Paroxysmal Disorder

Inchy Today: Tuesday 1st April 2025

/ Inchie / 11 Comments

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I’ve no claims to anything academical,
I’m interested in anything apodeictical,
Like the ancient Greek philosopher Aristotle,
Some claim that he used to hit the bottle,
I used to drink a lot, being self-critical,
The only trait we share? Being alcoholical,
But I can auger, but not astrological,
My success rate is astronomical,
I see this world is not ameliorable,
I know why Starmer is amerceable,
Takes backhanders, is unprosecutable,
His promises are agathokakological,
His cohorts are also not punishable,
As they appease the Oligarchical,
I seek words that are encourageable,
Proletariats are now extirpable…
MP’s morals uncouth, aethereal,
They lie, seek self-profit & teazle,
HMGs are foxy, furtive, deceitful,
Slithery, snidey, sidestepping, hurtful,
They should be accusable and arrestable,
Indeed, are they executionable?
Has HMG been proven unreliable?
Who takes over? That’s questionable!
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I had the usual broken sleep, but at least this time, it was broken far fewer times, and I got four½ and a half hours! I was too late to complete the ablutions before the Asda delivery arrived. 
I collated the things that I needed to take to the Audio Clinic and visited the Porcelain Throne. It was a messy! Trotsky Terence affair.

06:20hrs: I checked emails to confirm the timing of the order. 0700 > 0800hrs.

So, I got the computer to start this blog. Soon kicked off, as is typical when I am in a ‘feeling the pressure mode’ over the clinic lifts and appointments. Foggy-Brained!

GC Trolley indoorsI’m not sure when the Caregiver will arrive, but I hope he will be here for the delivery to help get it in. Then I can store it away. And get on with the hurried ablutions, medicalisationings, and risky job of getting the trousers on. I’ll get the things to take into the three-wheel-wheeled-walker while I think of it.
I must get down in the lobby at 10:30hrs so as not to miss the lift, which may come early or late, depending on how many others they have to pick up and drop off en route.

The carer arrived as I was taking in the Asda food.
After I’d got all the bags in the kitchen, I joined the Caregiver, who put the medications and socks on. Then, as I was going out, I asked him to help me put on the trousers and shoes.

Pretty colours this morning

Asda delivery

Ready-made meals (Almost)

I got the Carer’s & Nurses nibbles & drinkies topped up on the table and cabinet.

The computer stopped allowing me to upload photos. I had to delete the few I’d not put on and clean the drive with cCleaner again. I’ll try later when I get back from the Audio Clinic. That was the plan!

It was a heck of a rush getting the stand-up wash, shave, and medications done. I flapped a bit, getting all the paperwork and the list of things I needed to take with me. I checked the EasyLink lift.

On the way down to the foyer to await the lift, I dropped some bits off in appreciation of the help Jenny and Frank have so often given me on their floor. I went down in the lift, worrying if I’d forgotten to take anything. I got seated in the chair and got the camera out as I checked the bag of things in the trolley-walker. 10:15hrs, plenty of time.
They have replaced the stolen wall clock. It has fancy smaller figures, but I’d had my wristwatch on.

Almost straight away, I found myself fighting off the closing eyelid. The tiredness and fatigue were back!
I’m sure I nodded off momentarily a good few times. But at least when the driver comes to the foyer door, she/he will see me even if I’d nodded off.
But the frequency worried me; I really was struggling to stay awake. Likely it was the comfort of the chair that I wasn’t used to, having to use the £300 second-hand shop-bought, c1966, moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not-working recliner.

I was concerned that I may have nodded for a little longer than I thought; I may have missed the driver from EasyLink. Guilt raised its ugly head.
I waited until I should have been starting the appointment, realising that I must have made a faux pas or they had trouble getting a driver. Not knowing, I decided to believe that I must have made a Whoopsiedangleplop. And  ! This turned me swiftly into a curmudgeonly grump!
I walked along the connecting passageway to Winwood Court in case they (EasyLink) called at the wrong block of flats. Nope!
Back misrably to the flat amidst the depression, self-lambasting, and the catheter bag getting overfull!

I sorted out the waste from the earlier delivery and got the bags down the waste chute.

I decided to prep the meal for the microwave later: Colcanon mash, minced beef, gravy, carrots, peas, and water chestnuts. I put it in the fridge. I also turned on the computer to keep this blog up to date. I hoped the phone would ring to clarify whatever mistake I’d made. It did!

Frustrated, Depressed & Self-Loathing…
CONFUSED! – HAD ENOUGH!
I can’t take any more of these problems!
ARITHMAPHOBIA TO BLAME, this time!

What happened, as I see it.

The pleasant lady from EasyLink telephoned to confirm that Wednesday’s lift to the Audio clinic was pick-up at 10:25 and lift back at 13:00 hrs!
When I checked the timings yesterday, I must have been the arithmaphobia. I’d already got it down for Wednesday but got mentally entangled with the digits again.
So, I’ve got all this to do again in the morning!
This sounds scary to me, actually.

I got the meal cooked and eaten.

Lightened a smidge, but I was so annoyed at myself!

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ALL THE BESTEST!
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Inchy Today: Friday 7th March 2025

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

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I have no answer…
But does that send me aquiver?
The question is now in the ether,
Failure does not make me angrier…
Although a tad more angstier,
Is it time to meet with an auger?
A psychiatrist or a neuro-analyst,
To study my mental architecture?
Could they identify my brain’s gender?
I have no answer…
I’ve learned to live amidst loneliness & failure,
Cope with confusion, with many a faulter,
If summat goes right, there’s always a forfeiture,
My cerebrums communications get froideur,
As depression leaves, I go sort of fribbler,
In depression, I am a self-faultfinder,
Coming out of depression, I’m a flaneur,
High-Mood-Horis returns, & I’m a farceur!
Either of two extremes, never in the middle…
Insanely merry, or misanthropical,
Self-loathing then self-pitying, ever manifestable,
In any mode, they are potentially mephitical,
In a depression, I’m unmollifiable,
Happy-Mode-Horis, I often feel mercurial,
Occasionally, carefree, almost mirifical!
I accept that I must be malnormal,
I hope this is mentioned in my memorial,
I’ll begone soon, do not be mournful,
Funeral? I’d like both attendees to be mirthfull,
Oh, can you bury me wearing my monocle?
If I’ve no money left, shove me down a sewer hole,

Happy-Mode-Horis is back, so I’ll add some more.
Another thing I need is an ameliorator,
Maybe help (stuttering) from an annunciator,
I don’t need an abuser, accuser, or advertiser,
Perhaps someone who can make me wiser?
Daily, I need my Finasteride & Beta-blocker,
Betamethasone cream & Nystop powder,
Glyceryl Trinitrate & Atorvastatin,
Ramipril, Furosemide, & Warfarin,
Olive-oiled the ears and testicles with Germolene
Acne & Eczema with Barrier cream,
Peptac, & thrice daily my Codeine,,
Nose spray, Eye drops, sulphate of quinine,
Germoloid eased the pain and sting,
And several more when I’m ablutioning!
Sorry, this waffle may need comprehending,
Then the kettle on for tea brewing,
It’s Glengettie, not Darjeeling…
My usual mixture/dollop of dithering,
Friday’s nearly done, I’m mentally withering,
Doing this ode, struggling with typing,
Gladys’s Glaucoma made it hard for seeing,
With one o’clock in the morning nearing,
I’ve not yet made time for any eating…
So busy with the new carers meeting,
Seizures and Anne Gyna competing…
To be the top ailment ailing,
Hope it doesn’t read as highfalutin!
Part tongue-in-cheek, are you approving?
Why the neurosurgeon is operating!
To check my complex enzyme, thromboplastin,
Happy-High-Horis is still with me; Amazing!
Despite my being weary & tiring…
I’ll have a bag of crisps. I must eat something!
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MY FIRST CAR
Mine was Christened as Wilhomena.
(Mine was a ‘W’ Reg [1980]).
It took me a while to stop looking for my crash helmet, boots and gloves each time I went out. After years of motorbike running. I met a gorgeous, hairy, muscled, big gal and hoped to impress her with a close to proper car. But it wasn’t big enough for any hanky-panky, and my efforts were rejected. I kept Wilhomena for several years.
Then, the gorgeous, hairy, muscled, big gal (Grizelda) returned to Nottingham. That was it; I had to get a four-wheeled vehicle that would permit room for a bit of necking, groping and copulation. But I did not have any spare cash. So, I hunted around to see if any showroom would do a straight swap with me for any four-wheeled car for Wilhomena.

SKODA ESTELLE
Meet Gladys. The only car I could get. But, four-door, and the front seats went all the way back to accommodate room for a bit of nookie. It was well used over the next three years. As for anything mechanical, I wasn’t too interested.
Back to the showroom: The petrol tank contained only fumes, so I had to get to a filling station as soon as possible. Driving along the ring road, I realised… I did not have a licence to drive this car! I’d been driving Wilhomena on my motorbike licence.
I swiftly booked a driving test. Grizelda was not weakening or responding to my begging and pleading for a closer relationship. It was months before I got to take the test, but it seemed like years.
Finally, I took and passed the test and rang Grizelda. She told me to pick her up at 19:00hrs! Which I gladly did!
Our first entwining was in the Skoda, and then we went back to my flat for the best nine hours of unmitigated, unbroken, pleasing, rough pleasure ever! Ah, memories!
Just thought I’d mention it.
Grizelda moved in with me the next day. 3 weeks of joy, satisfaction, amorousness, concupiscence, passion, lust, horniness, ardour & lustfullness!
I’ve upset myself now, writing this. Bringing back memories of Grizelda and bliss. Humph!

Regrets again today.
Nowt much on at all.
Sorry.
I’ve just been too busy again.

Still, the new Carers take over next Wednesday.

Matron Jackie has not called but still might do.

The Seizures? Up to now (16:40hrs), I’ve had fewer than for ages. After this time, the Mini-seizures played catch-up and many sessions of their favourite game, ‘Let’s confuse Inchy again’.

What I can recall of the day. (Again, no notes) Oh, yes, there are four lines on the notepad. Hehe! Tsk!

I woke around 03:00hrs, thought about getting up, and drifted off again. When I reawakened, assuming I’d been asleep for a few minutes, it was 07:00hrs!

I had to rush to finish things to avoid missing Matron Jackie in case she called. (She didn’t!) I removed the nocturnal pouch from the catheter, sorted the bin bags, and handwashed a towel and nightie. And I went to get the ablutions (shower-shave-teeth- etc) and medications tackled. Teeth, then a shave (4 tint-weeny nicks), nasal spray, then cleaned the rear end and genitals. Then, into the shower, a sit down job, as Cartilage Chloe gave way as I entered the shower. I enjoyed it but didn’t want to miss Matron if she called, so it limited my time sitting in he shower; such bliss!
I felt like a rhino at a water hole.

The catheter bag was dried using paper towels. Then, the usual procedures were performed: the fungal lesion on Little Inchie and the ankle, acne and eczema, and eye drops. I olive oiled the ears, etc.

This is the end of the notepad details. I hope I can recall things in chronological order. Many more must have happened, but mini-seizures, being so busy, having more than one person talking, and subject-changing limit the details in my memory. Confusion installed. 


Tree Copse.

I can’t even remember taking these two.
Let alone when. PM, I assume.

Natoora tomatoes and Chinese-flavoured belly pork.
Cheesy cobs, into which I squashed the belly pork with hoisin sauce, and they tasted grand!
I certainly remember this meal. Unfortunately, I recall the sauce and bits of pork fat dribbling down onto the dressing gown and having to change it. Worse, washing up after the feast was messy: the oven was dirty, the oven tray was resuscitated, hehe!, and spillages were on the kitchen floor cleaning that near crippled me! 
Still, it was the best-tasting nosh of the week!

Early evening view.

I forgot to ask for contact details when the new carer bosses arrived. They will be starting next Wednesday.
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When in doubt, look intelligent!
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Inchy Friday 21st February 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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A cheery little ode, not autobiographic,
I’m not so acrobatic, more aquabatic…
When the catheter plug refuses to stick,
Tablets, creams and antiseptic,
A tendency towards being apathetic,
Learned today I’m agammaglobulinemic,
Realised that I’m obsolete, old, and antique,
Hopes & abilities, are not within my ambit,
I’d be better off out of it, abiotic…
More problems today got me apoplectic,
Life is a struggle, with little aleatoric,
Seizure troubles, Depressions… amphigoric!
I’m just stating life’s assertoric,
Everyday calamities, all amphigoric,
Not long ago, I was carefree, apolaustic,
Contentment? I long ago lost it…
World leaders turn greedy & autarchic,
Leaders used to be so moralistic…
Humankind’s future is but apocalyptic…
Catastrophic, cataclysmic, adiaphoristic!
Starmer ruins the UK, not apologetic,
To honesty & compassion, he must be allergic,
To self-wealth, Keir is apolaustic,
I’d like to buy him a soda, caustic!
He seems so stoic, sardonic, & satanic,
The fact that he’s scholastic,  semantic,
He doesn’t seem to understand sympathetic,
Backhanders taken, the crooked schmuck!,
Labour’s values he does besmirch,
His speeches are hypnotic, soporific,
He is beyond being fair or sociologic,
When he talks, it’s rhetoric
With lies, deceit, all plethoric,
Is it possible for words to be pathogenic?
Cause his lies make me sick, phrenic!
His unwarranted greed is so apodictic,
His behaviour is psychosomatic,
His biggest lies used by pretermit,
His known lies have been so plethoric,
Sorry about this rant; was it poetic?
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It’s been a nightmare today. It is now 17:40 hrs, and I’ve got the above done. It’ll be well into the morning before I get this done—if then! I’m going to have to rush, so mistakes and timings may well confuse you and me! Sorry. I’ll just accept Grammarly’s suggestion, even if it seems wrong. I’ve a lot to get through cause I had some mega-muck-ups. Not early on, things went decently, but as you can work out from my errors, the pain caused Anne Gyna to tear into me when I was uptight about the happenings. I’ll try not to go into too much minutiae and still get the message across.

I woke with the regulation jump at 04:40 hrs. I’d got 5 hours of sleep in, though. I removed the night bag; it showed a decent shade this morning.
I’ll cut this short. A couple of nicks shaving. Stubbed my ingrowing toenail. Did the medicationing routine. I got dressed but was unaware that I forgot to put the fresh pps on when I stubbed the toe. Much pain from the moving catheter tube had things bleeding later on.
To the kitchen, took a snap.
Smidge brown sky? Tons of scribble I can’t read on the notepad here. Late on in the day, the Glaucoma seems to get much worse each night.
I’ll pick out the bits I can read.

Carer Joanne’s first call. Had a small but plwant nattwe and moan about things. We do that!
Ah, I did get the Thursday blog finished. A call was made on the intercom, and I assumed the supply of catheter bags was arriving. But no one arrived at the door. Now, a problem. Someone might be on the way up if I get dressed and go down to see if they had left it in the foyer. Left it a while longer. By now, the thought of them getting nicked got me all uptight, and Anne Gyna started; on the way to the lift and down to the ground floor, I had several mini seizures. As I exited the lift, Carer Joanne was getting in with my laundry, bless her.  
We found a box that had been left in the lobby. It was from Parsley Box, the ready meals. Joanne carried it with me back to the flat. When I got in, an email said it had been delivered to the customer. This wrangled me. Joanne kindly hung the things up for me, and I emailed DHL and Parsley Box. Here’s a copy. Both were the same. 

After I admitted the DHL driver to the flats, the parcel was left in the ground floor lobby. 
After getting dressed, I went down to look in the lobby. Then, suffering from Anne Gyna and a seizure, I was lucky enough to bump into a Carer as I got out of the lift.
Carer Joanne tended to me and carried the box to the flat. 
She will complain to Parsely Box and explain that I dare not order anything again for fear of the same thing happening again. It involved just too much hassle and physical pain. I live in this Warden-Aided Block of Flats (Flat 72, 12th floor), where the box is usually dropped off at my door.
I am disabled and not in good health, which is why I was ordering Parsley box meals.
I’m not seeking compensation; I’m just disappointed and need to look for a different supplier.

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I had a bit of a mess with the lift in the first place.
But can’t read enough to say more.
I got an email from the Post Office about delivery coming tomorrow, but not the catheters. Also, the prescriptions have not arrived, although they may have been dropped at the Carers office. I’ll phone the chemist in the morning.

It’s no good I can’t read things here. I’ll get the photos taken; they may trigger my non-existent memory.
Oh, yes, I took this when I made a brew earlier, as a treat after getting the blog done.
Emptied the Parsley Box meals.
Stake Hotpot.
Corned Beef Hash.
My favourite one here!

Tomatoes, they all had something in common…
The tomatoes, I mean.Miniature bottles of shandy.

After Anne Gyna calmed down, the Mini Seizures
started, and she could do nothing for ages, and didn’t.

Carer Chris made the teatime call at around 17:15hrs, and the medications were given.

I will go on the WP Reader and then clean the place up a smidgen. Get some nosh now. I thought I’d got bread in the freezer, but I haven’t. So, I’ll have loads of Nordic bacon instead to fill me up.
The tasteless Moroccan tomatoes, and ditto with the Bamboo slices, kept the score down.

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Fare Thee Well!
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Inchy: Tuesday 18th February 2025

/ Inchie / 14 Comments

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– MONDAY MORNING BLIMP –
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GENERALLY WAFFLE
DDDD’s then unnatural highs…
I’m either spouting fripperies,
Tweedledum’s, then Tweedledee’s,
Both or either, but rarely neither
No solution, no help, no arbiter…
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The DDDDs swapping with the highs is eclectic,
Leaving me mentally drained, endorheic,
Lows are deep, highs make me ecstatic,
Why lows? That remains somewhat esoteric,
Change of moods, without any logic…
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I suspect it’s something neurophysiologic,
Mental or Peripheral Neuropathic?
High, Low, High Low, very methodic,
Lows can be curmudgeonly, choleric,
Highs, for no reason… neurotic!
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I can no longer remain an abnegator,
I’ll make an appointment with the Doctor,
Say how DDDDs make me feel blanker,

Two sandwiches short of a picnic, seizure!
Beg for help with my dysphoria!
Oh, and tell her of my gastrectasia.
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A five-cut shave was quite an achievement,
Because Shaking-Shaun was absent,
Porcelain Throne call, a Trotsky Terence Torrent!
This morning Anne Gyna was so condolent,
Sandra’s Seizures the opposite, calcitrant!,
Ankle Ulcer Ulrich was not urticant!
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Dementia Doreen had my mind all volitant,
Seizures repeatedly came and went,
Another letter, writing on it said ‘urgent’,
A bank letter, unhappy at what I’d spent,
An email which caused befuddlement,
I’ll pay the bill; be acquiescent!
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Food, power price up, & the rent,
Starmer gets me feeling termagant!
Nicking pensioners’ fuel cost grant,
As PM. he’s a dishonest abomination,
The Tories did less damage to the nation,
His election stance was anticorruption.
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Keir should be served a summons or citation,
Arrested, hung, in any combination,
For his lies and known transgression,
Never has a PM been more unloved,
He at least, should be vilified & reprehended,
Criticised, castigated, but not castrated!
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He may be academical, but he is not an Aristotle,
Hid backhanders are not apodeictical,
His lies turned voters apoplectical,
His smugness come over as antagonistical,
His past actions are somewhat adumbral,
His responses are agathokakological!
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No oligarchs are interested in antipoverty,
Nor peace, compassion or any amnesty,
Selling arms to both sides, but not equally,
They make fortunes with utter efficiency,
Innocent victims dying daily,
Safe, in their towers, sipping Drambuie
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A busy, tiring & trying day. But some progress was made. I got an appointment with the doctor. No, I’m not joking! 
Carer Chloe helped me as I called the doctor’s surgery to make an appointment to get help with DDDD, the Seizures and the ankle ulcer. What a performance it was! The recorded message told me I was fifth in the queue. Recorded messages kept playing, but they were too loud for me to understand them. Sounds daft, but anyone with ménière’s disease would understand the problem. A wave of Chloe’s hand after everyone told me to ignore them, they didn’t matter. Finally, a message telling me I was next in the queue and informing me that I would not be speaking with a doctor, but an Appointment Assessor. I did! She took my details and reasons for wanting to see the doctor. Then, I explained that it would be a telephone call job from the doctor. On Thursday the 27th between nine & twelve. That helped my depression no end. Here is a memory prompter; Can you remember when medics would say, “We’ll keep him in overnight for monitoring”?

I’ve not been well today at all, but apart from DDDD and the seizures taking a tumble, there was no apparent cause for the reversal either, again. Yet, High Spirits Herbert kept popping back up now and then. Puzzled!
Not any detail other than impotant stuff, to me.
I fell asleep this afternoon for hours in the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping recliner. A sudden feeling of weariness flooded over me. I might be disintegrating bit by bit? Hahaha!

Nocturnal Catheter Bag.

Morning kitchen window view.

First things first!
I increased the shaving cut to seven this morning. All tiddly little ones. I also cut my finger when cleaning the razor.

Finally got on the computer.
Changed the dates on the clock calendar.

Choe made the first call and then the second, which was domestic. This was when she helped with the mail and doctor’s non-appointment. Hehe! She also checked the dates on my fridge foods and hoovered the hallway. Taking a threatening letter from BG about my needing a new electricity meter down to the Warden’s office.

Carer Sam did the midday call.

I fell asleep due to a sudden feeling of weariness dawning.
It’s not as if I’d done much.

The bacon & cobs tasted terrible.
All the others were delightfully tasty!

Carer Christopher took my diabetic socks off. Medications.

Night-time snap.

Did some catch-up on this blog.
Then, onto WP comments and the Reader,
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Hasta La Vista!
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Inchy: Saturday 15th February 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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I met with the Doctor & we nattered,
There was talk of my being neutered?
After the local gal who I’d carefully nurtured!
My emerging passions looked numbered,
I’d misheard; it was the hearing aids I needed,
I went to Ivy; she said she had been nominated,
I made my move. Is she ready to be mated?
Then, I asked if things could be negotiated,
Mentioned about me being buried or cremated?
Without thinking, I said I was getting hornier,
And she threw me into a corner…
Over the years, as I have grown older,
Ivy moved to live in Oxfordshire,
Ah, our first fumbling manoeuvre,
It was far from being ordinaire,
I thought I heard an orchestra…
She was older, a good instructor…
I thought our romping was over,
Now, 70 years later, I bumped into her,
She too, now had a pacemaker,
We went to the flat, we started to perspire,
The amour flowed, she looked even prettier,
Passion and satisfaction we did acquire,
We repeatedly satiated our desire…
I got weary, but I wasn’t a quitter.
I wished I was 70 years younger…
As I rolled off, and she had vodka…
Belatedly, I answered, ‘I’d prefer being cremated!’
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03:30hrs: I jumped back into mock life with the two-morning regulars  and shot up the right leg from, I assume, coming from  . Which made me take this snap of the ankle. It’s definitely better than it has been for a day or two. 
I got the Nocturnal Cather pouch detached from the day bag. I got the kettle to make a brew using two of Thompson’s Punjana tea bags. They seem so weak nowadays. A little like what I am! Hahaha!

I adjusted the old-fashioned Clock Calendar near the computer on the 1962 Hopewells E-Plan cabinet with the laptop on top of it. And the hinges, broken doors and discoloured, cracked top, and three draws with only two openable.

I made up the waste bags into one and put it near the door
Then, as I made the brew of Punjana, I took this shot of the view from the kitchen.
Then, after forgetting to drink the tea, I meandered into the wet room to utilise the Porcelain Throne, initially.
COR BLIMEY!
I got myself settled on the plastic seat, and nothing would evacuate. What a change from yesterday’s almost liquid ten-second evacuation! After a few tentative urges and no response other than pain, I got the crossword book and pen. 
I even got a few answers in as well.
But then again, I had plenty of time once the monster torpedo crept out a little… and that was it for fifteen minutes more pain as the unmoving brute stretched everything stretchable!
I could feel the warm blood on my bum, then my legs.
Finally, things began to move again, but so slowly.
There was at last relief as the beast dropped almost with a thundering thud… and the water shot up and spray cleaned the blood on my bottom for me. Haha! Joking there! 
I soon got myself and the blood cleaned up. 
Then started the ablutionalisationings. Teeth first, then I started shaving. The strange hairs growing on my neck just didn’t want to be cut again. I tried all three pairs of razors. Humph! Why it bothers me so much, I don’t know.

While finishing off the shaving, Carer Christopher arrived nice and early. I did a quick medicationing of the Acne & Eczema, Harold’s Haemorrhoids, the crutch and man breasts.
Christopher gave me the medications, got my socks on and went above the call, and shaved those damned hairs off of my neck and up my head. They were growing now!
Much appreciated that. How come for forty years no growth, now it starts? Another of the many mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, spirits, or the Fata Morganas that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind, which is losing its marbles?
Or, not like. Haha!

ANOTHER MYSTERY!
Could I find my Kodak Tim mark2 camera?
Unbelievable! After a half-hour search, I gave up. Yet felt confident I’d find it later. Which I did… 8 hours later.
The real mystery is how I couldn’t find it in the first place. Once I saw it, I remembered putting it on top of the microwave when making a brew earlier. Sad, innit? Still, in the searching sessions, I did find the sink unplugger. That was underneath the hospital bed. I know, I know! And the toothache spray was underneath the 1962 Hopewells E-Plan cabinet with the laptop on top of it. With the hinges, broken doors, discoloured, cracked top, and three draws, only two openable.

So, there are a few photos for today’s blog.

Carer Joanne did the midday call. She helped me sort some paperwork. Thank’s gal. The seizures, absent previously, started kicking off when Joanne was here.
And they repeated for different lengths of time until teatime arrived. Then, eased off a little.

I made a food order for next week. JS Tue 6>10:00hrs.

Carer Christopher made the late call. Took my diabetic socks off. He returned the involuntarily pee’d-on slippers that had been washed for me. Much appreciated that.

Battered fishcakes, and some with tomato ketchup in the centre. Both are from Iceland. Both delicious! I used up all the remaining fresh garden peas. Lovely! The pickled beetroot was soft enough not to bother my remaining crumbling teeth. The thing that lowered the taste rating a smidge was the terrible sour-tasting mini-tomatoes, Spanish.
An unexpected bonus tonight, well, three!
One: Not a single seizure while eating the meal. 
Two: Eric’s Electric Right-Leg Shocks didn’t strike once!
Three: Twitching-Neck-Nigel did jerk once while eating!

I got the things washed up and found the watchable TV programmes were all on the same two channels, straight through for four hours, ending up with Match of the Day.
I settled into the second-hand, c1968, eyesorely-horrendously grungy beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, microorganism-microbe producing, moth-eaten, beige-coloured, non-working, bacillus encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, c1968 recliner, with a bottle of soda water.
I watched a Del Boy episode, then a Dad’s Army, and turned over to watch the football highlights on BBC 1.
I didn’t even see the start of any match. I slipped off into a deep sleep. It felt like I shot awake a minute or so later… but no! It was three hours later, as the football intro music and credits came up for the end of the matches!

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TTFNski!
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Inchy: Thursday 13th February 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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I no longer seek an admirer,
Anyone to be an adorer,
One thing I’d like to acquire…
Is for someone to answer,
From someone like an augurer,
Why my life’s not been aglitter!
: : : :
To say why life’s been a bugger!
I’d have liked to have been brainier,
I tried to be a bagpiper,
To have been less of a blunderer,
I was born to become a blooper,
In life, I’ve always felt like a beginner…
: : : :
Not that I want to be a complainer.
With age, I’ve become more crotchetier,
I was never a gambler or cardplayer,
I didn’t want to become a conqueror,
I was bare, down to earth, not cavalier,
I admit to being a clodhopper.
: : : :
I’d sooner have been a dragonslayer,
But in reality, I’m more of a doomsayer,
Generally, I’ve fallen into disfavour,
Making me become a despairer,
Life’s becoming ever-drearier,
Harassed by seizures and dementia,
: : : :
Ailments taught me to be an endurer,
I should press on – but don’t feel too eager,
Should I see a medic or physic-examiner,
I not looking for a life-extender…
More interested in being an escaper,
The bliss of being an Earth expirer.
: : : :
Looking back, I wish I’d been flirtier,
I turned out funnier but freakier,
Like Keir Starmer the UK Führer,
A new movement must foregather,
With leaders up for going farther…
I bet it’ll be a pensioner or farmer!
: : : :
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– –Doing Well, Again!– –
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I’m so sorry, but depression is rampant.
Overriding the electric shocks up the leg.
Thankfully, Anne Gyna has been easy on me.
Can’t win them all! Humph!
Creativity is a minimum, as is the desire to bother.
I apologise again.
I’m still making up the 200 files I permanently deleted a month ago in readiness for my return to real life. I just can’t concentrate and have this overpowering desire to replace some of the word sheets from scratch. Nothing else got done much at all, really. I did get the early morning ablutions, shower, and shaving done by 06:30hrs because the ups and downs regularly changed to a ‘Sod it all, I’m not bothered’ happiness. To the other extreme of frustration and depression, especially early today. I was up at 03:30hrs, waking in a ‘Sod it all, I’m not bothered’ mode that kept reversing. No middle-of-the-road, either unstoppably on a high or sinking back into depression. 
I’d done the shaving, showering, and medicationalisations, and they were all on a high note. All finished and sank down again. Then I got this bug to make up some lost word lists from scratch. Done nothing else, really; I just can’t get it together.

I took a few pictures this morning, but the afternoon was spent on this stupid idea of making up some word lists.
I still do not have them on the blog, but I’ve started on it, although it will be sparse. I’ve used the camera for some photos and left the SD card from last night in the computer thingy slot. So, I hope they can be got at them. I’ll give it a go now… with a bonkers guilt about stopping the word list-making. This is just not natural. But what is?
I will book an appointment in the morning for any time I can get into the surgery with the Doctor; I’m genuinely worried now with Anne Gyna and the Seizures being so regular. The Catheters are getting cunning now, although they have not given way yet today. That threat remains. I need to make time to write down things that I am concerned about, and I will try to be more forceful and make her listen to them all. But I forget so quickly… I’m determined to.
There may not be a blog for a few days, but I’ll try to make a few notes and keep you all informed. Let’s see if I can access the photos taken, not that there are many.

Well, it took me ages and repeated tries, but I got them into CorelDraw on the fourth attempt. I thought the computer would let me save them this time.
Yee-Ha!
0345hrs Morning shot.

Rubbish bag to the doorway.

I had never had so many cuts shaving before. Shuddering Shoulder Shirley was the main culprit; after shaving, she stopped again. Huh! Still, they were all tiny ones and didn’t bleed a lot. And I didn’t bang my head!
The ankle ulcer had some odd-looking growths coming up. The electric shocks up the leg were on & off all day long.

As I dressed after the medicationings.
Depression arrived. No logical reason.
Nothing had changed, but this did not stop
the , and
he stayed with me until around 17:00hrs.
Then and the ‘Sod it all, I’m not bothered.’
happiness mode kicked in. This situation has been
reversed so many times without cause
or reason. Up, down, up, down.
I must add this to the list in the morning.

I got the clock calendar undated.
And a mug of Glenettie.

Then, I lost myself and did nothing besides the word list for the ode and, eventually, the ode itself.

I did make a mug of 99 Co-op tea later.
Taking these photos.
When Sam did her 2nd call, I showed her the pictures from the camera. What is it he’s burning every Thursday?

I’m going to get some food cooking.

Back in the morning, I suppose.
TTFN.

This feast tasted so lovely, and I tucked into it.
Part-way through &
returned. Why? When I happily ate while watching
my favourite ‘Heartbeat’ on the box, with a
contented glow, seconds before?
I just stopped eating and threw it away.

Carer Chris called. Medications issues, he got the diabetic socks off for me. Christopher attached the nocturnal catheter bag for me. 

At least sleep came early. A broken, ever-jumping, awake session. In the end, I got up at 03:35hrs.
With the irritating desire to get the rhyme words upadted.
But resisted it. For a while!

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Cheers!
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Inchy Wednesday 12th February 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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I seem to have acquired more blameworthiness,
Does this come from my apparent guiltworthiness?
Or possibly, from my innocence & guiltlessness?
May it be due to my banal gullibleness?
It could be from my gutlessness or gutsiness,
My seizure episodes that bring gormlessness?
My life lived with no moments of being gregarious?
Or my periods of excessive garrulousness?
A lifetime of receiving sideways glances?
Undoubtedly, my depression and gloominess?
Or my lack of confidence, which is ginormous?
My infected brain has a certain grotesqueness,
My ageing body shows signs of ghostliness,
Mind & body decaying, it’s getting grievous,
As I mentioned earlier, always the guiltiness,
My search for painlessness was gainlessness,
Surviving life’s been a stab in the dark, a guess!
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Not the best of days.

At least I got some good sleep. It was broken, of course, but I reckon I still enjoyed a whopping seven hours. Nice!
The nocturnal pouch clour was another 4 on the NHS scale. With the Health Checks doing so well, I was well-pleased, to say the least.

A morning of mini-seizures. I’m not surprised; I was notified of a change in living circumstances late in the day. My own fault; only me or Doreen Dementia is to blame.

The seizures didn’t help. I struggled with the odeing and spent far too much time (Over four hours) trying to flow right. I’m not all that sure I improved it.

No confidence today. Plenty of the ankles sending electric shocks up the ankle, and the seizures, albeit they were short ones, I think, handicapped my brainpower.

A morning shot of the kitchenette view.

Adjusted the calendar clock.

And the biggest, well, most prolonged Seizure ever visited me.
I cannot recall much; the blanks were long.

In the late afternoon, I got the letter hand-delivered informing me about the upcoming changes.

Oh, I’ve not put the delivery photos on yet. So, I will.
Some of my favourite eats were delivered.
But I was not in the mood to feel cheerful
about anything.

The Natoora tomatoes were a bit soft, but I used them in the meal later. They were tasty!
Chessy-topped cobs.
I’ll have two of them tonight.
The fridge was looking fuller now.

Now it’s Nosh Time.
Battered onion rings were done in the oven.
The mini Spanish tomatoes were thrown away; they tasted terribly bitter. All else was eaten.
In my depression, I forgot to score the taste.
And cannot remember what I gave it.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Cheerio Each!
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Inchy: Tuesday 11th February 2025

/ Inchie / 3 Comments

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A PROBLEM-SOLVING ODE
I have difficulty nowadays with problem-solving,
They keep coming, constantly revolving,
Solutions, Dementia is abnegating,
With her, I find myself argufying,
Neither side prepared for amnestying,
She seems against consciousness-expanding,
Memory-Mangling-Malcolm is not attenuating,
I spend far too much time error-correcting,
Instead of problem ameliorating,
Anne Gyna refuse pain subjugating,
My brain is beyond any aestheticising,
And I cannot take any more criticising,
Nit-picking, mockery or Starmer’s lying,
Crooked politicians, I find aggravating,
To hopes, I am no longer clutching,
I find life fatiguing and debilitating,
For Starmer, the hatred I’m harbouring,
His lack of compassion is inturbidating,
The Labour Party he is torpefying…
With his lying, fiddling & cheating,
His hatred of pensioners is unrelenting
He financially crippled anyone farming,
Thus, I find myself Starmer vernacularising!
Pensioners he has robbed & now he’s killing,
How he’s escaped prosecution is concerning,
He knows the crimes of others? It’s unnerving,
Is this why the opposition isn’t even chiding?
If they did, may they be in for good hiding…
Does he know of others’ financial juggling?
How to stop him? Revolution energising,?
To get my hopes pulsating, piquing…
To read of his painful, slow dying,
I’d celebrate by doing much imbibing!
It’s past time that he should be resigning,
Each day the git stays, the more I’m spitting!
I’ve few teeth left, but they are gritting…
He should leave, take up birdwatching,
Best suited would-be Emus; Australian,
With his record, he needs chloroforming,
With his cabinet, there’s been little conferring,
Apart from his drinks cabinet, port drinking,
He needs help, maybe some counselling,
By the Grim Reaper would be a good thing!
Assassination, I’m not considering…
Although assassination has a comforting ring…
His decisions may soon start boomeranging,
If the end comes, & he goes… that’ll be bracing,
Starmer will need swiftly replacing,
Mayhap by a druid or a droid, it’s complicating,
Or a human being, with his nature contrasting…
One who isn’t always fiddling or lying?
But to find  an honest MP may be disillusioning,
One fit enough to do Prime Ministering…
Especially one that is morality-emitting,
One who is history-free of lying & fornicating…
An honest MP? It’s just an impossibility!
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04:40hrs: I stirred back into ersatz life. I waited for Twitching Neck Nigel to ease off. Nigel was accompanied by a few of Eric’s electric ankle shocks, which were shooting up my right leg. I think that Lymphorrhea Leslie is beginning to swell enough to burst again. But come the late afternoon, Anne Gyna became the worst ailment, even than the seizures, pure pain, and I was gasping with it as I walked back from Sherwood after shopping in the rain, but I mustn’t complain, and going to the dentist and cake shop. Not for me! 

I used the small picker-upperer to get some cream on the ankle. Then, I detached the nocturnal pouch from the day Catheter bag. I realised I had time to go before getting dressed to go to the dentist, and I sorted the waste bags out as the first job. 
I decided to have just one mug of Co-op 99 tea and cut the water drinking out. I hope the catheter bag does not overfill while I’m in Sherwood. Before concentrating on what I need to do and take with me, I have a bus pass, keys, cash, card, and Bisoporol Fumerate in case Anne Gyna kicks off. Would you believe that I forgot to put some in my pocket? What a twit!
I took a couple of shots from the kitchenette window of view on offer to the right and left.
These didn’t come out too badly. The few snaps I took while out in the rain, legging it back up Winchester Street Hill, were terrible efforts.

I got the things needed in the walker and my pockets. (Well, as I said, I did forget to take the Beta-Blockers!

I put my feet in a bowl with an antiseptic disinfectant and soaked them while brushing my teeth and then shaving. I had so many cuts shaving this morning that counting them was hard. Haha! 7+ is my guesstimate! I spent much time stopping the little bleeders’ flow, but the Brut aftershave eventually won.

I got some more Germolene cream on Lymphorrhea, Leslie. Then dropped the tube… hitting myself on the head on the sink. I precisely targeted yesterday’s injury as I bent down to retrieve it! Looking at this selfie, I seemed to have acquired more bruises than I thought. Of course, they could have been from last night’s Whoopsiedangeplop? 

The innards rumbled and grumbled as I left the wet room, and I got down on the WC post-haste! Had I not been naked and I’d had to remove a dressing gown and nightshirt, I’m sure I would never have got down in time! This would have been another major embarrassing incident to clean up!

I got the medicationings done in a short time. My concentration was elsewhere, you see. I wanted to get at least a little done on the blog. I adjusted the old-fashioned clock calendar. I made another brew of 99 tea. Somehow, I failed to drink the first one earlier on.

Arrived on the first call. I had just gone into a Seizure Mode. Events are a little vague. I feel she helped me with the bus timetable. I can’t understand why I have this Arithmaphobia about numbers, time, etc. Dementia Doreen, I assume, getting worse and spreading her control.

I pressed on with the blog and got Mondays posted. Not a good one, but at least I got it out.
Returned to do the Domestic. I was fully with it this time. She helped me get the diabetic socks on, explained the buses, and checked on my appointment with the dentist. She also cleaned for me. Bless her.

DENTIST SHERWOOD VISIT: I still can’t realise I left the Beta-blockers behind. But I think I’d got everything else I needed. I intended to walk down the hill and get the bus back up. But it turned out the opposite. As I was going out, Carer Sam arrived, and she walked me to the Winwood Court lobby. As I approached the bus stop and walked past it, I noticed a bus was due in two minutes. So, I caught it. Made a mess of getting myself sat down as Cartilage Chloe gave way on me. Two passengers helped me get off the bus four stops later in Sherwood. There are some kind folks. I appreciated that cause I was having a seizure at the same time that I got off the bus. My thanks go to them! 

As I crossed the road to visit the Heron Store for the first time, the rain started splattering down. I remembered the pork knuckle, Pork Pie with egg, and potato waffles they used to sell in the Bulwell store, and my taste buds were already tingling as I went in and made my way to the fresh food fridges.
They had none of my favourite foods on the shelves they used to stock long ago. Sob!
However, looking at the receipt when I got home, I’d spent £16 with them. Cellotape, treats for the Carers and nurses, Easter eggs, and some Schweppes Tonic Water with watermelon. I did not realise what I was spending at the time due to a three-minute seizure at the checkout. I felt it coming, coped with it, then realised I was not with it.

Up the hill to the Dentist. A complete stranger saw me struggling to get the walker shopping bag up the 4 steps outside the front door of the surgery. Bless her. ♥
I’d never have made it without her tremendous help.
I got into the reception, only to find that I had got the wrong time for the appointment! I was 1½hrs early! The lady looked at me with a sideways glance. I responded by saying not to worry, that I had my crossword book and pen with me, and I apologised for getting the timing wrong.
I moved into the waiting area. And started on the crossword book. Amazingly, I got a few answers, too! 
The receptionist told me they had rearranged the dentists, and I could go to the surgery in a minute to be seen by another dentist. A minute later, she indicated that I could go in now. 
The Dentist had an investigation into the state of my teeth. Summing up, he said you will need significant surgery; are your teeth too painful. I waffled on about the pain spray I used almost daily, and he said the same as the other dentist said on the last four visits; We’ll see how you go; they should be alright until then, don’t you think? OK, I said.
Went to pay the receptionist. £30. Who helped me & my shopping down the 4 steps at the front door.

The rain was heavier now, but that did not deter me from going to the cake shop to buy some cream cake treats for the staff. 
Unbelievably, as the lady asked which cakes I wanted, I delved into another seizure. Asked her to pick them for me. Paid with my bank card, and as I went out, I read the receipt,  £8.90. 
I’ve spent a bit today.

I decided to take a different route back up to the flats. Instead of going down Mansfield Road and up Winchester Street Hill back to the apartments, I went down Hallem Road and around Winchester Hill. En route, the rain had disturbed all the mud from the many trees being cut down. They were pushing their roots up and cracking the pavement tarmac.
I felt sorry for this one on the left. I can see beauty in trees, and I had a little natter to this one as I passed it.
Don’t laugh! Hehe!
As I got onto Winchester Hill and turned left, up towards the flats, I took this snap on the right.
And the heavens opened up! The rain flooded down, and I tried to protect the things in the bag from getting soaked. But, worse…
Suddenly, it got the worst she’d been, pain-wise, for years. But I was not surprised in the least. The struggle up the hill had annoyed her. I was stopping to get even wetter every few minutes and let the stabbing pains from ease off.
Half an hour later, I’d reached the level of the flats. Anne Gyna eased off for a few minutes when I hobbled along on the straight, even, flat Chestnut Walk.
I felt so much better when I got into the Winwood Court complex. I dropped the cakes off, and they gave me the list of my banking details; bless them both.

I felt weary but contented at having made the little trip without any real . And feeling good. I got up to the apartment and dried myself off. Emptied the catheter pouch, got the kettle on, and put the purchases away.
Ah, I forgot I’d bought some beer-battered chips & onion rings. I might have them for tonight’s meal. If I ever get this blog started, that is. I opened the watermelon soda bottle and got on with updating this blog.

Carer Chris arrived. His new daughter, whose name he gave me, is in fine shape. I forgot her name, and I asked him twice.

It’s late now, so I’ll get summat made to eat. Carer Chris will be calling again soon.

Bad News. My own fault.

I’ll report it tomorrow.

If I can.

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TTFNski!
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Acci-Whoopsies Sat 8th Feb 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

HAVE A GREAT DAY
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– ANOTHER GREAT RESULT! –
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Do, do-do-do
Do, do-do-do-do, do-do-do
Do-do, do-do-do
Do, do-do-do-do, do-do-do
Do-do, do-do-do
Do, do-do-do-do, do-do-do
Do, do-do-do
I’ve Morphine for the pain, just singin’ in pain,
What a glorious feelin’, I’m drunk once again,
I’m laughin’ at clouds, on Amitriptyline,
The sun’s in my heart. I’m on Simvastatin,
Beta-blockers ease the pain all over the place,
Come on with the tablets, a smile on my face,
I’ve been down to the lobby six times & again,
Just laughing, & smiling, I must be insane!
Dancing, laughing at the pain
I’m happy again…
I’ll cope and smile at the pain,
I may flinch cause the pain is a bane!
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– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
There were so many shooting awakes, but every time, I seemed to drift off back to sleep almost straight away. 
I think I amassed around 6 hrs shut-eyed, all the same. And welcome, it was, too! I lay there feeling somewhat confused about a dream I’d had. It didn’t make any sense. I scribbled some things on the notepad and may use this for the ode on Sunday. I’ll see how things go.

Dismounting the bed had some good and bad aspects about it this morning. 
The nocturnal catheter urine colour was a seven on the NHS chart. But no cotton-wolly bits were in the pouch. That was a plus! Also, no flow-back sensations when I emptied the bag. Another plus! A third plus was & did not give way throughout the standing up and exercises! Fair enough, Chloe caught me out later and all but had me over! The only hassle was from . She was determined to ruin my morning, to start with anyway. She did a fair job, too.

Of to the kitchen to get the kettle on. I foolishy opened the window to take this snap on the left of the morning’s view. What happened then? I’ll tell you… , several of them within a few minutes. It’s not a good start at all today.
1) As I clicked to take the picture, my foot hit a bottle of sea salt on the floor, breaking it as it tipped over. I then acquired a pleasant-smelling wet left slipper, sock, and foot. I cleaned up, sorted things and checked the camera. The shot seemed okay.
2) I went to the fridge to get the milk out. I dropped the carton, which didn’t burst open but did leak on the floor, and the same previously sea-salted slipper, sock and foot! Now slightly stickier than they were before.
3) The bad one! As I bent down, using
for support, the end rubber slipped on the not-yet cleaned-up milk! I didn’t go over, but it went much lower than planned.
A Porcelain Throne motion started of its own accord! Oh, lucky me!
At first, I dared not move for fear of a torrent bursting out at any time. After I decided, I just had to beat a path to the wet room. It was already too late to get there on time! 
. Frustration, shame, self-pity, inner anger at myself, self-hatred, and a flow of curses and self-blame rang out. I felt worse after having had the same problem the week before last. And this time, the mess I made was even worse. I was glad I wasn’t wearing any trousers at the time. I used the mop and bucket for half an hour and went to the kitchen to change and get fresh and disinfectant water. I wasn’t pleased! I was wheezing a bit, and the stabbing pains kicked in at full power! Eventually, I things and myself cleaned up and freshened and returned to the kitchen to make the brew of tea…  Number 4: To find I’d left the hot tap run, and it was now stone cold! So, I cannot shave and shower until the water heater comes back on this evening.
I’ve had better mornings!

Carer Promise arrived. He was in a good mood. We looked up to find the name of whatever tablet I took to counter pain. We found it was the beta-blockers. Bisoprolol Fumarate. We also found that Glyceryl trinitrate (GTN), a short-acting nitrate that can be taken as a tablet or mouth spray to relieve angina pain. That may be the one they stopped me taking because of side effects a few years ago. I can say that the beta-blockers are not cutting it at the moment.
There I go, moaning again. Tsk!

I got the computer on the go.
By Gawd, it’s going so slow.
But so was I, like an armadillo.
Then I got rumbling below…
Back to the wet room I went!
I can report that after an original kerfuffle, I got to the this time in time! !
Again, it was a really messy evacuation, but all the mess ended up inside the WC this time. It was almost a pleasure visiting this time. Mind you, this is the first time in over a week that I’ve taken two dumps in a day. I took two Anti-diarrhoea capsules earlier, which I’m glad I did now.
However… on leaving the wet room, I turned and fell over the mop bucket I’d left out after cleaning the mess up this morning. I managed to get back up using the WC. But I cracked the plastic lid in the process. More expense and hassle to go through.
A feeling came over me that many words could describe: Foolish, incompetent, unequipped for life, pathetic, useless, hopeless, inadequate, deficient, imbecilic, incapable, 
thick-as two-short-planks and foolish come to mind.
Pick one. Any would fit me or even all of them.
Did you notice I am getting a little low? Haha!
Depressed is not a sufficient word to cover it. 
I’m moaning again. I’m sick of hearing myself!

Carer Joanne called to collect the laundry for me; I’d be lost without the help I got. ♥

Well, I’ve been at it (awake) for about 12 hours now. I’ve been swamped all day, achieving next to nothing. Unless you count having a series of silly, embarrassing, and frustrating and sorting them out and making some cracking cock-ups, all I’ve done is blogging. Mistake-ridden, but never mind that. It’s all part of this chronically embarrassing nature of this Saturday. I’ve just had a thought… I wonder if the dream I had last night, which I can’t recall, was trying to warn me of events that occurred today?

Well, the Carer is due, and I am hungry. No point in making a meal yet, to be disturbed while eating it again. So, I’ll go onto WP Reader and look at the Comments first.

Carer Promise arrived. I begged him to find out about posting the parcel for Tim P. He said he would help me, and he packed the parcel. He will finish the job on Monday or Tuesday.

I updated this blog up to here.
And made a much-needed strong brew of Co-op 99 tea.
This shot should have been on earlier, but I missed it.

Late postal delivery arrived. It was from my good cyber friend and excellent photographer, Tim. To replace the broken Kodak.

The same model that had broken it got the blotches on every picture taken.
Thanks, Tim. I appreciate it. Having the same model should help me figure out how to set it up!

Then, I sorted out a meal.
But this one wasn’t!

I watched two FA Cup football Matches in about 200 parts. I kept nodding off; they were on an advertising channel, and I drifted off every time they came on. 
Gave up in the end and wanted to get in bed, but Tiredness Terry & Fatigued Frank meant I slept in the second-hand, £300, c1968, overwhelmingly sickening beige coloured, tatty, uncomfortable, wobbly, germ-producing, falling to pieces, food residue collecting recliner.
Constantly waking up with either  or pains twinging away.

A painful day and night today!

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Evening… or, Morning Each

 

Inchy: Friday 7th February 2025

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

If we are not aware, it may be too late for aftercare,
I speak to those with compassion in their agenda,
Not as a knowledgeable man or an auger…
To those who self-profit is not their main allure,
Whose desire is to help others as an alleviator…
Even if they fail on the alcoholometer!
: : : : :
Look what pure greed did to Tony Blair,
Incompetency led Rishi into the political backwater,
Now in charge, we’ve got bean-counter Starmer,
A liar, ever-seeking self-wealth and a backhander,
To pensioners & farmers, well, he’s a murderer,
He comes across as a blind bullshitter!
: : : : :
Last week, I wished a slow death on the bloodshedder,
I admit, he’s made my blood boil over, has Starmer,
In 1968. Starmer became a barrister,
In 1969 a Labour bencher; Until 1990, as a legal officer,
1990 onwards, in a Doughty Street Chamber,
Then became the Labour Party Führer!
: : : : :
Starmer, the decency and honesty boycotter,
The liar, caviar-loving, promise backstabber,
The everyday growing creepier and dishonester,
Untouchable for his fibs, he grows crueller,
This epitome of a cheat and self-contradicter,
This fork-tongued, backhander connoisseur!
: : : : :
I’d be happier if he turned into a cadaver,
Should he do it painfully, I’d chanticleer!
If he dies by assassination, I’d be that person’s idoliser,
I’d put his ashes in a low-class cuspidor!
Credit the git; he was an excellent prosecution circumventor!
Shame he caught greed and cacodemonomania!
: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – GREAT RESULTS! – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I’ve been very busy today, so this is only starting at 17:00 hrs. I estimate it will be finished in the morning. A shorter-than-usual rush job is needed. I’ve been down to the foyer three times to admit people visiting. TTFNski.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Up at 0540hrs:
The night bag is sorted. NHS class 6

Despite a bit of a rush in the afternoon, the seizures were far fewer than they had been for several days. The freezing sensation coming up the legs continues occasionally. There were no electric shocks today!

Carer Richard made the first call.

I brewed a mug of Glengettie and got on the computer. But it did not go very well at first.  and were obviously set on hassling me. And they did. For hours, I got nothing much achieved, yet somehow found mistakes that needed repair on what bit I had done. I had to give up, which frustrated me, yet I knew a late night was coming, and it’s here now! 

As messy as it could be!

I had to go down to let in the nurse, who was due between 09:00 and 10:00 hrs. Thankfully, she arrived early, so I didn’t have time to get cold in the foyer. She asked if I could do the Anoxaparin injections myself. I explained that it was no problem, and no one told me why you were coming. I could have told them I would do them anyway if they had.
The world… and my world is going mad!

From 12:00 to 1400, I was back in the lobby. I only had to wait for half an hour, and the person who forgot about the food order arrived. Somehow, he had already taken two bags up to the flat. I went with him to back up and get the food away.
Bags out in the flat lobby.
Started emptying them.
I ordered the wrong things, and no others wanted them. Grrr!
The fridge still had room in it!

Carer Kara arrived. (I’m rushing this, I hope I’ve got the chronologicals in order) Carer Joanne joined us, carrying out the weekly catheter bag change for me. ♥ Kara did a Q&A session. Nice to see her again.

Getting late now. Tsk!

Getting dark already.

Made an order for next week. I’ll have to check that I’ve not already done one with another shop.

I’d put this photo in the wrong place and missed it. I took it this morning to catch the seagulls as they searched for cats, little dogs, small birds or squirrels for breakfast.

Carer Promise arrived early. I’m about to get something to eat and hopefully get some shut-eye. (He says, hopefully).
I’ll catch up in the morning. With any luck!

07:30hrs Saturday.
I’m Back! Hehe!
I prepped and served the meal, which took a long time because I was making another mega-feast for myself!
Anyal Royal potatoes, Dutch tomatoes, red onions, and the last of the fresh garden peas (always a sad time for me, Hehe!) 
Palin cooked beetroots, some Morrisons smoked ham, two cheesy cobs with no-butter butter and a slice of German smoked cheese in each one. The Morrison’s ham was tough, and their red onions were disappointing and tasteless. The vegetarian lemon dessert was mega-good and tasty.
I got seated in the aged, grotty-looking, c1966-made, charity-shop-bought, horribly beige-coloured, £300, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, non-operational, acne-giving, virus-breeding, rickety, easy-to-fall-out-of recliner.
The tray of food beneath my chin to catch any spillages or droppages. I turned on the TV to watch the football match whilst dining. I felt snug and contented as the game started.
rang from the door chime, and Carer Promise arrived. He was not here for long; nothing to do other than ask if I needed any painkillers and the nocturnal catheter bag to be fitted to the day bag, which the lad sorted for me.
All this did not stop my eating marathon. Hehehe!
I finished it off and had one of the cream cakes. I gave the other to Promise in thanks for his help in not disturbing me. They were raspberry and cream turnovers. Although I had not tried them before, they were different and pleasant enough to the tongue.

The match continued as Promise left, but the question was whether I could stay awake long enough to watch it all?
No was the answer!
But I still need more sleep to catch up on all my sleepless nights with the Novovirus. Although it was a broken night, I managed another six hours in the land of Nod.

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Fare Thee all well!
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