thankfully.

I had more mentally incapacitating mini-seizures today than ever before, very sparse notes on the memory pad, so this may be the shortest blog yet.

Still no SD card. I mentioned it to each caller, hoping one might say they will get me one and drop it off next time they call, but no one did. Still, it’s not their job. No complaints. So, no photos. Carer.

In the evening, Ejaz made his first call to me in several days, and I was pleased to see him.

What I thought at first was that a Community Nurse rang the intercom. When the gal got into the flat, I realised she was from the Cardiac DVT Warfarin Clinic. She used my tackle to take the BP, and her ear thermometer. Listened to my lungs. Some Cough-cough instructions. (Hehe!) The nurse insisted that I had to keep drinking water. Many questions were asked, but I’ve written all I can recall about the visit. Other than that, she was a cracker! (Naughty!)

At some time, ILC (Independent Living Coordinator), Oberstgrüppenführeress Warden, and Prima Ballerina, Warden Deana came in.
She was on the yearly fact-updating mission. I had to change the Diabetic Dementia to the new (another name) Premorbid Cognitive Impairment. Then, Lymphorrhea Leslie and Little Inchies’ fungal lesion were added. The wound on the tip was caused by the Catheter tubing and the failure of carers to change the pouch weekly.

Can’t recall anything else with no notes to prompt me. Later in the day, I tried the old SD card again to take a shot of the meal – Blimey, it took it!
So I took a shot of the sunset. I downloaded them to CorelDraw, put the card back in to take more, and the camera refused the card again. I tried again several times, but I got the card must be formatted message. Clicked to format (and lose all the photos). The camera could not format the SD card! I was lifted so much when the camera unexpectedly took the two pictures, but sank into a Darius Depression afterwards.

Sunset

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TTFN, each!
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Inchie Today: A medically busy A.M. Hectic cleaning up P.M. A bonus Ode!

/ Inchie / 10 Comments

I thought Maggie Thatcher was cruel,
But Starmer would win any duel.
She was much more dynamical,
Keir is more dishonest and cynical.
Starmer: is fault-disowning, in denial,
A fact-bending barrister, his morals questionable,  His integrity is empty, his honesty dysfunctional,
His oaths & promises are easily self-deleteable,
His cheating & lies, empirically verifiable,
He is politically contentious and eristical.
Maggie was firmly in charge, esoterical,
Yet Starmer remains unchallenged, inalienable?
Keir became Prime Minister, via lies he’s inimical,
How he’s lasted in office. I find it inscrutable,
Why has no one yet found him shootable?
The Tories gave up, they’re not arousable…
He does what he wants to, now he’s immarcescible,
His personality is prominently kenspeckle…
Decision changing, unpredictable, mercurial,
Starmer is unpalatable, frightful, & objectionable. The opposition is miserable, wretched, pitiful,
I’d like to say Keir is also despicable & detestable,
Voters by the millions are already agreeable,
Starmer cannot be any more hateable,
But Starmer seems bedded in & unremovable,
No one capable of taking over, that’s the trouble,
Surely someone can burst his arrogant bubble?
He already has the Nation feeling mausoleal,
He wants to turn his citizens all mephitical…
He is poisonous; things are getting critical,
A barrister, born immoral and unethical?
His rule is unlawful, his attitude awful,
Could this little outburst be excusable?
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Eye eye, what’s going on here?
Moments in life’s uncontrollable adventure,
Each one is a logic, common sense alienator,
We’ve all had them, though not on our agenda,
Some serious, harmful, some have been absurder,
Like this old senile self-autobiographer,
Well known as a blabberer, boozer and blunderer,
My recent memory is patchier and blurrier…,
When I thought I was a female beguiler,
So long ago, those youthful memories; now clearer,
This event took place in Caernarvonshire,
I recall us snogging beneath a chandelier,
As she got bodily curioser, I felt cheerfuller,
The recalling stopped; in came Nimra, my Carer,
Nice gal, bossy, but with a pleasant demeanour.
She couldn’t be any prettier,
My hearing batteries died, so I was deafer,
My leg wound bled, I’d banged it on the dumbwaiter,
She pulled off the plaster, gently, with douceur,
It came time for her to disappear,
Then I had some pain from the urethra,
And then a few minutes-long seizure,
Eventually, I felt less schlumpier,
Recovered, did the Ode to the thimblerigger,
I asked myself, now, what were you doing?
I lost any thoughts of my being a sophomania,
I’d lost the plot of this Eye-Eye stanza,
Then gave up, and felt a little toeier!
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Nocturnal catheter pouch.

Balcony walking aids.

The cartilages were dodgy all day.

Please forgive the mess this may end up as.
Medical hassle three times this morning. One was with Lymphorrhoea Leslie; She’s losing body fluid again. I broke off part of another tooth, and Toothache Tiffany has been with me all day.
I took a tumble in the wet room again. I didn’t go down all the way, but pulled off the shower curtain and hit my chin on the shower chair. 
At lunch, while awaiting Carer Ejaz for the house cleaning and laundry tasks, I had a mini-seizure that incapacitated my brain for a few minutes. I was on the verge of pressing the wristlet alarm for help. Fortunately, this was prevented by my leaving the alarm in the wet room earlier, and at that time, I was confident enough that my head had cleared enough to get my balance. But minutes, it was okay. Enough for me to use both sticks and fetch and fit the wristlet alarm from the wet room.

Carer Nimra did the first and third calls. Mizra, the afternoon call, and Carer Akeyo the fourth.

Carer Mizra arrived for the Wednesday extended visit, not Carer Ejaz, while I was cleaning the kitchen taps. The lad was a great help today, as my concentration was all over the place. I completed the above tasks on this blog very early. Thankfully. 
It’s also saving me some time, as I took a few photos early on. Could I find the AA batteries to replace the dead ones? Nope! So no more pictures. I know I had a box of them. I remember taking two out last week. Gawd knows where I put them. Grrr! Self-loathing!
Mizra took the laundry down to the machine.
I got a text message yesterday from the neurosurgeon section of the QMC hospital, and another this morning from DHL. I was a little baffled by the long links they gave in the text messages. I’ll ask Mizra to help me read & reply to them when he returns. He did this in a short time. 
Another savour, Carer Mizra. The DHL text required me to sign up again, providing extra details from the link. It took us a while to work out how to fill it in, but Mizra got it sorted, and eventually, he completed the mysterious re-signing procedure for me. They kept sending emails with codes… three times!
Carer Mizra went down to put the laundry in the dryer and returned. We then looked at the hospital link. All they wanted to know was if I was still on for the Neurosurgeon visit? No date or time confirmation yet. One click and we’d got it done… well, Mizra had.

While sorting the email, I had a seizure. Another shortie. But when I returned to reality, I was far less confused than the earlier one… at least I think I was. Mizra then got the kitchen hoovered and mopped the floor for me.

Then he shot down to fetch the washing from the dryer. He was out of time, so Mizra had to rush to get the clothes hung up. Some of them were not quite thoroughly dried, mostly the socks. I put them on coat hangers, above the kitchen sink, to dry. No photo, of course. Where the heck did I put the batteries! Grrr! You fool, Inchie!

I tried to make an order for Asda, but the site kept freezing. So, I deleted the items that were ordered. And did one for J Sainsbury. I think I did, hang on, I’ll check. Yes, I did, a big one as well.

Oh, the DHL text, they wanted a photo of a safe area where they could leave any parcels, along with all the other details. Care Mizra saved the day yet again. Carer Mizra took a photo and emailed it to me. We used that. Thank you kindly, Mizra.

What a kerfuffle!

The ICC carers rang me late on. The Carer had been delayed. Will be late arriving. I was all calm and said, “Well, it can’t be helped.”

At last, I made a start on this blog. All I’d got done was up to the second Ode.

It’s now eleven o’clock. The need for food is calling – albeit not photographed.
Where the heck did I put the batteries!

I couldn’t find my distance glasses for love or money.
I put on the prescription dark shades to watch TV.
I fell into bed and fell asleep easily.
Waking up in an After-Seizure-Condition (ASC).
I’d had nocturnal seizures, obviously.

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MAY YOUR DAY GO HAPPILY!
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Photo from 2022.
When things were far less blue!

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Inchie Today: Tuesday 5th August 2025

/ Inchie / 16 Comments

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Gone is my logic, I’m no longer systematical,
A lot of what I do, I find incomprehensible,
It’s the new stuff that’s memory-dissolvable,
My new phone’s manual is incomprehensible,
The print is tiny, microscopic, unreadable,
I tried my magnifying glass, it was a travail…
I’d forget what I read that was readable,
The following page was also unmanifestible,
Grasping instructions was once so trivial…
Now I find them to be unconscionable,
Gladys Glaucoma make my vision all umbral,
I lose concentration, having to stop for a while,
To regularly deal with problems urothelial,
Then along comes another seizure, often focal,
Some ailments seem to me to be uncategorical,
To cope, I have to resist getting cynical,
Accept the illogical, don’t get hysterical,
My brain goes off-track, into the philosophical,
Reasons, causes, why… It’s all mystical,
Or should I have said then, mythical,
Help, understanding, all unascertainable,
I lose hours daily being self-rhetorical,
Over-understood problems, some medical,
Physical & Mental, possibly psychological,
Neurological? Neurotransmitters or Perceptional?
New ailments, the others still progressional,
I’m still here, I think that’s phenomenal,
Although the help I can afford is nominal,
Life has never been known as preconditional,
In fact, it is more likely to be probational,
It can be happy, hell, or promiseful,
Die young, be killed in war, or be put on a pedestal,
Do we go back to ashes? Nowhere, heaven or Hell?
I’d like to send Starmer a mine – antipersonnel!
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PROLEGOMENA
I was having an excellent sleep last night. Broken now and then by either Twitching-Neck-Ted or an Anne Gyna attack, but not very often. Until that is, the waking at 03:15hrs. Nothing special about it, but could I get back to sleep? No! This didn’t seem to bother me, and after a few minutes trying to nod off again, I gave up. Even Ann Gyna started to have a go at me when I freed myself of the clutches of the bed and bent down to release the nocturnal pouch from the catheter. Then I realised a Eureka moment was taking place. For the first time ever, I’d woken up with in attendance!
I was in one of his ‘Sod-Them-All’ moods and became almost industrious. I got the dressing gown on, slippers and went into the kitchen on a safety check. Taps, fridge doors and stove were all okay.
Even with Anne Gyna and Cartilage Chloe, both making hobbling around painful. I just didn’t care! YeeHaa! Heaven!

.
I woke up at 03:15 hours, but couldn’t get back to sleep. Did the safety… Oh, I’ve just told you this already.

I changed the dates on the calendar clock. And used some toothache spray as the Toothache Tiffany kicked off.

I started updating (not a lot needed) and completed the blog, then posted it off.

I should have been, or rather would usually have been, in at least a semi-depressed stage with all the pains still emanating from my mouth, neck and being a smidge persistent.
But I wasn’t in the slightest. I made my way to the wet room to use the facilities. Then, I sorted out the ablutions and medication. Even causing one of the messiest, wettest evacuations… also one of great pungeancy, foul, dark green. This one made me think of the Soylent Green movie. Have you ever seen this film? The name of the product itself is a portmanteau of soy and lentil, which is what it’s made of in the book. Soylent Green is introduced as being made of plankton, but as the film unfolds, the main character discovers that it’s manufactured from dead bodies. It was released in 1973. Starring Charlton Heston & Edward G Robinson. I recall thinking it was a relatively slow film, and politicians would never do anything like that. (Back in 1973) Now we have Herr Starmer, and Oligarch leaders, Murdering Putin & La-La Criminal Trump in charge. So…  
Got carried away again there, sorry.

The shaving went well, just three teeny-weenie nicks. Despite the teeth-cleaning being bloody, I was still feeling perky.
The medicationing went grand. Only back flaps to ask the Carer to do for me… then, things took a turn for the worse…


As I stepped back from the floor cabinet, I trod on a tube of Savlon that I must have dropped earlier. Cartilage Chloe gave on me, and both knees his the floor together. Leaving me with Chloe on the left knee, and Arthur Itis attacking the right knee.
This did not bode well for me getting up again, and the wristlet alarm was on either the wire nest table or the floor cabinet. I couldn’t get up to search for it. The agony of getting back to the recliner on all fours, pressing the knees each time I nudged myself along, was excruciating. But I got there.
I failed so many times trying to get onto the recliner; it was just too painful on my cartilage and knees. Feeling a bit of a plonker, I made one final effort. I’d decided that if this doesn’t work, I’ll crawl back to the wet room to press the alarm; I’ve no option. Had I had more teeth left, I’d have gritted them… I girded my loins, and it took me a lot of suffering and effort, but I made it into the recliner.
Gawd, the relief! I stayed down for about ten minutes, building up the courage to cope with the pain in my knees as I stood up.
Obviously, I’d left the four-pronged walking stick in the wet room while I crawled to the recliner. But I keep a wooden one near the bed, so I used that.
My balance wasn’t too good.
Cleaned the mess in the wet room, collected the alarm and stick, and came back a lot easier by using two sticks. Replaced .
I did a good job getting up early!

I pressed on, surprised by how I coped with the results of the tumble. And started this blog.

I was taking an Anti-Trots capsule as the door chime chimed. No one came in, but I’d unlocked the door… or had I? Knowing me. I went to the door, and it was unlocked. Carer Jyoti arrived, I think.
Nimra tried to get the key from the wall safe. But I had the same luck as the other Carers. I explained to her that I’m having trouble getting the key out, too. Every time Warden Deana shows us how to do it, it works the first time. Hehehe! I asked Jyoti to put the diabetic socks on for me and to apply barrier cream to the back flaps. Also, she issued the medications and put my socks on.

After the girl left, I took a photo from the balcony on the right end. The mudslide looked thicker than usual this morning. Did heavy rain & wind play a part yesterday?
I had a nosey around the view. I took another shot of the same area when I thought I saw a bird in the mudslide. No rain today, and the wind was far less bothersome.

Worked away on this blog, at last.

I suddenly remembered that during the tumble, I had spotted something gold-coloured that had fallen behind the floor cabinet. I went to investigate, taking the long picker-upperer with me. I was astounded when I recognised it. It was a bottle of eau de cologne. I bought this eight years ago, from the Poundshop on Upper Parliament Street. But managed to lose it. It was down there all that time. Shows how the cleaner or Carer is not good at cleaning.

Back on today’s blog.
Raining again, but not a lot. No howling winds to put up with today. Having said that, my rear end…

Mild Vegetarian Curry,
With Gung Po sauce
and sweet corn.

Three Sky shots within 2 minutes of each other.
Speedy sunset tonight.

Sweet Dreams!

Inchie Today: Monday 4th August 2025

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

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A fair young maiden granted a date with Inchie,
‘Yes’, she said. Inchy thought in ambiguity,
A leg-pull? A tease? Inchie felt uneasy,
She spoke posh, not Nottinghamese,
Her legs, bum & breasts, I like these…
Surely this date would be paradise?
If I get more than a cuddle, that’d be nice,
She didn’t turn up, but sent her niece,
Big, solid gal, my type, her name was Bernice,
Long brown hair, strong and solidly heavy,
Within minutes, I knew she was my cup of tea,
No fears of riding pillion, at the back of me,
She grabbed for support, all over my body,
Her grip and wandering hands, happily…
Covered more than my midriff and knee!
She giggled and groped me incessantly,
We stopped at a roadside mobile noshery,
I went to get her a beeburger and a mug of tea,
We chatted, and she said she was a nursing auxiliary,
Gave me a kiss, said she’s off for a pee…
Patting Little Inchy, she shot off to the lavatory,
She didn’t return, never saw her again, sadly,
I searched but couldn’t find her, a worry,
Little Inchy was no longer acting accretionally,
When I went to pay for our burgers and tea,
Thinking back to her groping on the back of the Suzuki,
I realised she’d nicked my wallet & money!
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05:10hrs: I woke and tried to get back to sleep. But it was no good, so I decided to get the ablutions done early before a Carer arrives. 
Getting down to release the nocturnal catheter pouch was as painful as it has ever been. Three reasons for that: 1. The catheter tube is cruelly pulling on Little Inchy. 2. Bending brought on Dizzy Denis & Balance-Loss-Belinda. 3. The swollen Cartilage Chloe and Arthur Itis joined forces; they were so painful and bloated on the left knee. I got the bag freed, but am concerned about the loose release valve on the day pouch. I dribbled yesterday, when I assume I caught the longer lever, which has a 50% wobble. Checked the kitchen for safety, and went off to the Porcelain Throne evacuation. Trotsky Terence was in charge again. This time, dark brown, gooey and messy. The cleaning-up time was longer than the evacuation time, yet again.

I washed my dandies, emptied the urine pouch, and went into the kitchen to bag things. Taking this scene of the morning view. Not as pretty as yesterday’s. No pink in it at all.

Back to the wet room. Carried out the Ablutions and Medicating. The only real problems were Cartilage Chloe threatening to give way, and poor Little Inchy’s Fungal Lesion bleeding… or rather, applying the ointment to stop the bleeding. 
I’ve had much worse sessions overall, though.

Back in the kitchen, I put the waste bin bag into the big bag. Taking another shot of the same view from the kitchenette window.

In the balcony room, I changed the calendar clock and inserted the hearing aids into my earholes. And I realised I’dn’t altered the month; it was still July showing. I’d have thought someone would have noticed it. I got in a pickle last month with using the dates from this clock. Hehehe! I asked Ejaz to keep an eye on it. 

I popped out on the balcony, nearly taking a tumble as Cartilage Chloe went on me. To take a snap or two.

The first one taken straight ahead, zoomed on the dwellings, drug dealers and growers, muggers, pickpockets and unemployed, immigrants, scroungers, drug gangs, freed burglars, murderers & child molesters on parole. But I’d sooner live here than anywhere near the biggest crook, liar, and unprincipled, corrupt, immoral, unscrupulous, dishonest, evil-intentioned, dishonourable, splenetic, nefarious, fiendish, detestable, deceitful, insincere, criminal, unethical, miscreant, and merciless, debased, ruthless, heartless, sepulchral, gut-churning, sick-making, murderer-freeing ex-barrister, Labour party principles destroying, apostate, reprobate, Herr ‘backhander-taking, disabled voters bankrupting, pensioner and farmer killing,’ Starmer.
I just thought I’d like to mention my views.

The 2nd snap of Citrus Walk’s end car parking area. And the parking on the chevrons by the little red car. Haha!

I started blogging and was doing reasonably well for an hour or so.
Carer Ejaz arrived. He issued the medications. Then got the diabetic socks fitted for me. During which I felt a sharp pain in the area of the right leg. This was followed by several small electric shocks shooting up the leg. I asked him to pull the sock down to have a look. He said some liquid is leaking through the skin. Ejaz applied barrier cream to it. We noticed after, and a small piece of skin was on the carpet, just an inch or so. 
I asked him to put some Phorpain Gel in the cartilages. This seemed to ease them a smidge, but they still kept threatening to fail on me.
The left cartilage was still swollen. And the unmistakable pain from Arthur Itis joined in.
Little monkeys!

A few more hours on the blog, but now I’m making the daftest of errors, costing me ages to spot and put right. Well, I think I got most of them.

A District Nurse came in, made me jump as well, as there was no door chime pressed. I think the gal was in a hurry. It was the same lady as last time.
She checked my rear end and reported it was much less red and on the mend. 🤎 She took a look at the leaking Lymphorrhea leg and deemed it a scratch from Ejaz putting the socks on, which should be no bother, but she took a photo of it. Bless her.

I took a snap from the kitchen of the windows. I forecast that it will be raining soon. Arthur Itis coming on is a sign of that. Back to the front room, and took another snap from the computer desk… well, the 1963-built, falling to pieces, tatty, scuffed, Hopewell’s E-Plan Sideboard, with the doors falling off, to be more precise. Haha!

Ten minutes later, the howling winds and rain started. They are still here two hours later. I went onto the balcony later to take some photos.
The wheelchair was soaked, as were the four and three-wheeled walkers! The gaps between the windows were how the rain got in. Again, it was coming from the East. The rain, I mean. The wind seemed to be churning in from all directions. Howling again. The rain is now worse than ever, and the wind seems to have died down a smidge. At least it’s not so noisy.
Huh, minutes later, the wind was back. Blowing the trees and branches around as if they were made of paper.
It’s the wildlife I feel sorry for. 

Ejaz just returned for a quick check-in call. He took a photo on his mobile, they have a great camera, of birds battling to keep their young from being blown out of the nest. I imagine many would have been at the height of the storm. Poor things.

The wind seems easier now, but the rain is filling the balcony up, and I can’t lift the broadwalks.

I went to the kitchen to sort out what meal to have. And the rain had stopped. So I went into the other room, grabbed Kodak Tim 2, and returned to take a snap of the sunshine. But no. The rain had started again. So I took shots of the rain from inside. One from the left window, and the second one from the right window.
I got some potatoes into the oven, and the rain had stopped again, along with the wind. Methinks maybe we might get a rainbow shortly. I put the photos onto the computer, and nipped back to check the potatoes.

Carer Ejaz did the medical call. Waking me up to go to the intercom to admit him. I asked him to take off the diabetic socks during this call instead of the last. Which he did. I keep falling asleep and getting woke up to let Ejaz in. Hehehe!

Meal of the day

I went to get the pots washed and took this snap of the sunset.

I fell blissfully asleep again.

Woken again to go to the intercom to admit Ejaz for his final call of the day. No need to remove the socks, of course, just has some Peptac. Ejaz checked the safety of the kitchen & wet room, and was off within 4 minutes. It was lovely for me not to delay him for once. Still tired out, I got down in the c1968, tatty, scruffy, unkempt, uncomfortable, virus, microorganism, bug, bacterium, bacillus, germ, parasite producing, eyesore-horrendously grungy, disease-fermenting second-hand, beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, moth-eaten, non-working, itch-encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, catheter tube yanking, recliner.
But this time, Sweet Morpheus did not arrive. It was fitful dozing off and jumping awake for hours. I gave up and got up at 03:30hrs.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Cheers & all the best!
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Inchie Today: Sunday 3rd August 2025

/ Inchie / 14 Comments

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Carer Ejaz told me I was snoring somnolently,
When he came to see me, he said I was a somniloquist,
What? I asked after waking, and he told me…
That proves that you are a somniloquistee!
“Ug”… hang on, I need a mug of tea…
And he made me one, a strong Glenhettie,
Ejaz impressed me with his sagacity,
Wanting to hear details of my phantasmagory,
Before I could start, he said to me…
Let me guess, your dream went pleasingly?
You were smiling and laughing audibly…
Talking, swearing, you looked a little sweaty…
Sometimes scowling sinisterly,
You then smiled, so very happily,
You smiled in your sleep, contentedly…
Ejaz: I didn’t want to wake you up, really,
You’d gone from flailing to satisfaction, calmly,
Me: “Yes, I’d just shot Starmer, but not in reality!”
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04:30hrs: The flow-back pains from the dodgy catheter day contraption were stinging away when I woke up. The nocturnal pouch was barely damp; there was so little urine in it! The first thing was to dismount the hospital bed and investigate. As I stood up to bend down to take a look, the flow shot out into the night bag. But not a lot of it. I decided to get the tackled. With a visit to kick off, then investigate what the dodgy state that the was in. 
Well, a mega-change from this morning’s evacuation, I must say.
Still entirely under the control of. But not liquified and all over in seconds, as the last three visits have been. Small cubes hit the water without much splashing. Green and Oxo-shaped.

The shaving with the different razors went well. Only two teeny-weeny nicks on the back of the neck this morning. The teeth didn’t bleed at all, I don’t think. Most of the blood came from the gums that had lost their teeth. 
I left off doing poor Little Inchy’s Fungal lesion treatment. Until I’d sorted
the catheter out.
Then, I did the other regulars; Ears oiled, eye drops in, Phorpain gelled MedPhorpainArthur Itis’s knees, then used the stronger one on .
I applied barrier cream to the areas I could reach.
Underbelly, men-breasts, back-flaps, eczema, acne, and Catheter sore spots.

Seemed to be trying to make a comeback again this morning. I hope she doesn’t.
You can see the swelling on the left knee. This is partly due to Arthur Itis, and Cartilage Carol, with Cartilage Chleo in support, who have mangled the knee areas of both legs. The darned Little monkeys!
Walking is a smidge dodgy.

I finished in the wet room and took a snap through the open window of the stunning light blue and pink sky. Nice!

I hobbled into the front room, collected the bins from the wet room & kitchen, and then got everything sorted.
And made one large bag to go to the waste chute.

Carer Ejaz arrived in a good mood. He did a good jon helping me this morning. I felt a smidge guilty in keeping him longer than he should have, and was nervous of missing the bus when he shot off. He’s to make the last call; I hope he catches the bus in time.
The lad helped me get a new catheter bag and a wide strap on. After we’d done it, things seemed reluctant for the flow to start, but it happens sometimes, and it can start a little late. Ejaz told me t ring for an ambulance if the flow does not start again. He put the diabetic socks on for me. Issued the medications; no time left for a body check. That is no bother, I got most of them that I could reach earlier on the wet room visit. 
Thanks, Ejaz.

I revisited the Porcelain Throne. It was a short visit. Nothing happened.
But plenty of long-drawn-out emissions of wind!

I pressed on determinedly with the blog updating!
It helped that I had a wonderful two-hour visit from . Amazing how well I was doing. Until dawned.
Nothing seemed to have changed. Horis floated off, and in came Darius. Ruining my day entirely. A bugger to shake him off, too! I’d been doing so well, but now I realise it was a four-hour session of darkness that I suffered through!

Anne Gyna visited as I started to imbibe the meal.

Carer Mizra called, and the last one was Carer Akeyo. I forgot to ask him to take my diabetic socks off. Struggling and bending painfully to get them off myself brought Loss-Balance-Bobbie and Dizzy Dennis to the fore. So effective they were that I could not get into the hospital bed, just too disorienting and painful.
So got into the second-hand shop bought nine years ago £300, c1966, discomfiting, alarmingly beige-coloured, crumb-containing, TV remote hiding, not working recliner.

.

Evening All!

Inchie Today: Saturday 2nd August 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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Inchy: Oye! Inchie, I don’t talk to yer for a month and then find you in this state… yer a bag of nerves mate…
Inchie: Yes, that’s accurate…
Inchy: Well, yer got nowt else to say then?
Inchie: No! Are yer bovvered, then?
Inchy: Concerned, never seen yer in such a state,
Yer brains beginning to bifurcate,
Inchie: What does that mean, like confabulate?
Inchy: No! Splitting, or breaking up,
Inchie: That’ll be my Premorbid Cognitive Impairment,
Inchy: Ah, I was wondering where Doreen Dementia had gone. Did you two have a disagreement?
Inchie: We never really got on, but this bitch is a bit too strong…
Inchy: String?
Inchie: Nae, are you going deaf two, STRONG!
Inchy: No need to shout, I do live in your brain…
Inchie: Sorry, does PreMorbid give you any hassle or pain?
Inchy: Not a lot, I find her relatively humane. She did tell me she thinks you are beyond help, arcane.
Inchie: Huh, and it’s she who is toying with my brain!
Inchy: Well, yeah, but she won’t take the blame,
Inchie: Ah, so a bit like Starmer?
Inchy: Him, do you mean the backhander taking plonker?
Inchie: Yes, he’s malicious, spiteful, and malevolent,  
Inchy: How did he get elected as the nation’s adjutant?
Inchie: His getting in was like a bereavement…
Inchy: What skill has he got? Does he use a deliriant?
Inchie: Skills? Deceit, duplicity, dishonesty, and lying, pensioners, disabled, and farmer-vilifying,
Inchy: Well, that’s a long list…
Inchie: I’ve not finished yet; wauling, stealing, witwantoning, malignant, cruel, overtaxing… 
Inchy: I’d have thought tha…
Inchie: I’ve not finished yet! He’s untrue to true Labour Party principles, unfaithful, disloyal, double-crossing, two-faced, undependable, unreliable, back-stabbing, and double-dealing…
Pecksniffian, ace at phony-baloney, and wants hanging!
Well, he doesn’t want it, but relatives do, of farmers, disabled folk, young families & pensioners are sick of his jiggery-pokerying, 
Inchy: ‘Silence’,
Inchie: Inchy? INCHY?
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In 1990, Iraq invaded Kuwait, triggering the Gulf War.
The Russo-Ukrainian War began in February 2014 and is ongoing. Following Ukraine’s Revolution of Dignity, Russia occupied & annexed Crimea from Ukraine.
Will Humankind… or rather the oligarchal leaderships of warring nations ever learn? I’m about to try something I’ve shamefully not done for a while.
Pray For Peace. I don’t think it will help.
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I’m not sure what time I got my head down last night. But it was somewhere around 01:00hrs, or later.
During the five hours in the land of nod, I must have woken up, or been woken up, to be more accurate, a dozen times. The guilty ailments, about 50% each, were and or .
Both have been kind to me lately. But yesterday, they visited several times, and they’ve already been at me during the night and up until now. (13:00hrs). Nearly gave way on me earlier. Otherwise, physically, I’m doing well this morning. Back to the diary, I went out of sync again.

Urine was a good 4 on the scale.

I went to the wet room to use the ablutions and medication. I forgot to clean my teeth.
Note to Self: I must get back to doing them.
Olive oiled the ears, and put the eye drops in – some of them got in the eyes, most dribbled down into mt mouth, as per usual. Barrier creams and the floppy belly and man breasts. About to clean the lower regions, but needed the use of the Porcelain Throne.
An exact copy of yesterday’s first evacuation. Well, maybe not quite as bad. Certainly got it cleaned up quicker this time.
The shaving went pretty well, with a few tiny razor nicks. Nothing to fret about, though. I was doing better than I was yesterday. That’s a bonus in having dwelling in your head, with which I cannot recall all the Whoopsiedangleplops I had. Haha!

Then I got on the computer to update Thursday’s blog, but there wasn’t much to do since I had stayed up late into the morning to catch up on some things.
A few errors occurred, and at one point, CorelDRAW’s screen froze, forcing me to close the computer and reboot it after a few minutes. I was worried that things weren’t right when I reloaded. I was right to be concerned. I’d lost some of the work I’d done.
I’m not sure what I did wrong, but I had to close it down again. When I returned to the art package, everything seemed okay and was working again. Yippee! I decided to celebrate with a mug of tea. It had been two hours getting things going, and as I stood up, the chateter pouch fell all the way to my foot and ankle. What a tug the tube gave poor Little Inchy! I fumbled in my haste to get the bag emptied, and it showed on the measuring jug I use, and very nearly 2 pints. No signs of Depression emanated, and I thought things had gone well so far. With my fate and luck, I found this nerve-racking. Hehe!

I made a brew of Glengettie tea, and the teabags burst while pouring in the water. So, I made another… the same thing happened. So, I tried a Co-op 99 tea bag, and blow me, that one split open. I lost interest and took a cold bottle of spring water from the fridge to the computer desk. Humph!
I say computer desk, but it’s actually a 1962-built, falling-to-pieces Hopewell’s E-Plan sideboard, with the doors falling off. I use it as my computer desk.

Ejaz arrived. We did a body check and medications, and then had a little natter before he had to rush off. A nice lad,

The intercom chirped up again. It was the chap with the Iceland order to deliver. He was soon up at the flat.

He put the things into the kitchenette for me in no time. Thanked him.
Then I started sorting out the mags of food, cleaning things, and nibbles.

Cheesy-topped whole bread rolls, one pack of four, and a pack of four tiger rolls were delivered.
Just one bag of the Harry-Ramsdens frozen chips that had to go in the freezer, and I had to do some jiggling with the goods in there to make room for the tiger rolls.
I placed the multi-Silly-Price 7-per-pack mini croissants in a carrier bag and put them in the bedroom. After opening one, I added some to the other nurses’ & Carers’ nibble selection on the carers’ table.
The cleaning supplies are located under the sink and in the bathroom. Well, wet room.

Afternoon Carer was Mizra. Another nice lad. In and out in a few minutes. Checked taps, and I took a guzzle of Peptac.

Earlier, I got the calendar clock updated. I missed the photo off, I’m afraid. Better late than never. The tube firm the catheter was pulling again, but the pouch was nowhere near complete.

I also forgot these, taken from the balcony.

The intercom chimed again.
I got to the panel and pressed the top button. But no one was there. No one was there… that could fit when my memory tries to store things in the brain.

Early meal, No – Sister Jane rang. Burnt sausages, so I made another meal. Mass Depression came from nowhere, and Anne Gyna joined in.
She stayed the night.
Despite how I was feeling, I still enjoyed this delightfully tasty meal.

I was working on CorelDRAW and felt a dampness on the Catheter leg. I investigate.

I. The top connector-hose had come off altogether!
Another damned mess to try and sort, and a load more cleaning and disinfecting needed!
I’ve never fitted the top connector or strapping. The nurses usually sort that one out. But, as usual, there are no Community Nurses to contact for help at the weekends. I had to hope for the best, hoping I could manage the job. Hehehehe!
2: A search around in the bedroom where the nurse moved the catheter supplies. I had to find a top strap, which cost me 10 minutes. Not the easiest of tasks, I’ll tell you why. I’m sharing all the problems involved, hoping that a Nurse, Carer, Social Team member, or anyone who can help me avoid these issues or arrange extra support might read this blog. All the while during the search, I had Depression Darius, Cartilage Carole giving agony. The walking stick to fumble with in case Cartilage Chloe gave way. Also, the urine was still leaking, and I had a mass of kitchen towels trying to stem the flow from the inserted Little Inchy connector. I had to fetch a roll of kitchen towels when the first lot got soaked, and put the used ones in a carrier, as I searched around. And also lost an hour in the search.
3: I got back to the recliner room. But sorting out how to get the bendy-clip and find where it should go was all a guesstimate.
4. I had Dizzy Dennis join the other ailments due to all the bending I had to do.
5. Unsure if it would work or not, time would tell. I then had to go back to the store room to clean up the mess I’d made in my painful search. Collect and bag the smelly-wet towels, disinfect and bin them.
6: It was not flowing. I left it for a while, hoping things would start. Which did, but so slowly, and I was now getting flow-back pain in the bladder.
7: Carer Mizra arrived; it should have been a short visit. But the lad kindly went through the whole procedure again and reset the top strap. (W used the same pouch, though.) Naturally, he did not know where the holding grip should be placed, just as I didn’t. But he got the flow going. And had to rush off. Bless him. He still took diabetic socks off for me.
8: I collected the diabetic socks from the floor and put them in the laundry bag. I binned the spare straps from the recliner, along with the empty medical bags.
Then hoped and prayed that the connector would not come off again. Thanks, Mizra.

Estimated MOOD STATUS

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TTFN
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Inchie Today: Friday 1st August 2025

/ Inchie / 10 Comments

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Sister Jane’s Welbeck School Photograph.
Any guesses which one she is?
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I always wanted one of those Japanese trees, a banzai, 
I applied to go on TV, the darts game thingy, Bullseye,
But got mugged the day before, a broken nose and a black eye,
I was reasonably brave about it, I didn’t cry…
Of which the lump cuddly nurse can clarify,
We got on well, we were pally and quite chatty,
I said, Could we go for a meal at the Wimpey nearby,
She declined, saying they do not serve cowpie.
We were a similar age, it was around 1973,
So I said, seeking a grope, & feeling bigheartedly, 
We can go anywhere you like, just tell me…
She smiled and replied, I think you are a real honey,
But you’ve been robbed of your cash and money!
She walked me out, her rear end moving curvaceously,
I wave goodbye, sensing my loins activity…
Her telephone number pocketed, I felt my alacrity…
Eagerness, desire, I was a young wannabe, 
I agree our bodies bear a dissimilarity,
Me wirery, thin, stunted height and sinewy,
The nurse, cuddly, sticky, just my cup of tea!
The phone number got me through to the NSPCC!
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This one is Jane.

Due to a late Whoopsiedangleplop this evening, and by only just starting the above Ode, mayhem ensued. I was then miles behind. So, I need to get some of this done before I fall asleep. I can’t believe that no Depression Darius had hit me yet. He did visit earlier and then again later in the night. I’m adding this bit in the morning, and now I’m more confused than ever. Chronologically, this will be a terrible blog. I’m sorry, but I must press on. And cut things out or short from here on, until hopefully, the morning, if I ever get some sleep in.
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Morning urine, Ezaz classed as a number 6. Why the heck I put it on the graph as a 4, remains a mystery to me. I need to update the NHS graph, and I’m confident I’ll remember to. Tsk!

I rose at 04:50 hours, feeling a smidge perky that I hadn’t overslept. I changed the catheter and made my way to the wet room to get a wash and shave, clean my teeth, and then likely use the Porcelain Throne. Which, as it turns out, I needed suddenly on my way into the room. What a session, I think it must have taken me a minute to get seated and complete the evacuation, at the top! As my bum hit the plastic seat, there was what sounded like a splat, which took maybe 5 seconds to clear my bowels… but leaving a distinct feeling that a follow-up evacuation was already brewing! There was a mass of wind during the first evacuation. The minute spent on the Throne was dwarfed by the time it took me to clean up afterwards. I got the toothpaste out and searched around for the toothbrush – I know I used it last night, but where did I put it? Eventually, I spotted it behind the cistern on the floor. I retrieved the small plastic picker-upperer from the floor of the wet room and then got on with cleaning my teeth. The gums and teeth bled less than last time, which was nice. The plan was to oil the ears next, so I could hear if anyone came in or the intercom rang, and then start shaving – but, no! Luckily, I was standing right next to the WC when the follow-up evacuation started of its own accord. Talk about lucky, I was. This session was perhaps all over quicker than the first one! That was because it was almost liquid. Making as much mess, though, for me to clean up. Now, dawned. I find it embarrassing to say, but I went into an unstoppable, fed-up, mammoth-sized sulk. How do these things happen to me every day?
Then, cleaning up, I realised I’d run out of kitchen towels. So sent to get some from the kitchenette. 
What a change in my manner. When I saw the view from the window, I instantly changed back to I felt first, and got Kodak Tim 2, and took a snap. It didn’t turn out too well, but I wasn’t aware of that at the time. I cheered up a little. I returned to the wet room and got on with the cleaning again, almost contentedly.

Then on to the medicationings.
Underbelly, rea-end, Little Inchy, areas, aftershace on shaving cuts, it’d been that long they all dried solid. Nasal spray was applied to the legs and ankles, using the picker-upperer and kitchen towels. Toothache tincture was used, and I MedPhorpainPhorpain gelled the cartilages of Chloe and Carol, and then Arthur Itis’s knees. Used the mouthwash belatedly and searched all over for a wristlet panic alarm. I eventually found it on my wrist. I know, I know, but it’s a fact of life, and true! As I type this at approximately 20:20 hours, I’m still looking for the wristwatch. Is it somewhere in the wet room?
Surely! Or, maybe not. I’ll try to forget about it and look again later.

Then I remembered to change the calendar clock. And booted the computer.
Oh, dearie me. What am I doing? Just what I haven’t the time for… waffling on! But, being as I feel better, and I am sure that he is on his way to visit, if he does, I’ll stay up all night again to get this blog up to date, and into Sod ’em all mode again. I love doing it. The blog, I mean. Haha! 
But, not yet. When I opened CorelDRAW, it told me that the last saved drawings were not available!

Started the computer and was doing reasonably well, until CorelDraw told me that my last edited file was unavailable. This brought what was not wanted. For an unknown reason, desperation and frustration, possibly?
I gave up on the computer and took a snap from the balcony. I felt bitter and twisted with everything going wrong. I sulked and swore a little. 

A letter arrived. We are to have safety checks done on the flats. The workers will be abseiling up and down the outside for four days, checking the integrity of the building. They asked us not to open any windows fully. It’s good that the NCC looks after our safety.

Plenty of hard-to-read notes left on the memory notepad, but I’ve had enough now. Really feeling down. I’ve taken off the night bag, as anticipated. Dizzy Dennis paid a visit to object to my bending down. And as if things ain’t bad enough, Anne Gyna joined in, I’ll make a meal… no, I won’t. I’ll just have some crisps and biscuits, can’t be bothered.

On the other hand, now the pouch is off, I’ve got the mini roast potatoes that have a use-by date of the 2nd… I’ll get them in the oven. Hope I get to read the cooking instructions. Ejaz often reads them for me, but tonight, with the hassle and depression, I forgot to ask him. I’ll be back in a bit.

Nope, can’t read the label, which is in tiny print and stuck to the bottom of the foil dish. I’ll have to keep checking it as time goes on. Of course, I expect to remember to do that. But… at least if I set fire to the kitchen, someone can read this to find out why. I may have a prolonged seizure, fall asleep or just forget until I smell or see the smoke.
Every damned day is a struggle.

Took a late snap of the wonderful clouds.

Giving in now. Try to catch up in the morning. Well, it is morning now!
TTFN.

I’m back, Saturday 06:10hrs. Catchup.

Last shot of the day. Taken from the kitchenette window at around 02:20hrs.

TTFN

Inchy Today: Thursday 31st July 2025

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Please read, and apprehend; there’s no need to listen,
It may read that I wrote it in Lalaland, and lubrication,
Or amidst a seizure, or am I practising levitation,
I don’t expect pity, freebies, or any laudation,
I’m trying to avoid malapropisms and literalisation,
Failure will undoubtedly turn me back to libation,
A comfort from my last life, when I was a Latvian,
To say I remember, I’ve not learnt my lesson,
I’m impractical, get lost mentally, a luftmenschen,
They put me on a mood stabiliser, called Lithium,
Shortly after, I craved to be a lighthouseman,
I often come out with gibberish and lallation,
My infected brain works in laevorotation,
Backwards in other ways, I seek liberation,
From Starmers dictatorship & legislation,
Sometimes I burst out in lacrimation!

I am often confused & bemused, strife-ridden,  
I struggle with recognition and recollection,
I hoped for rejuvenation, but got rejection,
My cerebrum gives a varying reaction,
To my question or recommendation,
Physically, mentally, I get no recreation,
My new phone gives terrible reception,
I asked my neurologist for a reexamination,
To get help, mayhap a reevaluation,
I’ve lost my concentration and reputation,
I think I’m falling into acceptance or resignation,
Huh, cursing Starmer again, hatreds return,
Caused by my writing that word, Nation,
Claiming all our problems, he will righten,
He, a barrister, a liar, I’m so easy to frighten!
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A day of Accifauxpas, Whoppsiedangleplops, errors, typographical cock-ups, failing cartilages causing a tumble, computer problems, computer cock-ups, medical cancellations, various Catheter Contraption pains, depressions, frustrations, confusion, Gladys Glaucoma vision problems, Anne Gyna stabbings,  Tiffany Toothache, and Earache Erasmus.  
So, a normal sort of day, then.

06:30hrs: Removed the catheter night pouch from the day contraption.
The cartilages were playing up the instant that I rose from the bed and started to hobble around.
I’d been dreaming, I knew that, but it was so annoying that I couldn’t remember any real details of it. Grumph!

I went onto the balcony and noticed the usual carefree parking and the mudslide in the end car park. It wasn’t raining at the time. By the time I got into the kitchen to take shots through the windows, the rain was back. It seemed heavy, but it stopped again as I was taking the second shot. This is when I had one of . I’ve not had any of these for a while, so long that I thought they had had their run. Sandra’s Seizures last longer, sometimes much longer. But this time, I felt it coming on as I shut down the Kodak Tim 2 camera. I stood gazing out the window, trying to focus on the view in hopes of avoiding distractions; an experiment of sorts —and I remained standing, checking my watch as I did so.  
I came around to find myself sitting down on 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.
The usual dizziness and confusion that usually follow such things were much milder. I was holding the grip of  with both hands. It barely took me a couple of minutes before I felt ready for activity, and I was worried about what I’d done in the kitchen; had I put the stove on, left the fridge door open, left a tap/faucet running? I hobbled to the kitchen. No signs of anything dodgy having been done. Then I looked at my high-quality watch, bought from Bilwell Market for £8 (Hehe!), to find that only three minutes had passed since I started losing it. This sometimes confuses and amazes me. How, if as they tell me, I must have been in a seizure, and stood up at the time, and getting to the recliner, without the slightest knowledge of doing so?   
I can walk into things, and drop things, or fail to let things go, when I am in my usual wakeful scenario, yet as far as I recall, I’ve never taken a tumble within the grip of any of the types of seizures that I’m supposed to be liable to have.
Mr Google tells me more than the Doctor does. I forget her name now, erm… it doesn’t matter.
“A seizure” is a burst of uncontrolled electrical activity between brain cells (also called neurons or nerve cells) that causes temporary abnormalities in muscle tone or movements (stiffness, twitching or limpness), behaviours, sensations or states of awareness. This links up with my Peripheral Neuropathy, episodic ataxia, and FND symptoms (definitely). Nicodemus’s neurotransmitters are slowly dying off. I don’t think that the diabetic polyneuropathy is linked to the seizures. Diabetic polyneuropathy symptoms;

  1. Numbness and tingling: Often starting in the toes and fingers, and potentially progressing up the limbs. I’ve told the Doctor. 
  2. Pain: This can be described as burning, stabbing, or shooting pain. And electric shocks for me
  3. Loss of sensation: Difficulty feeling temperature changes or pain in affected areas. Right again!
  4. Muscle weakness: Especially in the feet and hands. Don’t I know it!
  5. Loss of balance and coordination: Due to nerve damage in the feet and legs. Oh, Yes!
  6. Changes in digestion: Constipation or diarrhoea. Alternations. Spot On!
  7. Bladder or bowel problems: Difficulty controlling urination or bowel movements. Too true! 
  8. Erectile dysfunction: Difficulties in achieving/maintaining an erection.      Mission impossible nowadays!
  9. Hypoglycemia unawareness: Not feeling the usual warning signs of low blood sugar. Correct!
  10. Orthostatic hypotension: A drop in blood pressure when standing up, causing dizziness or fainting. Spot On!
  11. Sensitivity to touch: Some individuals experience severe discomfort from even light touch, like the weight of a bedsheet. Or someone massaging or tapping them on the head. True!
  12. Foot problems: Ulcers, infections, changes in foot shape, and joint pains can develop.    Yes, I often get these!
  13. Peripheral neuropathy: Affecting the limbs, this can cause numbness, tingling, burning, sharp pains, or extreme sensitivity to touch, especially in the feet. It can also lead to muscle weakness, balance issues, foot problems like ulcers, and loss of reflexes. Balance issues, numbness, tingling, sharp pains, and sensitivity to touch? That’s me!

They’ve missed symptoms off of this list!
No mention is made of being unable to pick something up or let go of it. The shoulder jerks, loss of finger sensation & coordination, being woken up by , or the times when you just can’t use a tin-opener or knife safely if at all, fit a key into a lock, or even get a plug into the computer or the kitchen sink. Just thought I’d mention these.

Wouldn’t it be nice if Herr Starmer were to read this? Fair enough, he wouldn’t give a toss… unless I was rich enough to slip him a backhander or two.
I officially HEX the liar from today!
Should he come a cropper or snuff it, as a result of my hexing him, I may regain my Faith.
I just thought I’d mention it, in passing.
I wrote this on Friday, so please be patient.

I lost the plot again there!

Here comes the food, from Asda,
Just 3 items missing, so not a disaster,
I do like their 1½litre Brecon Spring Water,
Sticky & Smokey BBQ baby potatoes,
I ordered these accidentally,
They may taste nice, who knows?
I meant to order these beer-battered chips,
They also sell beer-battered crisps,
Makes a change from the mini potatoes.
I can’t recall wanting these on the left…
The Halal sausages match the best!
Half & half, vegan and beef & veg pasties,
I had a vegan one tonight, a delight.
Cheesey cobs, from Asda’s bakery,
Leicester cheese inside, very tasty,
Only a day’s use-by date, usually it’s three!
On Special Offer – LU cookie,
I bought a pack for Frank & Jenny,
Hope I remember to tell them Thursday!
Cleaned and reloaded my nibble jars.

I had two no-butter buttered cobs, cheesie,
Red onions, & tomatoes, red, yellow and greeny,
Ate it, dipping it in the BBQ sauce frequently.
The dish, tray & floor ended up all crumby.

Three visits today, each one a Trotsky Terry,
A lot went wrong, ending with self-acrimony,
No seemed to be answering me…
No news on the computer help from Deana or Julie.
The contents insurance letter has seen a significant increase in cost, up over £50! 

I blame our head crook, pensioner-robbing & killing, Disabled allowance cutting, NHS running-down, Family farmers bankrupting, fibbing, backhander-taking, ex-bent barrister, Labour Party Leader, who is about as much Labour as Margaret Thatcher was, Herr Kier Starmer!
I lost the plot again, didn’t I?

I was doing well on Thursday, with updating this blog, albeit late in the day.
I forgot about checking the catheter bag. Usually, I get a warning from the flowback pains when it is too full. But not today. It filled up to the maximum without me sensing it, and down the leg it slipped, with all the weight pulling on Little Inchy! Argh!
I tried to snap it before emptying it. The photo I took did not show the balloon bulge well enough.
Hey-Ho! It’s my own fault. Sometimes, not very often, a Carer will check it, but not today.

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Good Luck to you all!
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Inchy: Wed 30 July 25 – DDDDD all day, then a late visit from High-Mood-Horis

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The lost photos from yesterday.

You can hardly see the part-moon in the sky!

For most of the day. Then, late on, visited.

Oh, dear, I’m wearing black diabetic socks & slippers.

Took a shot of the end car park, no mudslide.

Porcelain Throne visited.

Returned to the computer and noticed it had been raining. A mudslide had started in the end car park.
The rain stopped. It only lasted for ten minutes.

Into the kitchenette to refill the bladder water bottle.
No rain, but the earlier bit we had was clinging to the glass of the window.
Opened the window to take this one.

I’ve got some peas, onions, and sweetcorn in the slow cooker, ready for later.
Made a brew of Glengettie. Then cut up some potatoes to bake to add to the meal. Not a single cut finger. Got them in the oven

Blue skies and grey clouds.

The front car park on Citrus Walk.

The Food Fiasco…
I served up the nosh on a tray. Bread and the last pot of vegetarian lemon yoghourt, bread and some mini tomatoes on the tray with the seasoned stew of sorts. Casserole? Soup? I’d put some liquid smoke in the mix. But when I got down with my meal on the tray, I sat in front of the TV on the £300 second-hand shop-bought, c1966. Moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly-beige-coloured, much dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not working, tormenting Harold’s Haemorroids, recliner. Put the TV on to watch a recorded Heartbeat episode.
I got deep into the programme and was consuming the stew, or whatever it’s called.
I’d got through about half of what was in the dish, and just as I remembered, I had not put the potatoes in from the oven, I got the smell of burning up my nose.
A semi-panic mode gripped me, and I put down the food tray to rush into the kitchen… Luckily, what happened next was as I stood up…
Gave way on me, and my knee greeted the carpet and forced me into using swearwords and curses. My mind was then concentrated on getting myself up again.
Which, using the aged, grotty-looking c1966 made, charity-shop-bought, horribly beige-coloured, £300, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, non-operational, acne-giving, virus-breeding, rickety, easy-to-fall-out-of recliner, I hauled myself up into it…
Unfortunately, I caught the chair with the food on it and spilt the dish all over the tray.
I carefully got back on my feet, and now my concentration was on getting the tray cleaned up before the grey spilt through the holes at the end of the tray, out onto the floor.
This, I did. Using kitchen towels, I cleaned around, and then smelled the burning from the oven, and remembered why I was getting up in the first place.
I got the oven door open, expecting the worst, and the sliced roasted spuds were… well, cooked to perfection, just as I like them.
I added them to the dish on the tray… .
I caught my hand on the oven tray while taking it out.
By the time I’d cleaned that tray and ointmentated the burn. Then, I returned to the TV room with the added potatoes.
I rewound the Heartbeat episode to catch up on what I’d missed, and started eating. I’d made too many potatoes and had virtually started eating another meal. I couldn’t manage it all, but ate all of the potatoes. For some reason… , visited, and this was unexpected but great!
Even when the next calamity took place while washing the pots in the kitchen, I handled it in true High-Mode-Horis fashion, “Sod-it, Sode em all”!
Compared to the earlier responses to the mishaps, I just accepted things as being expected and anticipated. Part of my everyday life nowadays. Gawd, if only  it could be conjured up when something happens untoward and I get visits from ? I dream, of course, but in a state where anything seems possible. Can he be conjured?
lost the plot again there…
Ah, yes, the ! I dropped the dish into the water in the washing-up bowl, and a few drops splashed out onto the floor.
It set the Flood Alert Alarm off!

Ejaz did a decent job today. He did the laundry, helped me clean the oven, took the waste bags to the shoot, and mopped the kitchen. Unfortunately, he used the speed mop, which left the floor sticky.
He put the night diabetic shocks on for me.
Did a full-body check on me. Reminded me about the Fire Alarm inspection tomorrow. 

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HMG has Coercion. But lacks Cohesion
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