The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe

Inchcock’s Retrieved Dairy, Photos & Odes

/ Inchie / 16 Comments


THURSDAY 21st JULY 2022

My scribbled reminder notes were lost! Well, I say lost; I tore them up thinking they were Wednesdays. Gragnangles! So detailed facts are missing will be missing.

Sphygmomanometerisationing revealed SYS 148, DIA 62 and pulse at a reasonable rate of 79mpm. Pleased with these numbers, I entered the results in the NHS Cardiac Check You Rates site & then made this little graphicalisation, just for the fun of it  (Yes, I’m just a child at heart… and a 99-year-old, bodily) Hehehe, Extra pleasing to be only just in the red, for three days now.

Of course, with my bungee-jumping, gym work, hill-climbing and daily push-ups, The wee-wees started coming. Each one

Taking the advice from HRH Petal-Lisa, a kind. She’s one lovely lady from Cincinnati, The Manor Laboratories: I took the evening’s Seed Oil Hemp capsule and a squirt of under-tongue CBD. Yes, I know it’s morning, but I forgot to take the last night, it could happen to anyone… Ahem!)

In the past fifteen minutes, I’ve wee-weed a further four times. Every one of them, annoyingly with much. So irritating! I had a quick chat with my animal family in their bed-box tray on the cabinet. Incidentally, HRH Petal-Lisa, my ether Angel made each one for me and posted them from the USA for Christmas! ♥ We’ve never met, but somehow through the ether, Lisa has got to know me well. ♥ Thanks, my Angel!

The Iceland food arrived, causing me a fair bit of pain! The driver put the first four bags in the hallway for me and the last one (on the left) close to the doorway. Several 2-litre bottles hit my knee on their way down to hit my toes, and picking them up, I stubbed my big toe again! Whereunto he’d been treated and gone, the bottles fell out of the bags, and I had to be standing next to them when it happened, of course.

I got the frozen foods into the freezer; well, it seemed like a logical move – Hehe!). No No-Bull veggie burgers or Spring Water were unavailable yet again! The bread was substituted.
I’d got some 2-litre bottles of limeade and lemonade as substitutes for the water. Sorted out the other bits and took the waste to the rubbish chute. And, getting the bags in the opening, I cunningly dropped a bag that landed on the leg ulcer. It inflamed it for a while, but the ankle was still much better than yesterday! The legs, feet and toes are not so chubby, either. I gave myself a knock on the shoulder coming out of the room.
Memory blanks from here on for a while; I can recall taking this night shot late on. Not taking the Hemp, so staying asleep was not possible; always jumping awake. So I got up and made a much-belated meal. It was a good one, mind you. Flavour Rating; 8.2/10.
Followed by an orange jelly, and I sprayed all around it with a vegan cream substitute. Jolly good that was too!
WordPressing for hours, ended up doing it until 04:00hrs in the morning, so sleep deprivation continues.
I can only blame Dementia Doreen!

FRIDAY 22nd JULY 2022

The thoughts for this Ode matured…
After Inchy stubbed his toe and simpered…
And logicality and reasoning were suspended,
Commonsense and judgement were temporarily abandoned…
Inchies creativity stuttered and wandered!

The English language was primarily disregarded,
His few remaining grey cells working, both tottered…
Suddenly captivated with the thought of being sepultured?
Inchy was never educated or cultured…
His trepidations, worries, and fears, are never resolved…
How come he has never been happy, content or cavorted?
Here is his Ode, although it won’t be extolled!


My mind used to be like a constellation…
Grasping facts, and figures, offering help and confirmation,
Making things efficient, through thoughts and modification,
Famed for my excellent, calm use of conceptualisation,
Seeking improvements for all, through rumination,
Then the Stroke, brain power went into absquatulation…
Next; Peripheral Neuropathy, arithmophobia, ‘Damnation!’

Now paramnesia, memory problems… depression!
Suffering many a mental aberration…
Fears, worries, oppression, no passion!
Shakes and shudders, aches & pains, tumbles, concussion…
Vascular Dementia Doreen, giving me mental fossilisation,
My life needs some lightness, feuilleton!
Making decisions and choices need extra persuasion!

Food prices rocketing; I can no longer afford my stilton…
Gone are the urge, ability and cash for any perversion,
No strength for any insurrection, rebellion or subversion,
Wee-weeing too much, the odd Porcelain Throne explosion…
Stuck indoors with my misery, apathy and mental inertion…
I hate my good health and mental abilities desertion…
Failures and accidents come in an endless succussion!
Friday next is my first Diabetes Coping session!
Have to go now; it’s time for creams, injection and medication,
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

   Yea, Gawd of heaven! I know the recent Blood Pressure readings have been good for the last few days, only just in the red zone, but today, the SYS was 111, the lowest ever recorded in my life! And in the green area!!! DIA at 57 was down 5 points, and my Pulse rate was down 8. .

Oh, boy, I’, in the green,
The lowest that it’s ever been!
Amazing, fantastic, I mean…
This really blew my brain…
I hope tomorrow it’s that again!

Got the session done with a visit from Dizzy Dennis in the shower, short and sharp, all over. Probably caused by my diabetic polyneuropathy, compared to anything else, because it started so sharply and ended the same way. Minutes later, I needed to return to the wet room to use the and what a struggle that was. Talk about resistance!
The swelling in the feet was no worse, and the ankle ulcer much easier for my getting around,
I got on with the blogging updating and spent an hour or so at it, needing three wee-wees during that time… then…
I went into the kitchen to put the kettle on, and the heat and smell of burnt plastic greeted me! I’d put the kettle on earlier but had not heard the whistle to alert me it was boiling!
Had to use the oven gloves to get the warped, melted plastic handle and lid-lift kettle, and I dropped it into the sink, filling it with cold water straightway! Then had to clean mess up; the cooker, floor, bag up the kettle and the melted bits and apices that had dropped off, putting things in the sink. Then wrote this sad ode to the kettle. (Mad? Me? Yes!)


The morning Carer arrived, Valerie. I gave her her choice of cold drink from the fridge, and she took the caste bags from earlier to the chute for me (Not the kettle, I took that, in case any sharp bits cut the Carer),
Checked on the ankle ulcer, and it was getting a little fighter? Half an hour later, it had gone down and all calm again?

Cragknangles! Off to the wet room to clean up, medicate, and get new PPs on. Hehehe!
You can’t win… well, not me!

Inchcock: Wednesday’s Diary & Ode

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

The moon landing was expensive in terms of costs and men dying…
But had to be done cause of Uri Gagarin…
Space race? The Russians were now leading,
First to the moon, the USA not conceding…
Conspiracists said the films were misleading,
Shadows in the wrong place, the flag was waving…
The trip took 109 hours, 42 minutes, launch to landing,
About the time it took me to get to see Dr Sanding…
Then she wasn’t there, more complex than a moon landing!.
———————————–

Inchcocks Diary

Approx 05:30 hours, I stirred back into life and promptly tumbled out of the £300, second-hand, decrepit, Haemorrhoid Harold-testing, sleep-deterring, nauseatingly beige-coloured, not working recliner. There I was, on my bum, with one leg on the swivel chair and the other bent awkwardly but somehow under the chair. And in a bit of a predicament! I stunned myself for a smidgeon. (Obvious to me that I’d been doing some tossing and turning and edged towards the front of the chair? Can’t recall any dreaming.)
I could sense the wet warm flow of blood in the Protection pants, which would be either Little Inchies Fungal Lesion, or Harold’s Haemorrhoids, whichever or both, the need to get up and investigate, clean and medicate things was causing a bit of a panic in me. (I panic so well!) There was an urgency to my need to somehow get back up and onto my feet…
In my sad, messy manoeuvring painfully, first back on the chair, then onto my feet, I stubbed my same, the same one twice, which with the swollen feet and toes was worse than usual. I slipped my arm off the side of the recliner, getting up. Hitting my chin on the corner arm. No time to mess about, though, and I got Metal Micky, and we hobbled to the wet room. Bit of good fortune here. It was only Harold’s Haemorrhoids that were bleeding. Thus it was far less painful to medicate than the lesion would have been. The toes and chin were enough to keep my attention.
I did notice the vast improvement in the ankle ulcer, though, compared to Tuesday evening’s photo, this morning was much calmer and swollen looking. It must have been around an hour after waking that I started to think the day’s needs through. Food order to do, ask Meridian if they have sorted anything out with the Diabetes session. Get Richards’s treats sorted out. Got to… No, I’d better have a wee-wee first. And what a leak that was! Galore, and one of the longest wee-wees that I’ve ever taken! And they kept coming throughout the day!

The Blood Pressure sphygmomanometerisationing was yet another great set of results: SYS 44, DIA 62 and the Pulse, a smidgeon up, at 91 bpm!   
The body temperature had risen to an almost perfect figure, at 35.1°f.
Interruption: The landline burst forth; it was a very hard-to-hear and understand lady (I think?), from the dentist’s surgery, on Mansfield Road. Reminding me of my appointment next. Plenty of time for me to forget it, though.
I input the BP numbers into the NHS Work-it-out site. (Left graphic wot I sun) It came out the same as yesterday! Don’t know why I made a sad face on it?
I got the computer on to finalise yesterday’s blog and found the SD car was reading again? I swiftly got the few, well, three photos from yesterday that I could not get on done. Then titivated the blog and felt a smidge smug, but what with my luck in waking up and thudding to the floor, I thought it best not to get too confident.

The lad was worn out, and I was his last call. Richard arrived, and I thanked him for getting me some help yesterday, and I flashed him my much better-looking ankles… Hehehe! He warned me that thunderstorms were forecast for this afternoon. I thought it was a lot cooler today. We had a little natter, too and froing, and a laugh or two. This is good then; when he’s not too tired, he can spend a little longer with me, chinwagging. Gave him some treats in thanks, and off he trotted, in much need of his bed.

I am walking much better this morning after the initial waking-up boo-boo! Not having to walk on the heels today shows how the swelling has gone down in the legs and feet.

Although the toes still look like baby ones. Hehe! And, the bruise under the chin has not given me any bother at all! Even Arthur Itis in the knees has calmed done.

♫ Oh, Susana ♫ chimed out from the door chime. It was neighbour Josie, returning Sunday’s crumb-covered tray and dishes from her meal. I’m not sure which of us is the worst, Hahaha! The poor gal didn’t look too well. I pointed the walking stick at my feet and said they were much better. Josie replied, “Yes, very good; I’ll try to…” Smiled and wandered back into her flat. I’m not sure who is the worst with Dementia and our lousy hearing. Hahaha! I tried to work out what she thought I had said but without success. Bless her ♥

Noise merchant Herbert from the flat above kicked off with his tap-tapping, the odd thud, and scuffing noises thrown in. He kept it u[ for hours on and off. He must have a special job lined up? Hello, I think he just dropped a box of tools. Ah, the drilling and grating noises have started now; he must be getting on with it, bless him. Back to the tap-tapping again…

I finally got the blog finished and posted off to WordPress. Went on the comments page. I had tons come in. But got them both answered. Then nipped on the WP Reader. Now it is time to get the ablutionalisationing tended to; and check Harolds Haemorrhoids, amongst other ailments. Hehehe! Back soon. Well, I hope to be back shortly.
I’m back. And what a good session that was! Only one teeny-weeny cut shaving on the chin where I ‘Chin-Butted’ the arm of the chair first thing this morning getting back up from the floor after my tumble out of the chair. No toe-stubbing, no Dizzies, I walked into nothing either. I have a mini involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about dance while I was shaving, hence, the little nick.
Had a wee-wee (it must have been number twelve of the day at least) and remembered what Carer Richard said when he was checking the use-by dates for me; “I’ve never seen yer with so little in yer fridge!”. So, I investigated and made an order for Iceland. They have no bottled water in stock either. So I ordered some low-cal lemonade. I must keep up with the drinking in this hot weather while the legs and feet retain so much fluid. Coming in the morning twixt 06:00 > 08:00hrs.
As I started prepping the meal, I remembered the last Iceland delivery I’d had last week. The squashed bananas, the leaking bottle of liquid soap, short-dated yoghourt… and of course, there not having any of my beloved No Bull burgers or bread I ordered in stock. And the crap substitutions… I may have made a mistake here…

Had a tin of curried beans that I seasoned with the usual squid vinegar, malt vinegar and Vegan BBQ sauce. Put a part-baked loaf in the oven halfway through cooking. The beans and bread were excellent, but the veggie burgers were terrible; the crispy crumbs were not crisp. How clearly now, after making the order, one remembers one’s self-promise never to trust or use Iceland again! Being low on choices with the low stocks in the fridge, I decided to use up the crap and substituted it with Iceland bean burgers in crispy breadcrumbs.
As instructed, I got my feet up on a chair and sat watching TV. I soon nodded off, but could I stay asleep? Not a chance!

When I gave up on sleep, I took a photograph of the ankle ulcer and feet, and they looked so much improved from how Tuesdays were. The toes remain a bit pudgy. The retained fluid, giving me rock-hard legs, was also reduced.
.
The ♫Oh, Susana♫ tune chimed out, and in walked Valerie. She was a little happier tonight. Got the medications sorted, and I gave her a can of cold orange Fanta from the fridge; she liked that. Val took the waste bags with her on her way out.

I settled down to watch the England Ladies Game v Spain. I’ve never been more proud of an England team since 1966! I wish could have been France we beat, though. That would have been the icing on the cake. We will have to play against Sweden or Belgium, if we get through, France will have to be conquered!

ODE TO SELF-IRRISION & DERISION

I no longer have inspiration and very little gumption,
Life for me is sinking into declension…
Dementia means I’ve little recent memory retention,
Yet sometimes recall things, to my stupefaction…
I’m waiting on the EENT to have an operation,
For my cataracts, called Phacoemulsification,
I persistently wee-wee; and have hypertension.
I’m almost deaf, yet have tintinnabulation?

Arthur Itis, Ankle ulcer, and fluid-filled legs, with many a contusion,
Peripheral Neuropathy, a mechanical ticker, destitution…
I think St Peter should give me restitution!
Should I have been born? Am I a substitution?
Was I meant to be a boy or girl? That’s the question…
Parents named Inchcock, during gestation…
With a man-tool the same size, did my prospect worsen?
Unfortunately, I can’t make past miseries unhappen.

At birth, Mother said, ‘I don’t want it; I was crestfallen…
No wonder, as a youngster, I was so sullen!
Slowly my resistance began to weaken…
I lived on lard sarnies and Iprobrufen…
I asked every adult I met for an adoption,
I ran away from home, I had no option…
I went for shelter from Auntie Gretchen,
She just threw me out of the kitchen!

The next day, I hobbled back home, downfallen…
I got in and spoke, hoping they would listen.
No one knew I’d gone; my life never started to glisten?
My developing years were misery and rotten…
Then Mother was freed from jail; she’d been forgotten…
Laughing and being happy was then verboten…
I left school at 14 and got a job baling cotton!.

Depressed, I considered becoming an anthropophaginian,
There was a week when my life seemed ambrosian!
Matilda was her name, an arithmetician,
Randy? No need to ask her for her permission!.
But she turned out to be a Pinoccohian,
Not only that but an absinthian,
I returned to Nottingham, working as a beautician.
———————————–

.

 

Diary: Off to the EENT Hospital Again

/ Inchie / 22 Comments

Monday, July 18th 2022


———————————–

04:00hrs: Woke with the brain ticking over. (I’m not saying it was functioning, more like a chugging noise the engine makes when it won’t start)

Made brew of Thompson’s Punjana, and went on WordPress, comments, then the WP Reader. Turned off the computer, and I started clearing things to get ready for the ambulance lift. Emptied, washed and disinfected the rather well-used NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket).

SYS 148, DIA 72, Pulse 82. Not too good, but it’s been worse, I suppose. I had a bit of good luck here. I dropped the flipping Sphygmomanometer as I was taking out the tubing… and it fell in the waste bucket that had last night s PPs a,d used tissues from the bleed in it; thus, there was no damage; to it, and it still worked perfectly well!

Richard arrived, not at the promised 06:00hrs, but at 0:730hrs. Not that it mattered, cause the lift had not arrived yet. Richard seemed oblivious to his failings, bless him. As I said, it mattered not after all. Another bit of luck there, the lift being later: Great! Again! Richard sorted the medications, gave him some extra nibbles and plonk cause I thought he was going to come early, and told him of the Diabetes mix-up. Hehehe!

A little loser this time… yet more luck? I resisted going into Smug-Mode for the third time. Did the ablutions while I was in the wet room ablutions. I still found myself going into yet another, all the same… Why? I’ll tell yers; Not a single cut or bleed doing the teeth and shaving! No toe stubbing, Dizzy Dennis’s, involuntary right-leg Idiopathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about dancing either. Not to mention no falls, banging of any limbs, or walking into anything!

I settled in the swivel chair with the magnifying glass and the crossword book.
I’d positioned myself in the hallway from the front room door, as I did last Friday, and awaited the arrival of the lift there. So I could hear it, in case the intercom buzzers. I can’t hear it from the front room.

As I sat there waiting, I felt and saw the ankles and legs beginning to visibly swell up, and the ankle ulcers glow and sting when the trousers, or anything, touched or brushed against them.

The telephone rang, which I thought I’d miss, as I was sat, my back facing the room, and had to manoeuvre my way to get into the landline in time, but I managed it. The lift driver said they would be here in 15 minutes. (Which would be 09:00hrs, and I would be late for the appointment, Ah, well!) I went down and sat in the flats lobby with the crossword book but couldn’t see to do any, and the reading glasses were back up in the flat.

They arrived, and I got into the ambulance. We picked another patient up en route, and he went in with me to the reception. I was told to sit there, with a  stern pointing finger, until I was called for. So, I did!

A lady beckoned me (this happened before in August 1962, Margaret her name, I think… I digress, sorry!). A gentleman came along and summoned me to another waiting area, where I was told to wait to be called. So, I did. More questions and eye tests, a little different this time, back to the holed discs and tested both eyes. Ten minutes later, she said, I will now go to see the ophthalmologist in charge for a final test and decision on whether it can be done or not due to the misshapen cornea I have. 

Out and through to another waiting area. Minutes later, a chap summoned me into a room, where the lady in charge was sitting, and it was obvious she was in charge! No messing or humour was apparent, needed or accepted from her. She spent some time on the chin machine again and asked more questions. Then, I was commanded to go to the young man’s device for some clour flashing exercises. It was not easy for me having to sit still, with Shoulder Shuddering Shirley giving some, and he had to keep holding the eyelids open from the other side of the machine. Cause for some reason, I could not open my eyes wide enough?
Minutes later, more Good News & Luck – The lady told me she was putting my name down on the list to have the surgery!!! I dare not ask how long it might be.

Hehe! Back to the initial reception to ask for transport home. I took a circuitous route to get to it cause I got a little lost en route.
I sat down around 1030hrs, thinking how well it went this morning.
I was still there at 14:00hrs but thinking a little differently.
Eventually, an ersatz ambulance came up and asked my name. And out we plodded into his vehicle. I was pleased to be going home, for some reason.

He took my trolley, removed the wire basket and put it in the cabin. Came back and asked if I was a diabetic when he noticed the legs were looking a little inflamed and rough, to say the least. ‘Yes!’ “Where’s your biscuits?” ‘The ambulance driver just took them and crushed them in the trolley walk. He’s just collapsed, mate!’ Today, there was a shortage of humour, laughter and smiling!
We then moved to the back of the site to a different section altogether, and we picked up two blokes in wheelchairs. (Getting later all the time!) We dropped the man at the back off in Carrington, not far from where the house was; the only good thing about this was it brought on a bit of pleasure and appreciation of living where I do now! At least the chap next to me was talkable to; we had a natter en route.
I was dropped off next. Gave the other bloke and the driver a choice of plonk from the trolley. That cheered them up a smidge.

In and up to the flat, I knocked my elbow on the door frame as I hurriedly got indoors to have a wee-wee. Stubbed my toe and, in my haste to get Little Inchie out, started the fungal lesion bleeding! I thought things were going a bit too well for me! Jon and a half cleaning up and medicating things in need (the lesion).

I came out after washing and medicationing, sorted the mess in the hallway, and found a leaflet in the letterbox from Nottingham City Homes.
They are organising a Special Event for all Winwood Heights Residents in Winwood Court communal lounge. Thursday, July 28th 2022, Twixt 11:00>14:00hrs. Attending will be the Nottingham Fire & Rescue Service, Community Policing, Nottingham Voluntary Services, the NHS, and more! NCH (Nottingham City Homes)  representatives. Building safety, Tenancy & Estate Management, Caretaking and Tenant Involvement Teams.
Also, a TRA (Tenants & Residents Association) General Meeting on Monday, 25th July 2nd. A few gentle reminders: Please do not leave food out for the birds, as it is attracting some less welcome visitors. Rats and other vermin.
Also, over the past few months, a few people, mainly youngsters, entered the flats and caused a nuisance. So be vigilant. Only let people in who you know and make sure that entrance doors are always closed after you have used them – and never leave ajar any fire exits.

Going to get some fodder, chips and Veggie-Chilli! Had the last of the pod peas with it – sad, heartbreaking, I may have a sob later. The Flavour rating given was a worthy 8.9/10! Apart from the bread being a smidge stale.

Carer arrived, and she soon got me sorted out. Thanked her with some strawberries from the fridge and her choice of a can of plonk. She took the waste bags out to the chute with her.

Washed the pots; I had a wee-wee. Darned lengthy follow-ups!) Got my head down. And had a decent kip for once. Grrreat!

Inchcock Today Ode & Diary

/ Inchie / 9 Comments

Of course, Inchie soon lost his own plot!

From the heights of success and much glee,
From being a Kingpin at the top of the tree…
I was never a Hank Marvin or Bruce Lee…
Drinking, I got the sack for my lampoonery,
Only one way to go now for me!

Down, with a frown…
In despair to be drowned…
I have yet to hit the ground…
For I’d been hoping for good luck to be found,
Doreen Dementia was giving me the run-around…
I’m like a blubbery whale that’s run aground!

But further into the quagmire, I plunged,
My last wishes and plans expunged…
Splat… I was dead, so no longer unhinged
No medications, no ears to be syringed…
No more waiting for the next ailment that twinged,
And not be moaned at, or be zugzwanged!.

SAINT PETERS GATE

Ah, St Peters Gate, will I get angel wings?
Two bouncers descended the stairing…
Nicked my walking stick and kicked me in the shin?
Why? I asked: “You were making too much of a din!”,
“If yer going to be a noisy bugger, you’re not gerrin in!
Another snuffed-it tellurian came, name of Martin…
Not as fat as me, in fact, he was relatively thin…
Same age, looked younger, said he was addicted to gin?

THE INTERVIEWS

I said, “I don’t want to know!” He said: ‘I was talking to him!’ …
Pointing at St Peter, who was busy questioning.
I say, ‘I was here first!’
“Ah, but I played in World Cup with Geoff Hurst!”
I quipped: “Is that it then, footballers go first”?

Adding, “That’s not fair! God, would be fair!”
A bouncer. the one with long hair…
Pointed to St Peter, smoking a reefer, sat in a chair…
“You see that bloke there?
“Yea!”
Well, he makes the rules for what happens here…
And he’s a West Ham fan, pulled out his taser…
He stunned me through my blazer…
I shouted. “You missed my ticker by a centimetre…
Do? yer, dead anyway, and laughed with St Peter!
Sorry, I died now; I was safer back in Uttoxeter!.
The Tannoy burst out, “You, tubby, shurrup, you blooter!
St Peter departed, saying I sort the bald one in the next millennia.
Hang on, I say, how long does a millennium last?

Don’t matter, does it? As he grabbed my hand for fingerprinting...
No rush; you’ve no one inside whittling…
“What about my Dad and Cyril, my cat?” I said, grovelling…
Well, if yer like, I can send you back to earth while yer waiting?
Words I never thought I’d find so frightening!
———————————–

SUNDAY 17th July 2022

I stirred around 05:00hrs. I had a wee-wee without any leakages. Washed, shaved, and in an industrious mood, I set about prepping Josie’s Sunday meal.

Prepped the fresh vegetables, got them in the saucepan, seasoned them and kept stirring them every now and then.
This was when I realised I had got hot water from the tap! And Carer Valerie had requested maintenance to attend, and they were coming today! Oh, I did feel a fool! I turned my attention to trying to find a number for Nottingham City Homes Maintenance. Out of hours one, it is the weekend, and standard lines are unavailable. It was a farcical effort. I did find and ring the number: A recorded message, which as with everything on the phone, was hard to understand. I think she said that this line is for emergencies only. A smidgeon of panic rose within. And after being stumped completely, I decided to ask the morning Carer if he/she would mind calling the number to see if it was possible to let them know that the problem has solved itself. Which is better than saying: “The twit who lives here is senile and has Vascular Dementia, so the old fool gets things a muffle” Don’t you think! To save the cost of an engineer coming out when not needed. I hope the maintenance man doesn’t beat the Carer in arriving… Oh, dear!
I forgot about the Morrison delivery coming today via Amazon until a text message arrived. I rushed about and got room made in the fridge and had just finished it when they arrived. A jolly decent chap came with carefully packed bags. I was pleased to see they had sent some vegan burgers, I’ve had them before and enjoyed this brand, so I ordered two packs of four burgers. How or why I ordered (if I did?) the breadcrumbed ones are beyond me? Vegan ice cream, some lemon ‘Free-From Bakewells on this tray… Mmm!
Food cupboard stocks resupplied. I’m hoping these cooked beetroots are actually-cooked and not raw like the Iceland ones were. Various cans of beans, pickled gherkins and a small bottle of BBQ sauce completed these bags. All three cupboards have been replenished now.
I had another look around for the NCH telephone numbers. No luck! Then did a deep Sherlock Holmesian ferret about the missing sunglasses that I might need tomorrow if they do the cataract operation in the morning. No luck! So, I had a hunt around for the hearing aid blower, oddly enough… No luck!
About 07:40hrs, the Morning Carer, Johnathan… no, no… Joseph arrived. The first thing I did was welcome him in with a big smile and tell him I had a problem and he might be able to help me out. I told him of my Whoopsiedangleplop with the hot water and asked if Joseph would mind calling the NCH for me. The lad was already running late, and he said he had to press on, fair enough, no problem with that. He then said he was getting his last calls done and came back to help[ me with the maintenance call. I thanked him.
A final stir and taste of Josie’s chilli, and off to the Porcelain room. Cor blimey, that was a big one! Hehehe! Got a wash again and went back to check on the Sunday lunch for Josie. Tasted good! I’d left the Canon camera in the wet room. I took a photo of my neighbours’ food tray and got it delivered quickly. Cleaned up the things used in cooking and returned to the computer to start this blog. Thought I’d upload the meal photograph… The Canon camera had not got the SD card in! Grungle-Self-Curses! And it was one to be proud of as well! Grrr! I am getting angrier with Dementia Doreen lately!
Then as things had calmed down, I did the belated Health Checks.
The Blood Pressure was up a little bit. Pulse down a smidgeon, and the body temperature was great!
The NHS input site was given the readings, which came out only in the red area. Pretty pleased with this.

I went into the kitchen to put some chips in the oven for my nosh and had a hat-trick of Whoopsie-Accifauxpas within minutes of getting in there.
① Dropped the tray over fresh oven-ready chips, and being so hungry, I picked them up, cleaned them, and put them in the oven anyway. ② ③ Burnt wrist putting the pots in the oven. Better get the food done now before the evening Carer arrives.
Tired, drained and worn out. I made a quick, simple nosh, which was tastier than many I’ve made. The fresh chips cooked in the oven were possibly the best I’ve ever tasted in months. Morrisons, they were. A bread roll, a few red and yellow tomatoes, and a pot of BBQ sauce to dip and dunk in. Hehehe!

Arrived, she soon had me sorted, and I stripped and got down in the second-hand, £300, c1968, overwhelmingly-sickeningly beige coloured, tatty, uncomfortable, wobbly-recliner. In search of Sweet Morpheus.

Inchcock Today: Blog with Odes

/ Inchie / 14 Comments

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Saturday 16th July 2022

04:45hrs: I rose from a terrible night’s sleep, again full of jumping awakes, yet felt calm and unconcerned? I rose with relative ease from the c1968, £300, second-hand, decrepit, Haemorrhoid Harold-testing, sleep-deterring, nauseatingly beige-coloured, not-operational recliner. Almost on auto-pilot, I hobbled into the kitchen, put the kettle on, then took a strained, painful wee-wee, washed and made a mug of Glengettie Gold tea.
At this stage, the farcicality of yesterday’s hospital visit came back to my mind. Suddenly doing anything whatsoever lost its appeal.
I got the computer on and went to the WordPress comments sections. I had the usual mass of communications on my latest blog to read and reply to. I did them both straight away. Then visited the WP Reader section. I did enjoy that. Checked the emails… I saw the promised Email from the Diabetes team confirming my joining the weekly sessions on a face-to-face basis; at first, remembering, this put me on a semi-high. Until I got to the location.

I didn’t realise that it was not at the Sherwood Social Centre. Where I was assured, it would be last year. Oh, no, (I should be so lucky!), it’s four miles away, in Bulwell! So, now I had to work out what buses I could get, hoping one would take me all the way from the flats. So, I set to searching Mr Google to find what was and wasn’t available. I’m afraid it wasn’t good news.

Due to Covid and lack of drivers, the service stops at Top Valley, not Bulwell! I looked at other options, but Dementia Doreen was not helping. I could get a bus down into Sherwood, then another to Bulwell, and return in the same route, but I’d have to remember the bus times, not be late etc., and that would test Doreen and me too much. I looked at the Email sent me again and sent a message. Explaining why I can’t get there and asking if there was any chance of the Sherwood Diabetes sessions opening. I had explained this to the Sherwood people, I can get there walking if necessary, getting back up the hill, it’d have to be a bus, but I reckon I would cope with that. Awaiting a reply from the gentleman.
I’m getting all uptight again now! This investigation into the buses has cost me three hours! Why can’t I get through just one day without something going wrong?

Carer Joe came late on, and it was off to the Porcelain Throne as soon as the lad left with his cold drinkie from the fridge.
Back to the Emails. Petal-Lisa had sent me a marathon. That took me over an hour to absorb and reply to. But it was a pleasure, and she had a little sleep recently, which cheered me up no end. Bless her! A treasure she be! ♥♥♥

Got back to sort more emails out, and Sister Jane rang me. We had a decent long chinwag, and a few smiles erupted. I had to cut it short, though; the Porcelain Throne activity needed tending to. Stinky, messy and painful. Humph!

Made a brew of Thompson’s Punjana.

And took some photos of the front views, starting with my much-missed visiting Tree-Copse in the bottom field.
Boy, I do miss visiting it. Sob!
Taking this picture of the front car parking on Chestnut Way, and spotted an ambulance below, at the front doors of my beloved Woodthorpe Court.
I wondered if it might be Francis coming back from the hospital? I certainly hope so. I’ll get a move on with this blog, interruptions permitting, and go down to see if she’s in.
I took a photo of the muggers-delight area to the left of the flats. Not many people around today?
Cracked on with the top graphics and ode for this blog. I must get the ablutions done as well. A jolly good shave, shower and sh…, well never mind that. Hehehe! Back in a while, smelling all nice, hopefully uninjured, not bleeding, and in a happier frame of mind. TTFN!
I’m back. Wait for this… Shaving…All good on the scrubbing up stakes! Not a single cut or nick! Ankle ulcer all calm, DVT veins have dived like submarines from the sea’s surface. The legs and feet did look a smidge like they were off of a cadaver, mind you.
I started for a change in the body temperature. Which was more than decent at 34.3°c. It seems to be doing a lot better recently. For weeks it was so low, not now, though. I suppose the hot weather may have some effect on it? Or not.
The Blood Pressure, as I believed I forecast yesterday, took a tumble. I think it was 166 on Friday night. Tonight a comfortable SYS 132. DIA 66, and Pulse a smidgeon low at 67bpm.
I put the figures in the NHS check site and found I was out of the red altogether, down in the amber. This has never been as low for years! Should I adopt a Smug-Mode?
I got the meal cooking and nipped into the wet room for a wee-wee.
I hastened hobblingly to the kitchen to see if I’d left the hot water tap running. But no, I hadn’t? Came to wash my hands, and the hot water was cold? Well, it’s about 17:20, so it should be heating up now. Another mystery?
I grabbed the Fuji camera to take a picture of the just served up on the tray evening nosh. I somehow managed tsk top take this rather natty photo of the balcony as I picked the camera up? Yet another mystery?.
The last of the garden peas, the mushroom pattie and bread! But I did an order for Morrisons via Amazon for tomorrow. No good me having it on Monday, as I’ll be at the hospital, will I not? The Baxters, no, no, sorry, Heinz beetroot from Iceland was farcically hard! I bent the knife cutting into it. Then gave up cause it was too hard on the teeth.

Iceland has let me down a bit this week; apart from the beetroot, the squashed bruised bananas,  No Vegan Icecream, No Vegan beefburgers, and the mushrooms that had a sell use-by-date for the day delivered. Oh, and the crushed bread!

Valerie arrived. Told her about the water being cold, and she rang NCH Repairs for me, bless her.

Ten minutes or so after Val left, I started regurgitating the food. Not good! Better get this posted while I can. TTFN.

.

Inchcock Today: Diary & Ode

/ Inchie / 16 Comments

AND THE HOSPITAL VISIT

Friday 15th July 2022

Not in too much detail early one. I fear time was against me today, getting things sorted out for the trip to the EENT Hospital in the morning.

My first thought was I wanted to go back to sleep and had an extreme disinterest in getting up. But a wet warm sensation from the rear end encouraged me to clamber out of the £300, second-hand, decrepit, Haemorrhoid Harold-testing, sleep-deterring, nauseatingly beige-coloured, not-working recliner and off to the wet room tp check things out. En route further enlivened me. I messed and Pottered about getting confused and self-hassled. I stirred back into imitation life around 05:50hrs.

True to his promise, Carer Richard arrived dead on 06:00hrs. He was pleased that I knew which day it was. I remembered what it was that Jillie asked me to ask Richard!
The Blood Pressure’s SIA caught me out at 166. The DIA at 98, both too high that by a fair bit. However, the pulse and body temperatures were honky-dory! I entered the figures into the NHS site to see what they make of it. Oh, I see; this was the result. Not a good start, methinks. You know, it’ll be back down in the morning. Or not, of course, there is always that possibility. Let’s face it, with my record, anything is possible. (As I hope you’ll read about later, when I was in the ambulance, Hehehe!) It was a humorous yet embarrassing incident that failed to bring any laughter to the ambulance man & woman, but things were not going well for them.

I made a start on this blog; to get as far as I could with it, just in case the operation was done and I’d incapacitated by blindness (It wasn’t done as it happens, but more about that later).
Of course, the wee-wees started coming, weak sprinkly affairs, but each one was leaking before its time! So, on the third or fourth burst, I decided to get the ablutions done and replace the PPs with thicker, more efficient Tena ones. Even if they do stick out a little prominently under the trouser’s rear-end. I also stopped drinking any more spring water; I feared all the immanent waiting about at the hospital may produce leakages! Hehe!
On with the scrubbing-up, I ventured. As you can see, there were a couple of nicks while shaving. One on the cheek, the other on the left ear-hole tab-hole. Nowt serious, though. I missed cleaning the teggies altogether – no idea why; Dementia Doreen I should blame. Then some niftily quick, which brought out more bleeding; From Little Inchies Fungal Lesion, and Harold’s Haemorrhoids. I had no trips or walking into anything or tumbles.

Still no sign of transport, and it’s getting late. So, as the beautiful morning view of the skies caught my eye, I thought I’d take a couple of shots of it with the Canon camera. I did as soon as I found out where I’d put the camera for the trip to the hospital. It took some finding, and as for the sunglasses, it’s evening now, and I still haven’t found them! Hehehe! I took another shot below, showing the parked cars on Chestnut Way. An incredible view, which I am pleased to have here at the flats. Strange that all the red vehicles seem to be avoiding this part of the site’s parking zones today? Haha! Whites, grey and blacks only? There’ll be a reason for this. I suppose. I made sure all the stuff was saved, and I shut down the computer. Then sat on a chair near the door so I didn’t miss the intercom if it rang… clever stuff, I thought? Well, for me! It’s set on the highest level available, but many folks have said they cannot hear it, so I’m not on my own. A clever move there on behalf of the Nottingham City Homes planners, ensuring that it is suitable for a block of flats with 70, 80, and 90+-year-olds living in it. Similar to the finger-strapping metal spring clips on the end balcony windows… Oh, and balcony slide doors, apart from the few that have fallen off the runners when used. Not only mine but others too. And they are cumbersome, too, I can assure you. Any injuries have been well hidden. You can see my mind wandering while waiting for the lift. Hehe!

Aha, the intercom buzzed. I’d everything ready so as not to keep them waiting. A dingle crewed chap, who told he was pleased I was all-prepared; because he’d been running late all morning. We picked up an elderly lady in Woodthorpe en route. We tried to have a natter in the back of the ambulance, but we struggled with hearing each other. Pleasant lady, going to the same place, EENT, I think.

I realised when I ferreted through my pockets and trolley that my plans had not gone to plan. I assume the sunglasses, bobble hat, and wristwatch were still on the Carer’s table back at the flat.

We were soon at the QMC EENT unit. The driver took me in first, explaining to the lady that on his own, he can only take in one person at a time. I bade farewell to the lady, wishing her all the best, and hobbled into the integral unit, led by the driver. Who ascertained that I had to go through to another block. Luckily he was still behind me when I got lost, and he corrected me, with a wry smile on his face, to the suitable unit. Haha! Where I waited to be seen.

A lady called out my name, and she took me through to yet another place, where I waited again. Minutes later, another lady fetched me and took me to her treatment room. Oh, yes, ladies are desperate for me! This happens all the time, you know…

I found out that the paperwork was wrong, and today was not as it said; Not the operation, but more assessments and tests on the eyes. All of which I had on my last appointment? Fair enough, there were many different eye tests, intending to make the plastic cornea a different size to match my misshaped one, which may prove too difficult, making the operation impossible. Well, that cheered me up, no-end! An hour or so after getting the tests and questions, the kind lady walked me back to the correct reception, and she told the lady I needed transporting. (She didn’t say where to, Pluto perhaps? Hahaha!.

ODE TO THE WAIT

I got seated and began the marathon wait for transport,
It wasn’t a quick wait… not short,
But I made up a game for fun and sport…
Counting patients, who arrived after me, made me haught…
Who went before me, making me fraught…

The place cleared; have they forgotten about me, I feared?
After three hours, I felt a bit weird…
I’m not brave, a stalwart, but a worrywart,
No one around to ask or to talk…
Nothing occurring to which I could claught…
Any hopes of a lift of any sort,
Four hours later, relief from worry was bought,
Two medics arrived for me; I was overwrought,
To the ambulance, I did cavort,
But pleasure in it, that I can report…
Getting home left me despondent and taut!

Inside the ambulance was a stretcher. The male of the pair of medics said: We’ve got to collect someone else from the gynaecology Wing over the road. I waited so long that it didn’t bother me. The stretcher was unfastened, and off they went to collect their patient.
I thought it a good idea to phone Jillie on my mobile while on my own. So, I did! To tell her to thank you, my honeypot, but the operation wasn’t done, so no need for your kind offer of coming to stay with me, as I can still see.
  Things didn’t pan out as I had wished. I got through to Jillie, and damned Peripheral Pete gave me an Involuntary right-leg Idiopathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about dance routine! Despite my having had the seatbelt buckled, I managed somehow to end up on the floor of the ambulance. I fumbled my way back into the seat and slid the belt back on before the medics got back, which was ten minutes late, with a young lady on the stretcher. As they wheeled her into the ambulance, and she padded me on the right side, I gave her a welcoming smile and unintentional wink from the bad eye. Thankfully she gave me such a sweet smile back… then! Bless her! I think it was her appreciation for someone smiling and talking to her, not at her.

The crew could not get the stretcher holder mechanism to reset or lock. Well, that’s all they seemed interested in as they repeatedly banged and pushed the trolley into the mechanism. I swear they never thought about the patient getting knocked all over as they did it. I asked the lady if she was alright and got dirty looks from Mork & Mindy for it. This made a temporary bond between the gal and me, I think.

The crew spoke to we patients, which was not often apart from talking between themselves. ‘We’ll have to get help cause we can’t get the stretcher to lock’ (You don’t say?) One of them fetched another paramedic who arrived to have a look, and he clicked it in the first time! Much to my and the lady’s relief! We tried to chat on the way, but hearing her was difficult with the engine and traffic noise, but she seemed to be feeling better.

They dropped me off after a cock-up that may have been mine, I’m not sure. I mentioned when they were looking for which block I live in, the end one. Then proceeded to explain why they could get confused, Winchester Court, Winwood Court, and Woodthorpe Court; all three are called Windwood Heights. Then the female told the driver to go back. He lives in Winwood! Which he did. I had to embarrassingly (if I had told them wrongly). That he was right, I do live at the end one… Oh, dear, if looks could kill, I’d have been a goner!

I wished the lady on the stretcher well. And gladly told the driver I could manage from here, with a weak ‘Thanks’ added. And turned to wave at the lady, I don’t know if she could see me, but I wanted to. Hope she got home without any more hassle, Bless her cotton socks! ♥

Home Sweet Home! The hat and sunglasses were where I thought I’d left them. I only noticed them glancingly in my haste to avoid any embarrassment on my way to the wee-wee room. I failed! So a good start to my evening’s plans! I had a good clean-up, and I got some fresh PPs on. The Tena ones I was wearing had done a good reliable job in the containment stakes.

Made a brew and got the computer on to do this blog. And the landline burst forth. It was the Deep Vein Thrombosis Clinic nurse, wanting to know if the following Monday would be alright for them to call to take the blood test. Hah! I had to tell her that it was the Cataract appointment day. She will ring me back the day before she comes. Thinking about it afterwards, it might prove problematic if she is going to call Tuesday, wonnit? Just my luck!

The sunshine was still bright. I took a shot through the balcony windows. bootiful sky again!

Joe the Carer arrived, and I started to tell him about the farcical day. But, to avoid him falling to sleep, I cut it short. Hehehe! Gave him a cold bottle of Coots from the fridge, which he appreciated.
A long hard slog of blogging ensued.
Around five hours or so, I did stop for the occasional wee-wee. Several in fact, it’s a miracle I got through all that time at the hospital without needing one – another mystery of Winwood Heights, the ghosts, wraiths, spectres, cacodemons, apparitions, and other grotesqueries haunt the hallways and lobbies, searching for Inchcock, to create ambiguities, abstrucities, perplexities, misfortunes and botherations, to scare. Worry and confuse me! Crafty that! Cunningly this time, using a bit of good luck for me thrown in the mix.
Veggie burgers (The last, I hope to get some on the next Morrison order, as Iceland were out of stock, Humph!) Tomatoes, garden peas, beetroot, gherkins, and that’s yer lot! A late, late supper instead of a dinner.

Belated food, then bed, and prayer that the day’s events don’t kick off a thought-storming session and stop me sleeping – PLEASE!

Oh, I’d better get this posted first, Tsk! TTFN!

Inchcock’s Diary with an Ode

/ Inchie / 7 Comments

Thursday Sorry, Wednesday 13th July 2022

I had a terrible job getting to sleep. It was a bad night; constantly waking up with a twitch or jerk. So, I overslept by hours! No time to get the ablutions done, as the morning Carer could arrive at any time.
I’m afraid my mind was all over the place, absent, and befuddled, sufficient for me to lose what day it was. I started so many things going, none of which gained any fruition, never mind getting completed. Yet I continued to potter about in the wet room, spare room, kitchen and front room, not getting anything done but starting so many tasks and forgetting about them… I knew this, but I could do nothing about it to rectify my stupidity… Ah, that could be my motto!

I’ve just read on my memory pad, ‘rubber balls’, I think. Not the foggiest why I wrote it! ♫Oh, Susana♫ chimed from the doorbell, and the morning Carer came in, it was Richard. Which surprised me cause he doesn’t usually come on a Thursday (At this time, I’d not been informed it was Wednesday and not Thursday, all a part of my visit from Confusion Conrad, Tsk!) Poor Richard was still coughing away; been this for a few days now; the lad has. I mentioned that I hoped it was not Covid, and this seemed to upset Richard (not a lot!). He replied in a resolute unquestionable tone; it was not Covid. So I left the subject. He couldn’t stay too long; he’d got other calls to do. But we still managed a little to and fro nattering. Handed him some nibbles, flavoured water and plonk. Went to the door with him (I am a talker!), on his way out – at which he put on a heavy-duty Covid mask. It looked the business too. I think he said he was coming to do me on the morrow morning… but how I was with chronology and dates… I might well be wrong. Hahaha!

I got the computer started. Will I ever get a blog written today? Made a start on getting the photos online and sorted. Then, ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ chimed out again. It was the J Sainsbury’s delivery coming. It took me ages to sort them out, not that were any particular difficulties or problems; it was my brain!
I got the fodder sorted… with the podding of the peas as well; it took me over an hour-plus! Humph! And I have some to do for tomorrow yet. How I’m going to find time to do this blog, I don’t know… Tsk! As expected, I got sidetracked by the beautiful view from the balcony.

That was it… of out into the broad-walk balcony, Canon camera in hand, and had a battle getting the windows open at both ends, so I could take different views of the emerging sun from the rear of the tower blocks.
Interesting that out there, this view is Her Majesties Prison, Nottingham. The City Hospital, twelve murder locations (2021), and fourteen at least drug-growing homes. They were raided last year by the Nottingham Constabulary. The previous year. Jillie’s house and businesses galore. Apart from the TSB Bank, Faucet & Albatross Wines, three restaurants, three take always, a flower shop and a carpet shop. Also, a sub-Police Station, Second-hand furniture store, greengrocers and butchers; have all been closed down. Oh, and Jillie tells me that two new unwanted or needed take-aways have opened in the same shops that the earlier entrepreneurs went bankrupt. A new Charity shop is opening that’ll make eight in the half-mile length of Mansfield Road in Sherwood. Oh, and the new J Sainsbury local store that was being built where the Council closed the library, spent two years fitting out… have pulled out of the deal! I’m waffling, sorry.

I phoned Julie the Warden and told her about some strawberries and flower treats available; she said she’d pop up later. Still working on her own, I think, bless her.

At long last, I made a start on the blog. After a few hours, mostly sorting out the photographs to use, I realised I had not done any washing of my finely hones, muscular body yet.
Humph! I got the pod peas prepared for tomorrow… I was still in denial mode about it being Thursday.

I did another whole bag of the delightful and much-loved garden peas.
Got then them into the saucepan, as from the door blasted ♫Oh, Susan♫. It was Warden Julie. Handed her the strawberries, roses and some drinkies. When I asked her if she could drop the other strawberries off for Francis: Oh, dearie me… She told me that Fran had taken a bad fall yesterday and was in the hospital, but she’d keep them in her fridge if Fran returned. I thanked her and went into worry mode when Julie had gone. Poor Francis! I hope it’s not severe. I’ll find out if she is in the City or QMC; if she’s in the QMC, I can visit her after having my cataracts done! At first, this thought cheered me a smidgeon. Then reality dawned; wot a clot! How can I go to see Fran when I won’t be able to see anything? Also, they have kindly arranged a lift both ways, so that puts the mocker on me seeing how she is going, too!

I’ll have to get a rush on; it’s almost midnight, so I need to rush from here on.

I hastened into the wet room, mind all aflutter, thinking of having some bread and butter? Chinwagging to myself, a constant mutter? Concentration going, but the ankle ulcer looked a treat; so much calmer and no pain whatever! Cut myself twice shaving, but they were very minor. The session went very quickly, although I took the time to have two toe-stubbings.
Got the belated Blood Pressure done. Fair results all around! The body temperature was also a good reading! No complaints whatsoever today. Apart from the brain’s stubborn, at a loss status.
I got back on the computer to work on this blog, only to find I couldn’t find the new set of subtitles I’d done yesterday on CorelDraw? So another plan and route to go, gone! In the extreme, more time is lost.
Hours later, the Amazon delivery arrived, forgot all about it? Me? Yes! I’ll sort the photos of it later, sometime.

No, I’ll do it now.

Carer Valerie arrived; I showed her the new years supply of hemp capsules; I couldn’t read what was in them. Val had a look and told me Hemp and Omega 3, 6 & 9?
No, I’m not going to have time to finish this and post it! I’ll post the stand copied from Blogger. Then in the morning, I can get the Ode created.
Have to get something to eat soon.

♫ Oh, Susana ♫ chimed out again; it was Josie, Bless her, bringing me the bananas to make up for the terrible, split-open mushy ones that Iceland delivered. How kind! I thanked her, took them into the kitchen and tried one straight away…

Oh, dear! These bananas, too, were bruised but not as bad as the others from Iceland were; they’d been split in transit. I opened another one to try again to satisfy my craving for an edible fruit… Look at the bottom photo, please. This one had brown-black pieces of… well, I’ve no idea what they were. I think they were given birth from the inside cause the inner part of the peel had traces of the same colour? Does anyone know why the bananas are affected in this way? Obviously, with the Iceland ones, it was just lousy packing and handling. But Josie bought these at the shop. Could it be the not weather? Or will it be put down as usual to the Mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, spirits? Or the Fata-Morganas, that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind?

I took a snap of the evening sky as I was prepping the late nosh. The first one had a different hue for a change, just after the sun had gone below the earth’s horizon.

Ten minutes later, I took the second picture. The rippled clouds were now showing. I seem to recall my neighbour Jack, who’d just arrived from Kingston with his family, telling me something about rippled clouds and what they portend. Tsk! But I need not have written that cause I’ve forgotten while typing it what it was they indicated…

I carried on cooking, and as I set out the food tray, the need for a wee-wee arose. I didn’t make it in time! Shucks! I had to strip and change into the night attire and put the trousers in the bucket to soak in disinfectant and liquid soap. I forgot to add this sort of occurrence in the Ode, so any whippersnappers can be reminded of what’s to come. And when it wants to. Hahaha!.

As I took this rather tasty-looking feast into the main (other) room, I gave myself a relatively superior toe-stubbing. I just smiled, laughed it off, didn’t swear or curse, and merrily continued to get settled.

Whippersnapper Advice in Ode

Medicines, tablets, injection and tincture…
Morning routine, you get the picture?
Bladder & bowels, things get murkier…
Definitely, much more messier!
Bleeding; things get nastier,
I don’t mean to be a minger…
Or even a panic-monger,
Whippersnappers must know of the danger,
Awaiting them, after they are a teenager,
Life will slow down; it gets drearier,
The disbeliever and the God-fearer,
We’ll all have to disappear…
Which can bring on fear…
But fret not, my dear…
Death can’t be as bad as living here!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit

Inchcock Today: The Dream, Odes & Diary

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

Nocturnal Visitors

I stirred from my slumber,
I’d had a dream, but could I remember,
I checked to make sure I was sober…
Nodded off again, I woke to discover,
Scribble on the notepad, needing to decipher.
The following facts are what I managed to gather…

Start of the dream, I looked out and got in a lather…
Ghosts and Goblins in the sky, but no bother…
Indeed I tried with them to have a blatherer…
Then did an instant maneuverer…
I was in the ground floor link corridor?
The ectoplasms, ghosts, got grotesquerer!
In walked animals, a skeleton, and a roboton!
Probably others too that I’ve forgotten!

Not the weirdest dream that I’ve begotten,
Didn’t bother me; they did nowt rotten…
Oh, the Grim Reaper, he looked sullen…
One of the creatures looked like a wivern.

As I woke up, I was thunderstrucken,
I fell out of the chair, hit my knee it got swollen,
I took a Codeine for the pain to dullen…

As I woke up, I was thunderstrucken,
I fell out of the chair, hit my knee it got swollen,
Better make a start on the diary; it’s gone eleven!

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

Tuesday 12th July 2022

So, a modicum of concentration and determination developed, and I motored on with the Blood Pressure utilised the A&D Medical Supplies, made in Chinese sphygmomanometer. Then did the body temperature. All the results were of an acceptable standard this jolly Tuesday morning. In particular, the temperature and pulse are almost within the set result target ranges. Then after having a natter with the family, nada Lillie the Lamb checking on my notepad and keeping herself up to date, it is time to get the ablutions done.
I stripped off (I do a lot of that, you know) and made my way to the wet room… where I easily and simultaneously stubbed my toe on Sock Glide Glenda as I was taking the hearing aids out and dropped one and out popped the battery. With cataracts, I could not follow the multi-circular route taken as the battery spun around. I’ve got plenty of batteries to use, but it’s so annoying when one escapes. Hehe! Things went well enough after that for a while. The teeth (painful), then shaving (only one cut!) were completed, showering and on to the drying off… Ah, a slight chance of luck now!
The Wee-weeing sessions restarted and were uncomfortable. The pants that had been half on at the time of the Accifauxpa were mostly blood-red in seconds! They were all of the WUNT (Weak-Unwilling-Negligible Trickling) style. But this was nothing compared to what the state Peripheral Pete’s caused me! I’d done the medicationalisationings and was getting into a new pair of protection Pants, and off went the right leg on the Neuropathic dance routine! A bit frisky this one was, and I last my balance and hot my newly washed and medicated wedding tackle against the sink edge.

I realised later that I had also knocked out another tooth, bruised the eye slightly, and somehow, Harold’s Haemorrhoids were leaking too! It took me ages to get everything sorted out; a good job that the carer was a little late. I was cleaning up the wet room mess I’d made when I realised there were some, just a few new spots of blood on the floor? I must have caught the scab on the burn mark on the knuckles. But it was nothing like the blood for Harolds Haemorrhoids, the tooth or fungal lesion: they were all the usual deep red type. This was almost pink… I think? It stopped of its own accord a minute or so later. Worra Day!
Carer Richard arrived, and he was in a rush. Rich was coughing a lot; I hope he’ll be alright. He’s got a diabetes session to attend this morning, I reckon he said.
Wished him all the bestest as he left with some treats; then, I had a closer look at the ankle’s ulcers. Well, what a surprise, they haven’t looked this calm in months. I’ve forgotten the rest of the ditty? Ah-well, win some, lose some…
After what seemed an aeon, I got on with the blogging. I meant to say, earlier on, about 02:00hrs, (Yes, Sweet Morpheus is not pleased with me! I looked at the calendar, and I was sure I’d ordered an Iceline order to come today. So I checked on the website. It told me I had no orders, so I got on the J Sainsbury site and made an order with them for tomorrow.
You see, this Friday, I have the first Cataract operation, so I will be virtually blind afterwards, then I’ve got to go back for an examination to see if it’s worked okay. So, I intend to get the cupboards and fridge filled up before I leave cause there is a chance they told Jillie when she phoned them that I may be kept in, in the event any Whoopsiedangleplops during the operation.
Then a while later, NokiaI got a message on my G6⅘ths Ultra-modern mobile phone. It was from Iceland informing me that my delivery that they told me was not ordered), will be delivered shortly? Now, I’ve got a J Sainsbury order coming tomorrow as well! Could things get worse? Well, yes, and they did! Humph! The products were in liners, not carrier bags…

Iceland had No Vegan beefburgers, no milk roll bread (sent a substitute loaf), Bananas soft and three of the five burst open; the pot of No-Bull vegan ice cream was in liquid form, a right mess. To clean up! – You would not believe the state of the food! The strawberries were squashed, the biscuits in crumbs and one of the packets of AAA batteries card and plastic retainer shell was off; it was never seen – I just collected the eight batteries from the depths of the wet food. This was one of the worst deliveries I’ve ever had from them.

Still, on the bright side, I’ve got food galore in the fridge; I’ve probably not got room for the Sainsbury’s stuff to get them in on Thursday. However, the ice cream will likely take months to harden enough to eat. I suppose I could drink it? Both pots!
Oh, and the bananas tasted okay, just a shame that I paid for five and only two were edible, and they were bruised inside, and I had to watch what I was eating. Oh, never mind! The lid on the jar of beetroot was loose, and…

At long last, I got onto the blogging, and the door-chime burst forth. It was Josie returning Sunday’s utensils from her meal. As I took the tray and things from her, I told her I had some strawberries for her, asking her to hang on while I fetched them. When I returned to the door with the fruits, Josie had gone back into her flat.

I’m not sure which of us is worse than the other, she or me, for hearing, and we both guess at what is being said, I think sometimes. Hahaha!
I told her about my going into the hospital to have my cataracts seen on Friday and then Monday for a follow-up. Then I said I’ll see if see enough to do you a meal or not come Sunday. But I expect not. She laughed and… I think anyway, “Yes, I’ll be in for lunch on Sunday…” Of course, I could have misheard her; she definitely misheard me… Hahaha! As she ook the Strawberries, she said she felt guilty about me making the fodder every Sunday. I said it was my pleasure… “Can I get some bananas for you at the weekend?” I put my thumbs up and smiled…

Int life great when yer gerowd? Har-har!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

I was wondering about my hypertension…

Is it cause Neil Kinnock is a distant relation?
Or cause I’m still waiting for the Vicar’s confirmation…
Or my habit of losing track and digression?
Why do I want the go through teleportation?
Doctors can’t cure my dying neurotransmissions,
Leaving me forever with derision & indecision…
Am I too soft, believing in nonaggression?
I’m full of fear and misapprehension,
I’d love to free myself of my mental tension…
Is the answer to commit self-decommission?
Do I need some physiological remission?
Can’t go on like this; I must make a decision…
I can’t cope with mental corrosion, confusion,
Be positive, become more Sherlock Holmesian,
Drugs, are they the answer, but I’ve an aversion…
Maybe I’ll try some Columbian?
Do I even deserve help? Or vilification?

Evening All!

Inchcock Today: Diary & Odes

/ Inchie / 2 Comments

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Inchcock Today: Diary & Odes

I woke up late,
In a bit of a state,
Began to anticipate,
Thought Storms, accelerate,
Get up? No, I’ll wait…
Sunday emptied meal plate…
I need to concentrate,
Get up; I’d sooner hibernate,
I moved; Cor blimey mate…
Passing wind, I’ll have to fumigate,
Waking up is so vermiculate…
The thoughts were not articulate…
Plans, thoughts began to verbigerate,
The belly wobbled, so I’m overweight,
Get up? How I procrastinate…
Getting up then, got to, to urinate!
Porcelain Throne needed, can’t hesitate…

Put my spectacles on, grabbed the walking stick,
The pain from the right knee was chronic,
Little Inchy’s Fungal Lesion was haemorrhagic,
The evacuation was messy and slick…
Will today also be another depressogenic?

Despite my losing two pictures last night from the SD card, I tried again to take shots of the sun setting. I should not have been able to because I should have been asleep, But the Thought Storms paid to any hopes of my drifting off, sleeping, or getting any rest. Humph!
Still, they came out alrightish.
I pondered the problems with the Canon camera and decided to look at Amazon to see what it would cost me to buy a replacement one of the same model. That idea is a definite no-go, after seeing the prices had gone up over 20%! I typed in, ‘Canon SX 740 HS, 40x zoom’. I got the same camera as I bought from Amazon last year, but the £189.99 cost then, is now over £280! Of course, I could have purchased several of them without testing the bank balance…
My Chinese (Hong Kong) made by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, a contactless thermometer, showed a decent result again, at 34.0°c. I imagine the hot weather has helped?
The Boot’s Blood Pressure machine’s sphygmomanometerisationing resulted in a third day on the trot of the SYS being in the 140s range. At least it’s not shot up to anything silly like it usually does on a Monday. There’ll be a reason for that, of course. But why on Mondays still baffles me? Mayhaps it is because I dislike Sundays… I don’t know.

I looked at the great puffer clouds displayed in the sky, and I took a photograph of them. But, yet again, the mysteries of Winwood Heights, the ghosts, wraiths, spectres, cacodemons, apparitions and other grotesqueries that haunt the hallways, flats and lobbies, searching for Inchcock to create ambiguities, abstrucities, perplexities, misfortunes and botherations, to scare, worry and confuse me! Humph! Both shots had disappeared from the SD card! 
Painful teggie-cleaning, but the bottom front tooth is still hanging by a single nerve thread. Hahaha! Shaving that went well, only one tiny nick under the chin. The showering went decently as well. No Dizzy Dennis’s, no knocks, bangs or tumbles. Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley was the only hassle, and she didn’t last for long. An even greater
Ah, well, yer can’t win ’em all! Little Inchies Fungal Lesion, Haemorrhoid Harold, and Cartilage Cathy were all tender, to put it mildly. As usual, the Fungal Lesion medicationing gave me the most actual pain. But still a good session overall. I went into the front room to tend to the burnt knuckle and Ankle Ulcer, as it is a lot lighter to see there.
The burn mark had changed colour again, looking a little prettier already. Hahaha! It soon started to dry up a little later, so no ointmentationalisationing was needed.
I just rubbed in sine Germolene on the ankle ulcers; they didn’t need proper medicationalisationing this time. But, Cartilage Cathy, on the other hand, was so delicate that I rubbed in some of the MedPhorpainPhorpain gel; at least she is easier to reach to tend to things. Har-har!

I’ll take an extra painkiller when Care Richards arrives, methinks.

Carer Richard came, and, I remembered to take the extra Co-codamol. Richard had a look at the prescription levels in stock. Getting a few of these in today, am I not?
Computing, and the most auspicious gentleman above, kicked off with the tap-tapping, with the odd clunk thrown into the mix.

           ♫ Happiness, happiness, the greatest gift that I posses ♫
♫ I thank the Lord that I’ve been blessed ♫
♫ With more than my share of happiness! ♫
When Jillie comes, I want to beat my chest…
No doubt about it, Jillie is the best...
Now I’m at my Happiest! ♥

We nattered laughingly,
Cause Jillie is lovely,
Caring, kind and has adopted me…
I’m her Uncle now, you see…
Oh… Glory Be! ♥

After Jillie had departed, I was refreshed at just seeing her again, and decided to treat myself to a bowl of Vegan ice cream. A great big half-a-pot dollop of delight! I sprinkled it with some ‘Silver Balls’. I shall not bother with them again. My poor old teeth! Hehe! I fell asleep, a deep yet, apparently dream-filled one.
The evening carer arrived to wake me up with the loud tune of ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ from the door chime. I was half asleep, and recall very little of the visit. I just hope I had my trousers on. Within minutes of her departure, I was back in the land of nod; contentedly after Jillie’s visit. I sprang awake around 23:00hrs, in need of a wee-wee.
I found the reminder notes on the pad, about the dreams I’d had. I’ll try to decipher them in the morning.
I put the kettle on for a mug of Thompson’s Punjana Tea, and the view from the kitchenette window caught my attention. Especially the blue cloudless evening sky. Although even to my bad cataracted eyes, it looked so beautiful. Unfortunately, the photo didn’t turn out as attractively as the real thing. This often happens, shame really.
Well, after the brew drinking, I decided to get this blog finished.

TTFN each, have a good sleep! Especially HRH Petal-Lisa, who is struggling to get her rest in. Bless her! ♥♥♥

Inchcock Diary & Ode to Putin, Tuesday 7th June 2022

/ Inchie / 10 Comments

Tuesday 7th June 2022

07:30hrs: Woke wanting a wee-wee. I thought it would never come; it must have been 15hrs without one. It was hardly worth it, a painful sprinkle or two. At least the bladder is working again, so fingers crossed!

I set, too, giving myself a medical MOT. And taking ‘As needed’ non-prescription medications. There is no need for ointmentating this morning, No Little Inchies fungal lesion or Harold’s Haemorrhoids bleeding whatsoever! Excellent results on the blood pressure machine, best for ages!

The only thing not so good was the body temperature. That was way down low again. Been under the NHS’s recommended 35°c for a few days now. I don’t feel poorly; I am a lot chirpier in myself this morning. Although I felt so cold when it obviously isn’t?

I took some under-tongue CBS oil. And a Hemp capsule too.

Got the ears well saturated with the Olive oil. Let it sink in, and then I filled up the canals with more. This never seems to help, but I’ve got into the habit of doing it each morning now.

Then took a Dioctyl to help skid up the darned Porcelain Throne evacuations. Messy. Gooey, watery! Eurgh!

I got a few Warfarin tablets ready, so the carers will have some available for the evening doses.

Then, had a bash at syringing both ears. Not only a total waste of time; I failed to remove any wax at all, but I made such a mess I had

to clean up the water that had sprayed out off or missed the ears! Hehe!

Got the kettle on and sorted the laundry, not forgetting that talk-a-lot Esther would give me some hassle if it wasn’t ready and sorted when she arrived later this morning! Not that she scares me an anything like that, of course. Ahem!

I took this snap of the lovely morning sky with its ever-changing hues. Mother Nature, again shows us her beauty! The beauty we have been destroying for years.

Got the computer on and started on the WordPress reader and commenting, and the ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ chime brought forth Carer Richard. I thought the lad was late coming; he’s had extra calls on again and was in a rush because he had a four-hour training session later when he finishes work with the Diabetes team to get through. No time for any good natterings today again. I think he felt guilty about it, so I tried to cheer him up, wished him all the best, and gave him a bag of treats. Then, I walked (well, hobbled) with Richard to the lift lobby and wished him well for the meeting.

Took this photo of the car park in front of Woodthorpe Court from the kitchenette window. Made a brew of Glengettie tea and was about to return to the computer with the nug of tea – but circumstances changed…

As usual with Neuropathy Pete, his timing caused the optimum amount of pain and hassle. An involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about dance made me drop the cup as I grabbed Metal-Micky and the side of the sink to keep from going over. Once more, it was over in seconds, but I still managed to clout my knee on the edge of a floor cupboard. Which awakened Cartilage Cathy in agony! Humph!

Sorted myself out and took an extra Codeine. And fond this photo of a meal from which I can’t work out? It was not a good photo in any way, shape or form, so it might be one that I meant to delete from the file?

Started on the Snippets blog, and the Iceland delivery arrived. I let him in through the intercom box in the hallway, and I cleared a path to put the bags into.

The driver took the bags through to the kitchen for me. Gave him a choice of plonk cans in thanks. He opted, I noticed, for the Rum and coke. Hehe! Good for him; I hope it cheered him up a smidge.

They sent the Rustlers for Richard, sugar snap peas, mushrooms and some new Pork & Pickle Bites. Three for a fiver, so they must be good. One for Josie, one for Richard and one for Esther. I got some small apples that, hopefully, my lesser-teethed mouth can manage to eat. Har-har! They had no small vine tomatoes in stock but have sent me a pack of large tomatoes, Dutch, that had a sell-by date for today. No charge!

The best thing they had sent was the No-Moo ice creams and No-Bull burgers. The best of any burgers I have tried! The ice cream is by far superior in taste to what one might call natural ice cream. Grrreat Flavour both! I’d have ordered more, but I dared not with Iceland’s record of crap unrelated substitutions!

I had another go at getting the Snippet Ode done. (I did get it finished, but not until I’d been grafting on it, on & off, for another nine hours!) Esther arrived and came talkingly into the room. She still wasn’t near enough for me to hear her, and I feared that she may have something vital as she went into the hall, front, and living rooms.

It’s not so bad when she’s face to face and not shouting at me rather than talking to me. Esther, bless her, has a habit of talking and carrying on. Esther keeps talking to me from the rear of my ear lobes as she turns away… the peace and quiet are nice. But there is always danger in this… She has a great memory and thinks because she’s told me something, I must have heard it and will remember it. (Both are impossible in my condition, Haha!)

Then, a week later, I get an ear-bashing from about 4 inches distance and am informed that “I told you that last week!” telling offs. Luckily I can rest assured that Esther will nip off into the other room to have a nosey around my boxes and occasionally iron a shirt… but talking to me all the time from the other room… still, I knew what to expect. Hehe! Obviously, I had forgotten something or not heard it. I’m glad I got the pork & pickle thingamabobs for her now. Giving her then assuaged her aggression. I joke, of course… Erm? She’s an angel, really.

I got the ready meal into the oven and had roughly 40 minutes before it was cooked. I must not fall asleep!

Back to doing the blog, I trudged. ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ rang out, and I wearily (Mentally) went to the door. It was Josie, returning the tray and things for me from the Sunday meal. Bless her cotton socks; she enthused over the taste of this Sunday’s chilli stew! That cheered me up a bit! She even asked if I used to be a chef? Oh dearie me! My EQ was nervous at this. Naturally, I had no idea why at the time. A feeling of foreboding matured…

I got on with the Snippet blogging again! So deep in concentration… still making errors after cock-ups, though. Then it dawned on me that the food was in the oven!!!

Grade A: It looked like this after I’d burnt my fingers getting the tray out of the oven post haste! Not good, is it? But I was so tired and weary that I still used it and made a meal of sorts out of it.

I added some BBQ sauce to the tray. Got some slices of Milk Roll bread, tomatoes and sugar snap peas onto the tray.

I was part mad at myself, well darned annoyed with myself, and so tired and drained, I didn’t get too agitated. Yet I still laughed at myself as I tried to dismantle the encrusted burnt meal to get at some edible bits of food. It helped in having some bread and sauce to soak some resuscitated bits to eat.

By the time I’d finished burnt food mining, which was tasty, believe it or not, bits of burnt food had been scattered far and wide on my stomach folds, down the pants, on the tray, and on the floor and recliner cushion. The carpet took on a new design; there were many black, ash-like bits of residue on it. I faced a long task in getting things sorted… and the kitchen and oven needed cleaning attention as well.

I was all in by the time I got things semi-put right. I made a brew of Thompson’s Punjana tea and ate a huge bowl full of veggie ice cream! I finished it and lay there as I dropped off to sleep – it was so good that I think I dreamed of sleeping…

♫Oh, Susana♫ Chimed out, and Carer Valerie came in. I’d been up and about for around 12 hours by then, and waking up after five minutes of sleeping was not what I wanted… Hehehe! I remembered to give Valerie her Pork & Pickle whatsits, though.

I felt awful but could not resist the urge to finish the blog. The internet went down… now I was getting annoyed!

I pressed on and got the Snippets blog finished at long last. It stayed that way; it was now gone midnight! I realised then that I had not done the ablutions today!

Humph!

ODE TO PUTIN

Is it true that hopes and expectancies are always there?
Putin’s are conspicuous, World Domination, I fear…
He’s somewhat of a Worldwide parcel courier?
Soon, bigger, dirtier packages will be sent, and nuclear…
Where will the scumball strike next? Europe and Asia, it’s unclear…
Anywhere, somewhere, possibly a country that’s weaker?

Is it true that he wears a lemon and pink brassier?
Shags Igor Sechin, his First Deputy Prime Minister?
He laughs at citizens dead or gathered for warmth around a brazier,
The man could not be any more selfish and crazier!

I insult the shithead cause there’s nothing else I can do…
But I would, if I could, send him a can of poisoned Irish stew,
I wonder if he likes it from his minions in his rear?
He’d like to make his competition dead or disappear?
What competition? He’s got more weapons & forces than we do…
He’s more soldiers in Moscow’s Red Square!

We cannot afford to send troops there…
We’ve not got enough, nor has anyone else, to be fair…
I wish we could send him Tony Blair…
Notice he’s not volunteered to do any damage repair?
Putin offers and hopes only for death and despair…
To the rest of the world, we can only die or forebear…
Unless you bribe him if you’re a financier?
Then he just might take a fancy to yer?

Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit