Liberty Global Virgin Media Slow

Cockamamie Inchy: Wed 18 December 2024

/ Inchie / 8 Comments


– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

06:10 hrs: I woke after a better night’s sleep. I had slept for six hours and only woke up a few times—much better. I lay there pondering and making plans for the day.
I wanted to get to the Heron store today. Since the food order is expected very soon, I decided to get up and sort the catheter out, check that the new stove is working, and then do the waste bags—not the ablutions yet. After the food arrives, I can tend to the ablutions. Then, I can update Tuesday’s blog, put on the clothes, and catch a bus down to Sherwood. But, of course, this never happened. This is Inchy talking, after all!

I got the nocturnal catheter bag freed.
What a shade! Blimey!
I titivated the bed and got the trousers out, ready to do battle with later on. (No chance of getting the trousers on or going to the shop, Humph!)
Sorted the waste bags into one bag. I photographed the morning view; I don’t know where it went, but it was not on the SD card?
I tried warming the new mini-oven. To see if it tripped the electrics. It didn’t, but it smoked and set the fire alarm off!
Worried now. I won’t use it!

Carer Shaquille arrived. The medications were sorted. I mentioned that I still had an unreturned laundry bag in the ground-floor laundry room. During Shaq’s call, Anne Gyna kicked off and got worse than yesterday. She’s still with me on and off, at 16:00 hrs.

The Ocado delivery arrived.
I ordered a selection of cream cakes as part of the Christmas treat for the nurses, Carers and staff to have.
Two M&S Eton-Mess cream cakes. Two boxes of their Chocolate Eclairs and iced vanilla cream cakes. There’s another one, cheap iced buns. They were for me. I am a commoner!

Throughout the busy morning, I called the wardens to inform them about the cakes awaiting them in the fridge. I got through 6 hours later to let Warden Julie know. She will come to collect them later. I think they must have been to one of their famous management meetings.

When Carer Kimberly arrived for the financial meet, Arthur Itis had joined Anne Gyna in her attack. Today is not going well, so much for making plans.

I cleared the rubbish from the delivery, returned to the computer, and drifted in an elongated bout of . At the same time, Carer Kimberly was dealing with the bank details, then she contacted the chemist to make sure the prescriptions were coming, they were due tomorrow), and anything else that happened just got mixed in with the other things. I think I asked bout the unreturned bag of washing from the laundry… perhaps. Not in a good state now, especially compared to how things were earlier.

I was anywhere and everywhere, not getting much done. Carer Joanne called, and I was as surprised as she was to find I was in the middle of making some more pickled mushrooms!

I have no idea what I did for about two hours. Maybe nothing, certainly not on the computer, I thought. An hour later, I got a text message telling me the Morrison order was en route.
What Morrison order!
I checked the Amazon site, and sure enough, I had placed an order for delivery this afternoon! Now I am worried! Sure enough, the order was delivered to the door.
Opening the bags to see what the ‘eck I’d ordered was a frustrating adventure.
There was little, if anything, that I wanted or needed to purchase. And my bank balance is the lowest it’s ever been!
Shaving foam; I’ve got two cans in the wetroom! Marmite Cheese, I’ve a whole bag in the fridge. A large jar of green tomato salad; I tried one two weeks ago and threw it away; it tasted horrible! MORE CREAM CAKES! I need help here. No memory whatsoever of ordering these! I must have been deep in a seizure like never before. Yet they were items I’d bought before.
Thank heavens, Carer Kimberley sorted the prescriptions out. That is if they do arrive tomorrow, naturally.

Then things got even worse…
I turned on the new oven to test it at a higher level and went to the 12th-floor community rubbish chute with the bags from the unwanted Morrison order. A chap was in the floor’s lift foyer, and we exchanged hello’s. When I returned from trapping my finger in the chute lid, he asked if he could come into the flat to do the checks they had written me about. 
The Carers open all my mail, except when they were obviously Christmas cards. I’ve likely forgotten about the appointment. We went to the flat. He was checking some electricals, and I went to look at the new oven.
THE
A second after I’d opened the new oven door, masses of clear, hot smoke poured out of it!
I was crestfallen. Will anything ever go right for me?
Stupid Question.
I’ve lost the will to bother.

I thought this morning that I was full of plans. I even got Shaquiille on his visit to take a photo of me holding the new oven-packing foam, intending to think something witty up to try and raise a laugh and share it with you all.
Another failed plan for today.

I haven’t yet performed my ablutions or used the Porcelain Throne, medicated any of the six areas of my rhinoceros-like body that I should do twice daily, had nothing to eat, and didn’t want anything to eat. As I type this, another seizure is detected, and Electric-Shocking-Sherida just gave me one.
Anne Gyna keeps prodding me, Arthur Itis does when I move, stand or bend, and I really must stop moaning.

This is probably the lowest I’ve been all year.
And Wardens Julie & Deana have not collected their fresh-cream cakes yet. They must have been busy and forgot to. I hate throwing away fresh food, but I’ll keep them until I know they are not coming… which I’ll never know. I’m glad Jenny and Frank came for theirs and got the Fresh Eton Cream Mess cakes. Hope they enjoy them.

I can’t make a meal cause I’m too nervous to use the new damned fire-alarm-triggering oven. 
I can’t get the medicationings and ablutions done cause the gals may come for their cream cake treats. And, I’m losing confidence and heart at the same time here” I must stop moaning; it won’t solve or make anything better.
I’ll have to finish the ablutions and medication late tonight or in the morning. As for sleep, I had six good hours last night.
Now, with all the hassle, Anne Gyna, Shocking Sherida and Arthur Itis, showering and medicating will be a battle for me.

Carer Israel came in on the 18:00 call at 16:30. It matters not to me, though. I gave him a Christmas drink, or I will do it when he does the 22:00 call to take home with him. He can have the Warden’s cream cakes if they don’t call for them. I can’t see them still here at this time. You can never tell. Talking to Israel gave me new confidence, and after he left, I had a go at making some oven chips to eat on Milk Roll bread. It’s not the most elaborate meal I’ve made. Oven chips and bread… prisoners get better food.  I observed the oven for 25 minutes as the chips cooked. But there is no smoke or fire alarm this time! Great! I treated myself to some ketchup in a bowl and ate it while writing this. Enough to satiate my hunger.

Now I’m so tired. I’ll go on the WP Reader and comments and await the arrival of ‘Lucky’ Israel to collect his fresh cream cakes. The Wardens did not call. So, I gave the two expensive boxes of cream cakes to Carer Israel when he made his last call. He was tickled pink. 
Best not to waste them.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
WORRADAY!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Keep Warm, Safe, sane and Happy!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Apathy Inchy this Sunless, Friday 13th December 2024

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Sometimes, one must be strict,
Especially if Summat’s been nicked,
Or someone acted uncaringly wicked,
Be it by human creatures or bionic,
Suitable punishment would be a tonic,
Sentences & crime do not befit,
Murder sentences are bullshit,
To save the cost of housing in the nick,
Parole Boarders are so easy to bootlick,
Provided inside with drugs & arsenic,
Solutions are beyond the bureaucratic,
Then, there’s Starmer & the Tory’s deficit!
His rosy cheeks indicate an alcoholic,
Who’s not diplomatic but diabolic!
Robbing pensioners was rather drastic,
His stealing from the poor & increased taxes,
Complains about this from Unions & Voters,
Keir ignored them, and they hoicked,
Freebies? He’s self-absorbed, narcissistic,
Take his vows with ethylenediaminetetraacetic,
Listing his backhanders would be encyclopaedic,
To the Labour party values, he’s econoclastic…
This ode sounds docudramatic,
But I can do nothing but kvetch…
The ode’s themes are, sadly, logorrhoeic,
And far from being mesmeric…
The name Starmer I use as a mnemonic,
When I can’t recall the word pathogenic!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

I woke late and might been even later if it had not been for the unintentional waking me up from the dream I was having by Peripheral Neuropathy Pete. And it was not the leg! The last time I made an unpremeditated Hitler Salute was many months ago. This morning’s  ‘Heil Hitler Salute’ knocked over two bottles of spring water, two bags of Frazzles, and a teaspoon & fork. (Although they may be dropped in my slumber, especially if I have a dream or seizure. I tend to do a fair  bit of nocturnal damage, you know!) 
The dream was a good one, what bits I can recall. I was on the roof of the flats, and I couldn’t remember the door code to get back in. So I jumped off the building (15 floors), landing in a tree. An ambulance arrived instantly. Three medics came to, I thought, rescue me. But instead, they beat the hell out of me and took my bank card, demanding the number. I swore at them… something else happened… I was under the ambulance with one of the medics with a notebook and a pen bent over me. Telling me that the ambulance would run slowly over my bone-dome if I didn’t give them my pin… Well, I couldn’t remember it! She called to the driver, and the bloodwagon’s front wheel started to press against my head. I’m sure I thought to myself, ‘Ah, sod it!’ The next second, I was in bed Hitler Saluting, which clouted my knuckle against the wall, and reining in my arm, I bashed my elbow and hit my head on the safety bar. Knocking stuff off the overbed table. Still, I thought it was much better than getting my head crushed underneath an ambulance. (I was temporarily confused between reality, logicality and fantasy, then?)

I let my head clear… as straightforward as it will ever be, and removed the Nocturnal Catheter Pouch from the day bag. Later, Carer Chris Confirmed this bloodied pouch had a number 6 rating on the NHS check card. Far too red!

I went to the kitchen to put the kettle on for a small mug of Co-op 99 tea. 
Taking a couple of snaps of the morning view.
A lot of difference in the sky colour. They were taken within about three minutes of each other. The green aura was back again. This often comes morning and night. No idea why.

Kettle on, and I hobbled to the wet room to get the ointmentating done in my private areas. Piles, Little Inchies fungal lesion, under my arms and man-breasts. Hehe! Plenty of cream to use. I hope I remember ordering some more on time. On leaving, I managed to get my leg tangled up with . Which tugged at , and she’s not forgiven me now, 12 hours later! Hope I’ve not made things worse than usual. I’ll see how it goes.

Carer Chris arrived in a jolly mood. It was nice to see that. He and I forgot to put the diabetic socks on. But he invoked changing the day catheter rigmarole for me. Did a good job, too. Then he took some photos of me with different expressions on my mush to use later in the Inchy Today… tomorrow.

Later, after struggling, I still got them saved, so I took this snap of the computer screen with them in CorelDraw.

I sorted the bin bags out and felt I’d forgotten something. So I checked around, including taps, fridge and freezer doors, windows, etc. But I felt uncomfortable not knowing why everything was alright after looking around.  

They kicked off and stayed with me for at least three hours until Carer Joanne came. I was trying to sort the Thursday blog finalising. But it was hard work with all the correcting I had to do. The gal had done the not-machine-washable gowns for me again. She really is a lifesaver. We laughed and joked, and I did most of the talking. I do that too often. Tsk!


Ace reporter & photographer Inchy of Cell 72 took these photographicalisations of the fire from his kitchen.

I put Radio Nottingham on to see it. I could find out where it was; it looked close, maybe on Hadyn Road.

The intercom burst into song. I was a delivery. Surely I had not done it again and ordered more bloody food?
Nope, it was the Mini-oven that was due tomorrow.
And it is much bigger than I thought it would be. But the deliveryman carried it through to the kitchen for me. I’m doubting it will fit on the old clapped-out stove now.
I’ll ask Carer Chris when his next day in is and beg him to help me fit it.
It looks wider than the flipping freezer!
Oh, dear, another Inchy Cock-up?

Carer Chris came later. He seems to think it might just go on the stove. He opened the box to check. I’m not sure, but I hope the lad can manage it for me. Bless him.

I got the rolls and onion out of the fridge. (I can’t get into the freezer, whimp me, can’t move the mini-cooker, it’s too heavy for me to manage. Tsk!
I got back on the computer and was impressed with how far I’d got on with it. !

Well, it’s now 19:25. It’s a toss-up between washing, eating, or going to bed. No problem. I’m too tired to wash and can’t sleep anyway, so I’ll make up the two cheese cobs with red onion, beetroot, pickled mushrooms, and beef with no-butter butter and have summat to eat. That sounds fair enough to my gluttony. Hehehe!

Hopefully, I’ll be back in the morning to finish this.
TTFN.

I got the meal sorted.
The resulting feast.
Three cheese bread rolls are spread with extra-strong cheese paste, ham, tomatoes, red onions, and pickled mushrooms. I forgot the beetroot. Tsk!

Carer Chris arrived for the last call. He removed the diabetic socks, medicated me, and grabbed some nibbles and a drinkie to help me sort out the mini-cooker on Monday. I hope he does anyway.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Keepeth well and safe. I wish everyone could.

Twitchy Inchy: Thursday 12th December 2024

/ Inchie / 12 Comments

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

05:30hrs:  I stirred, with Cartilage Chloe giving me pain the moment I tried to genuflect the leg. She’s still bothering me a bit now. I detached the night ouch from the catheter day pouch. A little dark, but I’ve had far worse. I felt pretty good as I started plodding around, apart from Chloe. There have been no electric shocks so far! It was very cold this morning. I sorted some waste bags and limped into the kitchen. I snapped a picture of the morning view and checked the fridge to ensure I could fit all of today’s food in when the delivery arrived. 
I removed a pack of the horrible-tasting Asda brand cheesy topped rolls and binned them. Make a fine, tasty brew of Glengettie tea, and I got the computer booted up.
The Windows update brought up some Microsoft details that confused me about what it was reading. Grrr!
Then, the need for the Porcelain Throne arose in a rush. I got to the wet room ASAP, only just in time as things started moving of their own accord. Trotsky Terence controlled. Messy, back to the Karki colouring, pooey, and sticky. It took a lot of cleaning up. I cleaned and ointmentated various body areas and parts in need. I have no shortage of Barrier cream!
The intercom chirped up. It was the J Sainsbury order arriving. The driver soon appeared at my doorway and was very helpful & understanding of my problems. Thank you, driver!
As I began to put them away, Carer Sam arrived. With the order on my mind, I forgot to ask her to put on my diabetic socks. Tsk! Sam issued the medications, and we had a mini-natter and a laugh. I wondered if she knew how long one had to pickle mushrooms before one could eat them, as I intended to try making some today. Neither of us knew, so I’ll look it up later on the web. Off she went… and I got back to unpacking the foodstuffs. I’ll do it now! 

Oh, dear! I remembered I did not have a cooker now! So I can’t boil them. Humph!

Back to unloading and storing. This photograph shows potato chunks, mushrooms (Huh!), beef tomatoes, beetroot chilli, a jar of garden peas, imitation butter, and lemon desserts. 
Some drinks and nibbles. Then I checked the fridge, but there was almost no difference from the one I had taken earlier. No shortages, though.
Plenty of jars of meat, few cans in the cupboard, and some long-life, ready-made meals to do in the microwave. 
Then I took another kitchen window shot. I think that is the last I remember taking that picture, for about an hour or so. The most odd seizure that I’ve ever had. Time to call the medics! I was back on the computer when things became more transparent about what was what. I was searching for the Nuthall Hospital number, and the landline chirped. Who was it? A lady from Nuthall Hospital! Amazing! They are cancelling next week’s appointment and will make a new one for the new year. Me? I thanked her very much and wished her a Happy Christmas. As I was emptying The Catty Catheter day pouch minutes later… It came to me that I forgot to tell her about the seizure & I was worried about it lasting so long. I gave up and didn’t bother again! EQ informed me it will get worse, mate! It did, too! And went into another seizure. Just a few minutes worth. I made silly errors in what I did on the blog while I was semi-conscious. A depression dawned.

I went to the wet room, intent on showering, shaving, and doing the teggies. Then, get the medications sorted. Not a chance! Carer Sam came in. Mind you, it was nice to see her again. She got my diabetic socks on for me. It may only have been for a minute or two of nattering, but it was good and relieved my tensions somewhat. It didn’t last for long but it was nice.

Naturally, after she’d gone, I forgot about my showering. I went contentedly back on the computer.

Peripheral Pete gave me half an hour or so of one-legged dancing, a sort of cross between doing the Oki-Cokey and the Stomp! The two ailments have lasted longer than ever before. I wondered what the third would be.
When the one-legged come dancing was over, I went to make a brew of tea.
I realised I had not thoroughly cleaned up after the food delivery, so I made another waste bag for the chute.

I have started pottering around and have never finished doing endless unrelated jobs. Finally, I’m convinced another visit from Seizure Sandra had got me, of all things, starting to make some pickled mushrooms? I even took photos of the process!  However, I had another leg dance when Carer Chris came in and dropped the camera. Chris looked at it and thought it was alright. But when I came to upload the three photos after he’d gone, they were not on the card. The camera was Kaputt! Now, I hit the depths of depression and disbelief! 
I snapped this screen to see if Kodak had saved it to the card. Dag-my-Knangles, it did! But look at the fading on the right side? I took another shot, fingers crossed and praying. I took one of the evening views from the kitchenette window. This one seemed alright? I thought I’d take a shot of the ‘Inchie-inspired jar of pickled mushrooms with seasoning and water chestnuts in pickling vinegar. It says on the web to leave it for a minimum of three days to season the mushrooms, but it is best to leave it for a minimum of 5 days before eating. It also said how easy it was to make them. Easy & me, do not go together. At least they should be okay to eat for Christmas. And the photo looked to be alright this time. 
I’ve got two cheesy cobs out of the freezer. Here is my plan; Slice and no-butter butter the cobs. Slice some tomatoes with some salt, maybe some beetroots on the side? Slice some red onion to go in the cobs perhaps. Whichever, I’ll turn the TV on to see if anything is worth watching and get the cobs done.

The Liberty-Global-owned Virgin TV was turned on, and for ten seconds, all looked well. Then A screen filled fully with a message telling me that an updated version is now available. Press the Install Now or Do it Later (Or not now) tab. Of course I tried but nothing happened, the screen remained there annoyingly. I tried turning it off several times, and I got the same result each time! Failure! 
Eventually, it clicked. The message was not from Virgin; it must have been from the TV makers, Bush, that Liberty-Global engineer (I’m talking loosely here), routed through the Virgin Fibre thingy. There followed a one-hour search for the bush remote control. It was a bit of a miracle that I found it at all.
Then, I pressed the Not Now option. Great!
Then… it came back on every ten minutes! I gave up and nervously pressed the Install button.
I was fed up and turned Del Boy on the TV. 
Then, the message came up again.
I clicked install, and a mass of options came up that I didn’t really understand, in the least!
The screen went blank.
I swore, could I take anymore?
To my amazement, the TV came back on.
Now, I will need both remote controls to us it.
I was struggling to get used to one!

Carer Chris will be here soon; no time for me to get the food done before he arrives. I’ll start prepping the nosh. I can wrap it up to keep it fresh for later. I hope Chris doesn’t stay too long… I may have to start eating him. Hahaha! I gave the lad one of the two iced buns with cream. He said he’s taken some photos of facial expressions for me tomorrow morning. So I can use them later on the blog. We’ll see if I remember.

I just realised that I didn’t have the shave & shower!!!

Two cheesy cobs, heavily spread with no-butter butter, and sliced tomatoes slightly salted. Surimi sticks, raw fresh garden peas. A pickled egg and mushrooms. Cooked sweet-chilli beetroots with chopped red onions. Followed by an iced bun with cream! 
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Many Good Fortune befall you!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Tetchy Inchy: Wed 11th December 2023

/ Inchie / 9 Comments

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
WHEN YOU WOKE UP…
Did you wake up this morning feeling breathless?
Still with your baldness? Any new bruises? 
Or feel ambitionless? Did you go breakfastless?
Did you plan your day’s activities & bundobust?
Were you at your bubbliest or bleariest?
Maybe you expected your day to be banjaxed?
Were you composed, or did you feel a bloodlust?
Did your booziness make you wake in a blurriness?
Wake up with grumpiness or bounteousness?
Mayhap you had a craving for bifters?
Have you dreamt of nudists or babysitters?
Had a nocturnal visit from a burglarist?
Will you be able to find an NHS dentist?
I ask on behalf of an HMG behaviourist…
They’re thinking of raising VAT on toothpaste!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I misspelt confirmation on purpose just to see if anyone would notice my rare error that wasn’t an error. Ahem!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Great Balls of Fire! I got nearly six hours of sleep last night! Fair enough, it was broken a few times when dearest  woke me in his criticising, debasing, mocking and cruel way. But, being as he dwells inside my head, I suppose it was me, or perhaps that was to blame. Either way, Two nights without sleep, then one with 4 hours, and now I’m up to 6 hours, albeit broken! I felt so much better when, at 05:00hrs, I returned to semi-mock-wakefulness.

I was 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 eleven years ago from the charity shop, recliner. So, I was able to remove the without getting up. I sat a little longer, thinking of a happy memory (and precious few are available) from 60 years ago. Oddly, I can’t recall her name, but the good bits I could and did. An even rarer thing happened during my daydream; I smiled! 

I photographed the nocturnal pouch after freeing it from the day bag. Selina confirmed the colour as a five on the NHS Colour Card log.

Considering the events of the last few days, I felt a little perkier this morning. Naturally, with my experience and bad luck, I restrain myself from entering a .

En route to the kitchen to put the kettle on, then to visit the wet room, I had to divert straight to the wet room in response to the motion about to come of its own accord from my rear end! I tore off the dressing gown and plopped down, just in time to avoid another embarrassment. Messy, very messy, but painless and only a few streaks of blood. Naturally, a fair bit of cleaning up was needed. While washing the cleaning cloths in the sink, I remembered to do the barrier-creaming. It went okay, apart from , they didn’t like this new cream at all, and they let me know in their usual way. (Arrgh!) I may revert to the Germoloids for the back-passage in future.

I made up one waste bag and placed it near the front door. I noticed a strong cooking aroma in the flat. I checked, but it wasn’t from my kitchen. It seemed to permeate the place for hours? When checking in the kitchenette, I took a snap of the fridge. But I can’t remember why I took it now. Ah, well! Then I snapped a terrible photo of the morning view. Definitely no signs of Venus or Pluto seeable this morning.

I made a double tea bag brew. Thompsom’d Irish Breakfast and Signature ones. Nice and tasty with just a little drop of semi-skinned milk.
I didn’t notice any rain yesterday, and the roads are dry this morning, but look at the end car park mud slide’s view! Might have in the night.

After the midday carer’s visit, I made a bottle of spring water and added some cordial and a smidgeon of pineapple and orange juice.

As I was working away on the blog. I suddenly felt a little peckish. I’ll mate some cobs of some sort, and I reckon I can manage a couple. I think I’ll have some microwave sausages on the cheesy cobs and put some tomato ketchup with bacon flavouring on the tasty-looking bread rolls. I added some pickled beetroots. And I had a pot of Lemon Fool to boot! I don’t think I cooled the sausages enough. But, it all eaten up anyway! Well, I ate most of it!

I’ve had permission from the genius who took these photos of three of his fabulous furries at Cheese Treat Time.
The above link has a sunset that I didn’t know how to link on the blog. It’s worth the trouble to take a look at. It really is brilliantly taken. In New Mexico. Thanks, Tim!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

TTFNski & all the best!

Inchy: Masses of Mayhem Monday 9th December 2024

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

I am shattered! I’d been doing this blog on and off (a busy day) for about eight hours. And, considering all the nurse’s visits and telephone calls with disturbing and good news, I was pleased with how much I’d got done come 19:00hrs.
I LOST THE WHOLE LOT!
I’VE NOT THE FOGGIEST IDEA WHAT I DID TO LOSE IT!
So here I am starting again after saving later photos as older ones to save memory. I’m in the shit! I even lost the 32 lines of my Ode! I am pissed off with myself and not exactly full of interest in trying again. The Carer who read it thought it was great… which makes me feel worse! I am not in a good place. Damned seizures must be to blame, or instead, whatever I did that cost me a day’s work! There just isn’t enough time to do it all as well again as I did.

Fed up! HEARTBROKEN!
My eyesight is bad. I’m so tired and weary of having two sleepless nights. The right hearing aid has broken down.
No way! I have not had time to reproduce what I thought was a fantastic Ode. So, after a day of struggling with other things, this happens! So, after all my work, getting this blog fully detailed with plenty of whitty bits scattered in it will have to be a rush job. Sorry! I’ll do my best. Even if it means a third sleepless night!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I went to see Doctor Downing,
Who said I was rough-looking,
Have you done nowt about yer coffin?
I said Well, no! (between my coughing),
She said, “Well, put yer hearing aids in!”
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – -.
I must have tried to sleep for nine hours last night. How can someone be so tired and worn out and ‘not’ sleep? I can; that was the second sleepless night. I tried on the hospital bed, then moved into the second-hand, 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. But with and Anne Gyna, there was no chance. I gave up hope and emptied the nocturnal catheter pouch, then went to make a brew of 99 tea. And I enjoyed it, despite nearly dropping it when I took to the computer. The need for the Porcelain Throne arose.

I went back to the kitchen and took snaps of the morning view. It was raining still. I first took a poor-quality shot of what I mistakenly called Venus yesterday. Tim Price informed me it was Jupiter. Then a straight-ahead view of the lights from the streets of Sherwood.
Another poor effort.
I started the 32 lines of the Ode. (That I lost along with the rest of the blog eight hours later). Cragknangles, Thunderisations! Criggleblogsworthisms! Grobognangles! Frangleklops! Oy-yoy-yoy! Crigglebogsnot! Grobbleknangles! Grufflemoan! Skullgranglebonks! Granglespithowlations! & Grobbledamitt!

Carer Richard arrived. I’m sure I had many mini-bouts while Richard was here.
Fifteen minutes of hazyness. 

I struggled to return and find where and what I was doing on the blog. I took a breather and tried to add to and remove some items on my Asda order for Wednesday. No, it’s Tuesday or tomorrow! That means I have to be up early, it’s coming at 0600 to 0700hrs. And here I am, two sleepless nights, and it is already gone, 2200hrs. I’m doing the blog I lost again. I am so frustrated! Anyway, I couldn’t sign in on the Asda site. I spent a fair time trying to get in without any luck. So, I changed the password for the third time. Care Chloe arrived with more distractions. She helped me write the new complicated password clearly, but it would not let me in. I decided to try again later. Same thing, no-go. So, I tried using Firefox and got in. By then, I’d forgotten what I wanted to add and remove the order. Is it worth me trying to carry one?

Eventually, despite reinvigorated attacks from Ann Gyna and Shocking Sherida, I got back into a system of sorts and was doing well on the blog. (The first one, of course)

Matron Jackie arrived, and we spoke about the medications and prescription getting difficulties. She told me the Doctor had just sent the prescription today to the chemist. So it should be ready for collection on Wednesday; I explained the procedure to Carer Richard, who is in control.

Then a lovely nurse turned up; Matron Jackie had asked her to visit me so she could… Ahem!
Check  on my arms, man breasts and chest. Which was fine by me.
Also, the catheter strap scars, ,  , My mandarin-sized testicle,  condition, and the welts and pressure spots on my flabby stomach. I think I masked my true feelings, okay. The nurse told me I was wearing the day pouch too low.
We spoke of the creams that I think are at the Chemist and are now awaiting collection from Carrington. I pointed out that the Caregiver (Richard) calls each Monday, sorts out which medications are needed, and lets the Doctor know. He called this morning, and there were no prescriptions for me there.
She thought the Carers applied the creams on me and helped me bathe. I said they do not, and I’ve never asked them to. The nice nurse will let Matron Jackie know about the ailments and medications when she gets back to base.

I got back to blogging. With all the breaks, it was enough to concentrate on the work (without losing it all!   Cribblebogangonies! Glunglegnatsworth! Skullgranglebonks! Cracklepackers!

I was just about to investigate what I would have for my meal (This was 7 hours ago now, and I’ve still not got it, having to do the blog twice). Dungunblast! And the landline chirruped.
It was Matron Jackie ♥. She’s been busy helping me out. She confirmed that the cream and lotions will be ready for collection from the Carrington Pharmacy on Wednesday.
She had arranged for future prescriptions to be sent to a different chemist, Jaypoen, in Daybrook. She confirmed they would take me on their list. The best part is that they will deliver the prescriptions to the flats! I looked on Google Maps and got this picture of the shop. Obviously, I misheard Matron; it was Jayplex Chemist, not Jaypoen. It is much nearer than the Carrington shop on Mansfield Road in Woodthorpe.
But if I do have to go there, there is a darned steep hill to use to get me there. Hey-Ho! I don’t think I would manage it in my condition. Well, I know, I tried a few months ago.

THE CALAMITY OCCURED!
So, I started this second blog.
I am just too tired and will try to finish it in the morning.
I did take two snaps, though, when I was making the stew in the crock pot. The rain has stopped now, and it is getting dark so early. A little later, I spotted what I thought was Venus in the dark sky. I now know that it is Jupiter. Tim Price pointed out my . I’m very good at them, you know. Hang on, with the cock-up, I think I took the Jupiter shot in the morning. Yes, I must have cause this is the other snap I took tonight. I’ve got in such a mess; I already put the Venus Jupiter one on! Humph!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
,
My primary reaction to today
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

TTFN.

Grouchy Inchy: Thursday 5th December 2024

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Self-Judgemental methinks?
With life, I’m becoming unaffiliated, 
Mentally & physically more afflicted,
I’m not angry, but I am aggravated,
I can’t get problems solved or alleviated,
My lifestyle is far too antiquated,
My hopes & needs have been attenuated.
My thoughts & actions remain authenticated,
My failures are now expected, just accepted,
My final dream is still awaited…
To see Starmer assassinated.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

0600hrs: Stirred back into a mock-pretence of life, detached the nocturnal cater pouch from the day pouch and fumbled as fast I could out of bed, and hobbed to the wet room to utilise the Porcelain Throne.
Released one multicoloured cement-like torpedo. It took a while. Minimal bleeding, though.

Sorted a new recovery layout for the lost, leaked-via-the-catheter urine stains on the carpet. 
It’s gonna take a long time to entirely refresh it. Phew!

I limped off to the kitchenette to put the kettle on. 
Taking this snap from the offer view. The blue hue view that was on offer. Hehe!

My first Christmas Card arrived via the postman. Followed shortly after by an Amazon order. The card was from Jill & Eugene.

 The box contained the microwave cooking plastics that I ordered. One which had a divided content divider in the middle so as to cook and not mix together whatever you did not want to mix in the first place… Lost the word plot there! As if it was something different, me making an error, mistake, Accifauxpa or Seizure was different.

This snap relates to how I felt at the time of taking it. Darl, Dank & Depressed.
Previously, I don’t think I had a single seizure, not that I couldn’t have; I just couldn’t recall noticing any. 
This changed. I felt a series of long-winded ones and have little memory of the next few hours. I found notes I’d scribbled on the notepad, but unfortunately, most of them were unreadable; I could make out a few lines, though they didn’t make the clarification of their message any more transparent. 
I fear I might have placed another food order. I’ll check all the sites later when I feel more like myself.

The only thing I could read clearly was a few lines that read, “Warden Deana called to do an alarm check.” But I cannot recall this at all. That bit of writing was done so well, clearly, and readable. There’ll be a reason for that.
If I find it, I’ll let you know.

I gave up and put myself even further behind with the blog.
Then I made the daily meal: Milk Roll bread beef sarnies with no-butter butter, dabbed with Marmite, tomatoes, beetroot, pickled mushrooms, chestnuts, and Stilton Cheese. Very Nice!

A short-on-detail blog, I’m sorry to say,
It was a very confusing sort of day,
Seizures made things go diversionary,
This may read delusory, in disarray,
Many items & events were missed, I daresay.
I’ll make a mug of tea, Glengettie!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
TTFNski!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Inadequate Inchy: Tuesday 3rd December 2024

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Would you know if someone gave you a zeitgeber?
Does that serve as a signal, hint, or option?
If you don’t know it matters not soever,
The question was an aberration…
There rumbling again in my viscera,
Yesterday, a seizure went on for an aeon,
It’s expected for folks of my generation,
And have you seen the state of the Nation?
From violater Starmer’s promised denigration,
I’m daily going from the Trots to constipation,
Finding time for some contemplation…
I’m not educated; I’m a bit of a wiseacre,
My decisions drop to a state of abstention,
This bothers me much, but I can’t remember…
My original aim, thought, or intention…
Of my Ode subject with lucubration,
The grey-cells messages are labyrinthian,
I live without laudation or admiration,
Bad luck and doom seem to be my obsession,
Hence, this ode & my typomania…
Mind-Mangling-Malcolm, in short, MMM…
Often gets me feeling angrier,
Wanting to reach out again for my Sangria!
In my head is a juxtaposition, a contiguity,
Rich & poor, the rich wanting, getting more,
Darkness vs light, good vs. Bad, ever contrary,
My thoughts argue accusatively, acerbically,
My brain invaders occupiers disagree,
They question my very corporeality,
Where I question the same, well, mostly me,
The election result, Bye-bye Tory story,
Herr Starmer’s Labour winning,
Pensioners & Farmers losing…
Still, I suppose it stops them boozing?
Much too much violence and killing,
Parole Board; murders, they let them free,
So, they can and do kill again, you see,
This is wrong, says the bible and me!
The Quran (60:8) seems to agree…
Yet wars continue on earth daily,
HMG rules not affectionately or effectively,
They concentrate on being self-beneficiary,
No help from any God, Alien or banshee…
The world will soon be human-free,
When I discover the date, most certainly…
I lose my worries over not being able to pee,
I’ll await the end seemingly, patiently,
Laughing and drinking Glengettie tea!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Partner failed to call for help as his bed-bound partner died as she lay on the floor for 11 days!

A bed-bound Nottinghamshire woman died after her partner left her on the floor for 11 days when she fell out of bed. Nottingham Crown Court heard how, for all the time, Caron Kinsey had been helplessly lying there, and Christopher Tansley had failed to summon any help. While the 63-year-old victim was on the carpet, he would light cigarettes for her and bring her soft drinks. But when he finally did call the emergency services, paramedics found her covered in urine and faeces and, with pressure sores all down the left side of her body, under a urine and an excrement-covered blanket.

Jailing 63-year-old Tansley for two years and three months, the Honourable (Haha!) Mrs Justice Tipples KC said:

“The circumstances of her death are sad and tragic. Caron was curled up on the floor in the fetal position on her left-hand side. She was covered in several urine & fetal-soaked blankets. She had pressure sores on almost the entirety of her left-hand side. “This was a terrible and distressing scene, and it was plain that Caron required urgent help, but you failed to get any. Morphine was given, and she was taken to hospital and died just after 11pm that night.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
It took another long time to get to sleep again this morning. But I did manage around three hours in the land of Nod. I think I had a dream, but only fragments can be recollected. I may have been in outer space and using a hand-held RT to talk to some aliens in a glass-topped flying saucer. Can’t remember owt else about that section of the dream. But I found myself having some pleasant nookie with a woman and worried about how who she was and why?   
I woke up disappointed that the lady and I were no longer physically entangled. Which, of course, we were not in the first place. Indeed, it must be impossible to miss something that never was or could have been? I’m sure I knew it was surreal and fantasy as the dream progressed. Well, I can now tell you it is possible to miss something that never happened or could never been. I think, anyway! 

04:45hrs; I scribbled some notes on the pad and removed the nocturnal catheter pouch from the day bag. I got a little mixed up later when the computer played it nasty and just let some and not others be saved. There is a possibility I’ve put the wrong photo on above. Later on, the computer let me save the right one, here on the right, showing the deeper hue. I went to empty the nocturnal pouch and meandered into the kitchenette. The night view was worthy of me taking a few shots of it, with the green hue of the clouds out there.
The houses and land did not turn out well during the second two efforts, as a cold breeze blew  through the window.
There was a fourth taken, but it came out just pure black, with no shadows of any clouds. I got something wrong again. Tsk!

Then, off I limped to the wet room. 
To put it mildly, it was a long, painful, patience-needing Constipation Conrad controlled session. I hope they never install a microphone in that wet room! The verbal Arghs, aye, aye-ayes, foul language that flowed for about twenty minutes, the twenty minutes of agony as the multi-coloured, Poisidon-sized concrete torpedo was half in-half out. Encouraging the motion to flow took it out of me; it just about wore me out! I had to remain seated for a few minutes to help me recover from the monumental effort required! Two extra tasks this morning. I had to get the bamboo canes to break up the torpedo, as the WC was not coping with the two-tone red and black evacuated product. I wasn’t surprised either; I was just glad I’d gotten rid of it. Then attention was needed to the bloody mess of blood that’d flowed from poor old . 
Then, after I had a wash, but I forgot to shave, the medicationing off . As I moved the catheter tube a little to help the cream go intoLittle Inchie, when it did, my language even amazed me! Again, I was glad there were no microphones in use!

On the computer, belatedly. I had a lot of trouble getting the photos saved for use on WordPress. Hours later, it got pally and let me get at least some of them on. But it was complicated & time-consuming! 
I remembered that the JS order was due today, so I moved some boxes to the front door to prepare for the delivery.
Carer Chloe arrived at 08:45hrs. As I was restarting doing the blog catch-up. A darned good job, too! She checked the timing for today’s delivery on the JS website… and discovered I had not sent off or checked out the order yet! So, we changed the timing to tomorrow, for delivery between 11:00 to 15:00hrs and checked it out. Saving another cock-up with an order! ♥

She (Chloe) returned later to do some domestics for me. She mopped the kitchen and wet room floors.

Back to the computer: When I’d forgotten where I was with things and struggled to regain control, mistakes flowed; they do that to me naturally, you know!

I’d been working on Tuesday’s blog; it was cruelly slow going with a mind that kept wandering off each time I got interrupted, had a Seizure, and a few shocks thrown in the mix, and I was off to Loola-land. I decided I could manage a mug of Glengettie or 99 tea. As I grabbed , it dawned that I had not yet finished the Monday blog! So, I did!
Well, I was going to…

Embarrassment!
SELF HATRED!

It suddenly dawned on me that both my feet felt wet. I did not panic at first cause I’ve been getting sensations of areas of the body getting Icey-cold-Wet sensations, and I thought I must be getting a double this time… But, No!
As I decided to get the slippers and socks off and wash my feet, as I stood up;

I slipped on the wet and took a tumble. Nothing new there! What wet, you ask? I hope! The urine that had flowed out of the ! The valve was in the fully open position! How it got in that position remains a mystery of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, grotesque succubae, , ectoplasms,  extraterrestrials, spirits, , Mind-Mangling-Malcolm, rent increases, food price hikes, and the Fata Morganas. Along with Hell-sent demons that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind?

It was a struggle again, but I managed to fetch a bowl of water without any more into the main junk room. Then, something I hadn’t thought of arose – how do I get the socks off? I can now tell you. Hehe! I don’t know why I laughed then? I ended up cutting them off from the top to loosen them. Then, I trapped the toe end with my other heel and painfully, especially with Cartilage Chloe, tried to lift the leg to pull them off. It must have taken me half an hour to get them off and thrown away. I then used three rolls of thick kitchen Towels to help soak the urine. The plan is to change them regularly and spray the carpet between applications. As I write this, the next roll will be the ninth, with none left to use!

I stripped off and put the shirt, dressing gown, and stinky slippers in the laundry bag; the slippers would have company in there, as well as another pair of slippers I’d wee’d into two days ago. There must be a better word, but embarrassment is precisely what I was and am going through! That

and a degree of shame and more shame, labefaction. Twice in three days! But this wasn’t a leak; this one was much more of a catching-you-out torrent! Gragknangles!
Off to the wet room for a stand-up wash and medicationings. Why not have a shower, you may ask? Cause when I put the rag used at first to soak in the kitchen sink bowl… I can’t believe this myself… I left the hot tap running to go cold!
I can see I will end up at home if I can’t reign in my .

Once in the wet room, I washed the delicate areas first, then applied the medications and creams. Excuse me… ARRGH!

I was unsure which creams to use on the unidentified blotches on both lower arms.
I ended up dabbing them with the weaker Lavender & orange Dettol disinfectant. 
After a few minutes of applying the Dettol, the arms seemed to feel a little easier and appeared less inflamed. Maybe I had made a rare right choice for once. If I recall correctly, I made the right choice in November 1953.
You’ve got to laugh; it’s such a pathetic state to end up in!
Old age… Sod-it!

Getting the fresh Depends on is usually a bit of a battle, but for some reason, it went almost smoothly this time. I even considered going into a .
♬Oh, Susan♬ rang out from the door chime, and Carer Christopher tapped on the wet room door. As I opened the door, forgetting I was in just the new protection pants, the lad laughed harder than I had ever heard him before. I thought it might be the sight of my grotesque body, but he asked if I’d just had a shave? I replied positively, and he laughed again, even louder! It seemed I’d missed a lot of the bristles on my neck. He was time-limited but hastily got the razor and corrected my mistake as he shaved my missed bits. The blood loss was not too severe. Ha-ha! Chris got the medications sorted, given and shot off on his rounds. A special thanks to the lad! I appreciated his help!

Feeling a little cared about, I cheered and started writing this blog. Then I realised I hadn’t posted yesterday’s blog yet. So I did! What a day!

Tired & weary now. Better get some nosh made.
I’ve got potatoes that have accidentally been cooking in the slow cooker for nine hours now. If they have not crumbled to liquid yet, I’ve some beetroots, mushrooms, fresh Kenyan garden peas and sausages to make a meal.
Ah, well, I’ll get it sorted back in the morning.
Well, I hope so. TTFN.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
GOOD MORNING!
Well, making the meal was another bit of semi-farce. In keeping with today’s series of the damned things!
I dropped the sausages on the floor, rescued most of them, and then burned them all in the microwave. When I got them out, they were rock-hard. Tsk!
Sausages (well cooked, Haha!).
Fresh garden peas, over-boiled potatoes, sliced & salted tomatoes with some Polish pickled mushrooms and cut-up pickled beetroots. A tub of mandarins in jelly followed.
Had I not made a mess of… I’ve just realised how often I type those words; ‘I made a mess of!’ Where was I? Had I not made a mess of heating the sausages, this meal’s rating would have been in the high nines! 

I washed the cooking and eating things and struggled into the hospital bed. With relative ease, I attached the nocturnal catheter pouch to the day pouch. That should have been changed last Friday. I had  not ensured that I kept forgetting to ask the caregivers to do it. I remember mentioning it several times early during the visit, but after the Caregiver had gone, I realised it hadn’t been done yet again. Tsk! 

Then, for once, Sweet Morpheus enveloped me in rest and peace. No dreams, or , as far as I recall. I felt gifted… and feared for what Wednesday would have in store for me… Hehehe!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
TTFNski!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Imperfectus Inchy: Monday 2nd December 2024

/ Inchie / 10 Comments

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
But Maybe?
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I fancied becoming an auger, avenger, even an astrologer…
But which one? I pondered longer and longer…
I settled for being a gas lamp lighter & snuffer,
But doing this first job made me feel happier…
Back then, things were far less angstier.

A split shift daily, the pay was lousy,
But the jobs 13 bob pay was daily,
There was less anger, violence and hostility,
I walked with my pole & cap, my snuffer outer,
I took back-handers, but not like Starmer!

Shift workers? A tap on their window with my Reacher,
Morn or night, each time I’d make an extra (6d) tanner,
Sometimes, there’d be summat extra-curricular,
I’d nip in for a visit with Grizelda,
It took some cunning but was worth the bovver!

A rare moment of me needing exoneration, absolution,
But indeed, a moment of joy and satisfaction,
I’ll never forget my muscular, fair maiden,
She’d throw me on the bed, then start the action,
Afterwards, bliss was my primary reaction!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
ANOTHER CUT-DOWN-A-BIT ODE.
Not a lot?.

In the morning shot of Venus, I have no idea what the green spots were; they were reflections from the flash, maybe?

Ocado’s order arrived between calls from Carer Chloe & Sam.
Fresh food to fill up the fridge
Flora no-butter-butter, smoked sausages, cheesy rolls, fresh Kenyan garden peas, Surami, Franks, bacon and some Notoori Black Tomatoes; they were overripe already, so brown on the outside and red inside, and delicious!

Cupboard foods
Chestnuts, orange dessert pots, pickled mushrooms and Black Bean Sauces.

The fridge filled up!

For the next five hours, it was mental mayhem. No idea which Carer called. What I got done on the blog was hardly worth bothering with, and what bit I did find after the Marathon Seizure was all wrong, grammatically, timewise & didn’t make a lot of sense. So I had to start again in the morning. Correcting and adding bits and the photos. 
A blurr otherwise.

I gave up computing. I was here, there, nowhere, puzzled and suddenly tired, drained mentally. 
Got the meal sorted, of sorts. Sourdough bread: It worked out at 56p a bite just for the bread. With the beautiful tomatoes, £120 a bite. They are so expensive!
No butter-buttered the sourdough bread, sliced tomato and salted them to make two sourdough sarnies.
Got the meal made and digested.

Carer Promise, I think, did the last call.

I’m sorry, but it’s a bit bare. My seizure notes were unreadable even to me. Who must have written them?

Sleep was slow in coming despite my feeling so drained.
But when it finally arrived, I slept for three unbroken hours!
That was welcome!

An already used Starmer-The-Stealer cartoon here. To fill up this terribly short blog. I liked this one!

I can’t help thinking that so much more happened today.
But it’s obviously been dispatched into the ether if anything happened by .

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

TTFNski!

Poxy Inchy: Sunday 1st December 2024

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Is Starmer running HMG veneficiously?
I’ll check it out in my dictionary,
He’s not doing it very efficiently,
Pensioners are forced to eat or heat, you see…
Farmers are to pay 48% more tax, say HMRC,
Even worse, my favourite-tasting tea…
Typhoo made it a weaker Glengettie!
Dizzy Dennis & Shaking Shoulder Shirley,
Life is enveloped in ambiguosity,
Self nitpicking batrachomyomachy,
Glaucoma Gladys awaits her trabeculectomy,
My computer is more like a whigmaleerie!
3 times, I left the hot water tap running,
Harold’s Haemorrhoids have been bleeding,
The min-seizures have been increasing,
Many other things are worthy of me groaning,
But I’m sick of hearing me moaning,
Constipation Conrad ever consolidating,
My cerebrum is ever circumstancing…
Retetion-loss, theories, contriving…
A devil of a job, in concentrating,
Leaving me worrying, contemplating,
Is logicality worth conserving?
My sanity or insanity certifying?
I can remember my days of billing & cooing…
The girl’s responses? Laughing or Booing!
I’ve not been good at anything I was doing,
Yet I still enjoy a poem, a bit of odeing,
What I miss a lot is communicating,
Talking to myself too much, alone isolating…
I can no longer do it, but I miss canoodling!
Thus, every day, I find life frustrating!
Can’t say some thoughts I’ve been harbouring!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

It took me ages to get to sleep. When I managed to drift off, I woke with a jerk & jump 2 hours later, realising that I’d made a few Fauxpas again! The same is true for the last three days! The nocturnal catheter pouch had not been put on. Also, the Diabetic socks had not been taken off last night. I needed to get my feet cleaned and deodorised urgently. The socks should be worn in the morning and taken off at night. I was in such a state mentally over the last few days I forgot to ask the Carer to do it, and they didn’t think about it. This meant I’d got an uncomfortable flow-back from the smaller day pouch; I’m pleased it hadn’t burst and leaked all over the place and me!
When I stirred, I was confused; now, I was baffled, and Dizzy Dennis kicked off. Some of Sandra’s Mini-Seizures set in and stayed with me, which didn’t help much.

The Carer arrived, and I asked her to take off the socks. But we both forgot about them. Carer Maryham or Kimberley did the dinner slot and took off the socks later.

I took some snaps of the rain inside the balcony through the windows.

Then, had to visit the Porcelain Throne. A marathon visit it was too, I can tell yers!
I spent a long time on the crossword book  as I waited for ages for the motion to begin.
It came agonisingly slowly, with two cube-shaped briquettes causing much bleeding and, as I said, agony! Poor old Harold’s Haemorrhoids were tortured and needed a lot of cleaning up and dollops of Germoloid Ointment to calm down their hurting, stinging pains that lasted for yonks. I was walking oddly, unusually, as I left the wet room. Haha!

The Low-Cost Food delivery arrived. l sorted it out and refilled the carer’s & Nurse’s Nibble Bowl. There was another box of Cadbury mini Flakes. I assumed it would be like the last one, which was very popular, individually wrapped – But No! They were Catering packs, with 144 Flakes, loose in trays. Some of them were not broken… but not many. So I wrapped some bags of them up and put them in the fridge to hand out later in the week. 
Shame! I hope they keep fresh.

Finally, I got around to updating yesterday’s blog. The seizures were so frequent I gave up until they had passed.

The weary tiredness returned, and I considered getting my head down again. By the time I’d made my mind up to do this, my energy lifted along with my morale? So, I took advantage of the lift and finished and posted the blog. The feeling of going up and down again continued for the rest of the day. An unsettling situation.

Yesterday and earlier this morning, I tried to snap the strange meal several times, but it would not save to file, like many others. I tried again, and wallah! It saved and went onto WordPress for me! I recall eating it while on the computer. Now I’m not sure if it was yesterday’s or from another day that wouldn’t save. I think it was. It was a bread roll with Marmite and no-butter butter, chicken mini sausages, Stilton cheese, and some Aunt Bessie baked potatoes done in the Air Fryer. They were terrible! The flesh was dry and didn’t crisp up much at all.
Oh, I’d love to be able to afford a new cooker! Tsk!
,
,
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
,
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
,
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
,
,
,
,
,
,
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
,
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
,
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Colour 50 – 18 – 0.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
,
,
,
,
,
,
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
,
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
,
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
,
,
,
,
,
,
.
.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
,
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

Insular Inchy: Wednesday 27th November 2024

/ Inchie / 10 Comments

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
06:00hrs: My body shook, and the sharp, tacky pains emitted from the blood-congealed, horribly painful rear rump, which contained .
I edged my bottie as carefully as I could manage; I could feel the cracking dried blood as I lifted my elephantine bellied body from the second-hand, c1968, eyesorely-horrendously grungy beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, microorganism-microbe producing, gungy, moth-eaten, beige-coloured, non-working, bacillus encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, c1968 recliner.

As I rose up on my wobbly legs, I trod on the tube and nearly fell back down onto the bum! Thank heavens I didn’t – I’d probably still be crying now if I did. The Haemorhhoids were so hurtful at their most painful today.
Last night, I forgot to ask the Carer to remove the Diabetic socks from me. Then, as I was removing the night pouch from the day pouch connection, I noticed that the urine colour was far too red! I recall thinking, “What next?” It didn’t take me long to find out…I’d left the tray with the dirty plate & cutlery (but no food on it; Hehehe!) on the Carer’s table from last night’s meal. I took the things into the kitchen, the pouch plates and trays, etc., to get them all washed, emptied and sorted. To find:
The water was so cold. Then again, being left running for about 12 hours, hot water taps tend to do that. I notice these things! This was about the 4th time this week! A little gnashing and s+wearing in a self-defamatory well followed. Then, I felt the blood trickling down my inner legs as Harold’s Haemmorrids flowed freely. By the time I’d cleaned the plates and sorted the catheter pouch out, there was a blood-red puddle on the kitchenette floor, via the rear end piles, down the legs and feet, and had got into the slippers. Finding the words to describe how I felt gives me vent to using naughty language… but I’ll not do so.
I painfully manoeuvred my way to the wet room, now requiring the use of the .
After a near standard other than its great weight, first Constipation Conrad torpedo evacuation – Trotsky Terence followed up immediately after, with two spurts of mushy-spraying-all-over & making a right mess to clean up. But the thing was, another first… well, second really; The torpedo was dark brown, the first wet-mode burst was almost red, and the second splattering was Karki coloured! I was tempted to take a snap to show the Doctor. I started to strip off to get the Heammorrhoids cleaned and creamed and realised that no hot water was available. After another short burst of frustrating language and self-berating, still in pain, I went to the kitchen, thinking I could put on some saucepans of water to heat up and use…
!!! I remembered that the cooker had broken and could not be used to heat anything! The curses I used grew a little nastier now! So, I used the kettle and the slow cooker to get some hot water to clean up and carry out the needed medicalisationings.
I began to try to sort out the haemorrhoid problem for cleaning as the PPs were removed…
Joined in with Harold, spouting blood. This cannot be happening, surely?
Every single day – disasters, failures, errors!
And it wasn’t over yet…
I pride myself on being more pain-tolerant than most, having been thrown in the Canal as a youngster, being shot twice, a heart attack, and having had Peripheral Neuropathy. A duodenal ulcer, & been mugged. On the same day in 1966, I suffered a DC and then, an hour later, an AC electric shock. Then, I had a stroke. So, all these things helped me learn to cope a little easier. But today, Harold’s Haemorrhoids and Little Inchies Fungal Lesion bleeding at the same time, then Toothache Tiffany kicked off – combined with so many out-and-out , Accifauxpas, cock-ups, mistakes and a belated appearance from , I felt that I struggled to cope as well as usual.
But it wasn’t over yet!

I did suffer with fetching hot water to and from the kitchen, but at least I avoided an Accifauxpa of dropping any.
Smug-Mode, almost Adopted – but I thought it best not to!

Carer Richard arrived as I made a brew of Glengettie tea, which was when my first of the day arrived. I think I did a lot of waffling, but I am unsure. I forgot to ask Richard to take off my socks for me. Minutes later, a carer and the NHS district nurse arrived. Nice!

The Carer departed to come back later and left me with the nurse. No complaints here! Embarrassingly, she checked Little Inchies fungal lesion, then Harold’s Haemorrhoids. I think I explained that I’d cleaned them up, but she was not impressed. She is going to order two new creams for me to use. She was in a rush, and I can’t remember what she told me about which cream was for which ailment now. Grumph!

I finally got on the computer. I’m miles behind again.

On the right, I took three shots this morning before finding the hot water tap in the kitchenette had run cold. But it didn’t bother me, naturally… I suppose one could say I’m such a happy-go-lucky, cheerful bundle of joy, a petite young scallywag.
On the other hand, if I have another day like today, who can say? Sob!
The rain came down a little later. Not as much as t blood did at various times today; as I was writing this, I had a monster -sneeze. Now, I’ve a bloody nose! Knowing how affectionate, supportive and jealous my selection of ailments are to each other, I was not in the least bit surprised when, an hour later, I dunked an LU cookie in a mug of tea… it took ages to stop the tooth bleeding.

I suppose I’m just lucky?

After the next Carer arrived, Carer Kara came to see me. As if to prove if I had a seizure when Richard called or not, I found the morning tablets box filed on the Carer’s desk. I could not remember if I’d taken some this morning or had missed yesterday morning’s dosage?
As I thought hours ago, what’s next?

Wholemeal rolls, Stilton cheese, red onions, pork loin, & air-fried potatoes. With loads of sweet baby pickled beetroots.

I packed up early on the darned computer. So tired and fed up with the problems it was giving me. But could I sleep? No! Not a chance in Hell! I tried the hospital bed, but the way the nurses left it after changing the positions so often to try to get the catheter tube back in Little Inchie it was just too uncomfortable. I spent over an hour adjusting it to how I got it, which was restful and took hours, the last time the nurses had been, to get semi-sleep-on-able.
No chance tonight. So I returned to 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. But had acquired a new back pain from all the trying out the bed, and depression took over.
Carer Promise did the last two calls. During this, I didn’t move out of the c1966, £300 charity shop bought second-hand, wincingly grotty, beige coloured, not working, crumb-covered from the nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, recliner.
Just laid there feeling as if I’d been given a pep-pill and failing to fall asleep at all! I must have been trying to sleep for about 10 hours. Rising at 06:00hrs, feeling rather grotty, suffering  worse than ever.

HUMPH!

TTFN!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –