Liberty-Global Virgin Media internet Down Again!

Inchie: Sat/Sun 19-20th September 2026

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

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Lymph Water leaking from the leg
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I went to bed early and was so tired, but around midnight,
you wouldn’t believe what came on.

The Catheter blocked; agony. Took an Ezetimibe and Codeine straight away. Then angina and my back played up, as lymph water flowed again from both leg wounds. Just to add a little variety to the proceedings, cramps and toothache kicked off. 
 I didn’t call the nurses at that time of day, not wanting to be sent to the hospital by taxi again. I couldn’t dress myself anyway. The tablets did little to ease the pain, and I kept doing things to take my mind off them a little.
By 03:30, I could take no more and rang the nurses. They were very busy and told me to ring 111, or I could call back after 08:00hrs.
Then, I’m not joking; between 0330 and 0400hrs, I was stuck on the toilet. I could not get out. Every time I started to clean up the blood and poo, I needed to go again… 8 times! I hobbled back into the front room to take more medications, and the phone rang. A chap said he’d rung four times; staff were outside and could not get in. Of course I was incarcerated in the wet room and could not hear. He checked my name, DOB & address, and realised it was not my place they were at! A male nurse is on his way.
I was thoroughly confused.
Minutes later, the intercom rang. I pressed the open button, and it went dead!
I fumbled about to get a dressing gown on, no footwear, of course, to get down to admit him, and got the walking frame ready to use as the doorbell chimed and he came in. Now for some Grrreat News!

The chap looked all worn out; he was just about to go home when he got the message. He got me on the bed, asked a few questions, and told me he was going to try to force the urine in the bladder to move. He thought my rear-end escapades (constipation) may have had an effect on my bladder. A short, sharp twang of pain from the blow-bubble thing, and 15 seconds later the urine pouch had filled to the maximum! Wonderful relief!
The other pains remained, even now, but they are piffle compared to the flow-back pains. The tired-out medical genius had saved the day. 👍🏻 I was so happy, I sent a thank-you email to the surgery and nurses for their help, which I got when I took a tumble getting into the Doctor’s surgery. and for this saviour genius who called at 04:30hrs, freed me from worrying about going into the hospital Stalag, and got the Catheter working again.
Thank you all!

 Then Edward arrived; he’s so good at ignoring me. Skilled at changing the subject when I ask him for something. He knows how to confuse me, easily. I was telling him he had failed to put my diabetic socks on for two days; I glanced at him, and he was on his mobile. Still, it perked him up a bit; he made me a mug of tea and got my socks on. Applying the Phorpain, I saw the lymph water had stopped leaking! YeeHAA!
 

But I was, and still am, in a better mood after being saved from a trip to the torture chamber… I mean, hospital. 🚑

Then, the Sunday Morning Floods!
Lucky? Me? I haven’t had time to read the WP Reader or reply to WP comments in days. Medical appointments. Falls. Lights went out, District nurses, Doctor’s appointment where the Carer did not show up. A fortune on taxis. Agony from the backache, shoulders, Coccyx, and leg wounds. Dropping, losing and walking into things… three new medical appointments came in, two next week, and one to add to the one already there for the week after. One worryingly with a psychiatrist next week… I’ll check that on the letter; Sod-it! I can’t find the letter with the details of times and how to get there! It might be in an email; I’ll check. Nope, not there. I’ll look at text messages… to find the mobile phone first. I’ll have to find the mobile first. I’ll search again later.

Well, the lowest ever overall.
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In the wet room, I found that it was flooded, too!
As I was about to get it tested and, if need be, call the NCC Maintenance, the door chime rang out, and Carer Andrew came in. He gave me a hand, trying to do anything that would involve me bending down, bless him.
I asked Andrew to take the wet rugs out first. Which he did. I got the shower going, which had been used only once in four weeks, as the Carers do not have time to help me shower. Occasionally, one will help me have a stand-up wash and clean areas I cannot reach. Lower legs and back mainly. I wondered if this lack of use may have contributed to the drain failure?
Pleasingly, when the shower was turned on, the drain gurgled and worked. I hosed the bits and pieces of dropped bandages, protection-pant fluff, and even noticed a couple of garden peas go down the drain.
Don’t ask. Hahaha!

I tried to get as much down the drain as possible with the cheap long-stick sponge. Later went to check that I’d got rid of the water, as only a few specks came through the kitchen towel I put down.
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Andrew issued the medications, pain-gelled the shoulders, neck and back. He asked if I needed the diabetic socks on; I said yes, as I went back to the wet room to make sure the drain was still working. All looked okay. But we both forgot about putting the socks on.
A proper pair of clots!
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I got the computer on to try and get the out-of-date bits I’d started going again. But my new £850 computer played up, as per usual.
I lost several hours trying to get the new drive attached to the new computer, but the installer wouldn’t work, to no avail. So, yet again, I had to move things into a new file and delete them from the old file to save memory.
Everything I do is taking me so much longer with this new computer! Adding the extra medical things I need, I can see I’ll have to give up blogging soon. I do love it, though; well, I used to. Since the new Carers started, the problems I can’t solve keep increasing. British Gas, still not solved. Six promised arrangements were made for an engineer to call to look at the meter; none arrived. Carer Ejaz has been in control of sorting this out, and has done his best. But he calls far less frequently nowadays. Which is doing me no good, frustration-wise.
Now the medical needs are increasing. It’s going to need more in the near future (starting the week after next).
The cataract lasering (EENT-QMC) is taking place next Tuesday or Wednesday. From last time, I know this will need extra care until my vision returns. Various drops to be put in the eye, four times a day. Both Lymphohrea wounds will need the socks on in the morning and off at night. (But this is not happening, so the problems with them will continue for longer, needing more attention).
The psychiatrist’s monthly meetings start next week as well, adding time, Carer, and taxi costs.
We still haven’tmade an appointment at the Audio Clinic to have both hearing aids mended. Without them, it is hard for me to make and receive phone calls. The neurologist appointment has been cancelled again.
Am I moaning or just mentioning?
My chances of getting into a home are minimal, hopeless, to impossible. But I believe this move is my only hope of retaining my sanity and getting a little life back as I await the Grim Reaper’s attention. Yes, it will be more costly… but not when you realise how much I’m paying for the Carers. I could solve my known-but-can’t-do-anything-about-it problems with ordering food online. I wouldn’t need to order food online. Maybe they will offer a lift to a supermarket for occupants? Give lifts to hospital appointments? That will save me costly taxis to the Dentist, opticians, doctors, neurologist, audiologist, urology departments, outpatients, cardiac, psychiatrist, A&E; all currently needing Carer & taxi costs.
I was given this advice about my upcoming first meeting with a psychiatrist: Preparing for your first NHS psychiatric assessment (often called an appraisal or evaluation) involves gathering your medical history and current symptoms so the Doctor can understand how best to support you (PDP).
What to Prepare Before the Appointment
1) List your symptoms: Write down what you have been feeling, when the issues started, and how they affect your daily life, work, or relationships.
2) Gather medication details: Make a clear list of all current and past medications, doses, and any herbal supplements or vitamins you take.
3) Note your history: Write down any past mental health diagnoses, treatments, therapy experiences, or significant life events, history and definitely stresses.
4) Prepare questions: Jot down anything you want to ask about potential diagnoses, treatment paths, or available support services.
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Am I moaning or just mentioning?
Does it matter?
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This may take me too long; with the appointment in four days and busy days, I won’t have the time.
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Home Sweet Home.
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Now, tonight, the Catheter pouch isn’t filling up!
Well, I mean tomorrow morning, 01:20hrs
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Shortarse Inchy: Tuesday 10th December 2024

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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Monday, I was at my awfullest,
I’ve got to get this of my chest…
WordPress lost the blog I’d written best…
I’ve never been so depressed!
Lost the ode of 33 lines, 15 photos at least,
900 plus words, some of my bestest!
I felt in a world of complete solitariness,
Showing a degree of stoicalness,
I did the blog again; anger & shirtiness,
No time to medicate or ablutionise…
Though I felt some frustration & stress,
Matron Jackie, Nurse Rayon, God bless…
Getting the 2nd one done, I felt astucious,
At the same time very carnaptious!
At times, EQ & I got a little contrarious,
If I had been born in the Cretaceous…
Would I have been luckier, more gracious?
I got on and did it again ’cause I’m cretinous!
I now sense that I’m more extraneous,
But by doing it, I felt more eximious!
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A good 4-hours kip last night. Not enough, I know, but a darned sight better than Zilch. And welcome all the same.
I didn’t wake up until after 0600 hrs. I immediately realised the Asda order was due at 06> 0700 hrs. They could have been, but I couldn’t hear the intercom going off. I prayed it would not be another day like yesterday!
I wanted a wash, shave, and shower badly, and I didn’t have one in yesterday’s turmoil. But dare not wait until later; I didn’t want to miss the fodder coming. Mind you, if I had known what I learned after the delivery, I’d have been better off locking the door! I’ll talk more about this a little later.
I removed the nocturnal catheter bag and took this terrible photo to ask the Carer to identify the shade number on the NHS graph card. Hours later, when I got the images on CorelDraw, I found this one on the left of the SD card. With Gladys Glaucoma sending my vision hazy so often, it took me ages to identify what it was I’d taken a photo of and why I did. I did sort the waste bags out, and I think this was the bag emptied on the kitchenette door handle. That’s my guess!

The Asda order arrived shortly after I’d done the waste bags.
The regular driver came. He is a nice bloke who does not get agitated when I ask him to put the food into boxes and bags I keep for the job. I put them into the hallway and cheerio’d the chappie as he left. 
Then, I photographed the fodder as I emptied things out of the bag and boxes. I was building up my stock of spring water and soda water so I could do without an order come Christmas week. Also, the toilet rolls and kitchen towel stock were boosted a bit. Well, a lot, really. I never know if it will be a Trotsky Terence or Constipation Conrad visit to the Porcelain Throne. I got the nurses, Wardens, and Carer’s drinkies and treats built up and ready for the festivities.
What festivities am I on about? I don’t know. It just slipped out. There is no chance. I certainly shall not be festivalling. I like that word! I’m also stocked up with black bean sauces, bicarbonate of soda and fresh air sprays. In case Trotsky Terence should make a comeback!
Lemon desserts, bacon, pretend fish sticks, and some Macron. Aha, you ask, what is Macron? It’s Italiano lamb, sliced and shaped to look like its streaky bacon does. Expensive. You can smell and taste the lamb. I’ve enough bread, mostly cobs and Milk roll loaf, to last until the new year. Or even longer!
The freezer is entirely crammed with them. Carer Chloe helped me get them all into the freezer on her second call! Whether I can open the draws to get at them later is questionable. Haha! 
Also, some microwave sausages. All of the rolls and baps have cheese in or on them.      
There was even more in the following box; I think I got carried away ordering this lot! Still, it should give me more time to get other things done. I’m trying to contact the Audio clinic to tell the m about my hearing aids not working. Try to get an appointment, then book a lift there and back with Easy Link. Then, I must arrange to get a cooker to replace the current one that died a death on me.  
I lost track a bit there, sorry.
I invested in a batch loaf, which the label claims has three cheeses baked. (Left)

While working away on this blog, & I took a snap of the view on offer from the kitchen window. No rain today, but it seems colder now.
I spotted the house in the snap on the left, with Christmas lights aglow. Fetched Kodak and returned to the kitchen, and they’d been turned off.

The District Nurse came again, bringing the medications from Carrington Pharmacy. They were both Barrier Creams. She showed me how to apply the cream and where to do it: on the Little Inchies Fungal Lesion, the bloated colonies, under the man- breasts, on the top of the catheter leg, on the Acne and Eczema wherever they appear, and alongside the Germoloid to Harold’s Haemorrhoids. She stressed how important it is to do this twice a day. I insisted she take a nibble and a drinkie. Three more identical creams were delivered via the Post Office an hour later. Being looked after is rare but lovely!

I spent a few more hours on the blog and finally posted it.

Carer Christopher called, and I spent another hour on the computer before closing down. Then, for my meal of the day, I made three-cheese bread sarnies.
The bread with cheese was so gorgeous! So as not to waste the bread, I put half of it that I didn’t eat in a bag for Chris. I was so tired I forgot to place the barrier cream on the various parts of my body. I had to force myself to get up again and apply the cream. Applying it to the two egg-shaped glands in the scrotum was the second most painful. Putting it on Little Inchies fungal lesion, as the nurse said it would be, required a delicate application. Impossible with Peripheral Neuropathy shaking and lack of sensation on the fingers and hand. I’ll take a look and see if I can see it in the morning. She told me not to put too much on to be sparse. All the other areas were easy peasy to do. I returned to the bed and got settled, wondering if I could get to sleep… Zzz! For 6 hours uninterrupted! 
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Hasta La Vista!

 

Infant Inchy: Sunday 24th November 2024

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

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ODE from INCHY

From within the depths of a shallow hope,
Dreams may start to evoke…
Your old desires, you will possibly revoke,
Be you young, old, female or menfolk,
Chances are you’ll need a urineascope,
You can avoid them using the cystoscope,
Maybe a heart op, or colonoscope,
Or the uncomfortable gastroscope,
A bronchoscope that goes down your throat,
Perhaps (I’ve had lots of these) a cystoscope,
An oesophagoscope (I’ve only had one) no more, I hope,
Many surgical wotsits names end with scope…
Laparoscope, various forms of endoscope,
Urethroscope, proctoscope, that’s also a rectoscope,
The first cancer detector was a spinthariscope,
Which at the time helped me cope.

Labours Nye Bevan, my hero, had appeal & allure,
He saved many lives; he created the NHS for sure…
In 1948, began the NHS adventure,
Few medicals were then available for the poor,
Then, to the NHS, they did pour,
I became an ardent admirer,
Look at it now, and we’ve got Starmer…
Stealing from each pensioner and farmer,
He’s a bribes & backhanders palmer!
What made the liar want to join Labour?
Let alone become the opposition leader,
Did he come as a Labour saboteur?
Now he’s P.M., the nasty, cruel bleeder!
The politician I most hate and abhor,
Labour’s Red Rose may be due to alter…
Keir may replace it with a bloodied sabre,
He’s not going to be the UK’s saviour,
It’s personal wealth that he does savour,
I don’t mean him harm, but I’m not a well-wisher, 
I’ll wish him Godspeed to his undertaker!
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Photo filing problems again.
Mini-seizures were rife throughout the day.
Dark Dank Depressions.
Immediate Dizzy Dennis Spells.
Concentration collapsed.
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Whoops! Wee-wee a bit red again.

I’m not sure what I did wrong taking this Kodak 2 photograph of the Renaurd-ridden toes and feet. They didn’t look anything like the hue the picture came out as. The bruising was where the cans of veg I dropped landed.

Made a mug of strong Glengettie tea. Slurp!

They were with me for about three hours on the trot.
I couldn’t find any work I had done while they were on, which is unusual. Usually, I’d find work done on the computer or in the kitchen that I could not remember doing. With the blog, this means I have to spend ages correcting things, but not today, as I have not done anything.

I soon found out I was wrong again!
It cost me time and money and embarrassment, which I didn’t realise until near teatime. When the front porch intercom sounded. I went to see who it was, expecting someone had rung the wrong flat number… or a resident had forgotten to take the key to get back in with them. But no, nothing so simple.
At the door on the screen, was a gentleman delivering me a Morrison’s food order?
So, I had been doing something while in the seizures. And what a mess I made of that, too!
I checked later on and sent the order off during the 3 hours of Sandra’s attendance.
The chap arrived, and I put the food away, but why I’d ordered some things and not others will remain a muddled mystery.

Why the hell I ordered roasting potatoes and frozen red onions, I do not know. I have nothing to cook potatoes on or in. I can now recall buying a bag of these months ago, and they were tasteless and had to be thrown away. Three bags of cheesy bread rolls were ordered, but no sliced Milk Roll bread was ordered. Oh, dearie me!
I ordered canned coffee, which was for the nurses and carers. I also ordered some more soft drinks, but no spring water, which I take to fill the bladder.
Cream cakes? Why? Who for on a Sunday? Also, some fresh chopped white onions had been ordered? More tomatoes, two packs of different ones!
Not the faintest memory of making the order in the first place, when I made it, or why I made it!
I soon decided to see if any Caregivers wanted the cream cakes in the morning. I dropped one box of the cakes, and they squashed and sprayed cream through the breath holes in the carton!

It took me ages to clean up the mess.

Now, depression and frustration have begun.

I’m glad I ordered these cheeses, though. Mature Blue Stilton cheese and extreme vintage cheese spread. Not knowing this order was coming, I’d defrosted some ready-sliced brown bread rolls for today’s meal.

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I used the last of the extra-strong cheddar slices on these rolls. Had I been in the habit of eating newspapers, this is just how I expected them to taste – tasteless!

After eating or nibbling a few bits of the horrendous-tasting rolls and weak cheese with some tomatoes, I put the just-delivered cheesy-topped rolls in the freezer for later.
Then I discovered they were not cheesy-topped at all, just plain wholemeal. Presumably, they had been substituted for the cheesy rolls that I wanted. Spit!

More of the day lost than recalled. Sorry.
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TTFNski!

Inchy: Friday & Saturday 23-4th November 2024

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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The memories recalled, but only just,
I think it may have been 1972, in August…
I met and was mauled by an anaesthesiologist,
Stabbed by an acupuncturist.
This year, I was robbed by an oligarchist,
Who goes by the name of Starmer!
Known as the proletariat’s financial amputator,
His first job as PM put pensioners asunder,
Raised taxes for every farmer,
Who accepted far too many a backhander…
He is still the Labour leader,
Money from anywhere he can acquire,
To his many wrongs, he’s not a conceder,
Because he is such an arrogant bleeder…
A perfect match to be a Tory Prime Minister,
He’s although blunt, he’s a clever circumventor…
Lies directly, by omission, a fibbing blatherer,
I bet he’s never been a TV renter,
Cause self-wealth is at his centre…
Working persons new tax inventor,
Bet he gets a free haircut from his barber!
His taxes put an end to improving agriculture,
He’s just like a greedy vulture!
His ruthlessness gives me acroparesthesia,
It’s like he got into power with tabula nasa,
Apart from filling his bank account whenever,
To morals & sympathy, he is a denyer,
I wonder if his stockings are 15 denier?
I doubt his calculations, cogitation, & dedication…
I wonder at times if he is just an apparition…
Sent by Putin, to do our economy in?
Or maybe a Right-Wing Martian?
He’s certainly caused political confusion,
Are, to Keir, old labour values an illusion?
Voters want action with anti-depression,
Not an HMG leader like an automaton!
It could all end with a revolution!
Maybe it can be stopped by a coalition,
But he doesn’t need my permission…
But he can have my commiseration,
HMG UK is leading to deterioration,
Sooner the better, for the voting disillusioned
That Starmer is toppled & decommissioned!
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Ah, a bit better colour!

Terrible photo!

Waste bags condensed.

Evening mug of Glengettie tea.

Blue evening views

Four big cob sarnies. But they were too big for me to manage. Waste not, want not; I bagged them, put them in the fridge, and ate them on Saturday. They were pork loin with robust cheddar cheese, no-butter butter, sliced tomatoes, and chestnuts. No finger cuts were sustained. 

Got more photos saved to go on tonight!
Smug-Mode-Adopted!

Note the deliberate spelling mistake? Ahem!

Gawd, I hate Starmer!
I don’t think I’m on my own.

A large rise in cases percentage-wise!

I did a bit of research later for the odd below above!

All was normal here.

Slightly darker this morning.

My morning shots are getting atrocious!

Yesterday, I, Sherlock Holmesianly, searched for the signs of which houses are growing Cannabis in their lofts.
Today, it became apparent. Hehehe!

I’m unsure how I did it, but I got the battery-powered can opener to work!

Snowgoinger! Haha!

No TV. No landline phone. No Panic Alarm Working.
NO INTERNET! For 5+ hours.
Still, as long as the owners of Virgin, Liberty-Global, keep paying their CEO a phenomenal salary. Indeed, they will remain the supreme, cunning, lying Oligarchs they are. Trying to cancel their service, with their clause making us pay £100s to do so, requires someone with the following skills and can afford a barrister, a mathematician, & Einsteinian genius.
If one does escape their financial and incapable service, one may try EE, 3, Vodafone, BT, UPC Broadband, 02, ITV plc, or  Sirius—all of which Liberty-Global either owns or has investments in! We can’t win!.
But Liberty-Global Always Do! (Spit!)

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TTFNski

Iliad Inchy: Saturday 16th November 2024

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

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I had a visit from Grim Reaper 8,2,449,26 Vizi,
He was not soul-collecting, he called socially,
I like this Reaper Vizi, who last visited me in 2023,
He said he was depressed but very busy,
North Korean troops join in war against Ukraine,  
Available Souls to collect rises again…
Gaza, so many humans getting slain,
Children starving, dying in pain,
There is no world affability or affinity,
Words spoken artificiality, many an atrocity,
Politicians without any accountability,
No shortage of greed or ambivalency,
Hostility, or apathy, sinful Oligarchy…
Seek profit, power, a mega bankroll,
War children build themselves a bolthole,
Politicians lie, cheat, use hyperbole,
Free murderers, with a legal loophole,
Killers, murderers given parole, 
We don’t need wars to kill, as with Chernobyl,
Plane, ship disasters, or a sinkhole,
Fewer miners die, now you don’t use coal,
Earth is doomed; well, it is a hellhole!
I interrupted him, “You can take my soul…”
Dying must surely be more peaceful?
Is heaven extraterrestrial?
Was humankind meant to be experimental,
I sense that we are all fossiliseable,
Well, of course, anything is possible…
Vizi said that trusting humankind is fatal,
This starts when they are foetal,
Anklesnappers turn into people,
They turn finical, criminal & some fatidical,
Like you, cause you’ve a low IQ but high EQ,
You see, but you don’t know what to do…
Your hopes for happiness are exhausted,
Your faith in humankind has vegetated…
Your lust for life has withered…
The Lord’s return remains uncorroborated,
Your caring nature has been exploited,
Life itself, you’ve never bested,
Truth is, you are no longer interested…
You’ve grumbled, moaned and protested,
You’ve not changed, but the world has altered,
You’ve failed, lost, deflated and faulted…
This earth has been maladministered,
Now an idiot has been Prime Ministered!
And pensioners he has murdered…
Yet Starmer remains undeterred,
Wait for him in hell to see him burn!
Then your sense of humour can return!
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Another miserable night’s sleep was endured. I felt so weary when it came time to get up and prepare for the food delivery I nodded off again. What I thought was five minutes later, I shot awake for the umpteenth time and I began to haul my abdominous-bellied body from the grasp of the c1968, tatty, scruffy, unkempt, uncomfortable, virus, microorganism, bug, bacterium, bacillus, germ, parasite producing, and disease-fermenting second-hand, eyesorely-horrendously grungy beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, moth-eaten, non-working, bacillus encouraging, incommodious, tatty  Haemorrhoid Harold testing recliner. I did the 40-second balance exercises and dragged myself carefully upright onto my legs to get to my .
The intercom rang out! Gotten Himmel! I thought it was about 05:00hrs, but it was 07:00hrs! So much for me nodding off for five minutes; it must have been two hours. If Electric-Shocking-Sandra and Thought Storming Steven had let me sleep earlier, it wouldn’t have been a problem. I was still not entirely out of the earlier seizure, but a bit of good luck… Yes!

Carer Promise arrived as the delivery chap was opening the door. Promise took the bags into the kitchen for me. Then he fitted the diabetic socks and sorted the medications out for me, remembering the Vitamins. Thank you. He assessed the colour of the urine in the nocturnal pouch for me. Then, I emptied the pouch and got on with sorting the delivery from J Sainsbury’s.

I’d forgotten to order some fresh tomatoes. Humph! Still, I’ve a few left to be used, but they are a few days old.
I had to throw it away.
The fish sticks and the meat were in the refrigerator; I forgot to check the dates, so I delved into the fridge again but could only read two.
Cheesy cobs and the Milk Roll sliced loaves of bread were put in the freezer, ready for use later. I kept out one pack of cobs to use today and put the butter in the fridge. Two ready-made meals went in with the butter. One potato cheese, onion, and a sweet & sour one with rice joined the butter and lemon yoghourts & desserts. The rest went into a cupboard: tea bags, cider, pork knuckle, bicarbonate of soda, and the Veggie cookies.

Then it was off to the wet room for a wash and Porcelain Throne session. Another torpedo, and again followed by some sticky wet waste product. That bit was messy.
I took a photo of my Renaulds feet and toes. But the computer would not let me save this one. It’s most annoying, well, damned annoying, I can tell you.

When I shut down the computer yesterday, I did a Ccleaner routine, and I thought this should help me this morning. It did, to start with, but it soon started refusing to save. I must try to get help fitting the stand-alone hard drive for me.

My Mini-Seizures were rampant today. I lost count of how many times I forgot what I was doing mid-stream of any actioning previously. I recall talking to someone about the Ice-Cold sensations, to find they suffered the same thing. We both agreed it was frustrating, as people who don’t have the problem cannot understand it or how bad it is. Also, what effect can it have on someone? Dropping things, failing to grab a hold or grip, etc. Losing balance, we share as well. It was nice to chat with someone who knows. Convincing the medical world of the seriousness is even more difficult!

I took this snap from the kitchenette window sometime in the afternoon. While checking if it had gone on the SD card, I saw a fantastic flowering bush in part of the garden in front of the two houses. I took a close-up photo of it. I wondered if anyone in the blogosphere knows its name?

The photos were not saved again, so I gave up. In the morning, many of them went on, which baffled me.

I sat down and blissfully fell asleep, but the Carer arrived to wake me up. Hehe!
It was all sorted, and I went into the kitchen to prepare the planned beef sarnies with beetroot, red onion and tomato-buttered cobs. I took these three shots as darkness began to fall.

Mind you, I’m enjoying them.
It’s just that I’ve cut my fingers a few times when slicing tomatoes, onions, beetroot, bread, etc. Losing the use of the cuts down on chips!

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TTFN.

Medicated Inchy: Monday 11th November 2024

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

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I’m now frequently confused, flabbergastingly,
Doreen Dementia guarantees my fallibility,
Working things out, I have little flexibility,
Sometimes I wish I lived in a Friary,
But there are people there who confuse Inchy,
I have ailments, not a disability…
I admit to having physical & mental frailty,
And live with seizures, most of them mini,
Compared to my lifestyle, formerly…
I don’t mind saying, nowadays I worry,
No one to converse with socially,
Sometimes, I’ll wake up gratifyingly…
But, never satisfyingly,
At times, I find life adversarially,
I fret over things universally,
In seizures, thoughts go atmospherically,
My usual mode turns to abnormally,
In rare up modes, I press on blithefully,
Ever present are doubts & hamartithia,
I lack tranquillity, equanimity & ataraxy,
Existing in solitarily, unsociably, introvertedly,
At times, showing stoicism, fortitude, longanimity,
I’m not short of talkativeness or loquacity,
But that’s usually with my EQ or Little Inchie…
The Grim Reaper, God, but mostly, with me!
I can still have moments of near lucidity…
I need help with my feeling nugatory…
But where do I find a mirabiliary?
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Busy morning, getting things ready to go to the surgery.
I thought I’d done a decent job of getting everything ready. I was running a little later than I’d hoped, but I still thought I could make it as I locked the flat and walked to the Sherrington Park Medical Centre. Going down Winchester Street, about halfway, there were plenty of things to photograph. I went to get Kodak Tim from the three-wheeled walker trolly… I was livid when I realised that when I’d put new batteries in back at the flat, I must have put them down and forgotten to replace them in the bag. I recall a Carer coming in when I was replacing the batteries. It doesn’t take much for Imchy to lose his plot or plans! Grumph!

I can’t believe the things I could have taken snaps of on my walk up Mansfield Road to Carrington. A gang of youths lurking behind the fast food kitchen in the back. A bumper-to-bumper crash near the Chapel. Then, four police cars belted past, going toward the City; I was at the top of the hill when they went by and could have caught all four vehicles, one an armed response one, in one frame.
As I was swearing and calling myself names for forgetting to take the Kodak, two more cars passed with lights on, both unmarked with hidden blue lights in the grill. I got even more annoyed with myself then. I would have taken a few shots of some trees and shrubs down the hill with various shades. By the time I got down into Carrington, I could feel bile building in my stomach… possibly caused by my inner outburst of self-loathing at forgetting the Kodak. It really pissed me off! I’d not felt so annoyed for at least 20 minutes. Tsk!

When I got to the Sherrington Park Medical Practice—I’m not kidding—I was still giving myself grief about not taking the Kodak and walked straight past it! I got down near the Lidl store and realised what I’d done. The self-annoyance, nay, self-anger, got even worse with me then! I wondered if I had a mini-seizure as I got to the surgery.

SURGERY EMBARRASSMENT – ONE!
When I got inside, the do-it-yourself signing-in thingamajig was in use. No receptionist could be seen, but one did arrive shortly.
She arrived because somehow I’d crashed the signing in, wotsit. I couldn’t see how I could have done wrong; it’s only pressing the four confirmation buttons; I can’t recall which day, the month of birth, and the first letter of your Surname, I think. A message came up saying ‘Your arrival has been recorded, then the screen went blanl and the lady arrived, giving me a sort of look that said, “Oh, dear, it’s Him!”, or “Why does he have to come every time I’m on duty!” She was very nice about it, though. But my EQ rang out with that look I got. Haha! As I sat down, the lady in the waiting room indicated that the same thing had happened to her. That cheered me up.

SURGERY EMBARRASSMENT – TWO!
I sat down and got my crossword book out, which made me more self-discussed! I also forgot to take my reading spectacles with me! It was much like hard work reading the clues, so after a few minutes, I gave up and put the book back in the trolley basket.

SURGERY EMBARRASSMENT – THREE!
Whether it was a mini-seizure or I fell asleep, I can’t say.
I was roused by concerned patients in the waiting room. I was just about to fall off the chair when two of them grabbed me, preventing me from falling. The lady said she could see me nodding off, and I began to lean to my right more and more. Thanks to the man and woman for helping and rescuing me, whoever you were. ♥

SURGERY JOY – Nurse Caroline
Nurse Caroline came to collect me, and we entered the treatment room. The DVT nurse was not coming today; I expect another appointment will be given. But seeing Caroline’s sweet, helpful, caring smile took away any concerns. She has this effect on me, you know. 💘 I think at this stage, I had a mini seizure again cause the next thing I recall was leaving the centre and going into the car park. With no pain in either arm, had I had the RSV infection or not?

After a few minutes of pushing the 3-wheeled walker-trolley up the hill towards Sherwood, I felt the serum doing its thing in my right arm. There was very little pain compared to the two shots, COVID-19 and flu, last week. As I descended the Mansfield Road hill into Sherwood, I felt a little fatigued, a side effect I expected. I took my time.
I called into the J Sainsbury Local store the first time I’d been there. I got some treats for the wardens.
Then, I popped into the Continental shop to get another jar of the fantastic-tasting Golonkowa.
I got onto Winchester SDtreet and to the bus stop just as a bus arrived! It was one of the new buses that had space for me to stand up for the journey. I was soon up the hill and getting off the bus. There was no way I was up to walking up the hill. So, I’d had good & bad moments on today’s outing.
I was a smidge concerned about having good luck. Seeing Nurse Caroline, even if most of it was a blur now. Catching the bus with perfect timing!
It’s not natural to me.

BACK AT THE COMPLEX
I got off the bus safely, thanking the driver.
I called into the office to drop the bits off.
To the end of the building and up in the lift to cell 72.
I wearily got in and straight to the Porcelain Throne.
Trotsky Terence Contolled, a little messy.

Hunger took a grip, and I decided to have the cheesy cobs I’d bought, no-butter buttered, with pork in jelly, sliced oh so thick and crammed into the rolls. I also sliced some tomatoes (slicing off a bit off of the end of my left-hand thumb) to salt and add to the feast.
They tasted just grand!
The meat and the jelly blended with the cheesy roll delightfully!
Carer Promise arrived as I was emptying the day catheter. It had not filled up much because while out and about, I also forgot to take some water with me, as with the reading glasses and hearing aid batteries, and to pick up the Kodak Tim camera. As I emptied the urine pouch, I soon found out that it was not a good idea to forget to take the water with me.
As you can see above, the urine was the bloodiest for many months, perhaps a year.
As per the NHS instructions, I called 111. Luckily, Precious had not left, and he took over the phone as I could not make out the questions being asked. As if I didn’t know what was about to be told me, it was “To drink more water.” So, I did! Fair enough, because I’d fallen asleep and did not drink enough. 

I took a wash and meandered into the kitchenette to put the kettle on, but I stopped myself from making a brew, what with the dark colour of the urine.
I took these snaps of the sunsetting and got down in the itch-creating, bruise-giving, catheter-tube-tugging, crumb-decorated from my nocturnal nibbling, God-awfully uncomfortable, cringingly grotty, no longer working, dirty beige, anti-sleep designed, c1966, second-hand bought for £300 ten years ago from the charity shop, recliner. The idea was to watch a documentary on the TV and then get my head down.
I’d gone off into a deep sleep within a minute.
I sprang a wake, unsure when or what time, and looked at the night catheter on the floor. It still seemed very dark to me. Got the Kodak and took this snap of it on the floor. Realising I’d not got into the bed, I checked the time… it was 04:00hrs. I got up, changed the catheter,
and decided to stay up. Bleary-eyed, with blood from the thumb having trickled down my nightwear. I was wiping it with a towel and on the bed leg.
I merely laughed it off! Of course.
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I hoped the Grim Reaper might be calling… but no! Hehe!

Irate Inchy: Sunday 10th November 2024

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

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But does that include the product?
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GAWD, I’VE NEVER FELT LOWER!
Forgive this start to this messed-up, dismal, disappointing, depressing, distressing, dispiriting, disheartening, discouraging, demoralising, dismal, daunting, disenchanting, disquieting, discomposing, disturbing, distressing and deplorable due to this computer-preventing-success blog.

The hardest and least successful day ever.
I’m assuming that the end is near.
I’ll lose all I hold dear…
It’s not a computer here; it’s an electric alligator…
The web’s the master aggravator and alienator!
A bloodsucker, a mental boneshaker…
That’s turned me into a bellyacher,
Duodenal Donald had never been pain-fuller!
I’m frustrated, getting angrier, & arsier!
After the stroke, I acquired aboulomania,
It got worse swiftly, I can tell yer…
My Doctor seems more like an arbitrageur.
Did she know, or was she being cagier?
Indigestion or maybe apepsia or dyspepsia.
Hospital check-up – Duodenal Ulcer…
In later life, one tends to become more toeier,
I became addicted to my new Atari computer…
A joy to behold, it made me happier,
Then the web came, loved by each Diddler & Fiddler,
Manipulated and financed by the Oligarcher,
Thus, I approach the end of my tether…
Tired of failure, trying to be a trier…
Alone, is it time to meet my maker?
I try to get out of the depressional mire…
Will my spirits ever get higher?
Will Heaven be waiting, or Hell’s fire?
I don’t think it should really matter…
Well, not to me, a failed snippersnapper!
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I had half an hour of when the computer aloowed me to get pictures on… not many. Bitterly dejected now.
When I got up from the depths of the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop bought, second-hand, wincingly grotty, beige coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy & dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping, recliner. The nocturnal bag is nice and full.
 Changed and photographed the old-fashion clock calendar.
Got these photos to save to go on here, but not for eight hours! Very anger-making!
Took the misty morning shot.

Hours later, I emptied the day catheter bag into the jug. It looked awfully full of bits of red stuff floating about in the urine.
640ml’s worth.

It was my worst day ever with this com-dam-puter; I lost so many hours failing to get it to save the photos. I did what I tried yesterday, thinking how well it went then; if I do the same, it must work again. What a Dork!

During the last four hours on the computer, I just got one photo to save! And that was one of the worst I’ve ever taken.

Going to have to get things ready for the visit to the Doctors and DVT Warfarin clinic tomorrow.

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Monday Morning.
I got up at 05:00hrs and got the ablutions done. Took a poo, and it was two-tone in both ways. Started off taking agony and ages to get it moving; one giant torpedo plopped out, followed by soft, gooey Trotsky Terence splashes! A few weeny cuts shaving. I didn’t do all the medical checks, as the DVT nurse is going to check the read end in the examination later at the surgery; blood and Haemorrhoid Harold are to be tested again.

Then, there’s the RSV inoculation. I’m looking forward to walking there and back. It’s a shame I could not arrange a lift. I sorted the waste bags, made a brew, and got on the computer. I started it and did a clean-up with Ccleaner. 
That allowed me to save some outstanding photos! I’d got about nine to go on here. After saving three, it stopped again! It would not let me save those taken today to file!

Was I angry? Did I get all flustered and annoyed? Did I swear & curse at all? Well, yes!

Carer Richard arrived. He sorted the medications for me. And took the laundry down for me.
Photos from yesterday (Sunday). Just three of them!
A jar of the Golokowa meat. (Pork shank), potatoes done in the air fryer, peas done in the slow cooker, sliced tiny tomatoes yellow & red, and some extra strong mature cheddar cheese in the bowl. Spirit vinegar on the potatoes.
It was the best-tasting meal I’ve had in a long time! I’ll try to remember to stop at the deli shop on my way to the Doctor’s this morning to get some more of the meat. It was super and had lip-smackingly good meat jelly in it!
Early evening sky.

I did this blog up to here. Realising that I was going to be out for hours, I decided to send this off now before I prepped things for the surgery and clinic. It’ll be a long day, with lots of walking and hobbling, so blogging may be too challenging to get done—although, with my computer, it’s always that way!

I’m hoping the earlier warning that if the results are not good, I may be taken into the QMC immediately and will be in for a few days. I think it’ll all be down to the blood status (INR). However, my EQ tells me this will not happen, and I believe it.

I might have to leave the blog until later. See how I feel after the local anaesthetic wears off. There will probably not be time left in the day anyway. 14:00hrs, examination, then the procedures, then getting home again… home? I mean back to my cell… no, flat! Hehehe! 

Keep Safe Out There, Folks!
TTFN.

Inert Inchy: Friday 8th November 2024

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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My body & brain seemed clumsier,
Concentrationless, forever making a blunder,
Concentration Conrad, trouble with the catheter…
But compared to Thursday, I was feeling chirpier,
Then, this morning, I turned into a grumbler,
The power supply died well before it got darker…
Life felt it was just too much hassle and bother,
I turned into a frustrated, dispirited, sad creature!
Everything went wrong, tormenting, crueller,
I got the power supply back within the hour,
I awaited life’s next unredeeming feature…
At this, I admit I felt a little perkier,
Why I felt ‘up’ is up for conjecture…
The colour swatches disappeared from CorelDraw,
The batteries expired in the Kodak camera,
Liberty-Global, Virgin Media…
Drove me to the point of hysteria!
Blackout! No internet, TV, Alarm help-caller…
Was it down, or did I make another blunder,
I called on my mobile to Warden Deana,
Asked if anyone else had lost their Virgin Media,
Many had, so I was in a confused megillah…
The computer came back on, I had a self-ponder,
So far behind now, a frustrated old blogger,
Hopes of catching up are less than minuscular,
I had to restart four-times on the computer,
Resigning in on all the sites, regular,
Then, once again, I lost the power…
I reset the box as a chuntering inveigher!
I hope I didn’t move the wrong relayer,
I exist in almost total disorder…
Now joined by my mental dyspraxia,
No socialisationing, so no clishmaclaver!
Life, to me, is a shyster, racketeer, & fraudster.

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Reasons for this undetailed blog

1) I was so far behind with the blogging.
2) I lost the notebook page by tearing it off the pad to do another in a failed effort to save time. I have no reminder notes; I can only use my memory with hints from the photographs the computer allowed me to save.
3) Mind-Mangling-Malcolm, Seizure-Soaked-Sandra, Concentration-Crusher-Konrad.
4) After the third computer cleaning of the day (there were two more), I tried to save some CorelDraw rectangles to a file to save new things to the same name and then changed the name to suit the photo. Great idea, I thought. Three hours later, as I was saving the last one, which was saved, the eleven ones done earlier disappeared!
5). Depression Duncan Dawned.
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Bit of blood mixed in the nocturnal bag?

Morning views.

My beloved tree copse. I’d love to have a hobble through it again. But…

Late evening view.

Beef in rich stout gravy. With added chopped red onions. Cooked in the microwave, using the new Heat & Eat vented box. Potato chunks cooked in the Air Fryer. Brown ready-sliced cobs and an expensive Pots & Co. Lemon & Lime Posset.
So naughty, but nice!

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I found seven in ten minutes!
Ah, I’ve just found the eighth, a stud on his right boot!
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Boy, did I sleep better? Yes, I did? Did you? Oh, yes!
I must stop talking to myself!
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TTFN, thanks for reading my blog!

Colicky Inchy: Tuesday 29th October 2024

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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It seems I have got poikilothermia…
I can’t regulate my body temperature?
No problems with my haemadynamometer,
SYS 139, Dia 69, Pulse 74, all lower, 
Temp; 33.4c, 34.9c, 35.4c getting higher,
Ointmented my fungal lesion, Aargh! 
Eye drops sprayed in, I olive-oiled each ear,
Have to book an appointment with the Doctor,
To be attached to the haemacytometer,
I’ll not complain, don’t want to be a bother,
Sadly, I’ve got a reputation as a yawper,
My right ankle ulcer is getting more mauver,
Yet something this morning went better…
My Porcelain Throne visit; no mess on the floor,
Constipation Conrad fought back more,
Unfortunately, this left me with my bottom sore,
So I Germoloided my sacraria,
And the surrounding area,
Did my teeth, shaved & had a shower,
And, no bother from Shirley’s Shaking Shoulder!
Got onto the computer,
Along came Sham, the Carer,
She gave a word that suited Starmer…
That word she’d found for him was pleonexia,
An excellent, most suitable nomenclature,
‘Excessive or inordinate desire to be richer’
Tonight, I was going to have some Golonkowa,

They were out of stock at Asda, though,
I’ll have lamb, carrots & colcannon mashed potato,
It may taste just like when served at a bistro?
I’ll be having spring water with it, not Cointreau,
I might add a drop of vinegar and oregano,
I’d fed up of eating food that’s cheap, 
To be honest, I’m sick of life’s fiasco,
Still, it’ll soon be time for me to go,
I don’t mind… I wanted you to know,
I’ve had enough of human’s mumbo-jumbo,
I hope in heaven I can at last get some Rumpo,
It depends on the catheter, though!

Ho, Ho, Ho.!
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State pensioners may lose £13,920, Wednesday after Labour Budget.

State Pensioners may be hit by tax hikes totalling over £14,000 from Wednesday when the new budget is unveiled. Labour has pledged not to raise Income Tax, VAT, or employees’ National Insurance contributions. Prime Minister Keir ‘Killer’ Starmer has cautioned that the nation’s “£22bn black hole” must be addressed, suggesting other taxes are likely to increase.
Labour’s manifesto already included a VAT rise on private school fees, but Chancellor Rachel Reeves could target other areas. This could leave households with state pension recipients facing up to £14,925 in additional annual charges. Capital Gains Tax on profits from selling second homes, business assets, shares, and valuable personal belongings is also under scrutiny.

Individuals are currently exempt from tax on the first £3,000 in profits, possibly vehicles, reports the Express. Currently, the tax stands at 18%  on earnings from second homes or 10% on other chargeable assets like shares if you’re in the basic income tax band, i.e., earn less than £50,270 per. That’s Cheery News!

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I woke up for maybe the 60th time of the night, remembering that the Asda order was being delivered this morning. I was totally unaware that it was only 04:00 hrs. But any chance of getting more sleep seemed a distant dream and beyond reality, so I started fumbling with the attached nocturnal catheter bag to free it for emptying.
Once I realised how early it was, I noticed the time as I hobbled into the kitchen. I do that sometimes, you know; noticed things. Fair enough, not often enough, but still.
By the time I’d emptied and disposed of the night bag, I also realised I would have time to complete my ablutionalisationing before the Carer or delivery arrived. And without rushing things, too. I liked that!
I amassed the medical treatments and appendages, catheter straps, and blood-stoppers. I replaced the Enoxaparin hypodermic, as it had leaked and was empty. And almost casually hobbled unrushingly to the wet room. Not that I was sure I would need it; it’s very rare that I do. But I’ve been told to keep a loaded needle in the wet room, just in case the blood oozes out when I utilise the Porcelain Throne (it didn’t); I was tickled pink at remembering the Enoxaparin needle, and very nearly adopted a Smug-Mode attitude. Doing that can be near fatal with my luck. Haha!
I’d already stripped and removed the catheter support bag and strappings and was standing at the sink about to get my teeth cleaned when the inner gurgling told me to get on the WC sharply.
What a Change this morning! The evacuating contents had gone from almost liquid last night, with Constipation Conrad back in charge. There were no signs of Trotsky Terence after three weeks! I’d almost forgotten how painful Conrad could be, and he was! When I used the toilet roll, I found a few specks of blood.
But this was to be expected after getting rid of the three rock-solid torpedoes. Haha! As soon as I did the teeth, I knew that the Enoxaprin could be put back on the shelf. No bleeding at all. Although, I did manage to break off a bit more of one of the troublesome double teeth. Then, I moved on to the shaving duties. I got three nicks, but none were of any bother; a quick splash of the Brut soon stopped them. 
I had a stand-up body scrub, not the delicate areas. It was far too early to wake my neighbours with the noise from the shower and drain.
Next, I got into close-quarter cleaning, ready for medicating. I started with Harold’s Haemorrhoids and the region of my bottom where things hang down a bit. Naturally, after the Constipation Conrad battle, things were terribly sore. The Germoloid soon started calming things down as it was washed and applied. I used a kitchen roll to dry that zone, and then I could check to see if there were any specks of blood, which, surprisingly, were on the towel. But not each time I wiped the area. Challenging to check cause if I twisted and bent with the mirror to try and see, the dangers were apparent, and the blood was only a few tiny specks. So, I got on with the most painful and sometimes frighteningly painful task of getting the ointment inside Little Inchie… Arrgh
After applying the Acne and eczema creams, I cover them with a layer of Germolne. I think it helps with the pain that the tube causes in the belly and lower regions with its tugging and pulling when the pouch fills up. As I wiped away the overspill, the blood reappeared on the towel—only flecks of it. The blood originated from the bottom of my onions? What next?
I’m going to ask the financial Carer to call the Doctor for me to get an appointment about this, and if she can get an appointment, to ring to see if I can get a lift to the Doctor’s appointment. 
It’s hard work, innit?

I continued with the other daily medicals I needed to do: ears, eyes, ankle ulcer, Cartilages, Carole and Chloe, Arthur Itis, etc.
Then, I refitted the new Catheter pouch, bag and strappings. Getting the Protection Pants on went extremely smoothly this morning, I have to say. yet another
So, you can see why my ablutions sometimes take me over two hours. Tsk!

I started updating yesterday’s blog. Again, getting the graphics I’d made and photographs I’d taken was a hit-and-miss affair. It’s a good job. I’ve got some in the WordPress gallery to find and use again. It let me put the first four on at the top without any problem. Grumph!

Carer Sham called late today; they are busy. She checked the taps and cooler and put on my socks. Bless her.

It was slow going on WordPress, but I eventually finished it and posted it to the ether.

Carer Chloe did the midday call, combined with the domestic call. She did her best to clean up the mess I’d made by burning the food on the cooker; she found some more food out of date in another cupboard. Chloe said to call Jenny and tell her so she could hand them out, so I did. And Jenny’s Frank came up and collected them.

Ruled for hours, out of the blue.
Some bits of memory during the three hours are clear, I think. Others… well, there aren’t any, really.
To such an extent that I just looked at the diary and found I’ve made an Iceland order for next week?
I’d worry about these spells, but I only forget to.

I just cleaned the computer, and it let me save some photos. They are out of order, of course, and belated. Grrr!

I think this was the first shot of the day.
Machine washed wee-wee’d in slippers.
Why are they all blue?

Waste bags I took to the chute.

Asda order.

Made a cock-up here!

Aha, fresh foods!

Chips, lamb burgers & ready meals.

Does the fridge still have room in it?

Afternoon shot?
I took many more but no save.

Evening.

A bit later… I think.

Even later, as Carer Chrisa arrived.
Aren’t these grand?

I’m going to get a summat to eat; I might not bother photographing it. No, yes, I will! Will I?

Back in the morning.

Good Morning.
Updated this blog.
Just the meal photo.

Minced lamb & onions, potatoes,
carrots, bread, yoghourt.
Then some Marmite rice cakes.
Memory-wise, after about 20:00hrs,
were blank or foggy.

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TTFN

Inanition Inchy: Wednesday 9th October 2024

/ Inchie / 7 Comments

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I took these two photographs of the falling rain sometime last night or, more likely, earlier this morning. I can’t recall taking them, though. I found them on the SD card when I loaded the food photo but missed putting them on yesterday’s blog. Obviously, they were snapped from the balcony through the glass windows. Yes, it was raining again in Sherwood. But we needed it.  

After staying in one position for so long overnight, as I stood up to remove the catheter night bag, Cartilage Chloe pained me like never before! She gave way, and I collapsed to the floor. No harm done; I grabbed the back of the recliner on my way down, and my knees barely touched the floor. Unfortunately, I twisted the torso and kicked off. She’s still hurting now, but mainly only when I get up to walk. Well, it’s more like a delicate walking-stick-aided hobble. Hehe!

I meandered into the balcony, to take to take a view of the end car park mudslide. An oddly blue tinge to this one, a little like Saturday morning?

Another poor-quality, shaky photograph of the front car park on Chestnut Way in front of the Woodthorpe Court flats was taken.

For the first time in months, my evacuation was in the same mode as the morning dump the day before. But this one was even bigger and more painful than Monday’s job.
After three flushes, the end of the gigantic torpedo was still sticking out of the water! I had to get a bamboo stick and break up the submarine in the water to get it to the sewer! An application of Germoloid ointment eased things.

My . The Acne & Eczema cream was applied. A blob of Germolene dabbed on the, s papules and both knees.
I left the most painful one until last. The
Dakacorting of poor Little Inchie Fungal Lesion.
Next, I olive-oiled the ears. Then, spray the tooth pain-easier on the teeth. Then I
got the Blepha SudoGel and were applied, I used the last of this, I must get more. Then, the Acne and Eczema cream was used. It’s a busy business with all this medicationalisationing! Hehe!

Then, I tackled getting a shave. One mishap, I dropped the can of shaving foam, and it landed right on my ingrowing toenail on the right foot! Just four little nicks shaving.

The next four hours were spent in a seizure, haze, or I’d fallen asleep, or some combination, patches of memory, but these can’t be validated as correct. Carers are unidentified; the last two calls were done by Carer Israel. I can recall Israel taking off the diabetic socks. That’s all.

The meal was sorted out very late… in the A.M.
I’d scribbled a rating on the notepad, but I can’t recall doing it. So it must have been a feast to give it 9.3?

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I didn’t understand this at all?
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The Day That Partially Didn’t Happen

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Cheers, Each – Taketh Care