Paroxysmal Dyskinesia

Inchie: Sat/Sun 19-20th September 2026

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I tried to get as much down the drain as possible with the cheap long-stick sponge. Later went to check that I’d got rid of the water, as only a few specks came through the kitchen towel I put down.
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Andrew issued the medications, pain-gelled the shoulders, neck and back. He asked if I needed the diabetic socks on; I said yes, as I went back to the wet room to make sure the drain was still working. All looked okay. But we both forgot about putting the socks on.
A proper pair of clots!
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I got the computer on to try and get the out-of-date bits I’d started going again. But my new £850 computer played up, as per usual.
I lost several hours trying to get the new drive attached to the new computer, but the installer wouldn’t work, to no avail. So, yet again, I had to move things into a new file and delete them from the old file to save memory.
Everything I do is taking me so much longer with this new computer! Adding the extra medical things I need, I can see I’ll have to give up blogging soon. I do love it, though; well, I used to. Since the new Carers started, the problems I can’t solve keep increasing. British Gas, still not solved. Six promised arrangements were made for an engineer to call to look at the meter; none arrived. Carer Ejaz has been in control of sorting this out, and has done his best. But he calls far less frequently nowadays. Which is doing me no good, frustration-wise.
Now the medical needs are increasing. It’s going to need more in the near future (starting the week after next).
The cataract lasering (EENT-QMC) is taking place next Tuesday or Wednesday. From last time, I know this will need extra care until my vision returns. Various drops to be put in the eye, four times a day. Both Lymphohrea wounds will need the socks on in the morning and off at night. (But this is not happening, so the problems with them will continue for longer, needing more attention).
The psychiatrist’s monthly meetings start next week as well, adding time, Carer, and taxi costs.
We still haven’tmade an appointment at the Audio Clinic to have both hearing aids mended. Without them, it is hard for me to make and receive phone calls. The neurologist appointment has been cancelled again.
Am I moaning or just mentioning?
My chances of getting into a home are minimal, hopeless, to impossible. But I believe this move is my only hope of retaining my sanity and getting a little life back as I await the Grim Reaper’s attention. Yes, it will be more costly… but not when you realise how much I’m paying for the Carers. I could solve my known-but-can’t-do-anything-about-it problems with ordering food online. I wouldn’t need to order food online. Maybe they will offer a lift to a supermarket for occupants? Give lifts to hospital appointments? That will save me costly taxis to the Dentist, opticians, doctors, neurologist, audiologist, urology departments, outpatients, cardiac, psychiatrist, A&E; all currently needing Carer & taxi costs.
I was given this advice about my upcoming first meeting with a psychiatrist: Preparing for your first NHS psychiatric assessment (often called an appraisal or evaluation) involves gathering your medical history and current symptoms so the Doctor can understand how best to support you (PDP).
What to Prepare Before the Appointment
1) List your symptoms: Write down what you have been feeling, when the issues started, and how they affect your daily life, work, or relationships.
2) Gather medication details: Make a clear list of all current and past medications, doses, and any herbal supplements or vitamins you take.
3) Note your history: Write down any past mental health diagnoses, treatments, therapy experiences, or significant life events, history and definitely stresses.
4) Prepare questions: Jot down anything you want to ask about potential diagnoses, treatment paths, or available support services.
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Am I moaning or just mentioning?
Does it matter?
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This may take me too long; with the appointment in four days and busy days, I won’t have the time.
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Home Sweet Home.
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Now, tonight, the Catheter pouch isn’t filling up!
Well, I mean tomorrow morning, 01:20hrs
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Inchie Visits The Madhouse: Wed 12 Aug 2026

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WEDNESDAY 12th AUGUST 2026
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Pouch to pot, Porcelain Throne. Comp pn, update checks. Took ages to get it to reload; no idea what I was doing.
Carer Ejaz was a great help this morning. A good lad.
Prepped things for hospital visit. Mirza escorted me, although I said I’d go alone to save money. Glad he did, really. Painful drive there, pleasant assessment, lovely Laurie. Mirza contributed with things I’d forgotten about during the Q&A sessions. 
The lift home was even more painful. The trouble being my bus trip yesterday, and the two today, played havok with my bruised coccyx.
Got back to the flat; Mirza helped me up, and had to shoot off to his next client. A great lad, Mirza is.
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Took some snaps…



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Prepped a meal of the day and got the computer on, but did nothing. Matron arrived, and we had a Q&A session. I mentioned the coccyx being so sore. And Matron took a look at that and my bum. Said the coccyx was really sore-looking, and she applied some barrier cream to it. Leaving a note on the packet for the Carers to see, who, in the morning, didn’t even notice the writing on the outer box of barrier cream. 
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I started to update the well-behind blog from the day before. But fatigue took hold, and I decided to get the meal of the day done. That turned out to be a bit farcical. 🥱
Amongst the dropped items that had to be retrieved,  thrown away and/or cleaned were: The cock-pot, a spoon,  a spreading knife, and a sharp knife and the fork
(three times!) To round these off, after taking this poor-quality snap of the trayed meal, I dropped that, then the walking stick, and hit my head on the counter edge, automatically bending to salvage some of the food!
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Once I’d regathered the slop of a mixture back onto the tray, I had to clean the floor so I didn’t slip on it; the nosh was all cold and messy; the urge & hunger for it left me. Ended up all depressed, and had some cheese biscuits, crisps, fish sticks and an ice cream cornet.
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Inchie Today: Sunday 26th April 2026

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After washing the pots from last night’s meal, I dropped the cutlery and cut my finger as I retrieved them. I was so down, it didn’t even bother me. Took this snap later.
Got an ice cream from the freezer, settled into 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. My aim was to eat the ice cream cone while watching some recorded episodes of ‘Heartbeat’. This didn’t work out, fancy that!
I put down the ice cream cone to investigate why the TV was informing me there was No Internet Link, or something like that. HUH! Could I find the Virgin Media remote control that I’d used five minutes earlier to turn on the television? NO!
Another of the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, and spirits. Receptive Aphasia Phyllis, Paroxysmal dyskinesia, Episodic ataxia, Ménière’s disease, Dark, Deep, Depressing Darius, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete. The Catheter threatening to block, causing a mega-painful flowback, Nicodemus Neurotransmitters Dying, Glaucoma Gladys, Stuttering Stephany, Lymphorrhea Leslie, Premorbid Cognitive Impairment Inchie, the damned seizures, or the Fata Morganas that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind. My faith, sanity, and logicality were already on the wane. I searched the room; it had to be in here somewhere! Surely to Heaven? Not in the chair. Not on the floor. Not underneath the chair, cupboard bed or on the Carers’ table? No. I looked in the wet room? No. The kitchenette? No. But it was a good thing I checked in there. I’d left the hot tap (faucet) running. Cleaned up the mess. Then I even looked in the hallway for the remote control. No!
Back to the front room, and saw it straight away!
It was on the cabinet with the TV on it!
My spirits were sinking, but I was so glad I found it. But it proved of little help in my getting the damned thing to work. I got the computer back on, and that was working okay. Fiddled with plugs and sockets to make sure they were all connected. Tried turning the box off then back on again. I’d not yet got the night Catheter on, and the day one was getting full, so I emptied it. Recorded the colour and amount, emptied it in the toilet, returned and gave up with the TV. I plopped down on the recliner to take the slippers off… squashing the now melted ice cream with my bum as I did so. I swore a fair bit, then got the cloths to dry things up. I gave up the search. I climbed into the hospital bed, still swearing and cursing at my lousy luck!
I was amazed when, within a minute at most, sweet Morpheus welcomed me.
Story to be finalised later.
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SUNDAY 26th JULY 2026
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0620hrs; I stirred back into imitation-life, almost falling, getting myself out of bed, to hasten to the wet room and Porcelain Throne. Another Constipation Conrad affair. Causing some bleeding from
Cleaned things up, and medicated the rear end. Then thought I heard voices?
I checked the front door in case someone wanted entry; nobody there, but still I could hear voices nearby?
I soon realised they were from the front room, and thought the Carer may have arrived early, walked into the room, and Another miracle: I found that the TV was on! A Sherlock Holmes Mode was engaged; to try to work out what had gone on, and was going on! I did my best to work it out logically. To put the TV on, I have to press the remote control each time. I was in bed… Ah, I rummaged through the bedding and found it. Leaving another puzzle to be sorted. I think, erm… How, when using it for the first time, did I manage to transport it to the bed, when I did not find it or go near the bed after losing it? I think I’ve confused myself now.
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Had a quick wash, and took two photographs of the amazing sky and the clouds on offer from the kitchenette window, then went back with the remote to see if the TV would come back on again.
Well, it did, but the screen flickers a bit and I still can’t get on to watch any prerecorded stuff that I’ve saved to watch. Tut!
The computer farce, £850 plus fitting. British Gas, increased payment to nearly £300 a month. The Bank demands that I’ve got to go see them, and that would cost me dosh for a Carer to go with me. They must know my financial situation… Then again, I can’t get on their site; they have the wrong telephone number and the wrong email address. But they use the right one with the statement totals? I could lose it altogether.
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I’m feeling bad this morning, but with a twinge of accepting that things are not going to get any better. Where can I get help from?
Someone, not a Carer for Heaven’s sake, to go with me to the Bank. Advise me on how to cancel standing orders I know nothing about.
Finish with the Carers; I’m simply running out of money. And it’s not working at all; now they have taken Ejaz and Mirza off me. I hope to get a cleaner to replace them, to do the laundry, and not have any Carers call at all.
I’ll need help with the dosages and medications, of course, before they are got rid of.
That way, hopefully I’ll be paying a lot less for the cleaner, and I should be able to survive financially.
Need help to sort things out, of course.
A home seems a great idea, but I don’t think it is on the cards now. Haven’t heard anything about it.
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Gawd, I’m feeling even lower now. And feeling a chunk pathetic, to say the least.
The BP readings are depressing as well.
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The bikkies My Angel Jenny sent for me were put in a bikkie jar all themselves.
The Carer arrived, ‘Leave-it-Stewart’ this time.
I can’t help this sinking sensation and feeling. Worried.
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Second caller, Ahram arrived.
I searched for some nocturnal Catheter pouches as we only had a few left under the Carers’ table now. I found a bag after a lengthy deep search. As you can see in the photo above, another thing to worry about. Can you see how much narrower the new tube on the top is compared to the usual one? And the sealing around the release valve looks likely to come apart before the urine flows in. Carer Ahram offered to ring them about it on Wednesday.
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I went into the wet room with a view to getting a shave and wash. guess what?
I’d left that sink’s tap running this time. So, shaving & washing are off the menu.
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TTFN

Inchie Today: Thurs/Fri 23/24th July 2025: Bad days, especially vague Friday

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THURSDAY 23 JULY 2026
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FRIDAY 24 JULY 2026
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Apart from when I woke up midst having my stroke, this was the worst, foggiest, most out-of-it one!
I had just had a seizure as the Carer arrived. I was practically unresponsive, I think, and went into, I believe, two other seizures while the Carer was giving me medications. I assumed this by finding the tablets spewed out in the waste bin later.
I thought he was still here, and called to him, albeit in a garbled way; confusion reigned. He had gone.
I’d not had the back, neck, shoulder or knees Phorpained-gelled. The day protection pants had not been put on. The slippers not put on. I found the night pouch on the floor, so that had not been emptied, just taken off. However, the colour and quantity had been put on the notepad?
To be fair, the Carer must have been almost as confused as I was. I thought he may have pressed the alarm to NCC Control for help. But none came.
I was being so vague for his entire half-hour visit. This is not a definitive description, but the best record I could muster. I’m still not with it properly two hours after waking up. I can’t recall having short repeat seizures as often as this before.
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Talk about falling to sleep unexpectedly!
I visited the Porcelain Throne, a Constipation Conrad affair. So painful trying to force it along. Yet somehow or other, I managed to fall asleep! And, for about fifteen minutes! Waking up, with no progress in the evacuation stakes. No acidity tastes, so it wasn’t a seizure. I gave up trying. I then made a bottle of water from the fridge, flavoured it a little with grapefruit, and made a start on this blog.
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I’m not clearing the brain fog very well, and wondered how the Carer has disappeared without me knowing he’d gone. He must have been baffled himself, to have missed all the treatments. Mind you, would I have been capable of getting the togs off for the treatments? Mmm!
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Moved on to try and get the daily Ode done.
Concentration was at a minimum. But I pressed on, and got it finished and ready to be converted to JPEG, then snipped into MS Word.
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Carer ‘Leave-it-there’ Andrew arrived on the midday call.
Do you like his nickname? I’ll explain: each time he does some medicationalisationing, he leaves the pot, Germoloid or Germaline tubes. Feet & legs foam spray, Phorpain tube when he does the shoulders, back, knees and neck where he put them on. Then we have a job to find them next time he calls. He also has a habit of leaving the waste bags where they are. I started putting the three into the large kitchen one on the kitchen door, but he just ignored that one altogether. Then I moved it each morning into the front room; he’s bound to see it and take it from there? No, he leaves it where it is, like he did this morning. Hence, Carer ‘Leave-it-there’ Andrew.
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Hallo! Movements from the innards, I think things are moving. Then I moved in the direction of the wet room, got in, got settled, and realised this was going to be a long, painful and bloody battle urging on the what felt like concrete into an evacational position. Still, apart from the blood, little cleaning was needed.
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Went into a depression. Still in it today, Sunday.
Sorry, but no one to talk to about it.
Frustrated, the world goes on, but not I.
This is a terrible thing, not socialising.
Carers who just don’t realise my problems.
My differing responses to changes in pain, and head confusions changing daily. I find myself being jealous of folk who can cope, feeling sure they…
I hope to pull out-of-it.

Cheers. 🤎🫰🏻 
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Inchie Today: Mon/Tue 6-7th July 2026 Busy Day

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INCHIE: MON/TUES 6/7 JULY 2026
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MONDAY
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Needless to say, I stayed up all night to watch Mexico v England in the early hours of the World Cup.
A Magnificent Performance
Just Thought I’d Mention It!
I soon fell asleep, happily and contentedly, and woke up an hour later with a warm, proud sensation within.
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And struggle to free myself from the clutches of the second-hand shop-bought ten years ago, £300, c1966, discomfiting, alarmingly beige-coloured, virus-breeding, acne-prompting, rickety, crumb-containing, TV-remote-hiding, non-working recliner off to the Porcelain Throne. This evacuation was all over within, at most, about 30 seconds. Whoosh!
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Got the computer on, then the Carer arrived, as I was struggling with the MS Snip doing odd things as I was trying to convert the Ode to a picture. He clicked on a red spot on top of the panel, and the mistakenly taken video disappeared. Thanked him. Medications issued. Phorpain gelling was asked for and done on the shoulder and back.
No breakfast, tea, or help with washing was offered to me. I asked him to take the bin bag down with him. He decided not to listen to my questions about my appointment problems. In fact, I took a photo of the chair, which he had turned away from me, after he had gone.
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I pressed on with the Sunday blog update, finished it, and posted it to WordPress.
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I limpingly hobbled to the kitchen to put the kettle on.
Not a hard job? It was for Inchie! His poor old left knee gave way, and he fell forwards, landing on the radiator and window ledge. Knocking a large jar of Tiryaki sauce over the floor, which shattered, spreading the contents around. My first thought was to call for help. But I was not up to much this morning and got irritable with myself for being the whimp I am. Pleased to have found the brush and dustpan last Saturday, I went to the wet room to collect them. But they were not in there. Back to the kitchen to search, without any luck. In the front room and balcony, again fruitlessly. The unused rubbish room, no luck. Back to the kitchen. Which incidentally stunk of Tiryaki by now, nice Aroma though. I looked in all the places I thought it was possible to have put the brush & dustpan, getting annoyed a smidge with myself now. Back in the wet room, while looking, I set up the speedmop for later. Finally, on the verge of giving up finding them, I closed the open door in case any sauce had intruded… There were the brush & dustpan! Once I saw them, I remembered putting them there. Tsk!
I forgot, I put a full roll of kitchen towels over the glass and food first. Now, I added some more to it. I used the picker-upperer to collect them and rubbed the floor a bit. A last with more paper towels, a spray of cleaner, and got them up again.
Then, I used the mop, all done without any bending. An iota of smugness crept into my psyche. I was so cuffed, I rang Jenny to tell her. (Daft as a brush, me!)
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I forgot to ask the Carer to put my slippers on my feet. Standing up, I felt a sting underfoot. I got the piece of glass out with the small picker-upperer, thus again avoiding any loss of balance from bending. Checked the scullery floor. It looked clean enough to me. Turning to leave, I knocked a box of soap powder off of the draining board, then I wondered where I’d left the brush and dustpan!
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I rang Mr Cervic – 0115 746 9309
To inform him of payback has not been received in the bank yet. Also, it is worth mentioning that the long calls from ICC have gradually stopped; until last week, they made none at all.
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Matron JACKIE ARRIVED
We spoke of my going into a home. Unfortunately, I’d just come out of a seizure when she arrived; I stuttered and forgot words, not certain of all we spoke of. But I sense I was telling her of all the visits and the failure to secure lifts for appointments. Showed her the letters mounting up that need guidance and form filling. Those are not being done since Carer Mizra & Ejaz stopped calling.
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DOCTORS SURGERY RANG
New Warfarin INR dosages.
M:1-TWThur:1½-F:1-ST-SUN;1½
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I’m running down now.
I found the Catheter tube on the night bag had sticky bits all the way through. I’m worried now!
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Going to get summat to eat, then watch TV.
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Mr Kervic didn’t ring back.
I’ve had enough now.
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The 3% turned out to be a false alarm.
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TUESDAY
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Reluctantly rose from the recliner at 07:00hrs, following hours of wakefulness, sort of praying for sleep. And fretting over the increasing number of unsolved problems, one after another. It was not will-power that got me up, but the need of the Porcelain Throne.
The evacuation was slow, but not in the least painful, and no bleeding. I removed the Catheter night pouch, and the Carer arrived.
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Being so concerned about getting an Escort and lift for tomorrow’s appointment, I asked him to please find out whether they are coming or not and let me know.
No response, other than a nod of the head. The lad then issued the medications. Pforpain gelled the shoulder and lower back. Got on his mobile to do his report. I disturbed him when the intercom rang, and the food order arrived.
I asked him to put the light stuff in the box and the heavier stuff in carrier bags. He had to go then. As he was leaving, I asked him again to confirm if a lift and a Carer were coming on Wednesday. Getting a nod in return, then a thumbs-up! I hope he can. Uncertainty, lack of communication, and doubts plague me.
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I got the bags emptied and food stored. But before continuing, I just have to say, in putting these things away, and I may have missed some off, for I forgot about, dropped so many of them. I got so angry with myself.
1) The pod pea bag, which was at the bottom of a carrier with cans on top, burst open when I grabbed it. Pod peas decorated the kitchenette floor. Collected and put in a basin, for shelling later.
2) Then, getting the few things that needed to go into the fridge, I dropped and trod on Jenny & Frank’s cream cakes. Arrrgh! Ruined and needed cleaning up.
3) Then knocked a bottle of spring water, which luckily… yes, luckily, did not burst open… 4) It just landed on my left foot! I just laughed it off. (Possible Fib Detected!)
5) The pot of potato salad was the next victim; this one did burst all over me, the shelf and the floor. It took me ages and a lot of self-lambasting to clean up.
6) The pork & pickle pork pies, which had obviously had a rough trip to get to the flat, and/or the Carer had also put at the bottom of a carrier, were all dislodged from their container compartments. I tried to jiggle them back in, and the top pastry fell off each one I touched.
I got the cleaning up sorted… dropping a few curse words I haven’t used in years. I got some spuds in the slow cooker and started to pod the peas.
7) My estimate for dropped peas and pods would be around 25. I’m getting so many more incidents lately; I must mention this if I do get to the Doctor’s appointment tomorrow. 
8) As I was retrieving them with the picker-upperer, I noticed the carrier was still on the floor; I had not put the things in the freezer yet, so I did. Not sure what happened when taking this snap on the left, I think and expect the camera to pack up again soon. I put the bread and cobs in, and this lot filled the fridge altogether. In fact, I had to take some old stuff out to make room. A large bag of out-of-date chips that had been in there since Adam was born had to go. But and however… The bag burst when I lost my grip again, when it hit the floor.  
9) This was a little more dangerous. As I got the paper towels again, some oil, presumably from the old chips, all but had me over as I slipped on the invisible oil. What did I hit as I grabbed for the counter? The poor left arthritic and fractured left knee!
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What with these dropsies, uncertainty about lifts and escorts to the five medical appointments I have on my calendar, and the farce with British Gas about the metre (they are really confusing me now; I need help), I hope the Social can assist me ASAP. It’s getting worse than ever as the list of unsolved problems grows each day. Dentist, lifts not forthcoming, uncertainty.
I really am getting in a big pickle. The eyes, hearing, brain (memory, Premorbid Cognitive Impairment), body, lack of confidence, nervousness, suspicious, dubious of ever being content again; or that the problems will ever get solved, the new One Stop Computer Shop bought computer will ever work right. I was warned about my memory and Peripheral Neuropathy getting worse. They have not been too good, but for the past two weeks, the degeneration has increased a fair bit. At least I am aware of the reasons. I anticipate things getting worse, and I will lose more cogniscence of mt surroundings. Luckily, I am old enough to not live long enough to suffer the full consequences. Hopefully.
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I went into the kitchen to take a better photo of the freezer, and took one of the fridge by mistake. Then as I moved to take one of the freezer again…

As I bent a little to get the right angle for the picture, my spectacles fell off.
They now have sellotape holding the left arm attached to the frame. Huh!
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When the midday Carer arrived, I was just making my first brew of tea, Glengettie for a day and a half. Honestly!
I managed one sup of it, and the Carer told me there is no lift arranged, and to get a taxi to the Doctor’s. Whether a Carer will be coming with me is uncertain. This is life for me nowadays. Full of uncertainty. Inconclusiveness, instability, doubtfulness, scepticism, and dubiety, 
Rounded off with my getting all angst and I didn’t drink my Glengettie! More money spent!
If I wasn’t told off for not taking a Carer, I wouldn’t bother. And if I do, it will be a Carer who does not know my history and will not understand them anyway. I love it when they say I must bring a relation or Carer who can answer questions if I am too out-of-it. Fed-Up Again!
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I asked the Carer to take some food down to the laundry room. The last few pot noodles I dared not eat after trying them again and enjoying one; the innards were not too keen, and the next morning, I think it was about 5 Trotsky Terence trips to the Porcelain Throne. Unfortunately, I also sent a loaf of bread and some short-dated fridge items for anyone to take. 
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Then a DPD delivery arrived. So glad it won’t arrive tomorrow when I will be out at the Doctor’s. Bit of fun here, if you don’t mind, folks. What do you think the carton contained from the list below?
A: Snuff
B: Pipe tobacco
C: Cigars & Cigarettes,
D: Two bottles of Champagne?
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My two thin nightshirts are being used as curtains to help block the sun a little and keep it from making it so hot in there. I was going to move them along with the sun, but decided not to. With my luck, I’d risk knocking over another bottle or jar, pickle, sauce or vinegar.
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Going to get a meal prepped and eaten now.
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By gum, that was good!
Ate it all bar one slice of the tomatoes; I dropped that on the floor, via my hand, bulging flabby stomach, testicles & knee, onto the mat.
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Two testing days. Carer asked ot help in the morning visits. To phone to track an order, help me get washed, shaved and clothed. Ejaz and Mirzra would have known what was needed. This lad cannot answer questions from the Doctor like Mirza did, cause he’s not aware of any medical changes taking place. Then ask him to order a taxi for us to go to the Doctor’s. Must check that I have enough money with me before leaving and prepare the walker. Can’t cope with the walker and stick.
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Not sure if there will be a blog on Wednesday.
EQ tells me all will not go very well tomorrow.
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Inchie Ode: Saturday 13th June 2026

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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 I appreciate Earth’s coming extinction,
I hold my own-formulated view, an apriorism,
What brought about this abnormalisation?
Which worsened with each generation,
Bringing about this apocalypticism,
Be it Oligarchs making ammunition…
Gangsters, Mafia, or another Politician,
Judges, give five 5 tears for non-fatal arson,
Murderers get 10, out in five with remission,
A fine for Bankers showing corroboration,
Barristers, judges, hypocritical and alien,
Starmer, Trump, Xi Jinping and Putin…
Each dishonest, a liar, using abstraction,
They start wars, just for a distraction…
What can be done by the proletariat, scum?
Are all crooks standing at each election?
Starmer is a clever liar; taught as a barrister,
Who often welcomes a backhander,
This is why he is sadly still in power,
Starmer the feigner, the verbal-dribbler,
But the opposition is not a lot better…
Kemi Badenoch, Tory Shadow Leader…
Your Party, the only NHS supporter,
I feel for Kemi, after the Tory disaster,
Nigel is the only leader who’s a smiler,
Despite his failings, Keir’s still the leader?
PM? I see him as a National Grim Reaper,
Promises not kept, the NHS sinks deeper…
He’s a disingenuous, foxy equivocator,
So, I’m ready for my sepulchre…
Life is now full, apocryphally,
I’ve no strength to act anarchically,
Last week, the nurse said to me…
A blocked Catheter is a medical emergency.
The next day, the Catheter was blocked, poor me!
Two nurses came to change the contraption,
Both failed to complete the action…
My Willie refused each attempted insertion,
After they held a phone conversation…
Told me to get a taxi to the QMC,
Reporting to the A & E…
So, I did, it cost me £25.40!
Getting there took time, an hour and forty!
Got inside, the place, A & E, was filthy…
No towels or paper in the WC,
Through the lesions, I began to forcefully pee!
I waited until I was called in the A & E,
Got called, I went, urine drippingly…
A nurse asked questions, & did my BP,
Back in a chair, ever waitingly,
To another waiting room, he led me,
Then the lesion wee’d, more forcefully,
I hobbled back to the main room WC,
Now it had towels and bog rolls, thankfully,
Clean up what I could, embarrassingly,
Returned to the waiting room number three,
“Where have you been?” She said to me,
I had a leak, had to go to the cludgie,
“They’ve moved you to the back of the queue!”
 She said, smiling, “I took a seat, waitingly!”
A good job, this was a Medical Emergency!
They may have sent me home to return on Friday,
Two yobboes were arrested, while I sat patiently,
Getting late, will they have time to tend to me?
A Urologist called my name, eventually…
To his cubicle, he then guided me,
He set about putting in a new style Catheter…
With a hook on the end to go into the bladder,
He failed his first try, I was worried…
Tried & failed again, tut-tutted, and phoned,
“We’ll try once more, with Mr Edward”…
“Follow me!” So, did…
Not in a good mood for failing…
He urged me along, as I was hurried,
Mr Edward was not happy either, I’m afraid,
Had his coat on, his expression gave out dread…
He didn’t speak; maybe he was an android?
His angry eyes, I had to avoid…
Think he was on his way home, thus annoyed,
He wasn’t pleased working where I’d wee’d,
He had a go getting the hooked tube inserted…
Gave out a mild growl when he failed,
Tried once more, success was achieved!
No tips or advice on the new Catheter device,
No, I’m wrong, I was not supposed…
to touch the stick-on pad on my thigh!
Got his coat on, out the door he did fly,
I stood in the corridor, like a homunculi,
No one in sight, I almost wanted to cry…
The nice nurse came to me, eye-eye…
I’m to wait in the corridor, and defunkify…
Waiting on a lift home, which was nigh!
Glad I was classed as a Medical Emergency,
Cause I saw no signs of any urgency,
The men came to the ambulance & they led me,
To the vehicle with pains in my right knee,
Then I must admit, to a little self-pity…
As the drivers locked me in and left me,
Tired, hungry, cold, and stinking of pee…
As they went to collect more patients,
To collect them from different departments,
Slowly, they loaded up the ambulance,
I dropped off last, as midnight advances,
They took me up to the flat, taking no chances,
In case I had any tumbles or seizures,
Rang NCC control, using the Alert Controllers,
Then I found the hot water, icily colder!
No wash, shave, or urine removal,
Too risky for me to keep boiling the kettle,
Warmed water, to clean the crutch and testicles,
The Catheter sticker, and divider adminicle,
It moved, collapsed, pulling on my appendicle,
The sticker fell off after a while…
Remember, it’s a Medical Emergency…
To which I should get a taxi to the QMC,
Couldn’t afford a taxi home; I had barely a penny!
I calmed down to make an appraisal…
Nine hours and £25.40, to get fitted…
Four hours later, I involuntarily micturated,
It’s Sunday now, and I’m well-miffed,
I hope you can follow my drift…
Then you can advise me,
My body & mind are acting inappropriately,
I’ve lost my Ode plot again, sadly…
Even thinking is rather addledly,
The right leg is much easier today,
Unlike Shaking-Shoulder-Shirely,
She’s giving me near agony,
I asked Carer Mizra to ring the Doctor,
Then he can arrange a day and hour…
That fits in with the ICC Carers,
I think that’s sensible and wise,
Hope the Catheter has no blockages,
No advice or guides from the QMC Doctors,
On managing with the new Catheters,
All I’ve been told by the nurses is…
“Any problems, get a taxi to the QMC”,
Taxi? I may not have enough money,
And it is a Medical Emergency.
The nurses will be glad to see the back of me,
What with me calling them fortnightly,
And my squirting, spraying my pee…
Through the lesions on Little Inchy,
I think I’d be better in a home residency,
I wouldn’t be bothering Frank & Jenny,
For doing this, I’ve always felt guilty,
Waiting on many a visit, neurology…
Cataracts & Glaucoma, retest the kidney,
Find out what’s causing the collapsing knee,
Help from Age UK, they promised me…
Someone would call, a wheelchair repairer,
Sort the water heater, so I can shower,
Help with the bank site, logging in,
Same with British Gas, and Virgin,
But I got new hearing aids that don’t fit,
I’m hoping to get some financial benefit,
Attendance allowance, will it pay for taxis?
For the instructed fortnightly visits,
I’ll lose a day each time. I’m so needy,
Solving issues? I’m incapable, pathetically,
Depression? I class myself as a Bezonian,
Living with pain, confusion and humiliation,
Without mental or physical coordination,
I’m linked to floccinaucinihilipilification,
I’m forlorn, forfoughten & feel forsaken…
Good luck to me is geason, within reason,
Frequently, I issue self-imprecation,
The brain will not stop its fermentation,
Even after a seizure, with the inanition…
I’m waffling on again, through frustration?
Moan, groan, grumble; is this self-deception?
To avoid possible self-deletion…
I’ve decided! My only solution…
To get things sorted, in fair condition,
Go into a Care Home, it’s the only solution!
I’ll ask how, with a solid conviction,
That way, I may avoid eviction!
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Inchy Today: Mon/Tue 1/2nd June 2026 Fare Thee Well 🌸

/ Inchie / 11 Comments

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I see today more political baseness,
A lack of moral principles, sordidness,
Boastfulness, bluffness, & bluntness,
Bamboozlers, bankrollers, beguilers, belittlers,
More backstabbers, backhander, backsliders,
Churlishness, clandestineness, contemptuous,
Violence, slaughter, governmental bloodshedders,
 Deceptiveness, detestableness,
Can our rulers not see Earth’s finiteness?
In the citizenry, fear, contagious distress,
Hopes, needs, turning into illusoriness,
Proletariats, once. quite tenacious…
Exist, survive, but are trepidacious,
Who can we blame for this tragicalness?
My forecast may well not be the zaniest,
The end of days, of earthliness…
part of the real, inherent adscititious…
Earthlings will miss the end of the Universe…
As it implodes, collapses…
Well, that’s my synopsis!
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OLD CARTOONS
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Hope for the future…
To please, please I beg, mend my computer,
Help with the bank account dwindling disaster,
A miracle with my kidneys, & blocked Catheter…
Penal Fungal Cut, before they get painfuller,
To stop leaving the tap on & the cooker,
To stop taking tumbles, 
Slow down, to have fewer seizures,
These needs, how do I conjure?
I think life’s getting cruddier.
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On Tuesday, I can’t type in Notepad; it deletes letters after the ones I’m typing. CorelDraw is still not allowing me to import, export, or perform at least 18 other actions that are blacked out. The Computer warning beeps from the hard drive are back again. I’ve got the trots.

 TUESDAY: I am so frustrated. Can’t even open a new template. No reply from the calls and emails to the computer man for help. £850 quid plus fitting. He must be so busy. 

Hour extra visit: No body check, Catheter comfort check. No cleaning done. No mail help. No floors mopped, or food date checks. Bored on mobile. 

Frustrated, depressed, and have had enough!

This computer is the only thing that keeps me going. Now it doesn’t, though I believe it’s not my fault. Notebook, the internet, and the keyboard, I think, are all giving me problems typing. The internet keeps going down. No help.

Help is unavailable with the banking problems.

The promised help with getting the new wheelchair was promised in November last year. Bought six months ago, it had not been brought into a usable condition.

Oxicodone could be my way out?

Tried to ring 111 for mental help, I felt I needed it.
I rang 111, feeling I needed help, as I am having dark thoughts, and needed it.
The phone didn’t work. The Carer had knocked the 2nd unit off the hook while putting the Hoover away. I replaced it and rang 111. The very thought of going through the Robot options was making me feel worse. These are the reasons for my bank. Virgin and British Gas problems, which, along with the Computer ones and the Catheter ones, made me forget about it, and I rang off. I wish I’d stayed on now. Confused, fed-up, and no idea what to do.
Other than adopt my dark thoughts. If I don’t ring, I’ll get no help, but that leaves me where I started.

Fret not if I do get the courage, I’ll be depression, frustration and worry-free. I write this out of desperation, knowing I’m a coward and will surely suffer on longer.

Cheerio. Bless you all.

Inchie: Tuesday 19th May 2026 – A fall & A Flood

/ Inchie / 11 Comments

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The Ode explains my early-morning kerfuffle.
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We had not had time to properly clean the wet room. But my attention was on the flaming new computer mysteries with Corel Draw, the new complicated Note app, and my seemingly new to me (I’m fibbing, done it months now, even on the old keyboard) habit of hitting the wrong combinations of keys, and getting up so many baffling options to choose if I wish to continue using programs I’ve never heard of.
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Carer Rashid, then Dilan, then Mizra, then Carer Ejaz called today. Damned busy, so much that this is going to be another rushed, no-time-to-do-properly, blog.
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The second call was to Dilan. Who got the laundry started and called Jenny to let her know. Then I asked him and explained what I’d like done to finish the wet room cleaning.
He did a great job!
Hard to see the depth of or even the water…
You can see how it soaked the box of Dettol.
Later, Carer Dilan tackled it after taking the laundry down to the laundry and putting it in the washer. 
Cleaned up the stuff I’d dropped in the corner.
And behind the pipework.
Mats down, much betterer!
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Lovely view this afternoon.
I discovered a reason for my making so many errors of the computer, CorelDraw, MS Word, Excel and the blog.
I’d been looking at the ‘Cool’ battery clock calendar! This time, at a quarter to one PM, I had not updated the clock’s date for two days! Naturally, for me anyway, I swore at myself, added some locally used curses and insults, spat, and sulked for quite a while. Went to do what so many folks do, I made a brew of my favourite tea and got some biscuits out to dunk. They didn’t get dunked. I dropped the mug, and the handle came off. Undeterred, I made another brew of Glengettie with it. Feeling rather smug didn’t last long either; a hairline crack sent the freshly made tea spilling out, then the mug cracked and broke. Sending tea all over the counter, then down the cupboard doors below, decorating my Khagoule as it did so. 
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Two shots from the kitchenette window as I made a third mug of tea, Co-op 99 this time.
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The Carer took these two later.
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I partly made a meal, just some spuds to add to it. I haven’t got any fresh ones, so I opened the last tin.
Then I realised that only Asda, Iceland, Ocado, and Morrisons had rejected my sign-in to place an order. Because it was on the new computer. I half-heartedly tried J Sainsbury’s. And got in! Hopefully I’ll have bread, tomatoes, a few ready-made meals, bikkies, potatoes, veg and mushrooms in the morning.
Hopefully, (I did, but it was a terrible day).
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Inchie Today: Fri/Sat/Sunday 15>17th May 2026.

/ Inchie / 7 Comments

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FRIDAY
So many upsets and disappointments over the three days. But some sweet pleasantries, and even time to start catching up on this blog, on Sunday afternoon. My depression told me I did not need the memory note pad, as at the time I was so down, I threw them away.
I’m sorry I did that now.
Things will be missed and mixed up, no doubt.
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Morning bush flowers
Wonderful puffer clouds
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I had a terrible experience this morning. I can’t say anymore, yet. I don’t know why I told you. It will take time to sort out, then I can reveal all.
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I had to get up early and start getting things ready for the Audio visit. When Carer Mizra arrived, most things were done, but he had to call a taxi for us because he had arrived too late to take the bus. Glad we did, even though the roadworks took us all over the place, and the cost was close to all the money I had taken with me for two trips there and back. But the taxi driver let me in the front seat, and my legs were no bother, really. Until I got out-of-it. Hahaha! 
Things went fabulously well, to the Clinic, and even better inside. A nice young lady asked how I lost the hearing aids. I waffled on, getting all excited at someone showing such understanding and patience with my long, drawn-out patter. 
Told me I would not have to pay for replacements. Also, I will not have to return to the Clinic to collect them; they will mail them to me. 
She then did a hearing test on each ear and pointed out afterwards that it had been 16 years since I last had new hearing aids. The young lady then made inner ear moulds to get the size and fit right. Then, gave me some hearing aids to take with me, for free! 
Great! Thank You!
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We caught a bus home, not having enough dosh for a taxi. I had, but didn’t realise this until it was too late. One of the sillier points of Arithmaphobia!
I also forgot that I’d taken the camera with me until we had reached the bus stop on Market Street. (I think)
I took these two snaps.
We caught the bus and returned to the flat.
Mizra had to shoot off to his next job.
I dug into the biscuit barrels and made a brew of tea.
I was surprisingly very tired and fell asleep 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.
Waking up to…
Take these snaps of the
Evening sky.
I was incapable of getting up. The earlier altercation was weighing on my mind, and I had to put up with
Then, kicked in, and all the while I worried over the dispute, lingered.
I made a meal of sorts.
Tasty enough, though.
I fell asleep where I was, Zzzz!
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A little out of sync here, sorry.
THE NEW COMPUTER ARRIVED
The computer man arrived with the new computer setup. Not the bandied about £350 mark, but it was now £850 quid. So tired, I was struggling to keep up with what he was doing and the advice he was giving.
He was patient with me. Nice chap. He spent hours getting it sorted out for me. Even put on the fonts I use. Hepta, Glutton & Aptos Square.
After Adam… Allan? Or Andy had gone, I was too tired to consider setting up the new version of CorelDraw that the lad had installed for me. But hope to get up early Saturday morning and make a start on it.
Thanked and paid him, and off he went, saying he was having a week’s holiday. I was weary beyond belief.
Blowed if I knew how to shut it down! 
Where there was one one-off button on the front of the old computer, I could feel four… but which one to press was my dilemma. I had to use Google to find out where the Windows 11 start button was.
By nearly midnight, I found out where it was.
I thought before I use it, I’d take a snip of it and save it.
But could I find the now-removed Snip icon from the bottom tray, along with everything else I had on, when it was transferred from W10 to the W11 computer? No!
Back to search Google. Without any luck, I was not concentrating well and was so tired.
So I got my head down around 0300hrs.
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SATURDAY
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Up at 05:10hrs. A Day in Which I Did Nothing: Other than try to learn and get the new computer, CorelDraw, MS Word, Excel, the Snip-app, change it to the right date and time, and how to turn it on to work. I’d seen Andy put the three fonts on. They were on XL, not on Word, CorelDraw, MS Word, or CorelDraw.
I changed tack and looked up how to open the Snip app. The primary keyboard shortcut to open the Snipping Tool overlay in Windows 11 is: Windows Logo Key + Shift + S.
Well, that was the only real success I had with the computer over the next nine hours!
The new external hard drive was flashing for nine hours. I sort of hoped it might be sorting out the new fonts and getting them onto the programmes I needed. Then I uploaded some of the fonts I wanted, and the machine told me they were already installed. But not available anywhere but in Excel. And that has lost my beloved Origano font, and there are now… wait for it… 869 fonts on my system! Note that later, as you can see, the Origano font reappeared on WordPress while I was doing this part, late on Sunday!
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The longest taking and most frustrating programme was CorelDraw. So many things had changed in the 26th version. It took me until Sunday night to work out how to move the… 
SHIT!
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SATURDAY
All the day tabs I’ve made on CorelDraw have turned into gobbledigook! And Windows 11 does not have a calendar with it! I thought of buying a monthly calendar from Amazon, but it won’t let me in on this device, and wants a Google 6-digit validation number. How? No email came in on email or mobile?

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I so regret getting this computer; I could not afford it. 
Andy is away on holiday for a week, so I can’t get any help with the computer problems.

Sorry, I haven’t been calling, I spent ages trying to sort the computer out on my own. Fed-up!

I am so depressed!
See how the lettering has gone overnight.
I’ve about had enough.

AM shot
Motheaten curtains

Beatiful puffer clouds
Carers desk

So much has gone wrong…
I’m just coping, but for how long?
Will I ever get back on song?
I feel I don’t belong…
Life is an emotional dingdong,
Still, Prosper & live-long!
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Got a message from My Angel. The calendar is still there; I just didn’t click the arrow, thinking it would open as it used to with one click. 
I’m getting worse… Hehehe!
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Gorgeous Taste!
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The week, meaning the good Carers will have scarce visits. I am back with a Carer who ignored two of my shouts for help on my last two tumbles. Grunts rather than talks, and gets sharp with me when I can’t understand what he is saying. 
I will see how it goes, but if there are any more let-downs, I shall ask the Carer Company boss to see if he can be replaced as one of my Carers. Explain my fears to her. I hate the thought of doing this, but I’ll see if Care skills and understanding improve.
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Not up to much.
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Inchie: Wed/Thru 13/14th May 2026-Horrendous Day!

/ Inchie / 2 Comments

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Things went All-Apeshit on Thursday Morning.
Not that they were much better on Wednesday, just horribly, even worse on Thursday.
With the fear of sorting things out for Friday, the visit to the Audio Clinic, and worries about whether a Carer had been arranged to go with me as required, and with transport not yet confirmed, I am in a bit of mental turmoil. Having no calls for days from the Carers who Care, Mizra & Ejaz, I am getting no information about these things. I only found out late today that the 1-hour extra call that didn’t happen Monday had been moved to Friday, for the escort to the Clinic, thanks to Mizra. 
I only started this blog late Thursday morning.
After sorting out the Double-Whammy of Whoopsiedangleplops, I suffered. I’ll explain these now to avoid having to repeat them later and to save time.
Also, the two blogs will not be formatted as usual and will undoubtedly be error-ridden due to my rush to complete them. To add to the problems, on Wednesday afternoon, Trotsky Terence got hyperactive. Anne Gyna seems to have settled back into one of her painful, nasty periods.
Thursday’s Nightmare, while it’s fresh in my mind.
This sort of thing is happening far too often.
Anne Gyna guaranteed a terrible, ever-waking night’s rest. My tierdness could do with a more precise name. 
I felt lethargic, bone-weary, drained, knackered, fatigued, and weak, each and every time that the stabbing Anne Gyna woke me up. Taking longer to get back to sleep each time, thanks to incoming houndings from ,bringing up the past and a selection of my mistakes I’ve made. At about 04:30hrs, I woke without any Anne Gyna pains and felt the urgent need of the .
I’d not made it into the bed, and had fallen asleep in the fifth-hand Charity shop bought £300, broken down, Catheter tube crunching, dried blood-covered, grotty, dirty, and creaking recliner. The necessity of speed was hampered by Kagoule, a long dressing gown, and I wrapped myself up in a large throw. Had to free myself from those, then grab the extra long night Catheter bag tube, and without time or thought of doing any balance exercises, no time to, I fumbled my way with the walking stick and Catheter pouch to the wet room…
I think you can guess what was coming. 
The evacuation started well before I reached the Porcelain Throne. I tore off the Dressing gown and pulled up the long Kaghoule, sat and threw the night bag full of urine away on the floor, to concentrate on Trotsky Terence Torrent that flowed. 
As I sat there while the innards spurted out tiny soft blotches of wet excrement into the bowl…
This is when I noticed several tiny soft blotches of wet excrement on the floor. My first concern was when they had escaped and had fouled the Kaghoule and my legs. The answer to both thoughts was yes! Not that it was funny at the time, but I think I said out loud, “Oh, Shit!” The thought of cleaning up, with all the associated pain of bending down, went through my mind… But then things got even messier and worse!
As I stood up to check my clothing and body, I espied that the night pouch was leaking its urine, and slowly filling the wet room floor.
There I was, with the floor covered in two rolls of kitchen paper to help drain the fluid, and as it did, about 8 of the tiny brown boblets that had escaped earlier showed through. I tore the long, partly soiled khagoule off and fetched the needed toilet rolls and kitchen towels from the hallway.  
I was too angry at myself to cry.
After getting the used towels up with the long picker-upper and spraying the floor with disinfectant, I applied another load of towels, then turned my attention to cleaning up my body.
The towels were left, the WC needed cleaning, and I somehow decided to get a stand-up wash and shave. 
Got the teeth cleaned, then had a good body scrub and shave. All in a hurry, as I wanted to get the medications that the Carer would normally do. (Well, Ezaz & Mizra would automatically), done and to sort out the floor.
The shave proved to be one of my worst-ever; I hurried so quickly. Later, I realised I may as well not have bothered. Growth on the chin and neck seemed untouched by my panicky effort to cut them.
I had to have a shave later to make things right. I did this because the Clinic appointment is at 10:00 hours in the morning, and the lift has not yet been confirmed; a taxi may need to be ordered. Time will be at a premium. My head was getting confused, and I got on with the body, man breasts, underarms barrier creaming, testicle ointmenting, then I got Germoloided.
Leaving the “Painful One”, cowardly until last. 

Tackled the rest of the floor and WC cleaning. A painful job, and Anne Gyna was not happy at all.
As I was tidying up, the intercom chimed. It was the Carer, Rashid, coming. I put the kettle on as he arrived. 
A bad listener by nature, Rashid is. But I had to tell someone of my morning disasters.
He issued the medications, and I started blurting out my Yale of Woe. As I chuntered of, I noticed he was head down on his mobile again. I asked him if I was boring him. I restarted from the beginning of the tale, after asking him to listen, and he will learn some of my problems… not that you would be interested, of course. No reply. When I got to the medicationing I’d done, I told him he only had the stomach folds to barrier cream this morning. Carrying on, I glanced at him, back on his mobile, so I gave up.
He asked if I needed any Peptac. I said no thanks, and he gave me a dose of Peptac.
Then he came over with the barrier cream. I’d just told him what I’d done already, reminding him that only the tummy folds needed doing, and he put the barrier cream away. No body-checks done. No Phorpaining anywhere. No breakfast offered. No tea making offered… mind you, I was pleased about that. The last time He made one, I had to clean up spilt tea on the counter, down the cupboard below and on the floor. And the tea he made was horrible. Hahaha!
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Delivered today, my long-awaited long brush and dustpan wet. To replace the broken one from Amazon. Crap again, my fault, I expected and thought I was buying a long handled dustpan, but as you can see in these snaps I took, it has to be held with your foot. Meaning having to bend down to empty it. Bending is the reason I ordered it in the first place. I just can’t win, can I?
Ocado: Gorgeous, tasty food.
Isle of Man tomatoes
Treats for Jen & Frank, Nurses & Carers
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Rainy morning
Brightened up a bit
Darkened, but no rain
Started feeling unwell, and
made an early meal
Last photo, rain back

I settled into 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 to watch an episode of my favourite, ‘Heartbeat’, on the TV and eat the meal.
And fell asleep, but not for long, the return of Anne Gyna season started. Humph!
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THURSDAY 14th MAY 2066
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MISTAKES FOUND ON THE URINE COUNT, I’ll correct them later
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Hard work catching up. The waking-up farce from today I’ve already written, but not forgotten.

Let’s see, Number One: Premature involuntary escape from the rear end – dealt with and reported earlier.
Number two: Trotsky Terence Torrent messed me up even further, and the floor.
Number Three: The night pouch spit and covered the wetroom floor, already with bloblets of evacuated product on it from escapage
Number Four: Later, I emptied the day bag with the butterfly control valve. I’m not sure whether I didn’t close it or caught it later, causing it to release urine. I noticed this two hours later.
Now I urinated on both legs and feet, and my socks.
Number Five: Getting my docks of triggered Back-Pain Brenda and Fractured Knee Frank into action.
Number Five: Then I had to hand-wash the kaghoule and socks. Or I’d have no clean ones left to use. While emptying the bowl of soapy water, I spilt most of it onto the kitchenette floor.
Number Six: I could not find the camera to take photos for the record. I used the old one, which may or may not work for me.
Number Six: 
Got a text from the bank; £1040 had gone out of the debits. I need help on this one.
I told the Carer of my problems. No comment made.
Carer Ejaz did one call, which was annoying, cause when I told the other chap about the cash, he didn’t comment or even look at the text. Taking away Ejaz and Mizra to be replaced with a non-caring Carer brings the idea of going into a home a little more acceptable. Then I would not have to wait 6 or more days to get help with banking (8 days since any). I am not prepared to let a Carer who helps himself to food from the freezer check my banking. Shopping (11 days since any), and arranging lifts to clinics, Doctors, Dentists, chemists, and opticians, which would either be unnecessary or so much easier. As with the problems today… Mind you, if they knew about these problems I’m having, I would not be popular or possibly accepted as a patient.

A FEW PHOTOS.  
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Kaghouls and socks to wash, de-urinate!
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Sorry, but I must stop now,
Lots to prepare for and do.
I’m not really up to going out tomorrow, but my need of hearing aids, whatever they cost me, is crucial.
I may have to wait a couple of weeks for them as well.
Today has left me so depressed.
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I’ve not felt as bad for a long time,
Mentally & physically out of tune,
So many things going apeshit…
I don’t like confusion, not one bit,
Lifts have not been arranged for the Clinic yet
Things to take: Do I need a bus ticket?
Which Carer is due? Ah, I think Mizra,
If owt else goes wrong, I’ll be all aquiver,
Something’ll happen; My mental barometer,
At rear-end escapages? I shudder,
Or leakages from the Catheter?
Some say bad luck is bilgewater…
I prayed life may improve, at least easier,
It got worse, not better…
I blame Starmer!
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