Reflux valve

Baffled Inchy: Thursday 19th December 2024

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

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Discussing death is not at all morbid, 
I do it sometimes with my mate Sid,
Sid: ‘Are your valuables well hidden’
I didn’t mind there was no altercation, 
Well, I can’t take it with me to heaven!
Sid: I bet you are worth a few quid?
Sid: Funeral paid for? I’m not being sordid…
Sid: But this mornin’, you look very pallid!
It’s so nice of him to care; he’s a kind person,
Sid: You deserve to be placed in a pyramid!
Sid: Done your will? Considering an alteration?
Sid: Did you invest in gold bullion?
Sid: You must eat well before you’re befallen!
I live on beer, chip butties & bacon,
Life is just an introgression, an intermission…
An incomprehension, until cometh the conclusion,
Sid: You’re causing me some confusion!
Maybe that’s cause life is an illusion?
Full of greed, hatred, & Oligarchism,
Like Starmer as PM; pure idiotism!
My faith in humankind’s incomprehension…
Has shrivelled, shrunk and withern!
At the politicians’ uncaring & indecorum,
Sid: Death’s not yet in my jurisdiction,
Sid: But I’ll make this prediction…
Sid: When you get to the gates of heaven…
Sid: St. Peter will think you’re on some cannabinoid,
Sid: You’ll talk his head off, spouting turgid flid,
Sid: He’ll not send you to hell; that’s hot and foetid!
Sid: He’ll send back to earth, and trepid old Sid!
What’s the damned code to open your safebox lid!
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The day began with Inchie unaccountably in slightly less of a depression. He could see no reason, rhyme, or logic in this predicament of Near-Contentment that he found himself in. And, this Sod-‘Em-Allness remained with him until noon. All the regular problems remained unsolved; Anne Gyna was appreciably worse than yesterday. And Mini-Seizures from Sandra were coming at pretty regular intervals all day long. They were short ones until teatime, then she threw some longer ones at him. Which meant that he got very little done in the afternoon and evening.
The blogging he did was so time-consuming. There were a few thoughts in the PM about photographing, but he struggled to get the basics right. But a determination of sorts was in his little brain, and he pressed on regardless. Unbelievably, he kept correcting things wrongly. Several times, he thought Grammarly was in the wrong, and he used it so much that he thought it might blow up. Hehehe! Knowing full well it was the blame of Seizure Sandra, Anne Gyna & Doreen Dementia.
Cartilages Chloe and Carol gave him very little trouble. I wrote this earlier until Cartilage Chloe gave way, and a headfirst tumble was taken in the kitchen. He tried to take a photo of where he hit his chest, just under his left man-breast. The dolt took two or three shots hoping to get one that would be clear enough to use. It’s almost needless for me to say this, but he’s left the SD card on the computer. His being close to chirpiness this morning had become a feast for the ruler of emotions  . He’s still moping about sulking and self-lambasting. Sickenly sad, innit? 
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A decent enough night’s sleep, by my standards. Broken as usual, but I think I grabbed about five hours out of it.

The nocturnal catheter pouch didn’t have much in it. Later on. Carer Sam gave this one a 6 on the NHS colour grading scale card. A bit deep?

I made some waste bags into one and placed it near the front door to take to the chute a little later on when the noise shouldn’t disturb the late-sleeping tenants. I think it was early enough for me to tackle the ablutions, as even if the prescriptions arrive today, they will not deliver this early.
&
It was too early to take a shower. So I had a strip body wash after getting naked & chilly. I put the wall heater on and started the mammoth job of cleaning my torso & privates.
Then, onto the shaving. Two teeny-weeny cuts. 
I later discovered it was four. I found a new dark brown bruise-like patch of about 1 x 1½ inches under the man-breast had grown a bit.
I cleaned my elephantine body and the tender areas that needed medicationing. I started with the lotions, ointments and creams. Only Little Inchies Fungal Lesion was painful enough to mention. In fact… Argh!

After doing the waste bag, I could see, very high in the sky, the moon, and maybe Venus as well. Nice!

I boiled some mushrooms for pickling. They were not very good ones. They were too big and well bruised. So this time, I quartered them. I got them in the slow cooker with water & malt vinegar and forgot all about them.

I began updating the blog, and although the blanks were brief, they kept piling up. After about four hours of effort without significant progress, I abandoned the blog.

I’m sorry, but this visit deserves a good true tale-telling!
When I stood up from the chair. Masses of wind blasted out from my rear end! Sensibley for once, I hobbled hastily to the wet room. But wind like that and no escapages had me expecting that would be in charge this session. I was right, too!
Gawd knows how long I sat there trying to encourage the motion to begin; each push was getting more painful. I think this job was more hurtful than when I ointmentated . This was a first for me; agony is not a strong enough word! Each hardly moving, millimetre at a time, shuddering as I inched things along. It was harrowingly excruciating. I must have taken a dozen or more pushes before the torpedo emerged, let alone came out! I could feel the warm blood running down my legs as it moved oh so slowly, needing even more effort to get it moving again; as it hurt that much, I had to take a breather and then start again. There was no plop or splash when it did get free… that was because it was that long and fat; it must have been in the water long ago.
It took me a while before I dared to inspect the aftermath! There was an unbelievable eureka moment!
It was ginormous! From under the water to almost level with the plastic seat! Then the miracle… I twisted the handle; it took a while, but everything disappeared down to the sewer, with no breaking things up and just the on the turn! All that needed cleaning up was bleeding!
Of course, the back passage was a little sore. Hehe! A half a tube of Germoloid Ointment eased things. I was not sorry that the visit was over and done with.
I did wonder what might have happened if I’d had a seizure, leg dance, or electric leg shock while in the wet room performing? I clearly recall shuddering at the thought. Haha!

The seizures continued when I eventually got back to the blogging. However, it seems I made a bit of a , as I struggled with repeated mini bouts from . Not realising this for hours. I’d started on this blog, forgetting I’d not finished yesterday’s yet!

Carer Sam arrived. Bless her; she applied the Barrier cream to the sides of my torso so that I could not reach myself. She spotted the bruise-like growth as well. And she put my diabetic sock on my legs for me. ♥

I decided to have a mug of Co-op 99 tea. As I entered the kitchen, I noticed the mushrooms and water chestnuts were still bubbling away in the slow cooker! However, they had become even darker, shrivelled, and much smaller, so I started a salvage operation. Haha!
I got them in a basin from the stockpot basin…
Yes, I burnt a finger or two doing so!
Ran cold water through the sieve that I’d put the mushroom and chestnuts in to make sure they would be cold enough to put in the used pickle jar and go into the fridge for three days to properly pickle them. I put the food into the jar and filled it with pickling vinegar and pickling spices. I added some basil & garden & peas to the jar. Popped it into the fridge and realised I’d got the previous two jars in there, with no date on them to check when they would be ready to eat. Then I noticed the fresh raw garden peas packet in the fridge door. I took them with my mug of tea to the computer and ate them all! And very nice they were too! Even with the mug of tea!

Carer Chris arrived. I can’t recall owt about it.

But I can remember making and eating the nosh!
Naturally, the Marmite and Yeast were added.
Yummy!
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TTFN, Everyone!
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Cockamamie Inchy: Wed 18 December 2024

/ Inchie / 8 Comments


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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WORRADAY!
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Keep Warm, Safe, sane and Happy!
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Depressed Inchy: Monday 16th December 2024

/ Inchie / 10 Comments

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I’ve still not made an appointment with the audiologist,
Life’s gone all confused, with more abstrucities,
Now I’ve got problems with the new Pharmacist,
The prescriptions were not delivered by the chemist,
Got to phone Matron at the clinic…
Then, the dispenser chap at Jaypex,
I was less confused with Covid and Brexit!
Hearing aid kaput, that takes the biscuit!
Can’t hear folks talk on the phone; dolorific!
Got to ring Matron Julie; that’ll be terrific!
Plans and logic have gone folkloric!
Are my memories actual or fictitious?
I thought the swap-over was completed?
My remaining confidence is now depleted!
Problems! But am I to blame or guiltless?
Mix-ups, failures, unknown conjunctures…
Forgot, misheared, errors are circumforaneous!
Baffling, min-bending, even deceptious,
Many complications; I dare not make a list!
What happened with the gastroenterologist?
It was long ago, memories in a fog & mist,
Fears, worries, rampant, not just a glitch,
Thought I was helping with the chemist switch,
Frustration, I’d had far more than a glutch,
They ask me things, but Memory Mangling Iris…
Has me guessing answers, not sure, hyperbolic,
My thoughts are non-heuristic, pathetic,
The nut Doctor said I was hypokinetic…
Don’t understand it, but I can remember it!
I need some help before I go manic,
I’m getting nothing solved, chewing at the bit,
New meanings and instructions just don’t fit,
I’ve never been so misanthropic,
My brain is ever more peripatetic,
I suppose this reads rather pessimistic?
I think that was the idea and or trick…
Peripheral Neuropathy, seizures, a diabetic…
Angina, Glaucoma, knees & hands arthritic,
So many ailments I can feel phantasmagoric!
No wonder I’m going all self-pedantic!
Folks should see that I’m oxymoronic…
Double-check I’ve not made a mistake,
Get me help… that’d be just the tonic!
Depression can be recidivistic…
Shames and embarrassments are automatic,
This day I have a new enuredness…
Life today enfolds a deeper equivocalness,
Murkiness, obscurity, apprehension,
Anonymity, tension, lack of invention…
I suppose I’m a mental circumforanean,
Full of depression and exasperation?
Self-pity, grumpy and mental exhaustion,
There’s one possibility, one explanation…
My self-floccinaucinihilipilification?
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05:10hrs: Got up and took the night pouch off. 
I decided to finish the Sunday blog, shower, perform Throne duties, have a shave, and put on my trousers, ready to go to the shops later. Huh!

I cleaned up a mess I’d left in the kitchen sink, made up the waste bags, and got on with the blog—but not for long. The innards rumbled and off to the Porcelain Throne.
The evacuation took 30 seconds, and the cleaning up afterwards took about 10 minutes.

Back to the blogging—but not for long.
The Asda order arrived.
This one was in a big, big order.
The fridge was filled.

Back to the blogging—but not for long.
Carer Richard arrived. He was not very happy with me for changing the chemists around. I was hurt a smidge, not the lad in any way. It’s just that when Matron Julie suggested changing it, I thought that it would be a good idea to save Richard from fetching the medications for me each month. But he’d set up a system with the Carrington Chemist. Not only that, Richard said the prescriptions should have been delivered by now from the Jayplex Chemist. I must ring them today to find out what is going on. I felt terrible at getting it wrong, and Depression Duncan came on. Everything I try to do to help seems to fail! 

Back to the blogging—but not for long.
Carer Chloe came, and I was in a part-depression and part-seizure mode. I explained why to her. She issued the medications and went to check the taps for me…
I’d left the hot tap running! 
It had run cold. So, no washing and shaving until tonight when the heater comes on. Another bout of self-name-calling, and I got so angry with myself over it. It was getting to me even deeper now. I felt awful.

Back to the blogging—but not for long. I got a text message, followed by another one, before I could get to my super-new mobile phone. Hehehe!
But the message thingy told me, ‘Unable to save this message’ on both calls. Now, I wondered if it might be from a company that might be delivering the prescriptions. But, like most things in this world, it was a mystery to me. Maybe it was to tell me a parcel is on its way? I’ll never know. I deleted some messages, hoping they could or might send them again. And praying that it was the medications in the first place. No shopping for me, and no shaving, scrubbing, or medication until the evening when the water gets hot enough to wash & shave. I think that might be read wrongly.

Back to the blogging—but not for long. 
They were kicked off, and now, five hours later, they are still with me! Fortunately, they have all been short ones up to now. Enough to break the already near-absent concentration, though.

I gave up on the blogging. What I’ve got is all I can put on. found a new depth.
I can’t recall it being so frustrating for a long time. Of course, I and ‘remembering’, do not have a strong affinity.

I felt even worse now, thinking that the prescription may of may not be coming. I was also too scared to use the tap to make a brew of Glengettie because I was afraid of running even more water. All in all, I was on a downer.
So, I decided to make an early nosh. But being blessed with indecisiveness, a lack of willpower, and aboulomania, combined with a degree of… well, forgetting things, I forgot about the food and went on the WordPress Reader.

Cheesy cobs with no-butter-butter
beef and tomato slices. Garden peas.
Pickled eggs with black pepper.
Shop-bought pickled silverskins &
Home Pickled, pickled mushrooms!
Lipsmackingly Good!
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TTFNski, Each!

Empathy Inchie: Saturday 14th December 2024

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A night of broken sleep again. No dreams, but a few awakenings from and ensured it was a horrible, miserable, painful night. I was in bed for six hours, but the sleeping part must have been far less. You know me; I don’t like to complain… too much. Hehe! 

Carer Promise later gave the nocturnal weewee pouch a number 6 on the NHS Richter scale. Haha! I took the worst photo of the morning view from the kitchen window. I found later that all of Kojo’s photos were right out of the sink. I changed back to Kodak Tim after a few failures. I’ll ask Carer Christopher to see if he can reset the errors I must have made to my Kojo camera on Monday. Tsk!

It was too early to shower, so I had a stand session. Well, it started sitting down, really, on the Porcelain Throne. It was back with a vengeance. Talk about messy! It took me such a long time just cleaning up after that session on the seat!
Then I did the shaving… Dang dang, dang… Dang!
I didn’t do so well this time. I had a few, maybe ten cuts, all trifling ones, mind you. I got the Mini-Shakes but had not realised they were so imperceptive this time. Not only that, after I’d finished shaving and dowsed my head and neck in aftershave, I had a feel around the neck to see if they had stopped flowing, which they had… but the annoying new growths of hair on the back seemed to have avoided repeatedly the blades of the razors? I could sense them, almost hear them laughing at me. Har-Har! With my neurotransmitters dying of, I used the palm of my hand. Often, the finger ends lose all sensation. Like a week ago, two ago. I was in the kitchen and suddenly, only by smelling the burning flesh, realised I’d burnt three fingers on the oven racks! Still, I’ve got no oven now that it’s given up the ghost! I hope to have the new mini-oven fitted on Monday or Tuesday.

I removed my feet, which had been marinated in a bowl of hot water, and washed up liquid and Dettol while shaving. Drying them of when one cannot genuflect is a work of art. I found a way of wrapping some kitchen towels around the small picker-upperer so they don’t tear the towelling so much. Also, it gives me vital reach to get to the unbendable left leg of the Cartilage Chloe. Cunning, innit?

Now for dodgy duties. Today, I decided to medicate The fungal lesion on Little Inchie first instead of last. Get the painful one out of the way! I used the new cream on the lesion this morning instead of the Betamethasone cream for the first time. Blimey, it was almost painless! Naturally,  the moving of the tubing was just as bad. But I’m not sure that it will work without pain. Haha! I’ll know by the morning when I wake up, I imagine. While on the lower regions of my whale-like, flabby body, I, both knees. I gave them a good long rubbing in, and by then, I tended to &
with the Phorpaining. I put the Med Hydrankle ulcer rub on with the picker-upperer.
Then I water jetted out the ear holes and put olive oil in each canal.
Then I got the Blepha eye cleaner and gels rubbed in, hoping that would appreciate them and not make things go foggy so often today. Huh, that was a forlorn hope. Still, yer can’t win ’em all!
It was turn next. I also used the Barrier cream on them, as instructed by the district nurse. Never again, it’s back to the Germolene again in the morning. It’s expensive, but it eases the agony from the piles! This barrier cream did nothing for the pain. Humph!
Then, the I tried to leave in a less painful position. It didn’t work, and poor Little Inchie has had a rotten day of torment and discomfort. I shall have a word with the nurse when she calls again. I can’t understand it. Things have been much easier for Inchie for two or three days. Today, it was back to its worst ever! But, it’s only pain. If it wasn’t the Catheter, something else would be playing up… I wish it was. But then again, better the devil, you know.
Now, to barrier cream the man’s breasts, arms, belly, groin and where I can reach on the back of the neck. I left the breasts till last cause they had been so good the last couple of days.
The moment the cream touched under the man-udders, I jumped at the pain! I may have said a few naughty words and ARRGH as well.
I sprayed the nasal spray up each nostril and got my medical alert wristbands on. The Diabetic and Neuropathy Dementia ones have both broken and snapped off. Hey-Ho!

I put on the PPs, a gown, and a dressing gown; they are lovely and snug, too. Carer Promise came in as I put on the kettle to brew a cup of Co-op 99 tea. I asked him to put on my diabetic socks first, as my feet were rather cold while my uppers were warm. It was an odd feeling.
He looked after me and got them on for me. Medications were given. It was Promise who took the photo of the man’s breasts. Whatever it was that seemed to have developed, grown underneath them? I expected whatever it was to look all red and delicate, but as you can see above, it didn’t. What is it? The tenderness slowly eased over the day. It’s nearly six PM now, and I can touch them without pain. It’s a funny world, but you know that.

Carer Joanne did the net call. I think I was on the computer and in a seizure mode at the time. I talked a lot and felt we had a laugh about something.

The rest of the afternoon… well, was blank-ridden. I got all confused over the photos and made so many mistakes on the blog it was unreal. When and why I took this photo remains a mystery. Hand on, no, it doesn’t. I think it must have been to try the cheap camera again. Because it looks terrible. I guess I unwittingly changed some settings on it. Another problem for Carer Christopher to look at for me. Bless him.
I’m not sure, but I think I must have taken this this morning sometime...
I wonder if I’ll ever get help with these problems that keep bothering me? Mentally, I mean.
I’ll make something to eat after going on the WordPress Reader – if I remember to. Hahaha!

Carer Vic just called.
I will get summat to eat, but there is not much choice.
Instant mash & sausage with some beetroot, maybe.
I’ll not starve. Well…
Back in the morning. (He says)

FURRY OF THE WEEK.
From Tim Prices Blog.

Fabulous Furries and a great blog!

Yum, Yum!
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May the Force Be With You!

Tetchy Inchy: Wed 11th December 2023

/ Inchie / 9 Comments

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

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

I was in the itch-creating, bruise-giving, catheter-tube-tugging, crumb-decorated from my nocturnal nibbling, God-awfully uncomfortable, cringingly grotty, no longer working, dirty beige, anti-sleep designed, c1966, second-hand bought for £300 eleven years ago from the charity shop, recliner. So, I was able to remove the without getting up. I sat a little longer, thinking of a happy memory (and precious few are available) from 60 years ago. Oddly, I can’t recall her name, but the good bits I could and did. An even rarer thing happened during my daydream; I smiled! 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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TTFNski & all the best!

Shortarse Inchy: Tuesday 10th December 2024

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Inchy: Masses of Mayhem Monday 9th December 2024

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

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

Fed up! HEARTBROKEN!
My eyesight is bad. I’m so tired and weary of having two sleepless nights. The right hearing aid has broken down.
No way! I have not had time to reproduce what I thought was a fantastic Ode. So, after a day of struggling with other things, this happens! So, after all my work, getting this blog fully detailed with plenty of whitty bits scattered in it will have to be a rush job. Sorry! I’ll do my best. Even if it means a third sleepless night!
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I went to see Doctor Downing,
Who said I was rough-looking,
Have you done nowt about yer coffin?
I said Well, no! (between my coughing),
She said, “Well, put yer hearing aids in!”
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I must have tried to sleep for nine hours last night. How can someone be so tired and worn out and ‘not’ sleep? I can; that was the second sleepless night. I tried on the hospital bed, then moved into the second-hand, c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping recliner. But with and Anne Gyna, there was no chance. I gave up hope and emptied the nocturnal catheter pouch, then went to make a brew of 99 tea. And I enjoyed it, despite nearly dropping it when I took to the computer. The need for the Porcelain Throne arose.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scratchy Inchy: Sunday 8th December 2024

/ Inchie / 12 Comments

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At the bayou, having mayhap a barbecue,
Or you may be out hunting deer or caribou?
Answering the taxman’s letter at your bureau,
On the Porcelain Throne, using the tissue?
With your beloved, about to bill and coo, 
Or just thinking, what’s the world coming to?
At the bar, having your 13th drinkypoo?
Watching a movie, The Battle of Waterloo?
Eating your takeaway curry with aloo?
Enroute to hospital after a blanscue?
Practicing fencing or jujitsu?
Just back from holidaying in Limpopo?
You could be shopping, waiting in a queue?
At the Zoo, looking at a sucuruju?
At a show, Hard Rock or burlesque?
Sorting out a medical snafu?
The 4-minute warning sounds… Woo-Woo-Woo!
What do you do? – Cause it’s due!
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Māori: A hill in Porangahau, New Zealand.
Name In English; ‘Music playing at the same time’.
The longest place name in the world.
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I woke around 03:00hrs, fell asleep and shot awake again at around 06:00hrs. I detached the nocturnal pouch from the catheter day pouch. I emptied and wrapped the pouch up for disposal.
When I made these, I found I had an intense thirst. So, I made some bottles of spring water and flavoured them: orange and pineapple in different measures for the small bottles and lime juice for the larger ones.
When starting to sort the waste bags, I  needed the Porcelain Throne. I grabbed and we poddled off to the wet room.
Constipation Conrad was still in charge, but I felt less pain & it bled less. The two- and three-toned colours had gone. This visit, it was back to a light Kharki.

I washed as I insist on this thrice a week, even if not needed. Hehe! I put the compiled bag near the front door. And back to the blog.

I took this shot of the view from the kitchenette window when I went to check that I’d not left the hot water tap running. It doesn’t show, but it was raining. I returned to the computer and took a snap of the ancient clock diary thingamabob. It showed 0623hrs as the time. So, I misread read it earlier?

I struggled with the things I had got wrong and changed yesterday. Some of the corrections were wrong as well. So I had a go at sorting my own made mess. arrived, so I immediately knew I would be in a quagmire when I returned to the sorting after Shaquille had gone. I’d had a sort of pre-warning that depression & irritability were imminent for me to suffer. It was right, too!

Shaq was his usual calm, laid-back self. A nice lad. He got the medications sorted and issued. He put my diabetic socks on for me. It is much appreciated; it is blooming cold today. The lad left, and I returned to computer cock-up sorting…

I got into a chronological turmoil that left me just hoping things would come out right. I was lost, really. I had photos and graphics spread over three days of templates.
I thought at least three times that I’d got it right. But, No! I think I was more confused than when I first discovered them on yesterday’s blog. !
I gave up and hoped for the best. Which was good timing cause kicked off. Things would have been impossible to sort out if she had been in action during my rescue efforts for the blog. Not that I think they have been sorted. Maybe they have been made less noticeable, conceivably. Whichever and whatever, I started to update the Saturday blog at long last. Hello, I wondered what that noise was. The rain and wind are coming again, but it’s gone dark! I’ll try to take a photo of the rain coming into the balcony.
I went through the doors into the balcony, and the rainwater came above the boardwalk planks, and I now have two more wet socks, slippers and feet!
Double Humph!
I took a shot from the end window as I got soaked. I must say that the weather looked horrible out there.
The mudslide appeared to be mammoth-sized. The wind howled, and rain poured as if thrown at us by the Gods above! As the stagnant-standing rain reached my left slipper toes. I got back into the flat post-haste.

arrived to do the afternoon visit. She looked at the blog and laughed at my writings about the terrible day that I was having. Hehehe! Not really, she laughed with me, not at me ♥.

I continued to get the blogging/correcting advance. It took me hours to get Saturday’s blog titivated enough to post it off.

I gave up on the computer and got a meal sorted. Early to bed for me, the plan was to eat, then sleep – needed desperately. I think that I ought to have enjoyed this meal. But didn’t. I threw most of it away. I believe this is due to a sleep-stopping bug I must have caught. 
As for the rest of the day, your guess is as good as mine up to about 21:30hrs. I was feeling suddenly shattered. I realised in the morning that I had been working on Sunday’s blog and had gotten a lot done. Made a mess of most of it, thanks to the weariness and multiple and persistent .
 Carer Ali answered the teatime call and asked if I wanted him to call the doctor. The doctor? On a Sunday evening? It was nice of him to ask and recognise my state. Looking back, I recall struggling to find the words as we spoke. Sheer fatigue, and I’d done very little physical activity all day? All I wanted to do was sleep. Huh! After he’d gone, I lay precisely where I was on the £300, second-hand, musty, Haemorrhoid Harold Testing, cringingly beige, crumb-covered, not-working, rickety recliner. Carer Richard arrived as I was nearly nodding off. I chirped up a little after getting up and stubbing my toe. I was, I think, communicating better.
Within a few minutes, my tiredness returned, and I was back in the recliner. I couldn’t get to sleep in the recliner, so I moved into the hospital bed. Then things got worse,  , and joined in, assisted with the odd sharp  interludes; this assured that it was another night of No-Sleep.
It was horrible, and I didn’t feel all that good on Monday morning (Now).
Poor old sausage.
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TTFNski
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Flawed Inchy: Friday 6th December 2024

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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Life is spent mainly in the flat here…
Doing my post in the blogosphere,
Accompanied by my leaking catheter,
Falling & forgetting things is regular,
My man breasts need a brassiere,
Waking into things while hobbling,
Forgetting to put my hearing aids in,
BP shooting up and then dropping,
Toppling over when diapering,
And as for the medicationing…
Certain areas are beyond reaching,
My being shaped like a flabby Buddha,
Ointmentating, like on the lesions puncture,
It must be comical to watch for any onlooker,
Like the poor first of the day calling Carer!
Christopher once burst into laughter,
Diabetic socks off, then on as it gets darker,
Well, I am now an ageing old codger,
I’m getting challenges arithmetically,
Can no longer rely on my memory,
Doing my best with ailments physically,
No help at all with my problems mentally,
Neuropathy, seizures, or dementially,
Neurotransmitters dying off, & FND,
I use a lot of Germolene & TCP,
Gladys Glaucoma, Toothache Tiffany…
Cartilage Carol (right) (left), it’s Chloe,
Mind-Mangling-Malcolm, daily,
Dizzy Dennis, Electric shocking Sherida,
Medication hearing aid batteries get costlier,
Shaving, with cuts via the razor,
The average ablution time is now two hours,
We’ve voted stealer-Starmer as Prime Minister,
I’m far worse off financially!
Some days, I live apathetically,
Or I struggle through, pathetically,
Got that old age quality – caducity…
Hence, I wrote this goliardery!
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I woke up and did some press-ups, a few squats, and a bit of shadowboxing. Then, I ran down 15 floors of the stairs and back up again.  Hahaha! 
At 06:00hrs, I stirred from my broken slumber. It took me six minutes to untangle the . Oddly, and a first, this was… I had six shocks in succession from the right ankle. No more for 10 hours!

And what a mess I’d made of taking the urine photograph. I’ve no idea what I did wrong. It was on the auto setting when I took the picture. Off to the wet room, I trudged and wobbled. 
It was another marathon session, and it took a lot of encouragement, forcefulness, and pain to get things to even start. Keeping the torpedo moving was difficult; it was so big again. I think the oohs and arghs might have helped a little. I had to use the long, stiff bamboo cane to break ‘things’ up so that the cistern could cope with getting the evacuated product down the pipes to the sewer. Phwor! 

I washed and medicated the delicate areas. Compared to yesterday, it was a real struggle to put on the fresh PPs. Went into the kitchenette. Where I took the photo above. Then, I saw a view on offer about five minutes later, with another shot of the same area, after I’d noticed the sudden change in the sky’s hue. Green to brown?
I sorted the waste bags and took them to the rubbish chute. It was 07:00 hrs now, so the noise of flying down the tube for 12 floors shouldn’t bother anyone. I hope it didn’t.

I got on the computer to update things, but this seemed to bother them, and they kept kicking off pretty regularly. Although I didn’t detect any long ones (of course, there may have been), it just meant I had to keep rechecking what I’d done while I was in La-La-Land. I did this, correcting a few errors while my concentration was disconnected. I’m doing poetry here without realising it!

I changed the day & dates on my super-advanced, new-to-me clock/calendar thingamabob.
I thought that having this and altering it daily would help me remember the day, date and time better. It doesn’t! I’m sure it must have been made in the 1970s, but I like it.

Taking this shot later, from the kitchenette window, Carer Christopher arrived. The nibbles & drinkies were attacked with some style. Hehe!

The lad sorted the medications, then he put the diabetic socks on my legs and replaced the bag for me. Bless him. 

This view of Junk Room one was snapped. I wandered into the kitchen to take one of Junk Room Two. A whiff of guilt was scented, but not for long.
I checked in the fridge for the use-before dates that I could read. They seemed good to me.

At this point, I involuntarily passed the loudest and longest burst of leg-bending, body-lifting wind that has ever escaped my rear-end in 70-odd years! 
I just thought I’d mention it!

Eventually, I got the Thursday blog sent off, as Carer Joanne arrived for the midday call. 
Despite continuing, I pressed on with the blogging of this post. But it was gruellingly slow going.
I could call it torturously, but I won’t.

Embarrassingly, a Tesco food order arrived. I think it’s best to try to stop having food delivered. Weather, time, and health permitting, I might try to get to Heron’s food store in Sherwood instead. I’ll phone Jenny when I find out whether the nurse will call. I’m not with it at this moment. But I must stop having all these unwanted deliveries.
Confused? Me? Yes!

I did something I’d not done in a while  as I hastened to get to the intercom in time to admit the delivery driver. Not that it bothered me; naturally, I laughed it off with gay abandonment.

The driver put the things in the boxes without any hesitation for me. And I placed them in the hallway. It was a learning curve for me emptying the bins. Cause I was blown away if I could remember making the order in the first place. Obviously, it must have been done during one of the prolonged seizures last week. I put the cleaning materials in junk room three. Then, I emptied the box; why did I order two packets of microwave sausages? I’ve already got a packet of frankfurters in the fridge! And I got desserts when I’ve got all those jellies in the refrigerator? And I got more bacon and different types of bread rolls! I’m losing it here! There is no doubt about it. Inchy’s lost it!
The fridge is looking fuller now, and with Carer Chris’s help, I discovered that I have another delivery coming tomorrow!
I think I need help.

Depressed now. Fed up, confidence shattered. Feelings of self-hating and embarrassment flooded over me.

I photographed the evening view and went back to writing this blog post. I’m not sure how I feel now. I would generally have been so angry with myself. But now I just feel depressed at my inability to control my own actions and life. Cognitive Impairment Iris, Diabetic Doreen Dementia and FND have beaten me.

Carer Chris made his next-to-last call. I continued here for a while and then sorted out a meal. Can anyone guess what the things on the food tray are? I’m not sure myself.
Thanks to this morning’s (Sat) repeated seizures and Memory-Mangling-Malcolm, with Glaucoma Gladys being in one of her foggy-misty-view modes.
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Cheers!
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Inadequate Inchy: Tuesday 3rd December 2024

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Embarrassment!
SELF HATRED!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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