Inchy: Masses of Mayhem Monday 9th December 2024

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.

Blotchy Inchy: Sunday 27th October 2024

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A new Google font here; it’s called Oregano.
Do you like it? Please let me know,
Ah, the ode; here’s how it does go…
The missus told me she was feeling chestier,
I said that’s my job and I took a gander…

She gave me a swift backhander,
We made up and had a mutual pander,
She was a big gal, my Grizelda,
It’s been over 20 years since I’ve held her,
The best bits that I can remember…
The sex was out-of-this-world, boshter!
 She made perfect sausages in batter,
We cared not for technomania,
No TV, computer – they didn’t matter,
We both shared a nostomania…
For sex, again and again, & more frequenter,
My passion ended when I lost her…
In heaven, I hope to find her…
I’ll get her location from St Peter…
It by chance I should again find her…

I hope I’ll not still be wearing the catheter?
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Andy is another furry who only needs his expressions; they are more transparent than if he had a voice. He loves a greenie and can get grumpy, but we all love him, including me!He regularly nods off cause he is sleepy,
Doug’s a real entertaining Kitty!

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I stirred and passed wind rather violently and lay there feeling and listening to the birth of an in-my-tummy tsunami brewing up. There was no time for messing about. I needed to escape the clutches of the bed, free the nocturnal catheter pouch, and hasten to the Porcelain Throne ASAP! Once again, things didn’t go according to plan for me. After getting my night bag off in a flap, I went with Willie-the-Wooden-Walking-Stick to the wet room. En route, I knocked a bottle off the bed table and stubbed my toe. I almost tore off the dressing and nightgown, throwing them on the floor and plonked my bottie on the porcelain. The evacuation started before I got settled. I think it must be the liquidest evacuation I’ve ever suffered! And boy, did it reek! Yes, it did!
The evacuation lasted about thirty seconds. It spattered everywhere. What a stinking mess I made of the wet room! It must have taken me thirty minutes to clean everything up. How some liquid got onto the floor is still unknown; splashbacks? Then, a real insult to injury. As I was doing the mopping up, I had to move the bucket, not an easy manoeuvre with Willie and the mop to contend with; the mop slipped from its resting place on the floor cabinet… the only part of my body it hit, was my on my foot’s Onychocryptosis: ingrowing toenail. As I was quietly cursing my luck, I caught the bucket, lifting my foot to ease the pain, and spilt some of the contents back onto the just-cleaned floor!
What with the day catheter leaking down my leg and soaking my sock, slipper, foot and floor yesterday, the computer problems, and a lousy night’s sleep, now another embarrassing evacuation this morning, I got the feeling that I just might even be unluckier than I thought I was. Haha!
I finished cleaning up and returned to the bed to tidy it up. This was when I noticed that the bottle I’d knocked off the ottoman in my rush to get to the had burst open and spilt on the same spot on the carpet that I’d involuntarily wee-weeded on Saturday! More cleaning up was required, and all I’d done was get up to visit the WC!

I decided to make a mug of tea. Once in the kitchenette, I got that ‘Oh, Dear’ feeling; had I left the taps running in the wet room? I went to check. Sod Me; I had. Now, there is no hot water to do my ablutions. This irked me a little, and I hobbled hastily out of the wet room, worrying if I’d left the kitchenette tap running! And walked into the door frame… I think I’m either addicted to shoulder-charging door frames, or the NHS needs to get a move-on in tending to my Glaucoma Gladys problem and eyesight! Still, it allowed me to discuss my concerns and how I couldn’t get help. Fair enough. I know I was only talking to a wooden doorframe about them, but the doorframe and I seem to have gotten closer over the years. We’ve become firm friends. Hahaha! 

I won’t bore you with much about the computer, CorelDraw, and personal failures; just say I’m struggling more than ever.

An ailment that has been so kind to me these last few days has returned with a vengeance. This made things even more complicated to cope with on the computer. She must have visited me dozens of times, and after each one, I was lost as to what I was doing before she paid me each visit. 
I got in a right mess this afternoon with it. I thought I’d just run the Ccleaner. I went into a dipsy mode for ten minutes or so. I carried on doing the cleaning again. A window told me there was a problem with Norton, Google, and something else that meant nothing to me. A graph of Something Assistant’s workings, which I could not make any sense of, began. I didn’t know if I should minimise, close, or leave it running. I left it running and went to get a cold water wash. I didn’t shave in cold water and dared not carry a kettle of hot water from the kitchen to the room.

I started cleaning up the kitchen a bit. Then I remembered I’d turned off the computer (which I hadn’t). I returned to the desk, and the Assistant thingy was still working in the graph window. I decided on another well-calculated risky guess or gamble and turned everything off without saving anything. The computer would not let me. Grumph & Clagknackers!

I washed my feet in a bowl of water, had an unfruitful search for my bus pass, and did a bit of muttering. Then I restarted the computer about an hour later. This was about teatime.  
The computer let me save some graphics (top) and photos to a file but stopped after allowing a few. I don’t want to tell you my reaction; it was, but desperately futile and dangerous come to mind. Desperate worried me the mostHehe!
Early this morning, I took this shot on the left from the kitchenette window. Why or how the computer let me save this one remains one of the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, grotesque succubae, lack of support, Whoopsiedangleplops, ailments, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, spirits, Accifauxpas, rent increases, food price hikes, and the Fata Morganas, that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind? Still, never mind.

Awaiting the arrival of the evening carer now. It is too early to start cooking cause the Carer may come while I’m noshing. So, another late meal. It’s not that I’m really bothered.

Carer Ali (evening) arrived, and I told him about my terrible start to the day. We both laughed. I was given medications, and I went into the kitchen.
The potatoes had boiled over and stained the cooker, floor, saucepan and counter! I was livid at myself! Carer Ali had to leave; he took the rubbish bag from the disaster with him to the waste chute.
I had to clean the floor, counter, sink and saucepan. But I still have the lamb burgers in the oven. I’ll eat each of them with two slices of bread and some tomatoes if they are still edible.
I even managed to add another burn to my knuckles, putting the assessed lamb back in the oven. It’s hard to select a word for how I feel without swearing!

I finished the burgers. I took photos of the saucepan, cooker, and so-called meal I’d made, but we’ll see if the computer will let me use them in the morning.

The story behind this miserable meal.

I took this snap later after I found the
potatoes had boiled dry in the saucepan
and covered the cooker with bubbling, 
boiling salted water, and the new pan
stained, and the handle melted!

This week has undoubtedly proven that I need more help.
Two failures to get to the Porcelain Throne in time.
Three times, the hot water tap was left running.
Two Catheter leaks that both left me with pee on my socks, feet, and the carpet.
I’m beginning to suffer more confusion and memory loss after each of the seizures.
I must ask a Carer to ring the Social for me, even if it means I must go to a home. 

BONUS INCHY ODE

I thought I was depressed before,
I think I need help even more,
Eyesight, hearing & memory poor,
I’ve lost willpower & confidence, for sure!
Leaks from the rear-end and catheter,
I’m now a supreme new bruise getter…
A decent bloodletter & bloodshedder,
It’ll only get embarrassingly badder,
I’m constantly
dropping the eyedropper,
Falling, tumbling, coming a cropper,
Existence has lost all of its allure…
I regularly get a mental flashover,
Cartilages, Shaking-Shirley’s-Shoulder,
Electric Shocking Sherida…

Sham’s Mini-Seizures,
Arthur Itis and Colin Cramps getting older!
Depressions are getting far deeper,
An easy target for any crook or fraudster,
Cooker taps left on, there’s no hot water,
Mercy, compassion, give me no quarter,
Staying extant is getting fraughter
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Monday morning, I felt my heart flutter,
Will it be going into failure?
Failure; at that, I’m the master!
In this world, I now feel like a squatter,
As I age, problems get thornier,

Concentration gets weaker,
My breathing echos like a Zither,
Life is a bore that I’ve managed to endure,
New ailments arrive that to cannot abore,
I ask the Lord; Is there to be any more?
I drop things as I get more ambisinister,
Vocally, I’m becoming a babbler,
Fears, worries, increase my paranolia,
I forget what it was I was thinking over,
Some days, I feel inept, angrier, peakier,
Frustrated, depressed, or and weaker,
My outlook continually grows bleaker,
Now the computer won’t let me save a picture!
My mishmash of thoughts turns into a quagmire,
Do I need a psychological rejigger?
I need examinations done, ocular…
Audial, Diabetic & see the Doctor…
The world has never been my oyster,
My logicality & common sense get meagrer,

Each unsolvable problem is a monster,
When I die, go to the next sphere,
I hope to God they don’t send me back here!

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– – There are 5 Actually, Sorry – –

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TTFNski

Unlucky Inchy: Tuesday 22nd October 2024

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05:45hrs: I woke up after a much better night’s sleep.
I took off and pictured the nocturnal catheter pouch. It was lighter-coloured for once, but not a lot of it.

I sat on the bed, and a deep thought overcame me. When it had finished, I made the bed… well, straightened it a bit. Then I went into the kitchen to ensure I’d not left the taps (faucets) running, the oven on, or the fridge doors open. I’d left a mess, but there was nothing untoward on the safety checks to report. I realised I’d forgotten to take the urine pouch with me, and I returned to the big room to collect it. Could I find it? Nope! I recall photoing it on the overbed table, but it was nowhere to be seen. I risked bending down to look under the bed, Nope! Under the Carers table. Nope! Thought I may have taken it with me and put it down somewhere in the kitchen, so I  hobbled back to take another look. Nope!
Have I already been to the wet room to empty it? 
I poddled to the WC room to check. Nope! I felt a little nonplussed. It will undoubtedly turn up when I’m not looking for it. If this takes some time, the urine’s aroma or pong from the pouch should help my nose to locate it.

I’m off to the wet room on a dual mission.

Now, that was a different evacuation than most of them. Two-tone, distinctly brown and black, in what looked like cube-shaped mini-rugby balls (about eight) that plopped out simultaneously… followed by a mini-torrent of almost liquid jelly. The word I’m looking for is, Gooey! But no Whoopsiedangles today, just that I had to spend so long cleaning.

Did the teggies, and then I nervously tackled having a shave. Making absolutely sure I did not use the razors anywhere near the mystery wound on the back of my head. It went well. Two new shaving nicks, for they were hardly worth mentioning; a splash of the Brute soon stopped their flow. I managed a mini-, which was quickly followed by another. I suddenly became nervous as I thought I might have left the tap running in the kitchen. This thought seemed possible, as the hot water I used to shave was not as hot as usual. Stark naked, catheter bag hanging loose, I had to hasten to the kitchen to make sure… and I shoulder-charged the door frame in my rush, thus setting off . I got in the kitchen to find the hot water tap running, thankfully only slowly. As I almost lunged at the tap to turn it off, I   against the corner of the trolley. I merely laughed these Accifauxpas off. No swearing or getting upset about things whatsoever.
Things worsened when I returned to the wet room to shave.
When I looked in the mirror, I saw that my nose, lower face, chin, throat, and under my left eye were an odd reddy-blue colour! The Carer took a snap of it for me as she arrived, at the same time as the food order came. A bit of a hectic start to the day. Haha!

Carer Sham got the medications. She put on my diabetic socks—put them on my legs, I mean. She then helped me get the food into the kitchen and put it away. Bless her!
As Sham did the paperwork, I asked if she could see the marks on my face. The delivery driver gave me an odd look; I thought he must have seen the state on my face. Sham did, but it had almost left when I looked in the mirror. It almost needed a magnifying glass to still see it.

Sainsbury’s sent two loaves of Milk Roll bread, and both had a sell-by 22nd Oct date.

Carer Sam arrived. She could not see any blotches on my face at all, either. Another of the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, spirits, or the Fata Morgana that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind, which is losing its marbles? Not that it matters; there were no pains, aches or itches with the facial globules. I suppose it may be a different form of the Excema or Acne?

The seizures had an hour or two with me. I think they varied from a few seconds to one that lasted about 15 minutes, as best I can estimate.

I was doing the second of the Ccleaner runs, and after this one, the computer let me get just one of the photos that had been refused earlier onto the blog. It was, I think, the third one I took this morning from the kitchen window. Not very good, but I like to show the dozens of my failed photos along with the odd one that comes out right. Hahaha!

Late afternoon, and I took these two snaps of the wonderful bubbly clouds.
In the first one, I can see a hand being held out to the left. It could be an animal’s head, an eel or a snake, maybe?
The second, taken to the left of the kitchen window, contained a feast of figures to be found.

Then the computer got sulky, and no more photos or graphics could be saved!
I was so tired and fed up, I turned off the computer and took two more evening sky shots. Hopefully, after more monotonous Ccleaning in the morning, these and the later ones can be saved, and I can add them then, hopefully with the snap of the terrible ready-made meal.

Carer Chris made the last two calls, but the lad seemed a little uptight. I’ll see and ask how he is at the morning call.
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Wednesday Morning
I cleaned with Ccleaner and saved most of the snaps I could not yesterday. So, here they are belatedly.

The end of Citrus Walk, beyond the car park. This is where the old garages used to be; each one had been broken or attempted to be broken into, so they didn’t replace them. Sad for the druggies who can no longer access them for smoking, trading and sniffing, and of course, there’s nothing for the poor little mites to steal anymore.

Sunset

Undercooked carrots, teeth-breaking beef, hardly any gravy, overcooked garden peas, crumbly potatoes… well ¾ of a small potato. The lemon yoghourt was nice. Hehe!

After sunset shots…
After sunset shot.
After sunset shot.

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TTFNski, Have a Great Day!

Freaky Inchy: Sunday 20th October 2024

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My Eyes Are Getting Worse – Endless Mistakes!
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Written (started) at 16:15hrs: A terrible night’s sleep again. The computer, bank, medical needs, the camera, TV & remote, a tumble later this morning, Mind-Mangling-Malcolm, Memory-Mashing-May, Glaucoma Gladys, Catheter Cathy’s Pain-giving Contraption, Loss-Balance-Belinda, Back-Pain-Brenda, Mini-Seizures, Earache Erasmus, and Toothache Tiffany are just too much to cope with. That’s not counting the computer problems with Word, Excel, CorelDraw & Trotsky Terence. As I was typing this, the browser started doing I don’t know what, but it took a good half-an-hour before I could use it again, then I had to turn everything off and back on again. which I’d done twice earlier, already having to use Ccleaner twice to get some photos to go… I’m fed up!
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I woke for the umpteenth time, and I saw it was 06:00hrs. Just as the innards warbled at me, and that automatic butt-clenching you do when you know if you don’t get to the WC on time, you’re going to mess yourself! I had no doubt this was the case. I fumbled out of the bed, stubbing my toe, grabbed Four-Pronged Willy, the walking stick, and limped hastily to the wet room.
EMBARRASSMENT – FRUSTRATION -SHAME!
What followed was painful, embarrassing and not a pretty sight! I don’t need to tell you what happened, I’m sure.
I spent minutes nonstop swearing as I sat on the Porcelain Throne, clearing out what little of the evacuated produce was left inside me. Most of it was already down my legs and on the floor! Things actually got worse later!
My anger and shame stopped me from crying!
A mammoth cleaning-up job was started. Me first, then the terribly sulk-making splashes on the furniture and floor were tackled. Using a mop and bucket while using a walking stick is not easy. I did, I thought, have the sense to take my time sorting it out. All clean again, I put the used kitchen towels (two big rolls) into a bag and put them in the large sharps box for disposal in the medical box. Back to the wetroom, and decided to get the ablutions done.

I did my tegggies—well, the few I’ve got left—and as I overreached to get the shaving tackle, I slipped on some disinfectant I’d put on the floor. I grabbed the trolley to keep from going down, brushing my head against the tackle on the top. I actually thought about going into a Smug Mode. I was so proud of myself for not ending up on the floor. I carried on with the shaving. Until I saw the blood coming down my face, I was sure I’d not cut myself with the razors? Down the side of the face, earhole, mouth, chin, and chest. Oh, dearie me!
The blood was coming from the top of my head, and then I realised it must have happened during the tumble.
I got the brute, liberally soaked some kitchen towels with it, and folded them on my head. That’ll stop it, I thought.
It just took a couple of minutes to finish the shaving, and the blood was down on my face and neck again. Well, I thought, this is unusual. The Brut always stops the flow of the shaving cuts. But not this time. I got some plasters and wadding I’d soaked with the Brut. Then I stuck it tightly on where I thought the wound was with the plasters.

Then I did medicationings. Little Inchies fungal lesion ointmentating pain was on a par with my getting the Protection Pants on. The head was not too painful at all. Finally, the wet room was cleaned and sorted!

Got a fresh dressing gown and went into the front room to see how or if the computer would act. My vision was blurred by the blood flowing down again. I realised, by the location of the blood on my hands and the removed dressing, that I’d missed some of the actual wound putting it on. I didn’t realise it was over such a large area. I’ve never had a wound so Bruted before, Hahaha! I could not feel any blood coming through this time. I thought that I’d cracked the problem. I put a woolly bobcap on to keep the pressure on the cut, graze or whatever it was.

Carer P arrived. And when I told P of my farcicalnesses with the ablutioning (not the pooing myself), he looked at it and said it felt dry, and we could take off the dressing now. He asked me first if I’d like him to Peel it off or to Whip it off. I asked for a Whip it off, please!

It bled again, but far less than earlier. Pleasant put another dressing on it for me. Bless him. He rang his controller to ask if the next caller could be made aware and check it for me when they arrived. Nice of him, that!

Then memory problems… me and the computer.
I won’t bore you again with all the details, but I used Norton and Ccleaner thrice to upload some graphics and photos to WordPress. It took me hours, and then I had to upload the files straight away before I ran out of memory again.
Harrumph!

Carer Kimberly came next. She had not been informed about my Accifauxpa by anyone. Fancy that! She kindly checked it for me. It was still bleeding, but barely at all now.
Kimberly put a new dressing in. I think I can take it off tonight. She took a photo of the head before it started bleeding again and put a plaster on it. I’ve been looked after today. I didn’t mention the poo-poo. Whoopsie.
Then I got some more snaps that it wouldn’t let me earlier in the day.
This is the early one I took before my Accifauxpas during the rain.
This was when I refilled the nibble box on the Nurse’s and Carers’ table.
Some new ones in there that they just might like. I hope the nurses will if they come.
A slightly later shot of the local houses, most of which I noticed today, was leaving via Mansfield Road in their cars. Can’t blame them after four people were shot from a vehicle on Winchester Street. Which is about 300 yards from the houses and the flats I live in. The one on the left is a mystery one. No idea why I took it at all.
This is a later shot of the houses I took with the old Kodak camera. I also used it to take the saucepan above left. You can tell by the different-sized pictures.
Cat Shot of the Week!
Sasha is from New Mexico. Tim Price has a family of cats, and they are all beautiful and characterful. Tim says I can use some photos and hopes to put a cat/s of the week photo on this blog weekly. Sasha has always seemed like a thinking cat; her expression is that of a thinker. I love all of them from a distance. Especially the cheese queue photos.

Carer Alu came and looked at the head. It’s getting better already. I am going to make a meal of sorts for myself: baked crispy (I hope) potatoes, tomatoes with basil, yellow peppers, and sea salt, vegetarian sausages, and some Milk Roll bread to soak up the juices. Slurp!

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I hope to be back in the morning.
I took this just before the total darkness fell. I wonder if these are part of the Northern Light colours? I must search Google later.
I got the meal as planned, made it, and served it.
It was terrible-tasting.
I suspect I may have used the wrong seasonings in the tomatoes and sauce. I couldn’t taste any basil at all, but there was another tang to it that I couldn’t recognise and wasn’t too keen on. Tsk! Whatever it was, it ensured one of the messiest-ever dumps in the morning. And a multi-coloured evacuation, from black to beige in varying colours. With mighty super-sticky splashes to clean up, too!
I washed the dishes and took another shot from the kitchen window, this time of a different but gorgeous view. Seconds later, the whole sky went dark.

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TTFNski, Each. Keep Safe, Please!

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Bulky Inchy: Wednesday 16th October 2024

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What a lousy day computer-wise!

I’ll have to give up getting graphics and photos on.
I have to keep stopping, turning everything, and running Cc leaner. I even used Norton Cleaner today, but that made things more difficult for some reason.
After rebooting everything, I found I had to restart the bloody thing before it allowed me to save some stuff and upload it to WordPress.

What seemed like minutes later, it stopped again.
Another reboot, and it started. Then it began all over again.

I fear the end is nigh.
No, I know the end is high.
This is not what I wanted after spending the majority of the day restarting, closing, and rebooting it all day long. I’ve lost interest, really.

Pouch.

Another crap photo.

The Computer started playing up.

Oh, a decent photo of the fog.

Hoovered up.

Getting foggier.

Cleared a bit later.

Now the computer is making me sick!

Carers came, but I can’t remember who or when; I fear I was in the depths of depression but trying not to show it.

There was a bit of rain when I came out of a seizure and made a mug of tea; I have no idea when.

Hours and hours spent to get a ten-minute job done.

Rain

Lots of graphics and photos are unable to load.

Pee’d off, I’m going to give up and make summat to eat.

Humph!
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I think I’ve had enuf!

Affable Inchy: Sunday 6th October 2024

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ON THIS DAY IN 1960, INCHY STARTED A JOB AS A STREET GAS LAMP LIGHTER & SNUFFER IN NOTTINGHAM.
It is believed he made £1.10.0 a week, but he earned more than that from people asking him to hit their bedroom window with his pole to wake them up. We suspect the money was used for his other interests. See photo left.

As of this moment (15:35hrs), I’ve been clear of any Accifauxpas, serious Whoopsiedangleplops, and even free of Electric Shocking Sherida! But the day has brought some terrible back pains. I assume this was caused by my launching off of the stepladder. The painkillers and Phorpain Gel have been heavily used. But I know it could have been worse, and I might have ended up in the hospital… having meals fed me. Hahaha!
There has been little worth mentioning, apart from the short mini-seizure I had when the Carer was here. It won’t be in his log book, as he was leaving when I had it. He told me it lasted only a minute or so. But I’ve never had a seizure before when I was stood up. Always when I was lying or sitting down. Even CorelDraw has not crashed. I shouldn’t have said that! Silly Boy! Very few photos were taken. As usual, I struggled with the typing errors, spending more time correcting than perfecting. Humph!

Way too deep!

Nice late-morning shot.

Wet Room Duties.

First Carer called.

Left, ahead & to the right, kitchen window.

The early meal started with pots in the oven.

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While serving up the nosh.

I’m not sure if it was the food or me, but I was not armoured by the taste or flavour of this effort. Shame!

The lights were from the Goose Fair, about a mile away to the left of the window.

A different shade and colour?

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Keep Content, Be Happy & Cheers!
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Aquaphobic Inchy: Saturday 21st September 2024

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MY WAKENING OVERVIEW: Carer Chris woke me up. I was in a terrible condition. Confused, & Dizzy. Initially, I did not have the foggiest idea where I was… it took a while to glean who I was. I genuinely thought I’d kicked the bucket. Then I found I could not get up! I asked Chris to leave me where I was. I wanted to sleep, but I sat there for five more hours. Just think about things and my various sad conditions. Sweet Morpheus ignoring me.

Reality meant nothing for this period. 

I was suddenly feeling wide awake and brave enough to stand up – but Cather Chloe brought me back to semi-certitude as she gave way, and I clumped down on the left knee. Even more time was lost in getting back up. Thankfully, the c1968, tatty, scruffy, unkempt, uncomfortable, virus, microorganism, bug, bacterium, bacillus, germ, parasite producing, and disease-fermenting second-hand, eyesorely horrendously grungy beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, moth-eaten, non-working, itch-encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, catheter tube yanking, recliner was feet away and utilised it to get me back up on my feet, albeit somewhat painfully and shakily. I thought about pressing the wristlet alarm. Something wasn’t right about how I felt. But what could I tell them? I didn’t press for help. I really think now I ought to have. The sudden semi-recovery in my awareness kept disappearing and returning for the rest of the day. 
We were having a heyday with me. These persisted from when I got up to when I settled in bed 18 hours later. ; As for him, he didn’t give me a break at all; he’d moved in permanently. 
I added a few notes to the other things concerning me for whenever I can get to see the Doctor.
However, the severity of these ailments did lessen as the day went on – well, apart from.
Sunday morning now, not a lot of details remain. But the waking-up routine has stayed with me. Recollections will be limited due to a lack of time during the day after getting up late. I’m in a state, mate.
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Too dark!

Not sure when this was taken. Not many photos were taken this morning.

Presumably, he took these before and after the ablutions. The old man got up so late that he had to do them late, around 17:00 hrs. But why did he? 

Evening snap.

Two ready-made meals in one large bowl!
A beef in rich stour gravy (cook in the pouch) and a Beef Casserole. Last of the Danish bread and a Lemon flavoured yoghourt to follow.

When I got into bed, I hoped for the best. I feared another night or morning like the last ones, with me out of it and incapable of standing up. Fingers crossed!

Then, the lightning started. I moved from the bed to the 
£300 second-hand shop purchased, c1966, welt-causing, uncomfortable, not-working, itch-inspirational, crumb-containing recliner, so I could see the distant lightning that covered the whole horizon, beautiful! 
Then, I decided (another stupid decision) to get the camera to try and catch a shot of the lighting.
Of course, I couldn’t; the lightning was gone when I hit the take-button, it had gone.

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TTFNski, each.
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Mysteriosophy Inchy: Thursday 5th September 2024

And Keir Can feast on his claimed & granted expenses
Now he’s PM. You just watch him go!
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05:55hrs: I woke up and took a few moments to figure out who I was, where I was, and why I had woken up. No joking! I think it must be possible to have a while one is asleep. This could possibly explain my bafflement when I stirred. It didn’t help much when joined in the confusing morning equation. As confused as I was, I wasn’t in a depression until the thought storming started, but I was then. Steve harped on and on; The computer problems, the TV Licensing Prosecution, the damned stupid and painful Catheter Contraption fitted, electric shocks shooting up my leg, the guilt of being so inadequate in even needing help to get dressed! Many other things were thrown at me at almost the same time. Things from 70+ years ago, mistakes, bad choices, stupid options that were taken… then, as I was trying to get out of bed, I stubbed my ingrowing toenail toe on the bed support bar. This was followed by a sharp-jarring pain from the catheter tube on Little Inchy, which took my mind off of the earlier depression and replaced it with a sickening ‘Sorry for myself’ moment. Lacking clarity or precision might be nearer to the optimum delineation.
The nocturnal pouch was later checked and saved for colour classification by a carer. I’d regained a modicum of logicality by the time I’d made a brew of Glengettie and drank it.

The usual start, with the throne duties first. And what a change there! It was all over in seconds, but a ‘cunning plan’ from Trotsky caught me. I’d cleaned myself and WC up and was getting the shaving tackle ready… luckily I was only a hobble and a half away from the Porcelain Throne when a second wave arrived. I made it in time, but it was a close call. Had I needed to remove my PP’s, I’d have messed myself up. Luckily, if that’s the word, I’d taken the PPs off when in bed cause they and the catheter were causing me such pain.   
pillock
I did my teeth and then carried out the various medicationings,  got some fresh PPs on, and forgot all about having a shave. I put the tackle away, thinking that I’d had one. Is there any hope?

I took an earlyish morning snap of the view from the kitchenette window. It was a bit nippy out. Brr! I closed the window, and I started updating yesterday’s blog. But, as usual, I got an idea for today’s Ode and spent ages on it, then almost forgot about yesterday’s not being done. Onto CorelDraw and Carer Chris arrived. Chris got the diabetic socks on for me. Medications were issued, and he mentioned that the catheter conglomeration looked rather painful. He was on the button there! Hehehe! He took the laundry down for me. I hope it returns today; the smaller socks were both in it.

I had a couple of minor seizures, I think, so I gave the computer a rest. And started to sort the waste bins out. As I emptied one, I

burst into life and dropped on the bins. Crumbs were scattered over the carpet. So I unplugged  Vaccumm- Vincent to clean them up. I made a decent job of it, and as I turned (a little too quickly) with Vincent to replug him,   visited, , just enough for me to kick the bin over that I’d just emptied Vincent’s contents into! 

The day started badly… it’s still not getting any better!

came in to do a battery check. We had a little natter. Well, I told her of the day’s disasters. Hehehe! I love to laugh, but I get minimal opportunities nowadays. They are so precious to me!

Minutes after Deana had departed, the door chime chimed. I’ve noticed that it does that occasionally. 
The Postlady delivered three letters. One a bill. The other two from the TLA (Television Licensing Authority) informed me that an Enforcement Officer visit has been granted the right to call on me to collect payment. A £1000 fine may be applied if the licence fee is not paid on this visit on September 15th. Nice! Keir Starmer starts by stating that he means to go on with the liquidation of the older generation. Starmer’s total travel bill for his time in charge of the CPS stood at £236,485, which included first-class flights. It states in the letter that anyone over 76 years of age does not need to buy a licence?
I phoned Deana, who gave me a reference number to give to the bully boy or girl when he or she arrives.
The day started badly… it’s still not getting any better!

I made a food order from Ocado for next week. I can starve until then. At least that would please Starmer! Haha! 

Getting depressed again.
I got the Kodak and took this shot on the left of the flat’s Chestnut Way car parking.
Not a soul in sight!
Then I took this one on the right.
To the left of the apartments. (It sounds much posher than flats, dunnit?) Haha!) 

Next, off into the balcony.
To take a shot of the dead-end car park.

I felt the weight of the mini-sized catheter pulling down at the same time as Little Inchie felt the pain. Arghhh! I hobbled back into the flat and emptied the pouch, and all but went over again, as nearly had me over as I bent down to my foot to retrieve the bag. Fed up!
I limped cautiously back onto the balcony to take a final photo.
The rain had started. We need it, though; we’ve not had much this summertime.

The day started badly… it’s still not getting any better!.

I’ll investigate what food to have for nosh later on. No, I won’t.
I’ll go on the WP Reader. Some great photography and poetry were posted for my pleasure by other bloggers!

BEEF IN STOUT GRAVY
With a baked potato, halved and salted. Wholemeal bread rolls to soak up the gravy and get stains on my humungous, horrifically hefty, hanging-down stomach!  
A couple of squirts of BBQ-flavoured ketchup on the spuds.
Naughty, but so lovely!
I got the pots washed with one hand. The other was carrying the nocturnal catheter bag in hand. Then I put the bag on the floor and took this snap on the right. It looked ominous, yer peaceful at the same time.

Got down 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 ten years ago from the charity shop, recliner. Intending to watch some recorded episodes of ‘Heartbeat’. I kept falling asleep and playing back the recording to catch up on what I’d missed. The chilly-cold body tingles, along with the , assured that I didn’t stay asleep for long each time.
When I got onto the bed, the same two ailments then joined in with to give me a horrible night’s rest! One of the worst nights for months. Tsk!

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The day started badly… it didn’t get any better!

CHEERS, EACH!

Anthroposophy Inchy: Sunday 1st September 2024

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An even worse day today!
The Carer said this one was a 6 on the NHS scale.

To the wet room. The scab had come off the knee injury from when I took another tumble. The bottom of the leg had gone down a lot, but not the knee area

Constipation Conrad must have taken a vacation yesterday cause he’s back again. Arghh!

Got the computer on. And was doing nicely, I thought. Which for an hour or so, I was… Then…
When I tried to save the work done on CorelDraw, messages told me there was not enough memory to save the file. Try saving in a different location or with a different name.

I tried doing this several times but had no luck. I bet you are not surprised by that! Then, the message on the screen changed. I can’t recall exactly, but it said something like, “You are using memory while it is not there.” Remove as many unwanted files as you can, then try again.
 What a cock-up I made of this!
At one point, I stopped swearing, spitting, and howling and cried instead. But anger replaced the frustration. I tried all the earlier options again and deleted as much as possible. 

I found an NHS folder and opened it; there was nothing in there, so I deleted it. Then, a file I could not recognise was empty as well. Gobblediclonk!
I turned of and restarted the computer, not expecting that the CorelDraw would have saved the working file, but it had, well, most of it. I tried saving it to another name in a different folder, and wallah, it saved. I was over the moon!

I TRIED TO UPLOAD FROM THE CORELDRAW FILES!
THEY HAD ALL DISAPPEARED!
I’d earlier updated the Labels file with one for each day of September and the WordPress Templates for the same period. Finding they had disappeared is when the tears flowed!

I also lost all of my photographs, puzzles, labels, WP items, and others I can’t recall. I keep realising when I go to open the non-existent items to use. There are no health check listings or appointment dates and times. I’ll find more later, I know it. I now have to start them all from scratch again. Grrr!
Boy was, am I miffed! What a pillock!

I then rang a computer repair place, well emailed them asking if they do home visits and roughly described my problems with the computer, and there are plenty of them.
Then, I tried a different one: The Computer Man. After using their website to email them, I discovered they are an amalgamation of computer engineers. They will contact me when they can. I might have been better off not using them. Ah, well, it’s too late now. Whoever answers first, I suppose. 
Computing took me at least five times more time as I had to recreate lost items constantly. It was irritating.

I can’t get around to messages, comments, or WP Reader. And with my short-term memory, I keep forgetting the new locations of what bits I have started to recreate and need to use.

Just look at this later catheter bag emptying colour. It seems more like the colour of weak tea!
The problems mount up. I wish some help would.

I’ve spent endless hours trying to get going again, but it’s so slow, and I’m getting knackered now. 23:00hrs.

I did get a bit of excitement.

I saw the smoke on the horison and took the above shots.

I’m tired out, hungry, dirty from not showering & shaving, depressed, frustrated and plain fed-up!

I’m confused as well. I’ll see if I can stay awake enough to go on the WP Reader and comments. I did, but I didn’t really enjoy having to rush things. It limits the pleasure. There is some fine poetry and photography today. 

Took a decent shot of the early evening sky.

This is the window I forgot to close and hit my head on when I was prepping a meal.

Then, I took this terrible shot later while checking how the cooking was progressing.

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A liver, bacon and mash ready-made meal. Bacon and some instant mash were added.

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I didn’t, but I got two of them – Hehe!
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Yet another frustrating day.
I’ve had enough, I have to say,
Lost files, more time will be lost, thrown away,
Computer, health problems, depressionally,
More battles physically & mentally,
Mind you, the scabs fell off of my knee!
The one thing in which I was lucky.

I wish you all a day of peace and be hassle-free!

Dejected Inchy: Saturday 31st August 2024 I think my depression is getting depressed!

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I’d like, just once again, to see the sea,
After the heart op, when things were dodgy…
I went with Brother-in-law, Petey,
Years later, with a resident’s party…
We got there, and they all abandoned me,

Well, they had their family with them, you see,
Walked for 6-hours, feeling a midge lonely,
I’d sooner have a mental & physical amnesty,
But that’s impossible, as you see,
Early this morning, l meandered amiably,
Shelled the peas, losing about twenty!
But I did recover two or three,
Then things sank, suddenly miserably,
Depression uncloaked, unavoidably,
Off went my limited mental agility,
Back came my situational acceptancy,
Started this ode hoping & believingly,
To fight off the depression, incredulously,
I coped with Peripheral Neuropathy…
Cartilage and Catheter pains, agony,

Earache Erasmus & Toothache Tiffany,
Sandra’s Seizures, Diabetic Polyneuropathy.
Dracula Depressions got the better of me!

Life is just a Whigmaleerie!
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   I stirred into an unwanted imitation existence around 05:00 hrs. It was not the usual bursting awake this time. It was more of a gradual, reluctant acceptance of whatever the day ahead held for me, but not with any hopes or expectancy for anything I would really like or want. That was a bad start, emotionally.

The nocturnal and the day bag pouch it attached to were almost empty. Jiggling the large night bag and spinning it around before throwing it away from me onto the carpet did the trick. A deluge of wee-wee came through from the bladder, through the day and into the night bag. But there was not a lot of it. With flowing so quickly, I thought it would be much fuller. I also thought I could sense some flow-back. But of course, what do I know.

I pottered about, unhurriedly getting out of bed and in a semi-upright position. Off to the kitchen to check that the taps and cooker had not been left on
Then, I took this snap of the morning view without my usual enthusiasm. I think my EQ was trying to tell me something. I was not in a depressed state, just a little low, perhaps.
Had lost his total control. Yet the pain was still there throughout the evacuational activity. Also, it was a mess to clean up on me
and the porcelain bowl. This took me some time. I was not bothered; my interest in anything was slowly evaporating. I just wasn’t concerned, and that’s not me. I thought I was moving onto a new level, degree or platform in life, the next stage.
Moments after this, I was doing the ablutions, having a stand-up wash and shave… and singing away to myself? Frank Ifields, ‘She Taught Me to Yodel’
I put my feet in a bowl of water with some Dettol and stood in it while I brushed my teeth and shaved. Only one was unseen; it was cut in the neck hole at the back. I dropped the shaving foam, which landed in the bowl and hit the ingrowing toenail on my right foot. I laughed it off, honestly! 
I freshened up the wet room before leaving.

I removed the reserve camera, with which I took most of today’s shots, from the new extension thingamabob in the hallway. It worked a treat. Also, I could use the clothes airer at the same time now to dry my towels. I felt around the plastic to see if anything had heated up overnight, but they all seemed cool.

There was an almost cheery period, then for an hour or so, during which I reverted to worrying about things but ignored any signs of depression. I think it was lurking, ready for a comeback, but I would not let it do so then! I got a large waste bag made up from the other three bins and popped it near the front door.

Carer Precious arrived. I showed him the scars from Cathy Catheters’ Contraption, with the small bag and extra-large hose that meant the release valve now hangs down to my right foot! Humph! I asked him if he would take a photo of the affected area of the catheter. He took an unintended photo of his own foot first. Hehehe!
I’m growing two eyes, a nose and a mouth on my catheter-injured leg.
Pareidoliaing, again. Haha!

I took a terrible photo halfway through shelling the last of the gorgeous fresh garden peas. I managed to drop no end, but I got three escapees back.
Gulp-Swallow! 

I put the peas into a basin ready to cook later. While I was doing these, there were no signs of Dark Dank Depression Duncan.

I forgot to ask Carer Precious to take the waste bag with him. I added a small one with some clothes no longer needed, I can’t get into them nowadays, to the other near the front door. Well, I’ve not got a back door in the flat. Har-har!

did the midday call. No meds were needed.

I did some work on this blog, and I feel better now. (Why do I say things like that? (It’s tempting fate!) After a laugh and someone to talk to. 

Dizzy Dennis attacked as I got down to empty the tiny, so long, low-day pouch. Down I went. As tumbles go, it was not too bad a one. But foolish me, though, even after banging the knees and upsetting Arthur Itis and Cartilage Carole, that I could get up again easily enough. HUH!
Oh, no, not me. I saw the accumulated mess underneath the c1962 counter. I thought it would be a good idea while I was down there on the floor to clear some out. So, I grabbed the bigger picker-upperer. I started to try to remove some of the detritus hidden from normal view.  What a Mistaker to Maker!
As I stretched underneath, my already bruised right knee was scratched and bruised by an old tablet bottle that shattered with the weight of my leg. I’m not surprised by the size of the leg that was blown up in this photo. The patella has merged with the surrounding flash and can hardly be identified. Haha! So, after trying a few times, you can see why I could not get back up after all!
I pressed the wristlet alarm to ask for help getting on my feet. However, it took a while to get an answer, and by then, I was just in the last stage of getting over the pure agony of getting on my feet.
The legs and feet continued to be painful for ages, but nothing compared to testing the knees in getting up. The size of the right leg was astronomical! That would be either Peripheral Neuropathy or Diabetic Neuropathy. Either way, it still hurts.
Sympathy Seeking Again!

After getting a brew of Gleangettie, I wondered why old people often think a mug of tea is going to help. But it might have anyway. Twenty minutes later, the swelling of the leg stopped, and I could almost hear gurgling as it went down as quick as it went up. That reminds me of a Grizelda quote. It got better. Thirty minutes later, the leg had blown up again!

I went to put the meat in the oven, make another mug of tea, and take this snap of the front car park. called, and I grabbed the nearest thing to keep my balance. Unfortunately, it was the near-boiling kettle! So, in a flash, I used my right hand on the hot oven door. This week, a selection of finger, knuckle and hand burns has been collated and collected.
I’m unsure which kneecap hurts most; it’s a close call. Oh, yes! Advantage Left Knee. Putting up with the crippling mini-bagged Catheter, the thick extra-long tube, and the flesh-cutting straps.
A mention in despatches for Little Inchie.

Time to check on the meal’s progress.
The meal was a fine one. Photographed conscientiously, twice, to get a better one than the first. Eaten with great relish. creating such a satisfying feast cannot be imagined,
When it came time to put the photo on the SD card, there wasn’t one in the camera; I’d left it on the computer.

It’s not been a particularly good day at all.

Carer Ahyu arrived, medications were given, and I showed him my injured legs and knee.

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It was back on the computer after making another brew of Gengettie to go cold. The first severe bout of occurred.
It lasted about half an hour.
Not much blogging got done.

I’m going to get to bed now. Well, when Carer Ayhu has been.
I may have another nibble… oh, have I had a meal? Blow it, I have a snack. I got the oven on to warm up and make some chips. The Carer arrived, and I went into a mini-seizure as he came. Ayou, I think it was. No idea what took place.

Then, within seconds of his leaving, I banged my already battered knee against the cooker door. There’s a sub-storyline to this. I’d visited the kitchen to check on the oven’s heat and realised I had not even turned the oven on! In my bout of self-disgust, the door dropped and hit the poor knee from the fall. But it did knock of the scab, so that was good.

If I ever find that scab is open to discussion. It’ll be somewhere, probably snuggling up to the by now, dried solid dropped peas over the last few days… Hehe! Oh, and maybe one may have bounced into the disappeared bottle cap?  I turned on the oven to the maximum to heat it up quickly. I returned to the computer, intending to save all the work on CorelDraw, MS Word, Excel and WordPress and turn it off.

It’s not been a particularly good day at all.

I heard a clattering noise from, I assumed, the kitchenette. Hobbled back hastily, in a Sherlock Holmesian mode, to investigate. Oh, dearie,
the stack of washing from the main meal had fallen from the draining board rack onto and all over the floor! All the bending to retrieve them was too painful, so I fetched the long picker-upperer to use.
At last, I came across the missing bottle cap and two more dried-like ball bearings peas.
Then I rewashed the fallen basin, plate, and cutlery.

It’s been a long, trying day.

The chips were undercooked, and the beetroot was harder than the ball-bearing peas on the kitchen floor. The eggs and yoghourt were okay.
Once again, I washed up. I’m fed up with this, Hehe! It’s a little harder now that the carer has attached the nocturnal catheter bag. One tends to carry the night bag on its elongated tube and put it down when two hands are needed, as when washing and drying the pots. Then you walk to do something else, forgetting the 5-foot tubing and bag of your urine that you are dragging along the floor behind you.
Inevitably:
The bag catches against something, and you carry on hobbling… until the pain from poor Little gets sent to your brain. You feel
.
You usually curse a little as you get some kitchen towelling to stem the flow of the red stuff. Then, make your way as hastily as possible to the wet room before the Protection Pants overflow. This is what I did! But things were worse this time.

The bleed was a smidge stronger than expected. So, after cleaning up my lower regions, I checked that the tube had not come out or worked loose of Little Inchy. It’s all okay! 
Then you see that some blood had run all down your leg and partly covered the daddy urine bag, which by now was resting on top of your left foot! I used a whole kitchen roll and the picker-upperer to clean things. I was too tired to even think of using the shower, and it was far too early in the morning to disturb the other residents with the noise of the shower. I cleaned up as best I could under the circumstances.
Having to bend down so often scared me a bit after what happened with Dizzy Dennis earlier with the tumble.

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I managed 4hrs kip on the trot. But by then, it was time to get up
Which I, Oh, so reluctantly did.
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It’s not been a particularly good day at all.

TTFN