True Tales of Woe

Inchy: Wednesday 7th May 2025

/ Inchie / 2 Comments

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The fragrant beauty of the moonflower,
The falling leaves from the magnolia,
Signs of Spring, from the family Rosaceae,
Tulips will be growing in Andover,
Recalling my young days, I go a quiver,
Recollecting my tussles with woman-power,
In the grass, cuddles, gropes… Wowser!
I refer, of course, to my beloved Grizelda,
As our relationship did blossom & flower,
Living here lonely now, in Winchester…
Most nights, I hear Grizelda whisper,
I explain how I desperately miss her,
Grizelda; the best ever lover & groper,
Harder than any gobstopper…
Big, muscular, strong, but genteeler,
Galactic, like mythological Galaxia…
She was never the gongoozler…
Rather more the sex organ activator,
My desire, my fire, my inveigler,
A powerful scented windbreaker,
A passionately strong lovemaker,
Autumn leaves fall from the sycamore,
Grizelda was taken, I see her no more,
She was my love, my supporter,
I imagine, dream & remember…
I still love and often serenade her,
In my mind, this may sound like Bilgewater,
She wards off my Neuralgia & Dementia…
I recall her caring benignity…
She loved my childlike poetry,
Her passion, with its forceful articulacy,
Our passion? I was the beneficiary,
I pray to meet her again, cacophonously,
She’s in my every catalepsy, is Grizzly,
I’ll die, not circumspectly or tentatively…
Hoping she’ll be waiting, eager to again maul me!
Enjoying contact, love and contiguity!
Forgive my being slightly delusionary, Hehe!
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It’s another busy day. Wednesdays are busy nowadays. Usually, Carer Joe does the weekly long call. Last week, before he arrived, I told myself to mention that I’d not have any cash to pay the monthly bills from those who do not take payment by cash card. This morning, I remembered that I still had no money to pay my debts.
Joe came to the rescue and took me to the ATM. We also got a bit of food. Boy, did I enjoy getting out? 
Joe changed the routine and got the laundry ready to go down with us. Joe also helped me prepare the trolley and other things to take out. However, I failed to remember to take the camera with me. Huh! 
When we got to the ground floor, all the machines were in use, so we had to wait until one was free. There were delays at every turn on this trip. Joe had a limited time—three hours, I think. He said we could collect the finished laundry on the way back from the ATM. Then he walked me to his pap-pap and somehow got me in it. That was painful, but it didn’t matter. Once in all, it was comfort. It was filled up when we got to the car park down Winchester Street! More delays! The third car park we tried had one free space! We moved to the road and shop with the ATM. It was broken down. 

Then, to the Co-op ATM. That had broken down.
Then, to the Continental Shops ATM. Got the dosh.

I bought some great-priced Compass canned meals there. Then I went back to the car park and up to the flats.

We’d spent so long over the ATMs that Joe had no time to dry the washing. He brought it up, and we hung it all over. A great job Joe did.

Commuter playing up.
I’m struggling. If I get the computer looked at, I’ll put pictures on quickly and catch up tomorrow.

Amazing – the moon has a ghost?

Glengettie & Spring water, and Soda water.
Drinkies to fill the catheter bag.

Joe took me to the ATM; what a farce!
But by gum, I loved getting out, feeling
I was safe if any seizures or tumbles came.

Got back to the flat.
Late, of course. No time for Joe to do the spin-drying with the ATMs not working.

A few nibbles I bought.

We hung the damp laundry all over the place. Haha!On the kitchenette Windows.
Socks on the airer in the hallway.
Hallway airing cupboard doors.
And on the main room door.

Skin-on wedge chips, slightly-seasoned.
As recommended by Carer Joe.
Stopping here. Computer toying with me.
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Must get some help with it.

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In a pickle!
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Inchy Today: Monday 3rd March 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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I find life to be undefined,
Plans and hopes are undetermined,
Often, my thoughts are unwarranted,
My intentions remain unendorsed,
No outcomes are usually unassured!
Daily seizures are unprecedented…
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My brain? It cannot really be classified…
My bones & joints are crepitated,
In High Mood Horis, I’m almost contented,
Deep Depression Duncan often caprioled,
No one here, no chance of getting croodled,
Life is getting more circumscribed…
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There’s a hollowness when I get depressed,
I get sorry for myself, feel disadvantaged,
It may prompt wild things to be deliberated,
My thoughts get convoluted, disassembled,
A nasty DDD session can only be described…
As coffee that’s been decaffeinated.
I hate it, sickening until it’s departed!
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DDDD can’t be rectified or remedied,
It’s beyond being cured or rectified,
After it was analysed, I was repulsed,
Dementia inside cannot be resarciated,
I admit I felt forlorn, resigned…
The seizures & DDDD never retreated,
Another visit soon, to be reinvestigated,
I wonder if my brain can be reinstalled.
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In High Mood Horis, I can feel stimulated,
Although that sounds a little sugar-coated,
To wild dreams & fantasies I succumbed,
DDDD returns, I get mentally spifflicated,
The longer the session, the more scunnered,
Mentally drained, and feel shanghaied,
Writing this ode, I’ve been shemozzled…
The DDDD has suddenly sequestered,
Blessedly to uncaringness I succumbed!
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If Happy Horis stayed all day accommodated!
And DDDD could be disconnected, abdicated,
Then hopes & plans could be activated,
Then I could be far less aggravated!
And no doubt feel much less alienated,
But of course, DDDD can’t be amputated,
The damned DDD can’t even be ameliorated,
But I can get so frustrated and acerbated…
Realising that my needs can’t be assuaged,
Dreaming the Seizures may be assuaged
And Anne Gyna’s pains be abrogated!
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Daily, I’m self-loathed and vilipended,
Verbally, I’m self-verberated,
Also, I get self-vulnerated,
Once, when I left the hot tap running, I vomited,
And again, was self-vociferated,
I believed I should be vapulated,
Had my sanity been vitiated?
I kid myself I am capably viveured,
I’ve still often get self-verbally-violated,
The line below: Can I be acquitted and vindicated?
I’d gladly see Starmer vivisepultured!
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DDDDD WAS ON FOR MOST OF THE DAY.
Little got acheived.
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I found a few missing photos from yesterday’s internal memory of the Kodak Tim 2. Here they are.

Late evening shots from the kitchenette.
To the left
Centre
And the right
An earlier shot, with the moon crescent
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There’s not a lot on here. I’ve got to admit that really got to me today. I’m so sorry, but I was pathetically mopping about in between the lousy seizures and just couldn’t muster any enthusiasm until late afternoon when visited me. He didn’t stay long, and it was soon back to sitting, staring at what might as well have been a blank screen. But with an overfull catheter bag, too! The Carer told me when they arrived. An hour later, and returned and is still with me as I type away now on this computer. I spent hours on today’s ode. The reason? I’ll tell yers, Haha!  Who usually comes on bad around 16:00hrs or so, blurred things at 14:00hrs.
Then, amazingly, at 15:00 or so, the vision came back quite suddenly. So I’m getting on with it, but naturally, I expect the return on or at any time now. Omlt just typed this, and electric shocks shot up my right leg, followed by his ‘ailment-in-arms’ partner .
No shaving cuts today, yet. I didn’t have one! Dirty boy!
As I was about to go in the wet room. Miserably, I gave up the fight and, feeling sorry for myself, sat down and fell asleep! I was woken up by who was in cahouts with DDD and Seizure Sandra. The daft things, I guess!
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Only photos to trigger the memory from here on.

I’m not sure this is today’s shot of the waste bags. I may have got it mixed up and deleted the wrong one.

I was merrily grafting away here. And I got that fearful, sudden-sinking feeling; I thought I had left the hot tap running again. I moved limpingly to the kitchen, and the catheter contraption fell down to almost my ankle! Arrgh!
The tug on Little Inchy was as near to excruciating as I wanted it to be. At least the tap was not running – but I’d left the fridge door open!
Now, the problems multiplied.
I had a mini-seizure as I was checking the catheter and tried to pull it up quickly to relieve the pain. Lost my balance and reached out to grab the corner of the counter, and unfortunately, I missed it due to the intense sunshine blasting through the window! I now have even more scars on the tight leg ulcer, and it bled a tiny bit as I caught it on the trolley.
On the bright side, there usually is one if I look hard enough -at least I stayed, as wobbly as they were, on my feet.
Now I had water running out of the fridge, blood trickling down my leg, a mess to sort out, and the telephone started ringing!
I abandoned the mess I created and got to the landline in time. Sister Jane talked about tonight’s Forest vs. Ipswich F.A. Cup game. She and Pete are going to it.  (I watched it later; it’s still on the box, in extra time).

Then I went back to the kitchenette, and it wasn’t until then that I realised I’d just soaked myself in the cold water I’d poured into the bowl and dropped it! Wet dressing gown, legs, and feet. Which, of course, made the messed-up area even larger to clean up now! DDDD went deep this time. I can’t recall everything I had to sort out. It must have taken me well over an hour and a half. Washing and drying inside the fridge and throwing away some soaked foods. I changed my shirt and protection pants. Putting my wet slippers, shirt & dressing gown into the laundry bag. Then, I got fresh slippers, a shirt and a dressing gown. I still had some cleaning up I’d missed, and the landline rang again.
All I could hear was background noise. For anyone who knows me, to ring this late worried me. I thought it might be my sweetheart, Frank’s Jenny, or sister Jane. Jenny might have been in a pickle with something, like Jane. I’d got Jane’s number on auto dial on the landline, so I rang her first; as I did, I realised she would be at the football match. No surprise she didn’t answer. Then I rang Jenny. I know it was late, but she might have needed support or help, so I rang. She told me she was okay, and that was wonderful to hear. She spoke of the window cleaner situation at the flats and asked about the medical problem, and I told her I was waiting for Matron Jackie to visit me to explain about the seizures. Bless her for her caring nature ♥. Then Jane rang back. I was in total disarray. So many things were happening simultaneously, and I had little, if any, control over any of them.

Anne Gyna and both turned their attentions on me at the same time.
I had to give up sorting anything out. Concentration and confusion took over. I’ll try to finish this before I give up and get my head down. I’m so tired and weary now. Even joined in the mayhem.
I’m not interested in eating at all. In the morning, I must ask the caregiver to redo/repair/replace the catheter for me. 

I’ll get the out-of-sync photos on.

Aha, letters delivered.
Carer allowance cut?
It’s still unopened.
The same dosages.
I remembered and made time to update the c1970s clock-calender at 17:10hrs it seemed. Hehe!
Results of the Accifauxpas over the last two days!

I’ve eaten nothing all day and am so tired. I think I’ll have some biscuits and get my head down.
Another busy day is coming up tomorrow.
Just what I need after today’s farcicalness!
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A Thought: Please make tomorrow less stressful. PLEASE!
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I’ve got back with me again, now. Grumph!

TTFN.

Inchy: Saturday 4th January 2025

/ Inchie / 12 Comments

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No chance of my thoughts getting rejuvenation,
My original creation, lost in the brains reticulation,
I move on to something of no relation,
I fear that I’ve hosted retardation,
My thoughts bear little relation…
To the current topic, No reconceptualization,
FND & Dementia, both a rapscallion,
No medical understanding or ratification,
Sneezing, coughing, farting & ructation,
Common sense, logicality in retrogression,
Practicality and hope are past their rubicon…
Sanity & I are beyond reconciliation!
Acne, eczema, boil in my bellybutton,
Daily existence is now a botheration,
I’ve gone downhill since my confirmation,
Existence has become challenging, an aberration,
No peace, joy, company or coruscation,
I’ve lived my life in bourgeoisification,
My plans and designs became just a botheration,
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To the world, these are my last claims, declarations,
I claim to have more than most do of individuality,
You do that when your life’s been an abomination,
Life was good until my 60th birthday celebration,
I’d been thrown in the canal, but life was fun,
Then my life suffered, a massive bifurcation…
Had to have a major heart operation,
Went deaf, Cataract, a rear-passage operation…
Fell into a fishing pond when on vacation,
Made redundant, jobless, the humiliation,
Job hunting was a complete circumbilivagination…
Ending, failing, no one employing…
62-year-old Inchy, accused of shirking!
By the Department of Employment & working,
All I could get was a job in Security Guarding,
I shot twice, minimum pay, embarrassing!
Redundant again, by the Sawley Security,
This was the end of working for me,
A duodenal Ulcer lodged in my tummy,
Then diagnosed with Peripheral Neuropathy,
They made my testicles, Cancer-free,
Cognitive Impairment came to lodge with me,
Bladder Cancer diagnosed dauntingly,
Catheter Contraption was fitted for free,
Ever since, every day has been agony,
Then Dementia was discovered, then FND,
All getting worse, thankfully slowly…
The bowels passing, either solid or mushy,
Never normal… but that’s me to a tea!
I should be complaining vociferously…
Then Starmer gets in, tragically,
Oozing criminogenically: corruptively,
Lining his pockets with things for free…
I’ve lost the plot of this Ode… Sorry!
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A much better week!
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I gave up after trying to get back to sleep for a long time. I was in the c1966, £300 second-hand charity shop-bought, crumb-containing, odour-retaining, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-Testing, nauseatingly beige-coloured, non-working, virus-breeding recliner. A lousy night, the worst one for ages, and I was so tired, but Sweet Morpheus didn’t want me to rest. I must have nodded off dozens of times. It felt like each one was on for only minutes. Hey-Ho!

0430 hrs: I got my horrendously massively-bellied body out of the £300 second-hand shop purchased in 1966, which was a welt-causing, uncomfortable, not working, itch-inspirational, and crumb-containing recliner. My first task was removing the attached nocturnal catheter pouch from the day bag.

I must admit, I surprised myself as I started to hobble around with .
The balance was, as usual for that time of day, dodgy. But I noticed that my were much kinder to me this morning. I decided to take advantage and set to do a few jobs while I felt capable. I sorted all the waste bin liners into one big bin liner and put them near the door. I’ve only got one outer door, so it was easy to find. Hahaha! I am a fool. I started cleaning the kitchen tops but diverted to the wet room. As I was on my way, I thought something was wrong here; yesterday, Constipation Conrad was in complete control, and my innards warned me to move on to avoid earlier-than-planned leaks or evacuations. Good job that I did rush, too. It was milliseconds after I’d got seated that the tsunami started. It lasted for a good while. The cleaning up took a long time. I creamed and ointmentated the required areas of my anatomy… is that the right word? Half an hour later, all was done. I avoided putting on the protective pants by foolishly not wearing fresh ones after washing. Why? I’ll tell you. The pain from the Catheter tube can be worse when putting the Tena ones on. Usually, especially when Trotsky Terence is active, there is a chance that I’d be caught out later on with involuntary escapages. Even if no one knows, I’ve often felt so embarrassed in this situation. Writing this prompted an iota of common sense. And I went to put some on. The agony of bending the knee caused me to lose balance, and I tore the pants. They are not cheap. I tried again, and more pain aided me to force the leg to go in. Unfortunately, I lost balance and hit my right knee against the Porcelain. Was not amused, and let me know. Suddenly, I lost my appetite for getting jobs done.

In a semi-sulk, I got the kettle on and took this photograph of the very early morning view on offer from the kitchenette window. There was no fog, a few clouds, and the winds had died down from yesterday. The outside temperature on the computer was showing Nottingham as 0.0ºc. Freezing?

As I started on the computer, I had a bout of phlegm coming up and sneezing. Within maybe a minute, they both stopped. There’ll be a reason for this. Then my nosh started to bleed and run into my mouth and onto my chin? I was busy soaking it up for about ten minutes before I stopped the main flow. The handle was handy as a kitchen roll holder near the computer chair. Cunning!

I checked the cupboard for snacks. The micro rice stood out, so I decided that would do. I seasoned it with water, added basil and BBW flavouring, and boiled the water. Then, I grabbed the packet – !
Would you like to guess the sell-by-date I found on the packet? Here are some loose clues for you: ⒈I threw the rice away. ⒉The date was when the UK Covid-19 vaccinations started. ⒊The four numbers of the year add up to 6, one being a nought. ⒋Three numbers are the same. ⒌These three rhyme with stew.
Go on, have a guess, just for a bit of fun!

Carer Chris issued the medications, put the diabetic socks on my legs and had a nibble and drinkie-poo. He” be back, he said. Haha! 
While Chris was here, I had several mini-seizures in a very short time. After I’d cleared my head, Chris said that I had them in the computer chair, and I was bumbling instead of talking and shaking on my right side, with my head down throughout. He was on the verge of calling 999 when I suddenly started talking usually, but I didn’t know I had been in the first place. Chris had to shoot of, and I felt different, but not poorly or anything like that. Just slightly confused. I thought. But the (about) next two hours disappeared.
Carer Joanne called for the midday visit & to see how I was. And I was normal. Well, as normal as I’ll ever be. 

I took a forgotten afternoon view through the inner glass door of the balcony. Then, I continued updating, checking over and correcting many mistakes in the latter part of the blog.

Carer Joanne came. Asking how I was, I said fine, thank you. Bless her ♥

Returned, but they were back to the regular sort. Some of them lasting just a minute or thereabouts. I know where I am with these. Well…

Darkness dawned. I took these snaps.
The lovely blue hue was back tonight.

I’m waiting now for the eveningCarer to arrive. Soon, I hope. Cause I’m getting hungry, but not enough to rescue that rice.
Hahaha!

I’ll do some work on this blog while waiting.

No good, I’ll have to make a meal!
Milk Roll bread bacon with sliced tomato sarnies.
Home-made pickled mushrooms, pickled green tomatoes and onion, and pickled water chestnuts. I forgot to put the pickled beetroots on the plate. Tsk! A pot of pickled ketchup for dunking the sarnies it. And a lemon dessert.

After eating and washing up, Carer Chris arrived, and I sat down to see if there was any football in the box. He came early and was in a rush, which suited me. He didn’t skip or miss any medications, took my diabetic socks off, and put on the night catheter bag. However, in the morning, I discovered he had forgotten to retake the laundry and the waste bag. Otherwise, he’s been a good lad this week. Bless him.

The football was on the box, but not for an hour yet. I struggled to stay awake until it started. As usual, I drifted off into slumberland when the first adverts came on goggle-box. I woke up with a jump when the football programme screen credits started rolling as it finished. I seem to have a habit of doing this. Humph!

I turned off the TV and went back to Sweet Morpheus.
I kept waking up so often I got annoyed by it. However, each time, I got back to sleep quickly. When I woke again, I could see through the window that snow had fallen.

Zzz’s.
TTFN.

Inchy: Thursday 2nd January 2025

/ Inchie / 11 Comments

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My medicationing & ablutions were completed,
My hands looked blotchy, bony, extravasated,
Cadaveric, but I wasn’t bothered or over-wherrited,
Suddenly, my Grim Reaper visited,
What we discussed, we both quadrated,
Aren’t you ready yet, Inchy? he obsecrated,
I smiled at him, and he nictated,
I asked him if dying was time-obligated…
How’d you like me to go: Run over & be mangulated?
Grim said it didn’t matter, perhaps being lapidated?
Well, I said, I’ve spent already being dilapidated,
We laughed when I  said I wanted to be cremated
Grim said, Supposed you’ll die fully intestated?
Grim asked, had I managed to get trothplighted,
I replied, no, I’m still waiting to be dated,
I reminded him of the ailments I’d collected…
Grim asked; Have you become hypocondriated?
Inchy: No, but my ailments had escalated,
Grim: Well, you are getting on and dated!
Inchy; All tellurians do that, I elucidated,
Grim: Yes… You’re right, they all get elided,
Inchy: I reckon it’s time to die, I Wikipediaed,
Grim: I’m sorry, you’re not due to snuff it yet!
Inchy; Oh, how much longer then will I get,
Grim: Your life should really be revered,
Inchy; It’s been failures & mistakes punctuated! 
Grim: Yes, St Peter may get you relocated…
Let you try again; that’d be splendid,
Inchy; No, I want that idea permanently suspended,
Grim: You’re still depressed! I thought you’d recovered.
To Be Continued…
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Not a lot, but very dark.

Food Delivery.

Morning sunshine.

Afternoon.

Afternoon.

Early sunset.

I didn’t wake until 0630 hrs. The intercom chimed out as I lay there waiting for my brain to engage. It was a JS order.

The Carer arrived. Medications & finance were examined.

Carer checking details of doctor’s letter.

Computer on. I spent four hours updating errors I found in my Ode word listing. Humph!

The morning, as far as seizures, Electric Shocking Sandra and even Anne Gyna, went well. Back-Pain Brenda, Cartilage Chloe, Toothache Tiffany & the Cracked Lips Leslie made up for the lack of pains. 

As the seizure kicked of, the District Matron arrived.
Body check and weighing: I shan’t tell you about the massive increase in weight. But I have to say, with my legs and arms so skinny lately, the mass is from the midriff and bladder, methinks. Told Jackie about my problems with getting the Catheter Contraption bags. She will order some for me. Lovely to see a nurse now and then.

Glady Glacoma started to blur and distort my vision. I was glad I’d got the Ode list updated first.

Carer Sam arrived; I told her about the two missed calls over the holiday, not making any issues. I remember what it was like every Christmas and New Year when staff did not come in when I was a security controller. A nightmare scenario for me then and others now.

I totally lost about two hours. But I seemed to carry on with the blog, and when things cleared, I lost another hour sorting out the mistakes I’d made. It still puzzles me how this happens.

I lost the long-distance spectacles.
Although I can’t clearly recall doing an ablution, I knew I had, for I was smelling nice and in a different dressing gown and hat. And no Protection Pants, which tells me one or other, Chloe or Carol’s cartilages must have been playing up to prevent me from getting them on. Some unwarranted idea that I had taken off the glasses all that time ago made me investigate the wet room to see if I’d left them there. Another nagging semi-thought was that they are always kept in the main junk room near the TV and computer, but I had no luck finding them.

Carer Christopher arrived. 
Med’s given a little natter and drinkie.

I was looking forward to these beef sausages.
I went to great lengths to get them cooked just how I like them; well done. Just sausages and bread, with pickle-flavoured tomato ketchup to dip them in.
Oh, yes, I used the new mini oven.
Funny, isn’t it? How many mini-things do I have? Mini-Seizures, a mini-cooker, a mini air cooker. Take TrZmini tablets, have a mini bank account, and an ultra mini-appendage. 

I ate most of the sausages, which smelled good but did not taste very pleasant. I will not rebuy them.
He says, confident that he’ll remember not to.

TTFNski, Each
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Ode Happy Inchy: Wednesday 1st January 2025

/ Inchie / 13 Comments

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PART ONE⅝
On my last visit to the Porcelain Throne,
Bleeding from my rear bottom, I’m prone…
No Carer called this morning, I was all alone,
Missed taking my Beta-blocker, Betamethasone,
I pondered on this while I was abluting…
But had to get on with my shaving,
It’s New Year’s Day, a Carer will soon be calling,
It takes time to recover from over-boozing,
Twitching-Neck-Ted, hurt my collarbone…
I can take Codeines while all alone,
But not the Beta blockers, or Prednisone,
I can rub in the cream, Hydrocortisone,
Phorpain & barrier cream on my private’s zone,
Can’t take the Finasteride, or Atorvastatin,
Omeprazole, Carers watch me taking,
Yes, the Carer will soon be appearing…
My Carer, who came at noon, was very caring…
But this is not unusual or over-alarming,
Covering holidays is difficult & frustrating,
Ailments? Parts of me were pulsating & shaking,
The worst is the pain near the breastbone,
That’s why I took a Betamethasone,
But the toothache was barely aching!
Electric Shock Sheida; hardly any stinging,
My vision was hampered by Gladys Glaucoma,
Moving chest pains, I blame them on Anne Gyna,
I had cramps, Little Inchie was bleeding,
Oh, I must take my Amoxicillin!

PART TWO¾
I wondered if Starmer is still lying & cheating?
Would he ever stop his backsheeshing?
I heard him blaming Tories, badmouthing…
He’s certainly not appealing, just appalling,
After fringe benefits, influence-peddling,
Schmears, kickbacks, open fiddling!
Bribes, sweeteners, is anyone checking?
On his hush-money & bung investing?
See his expenses for number crunching?
So often, the Oligarch’s been caught lying,
He’s like a Tory, I’m not guessing…
Pensioners & farmers will be dying…
He’ll be denying blame for the bloodletting,
He makes time for self-wealth searching…
He is an overblown urchin!
A snotbag, Grade-1. But I’m fibbing,
His habit of voters & union disregarding…
It will make proletariats’ life more gruelling!
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PART THREE⅘th
I begged guidance from those in the tabernacle,
Why did I fail? In things mental & physical?
I once found life was easy, enjoyable, a doddle,
Now, at nearly 80, there’s no one to cuddle…
I was genuine and loved being charitable,
PN, Arthritis, Cramps made me xenarthral,
Dementia, memory, seizures are awful,
Now, I find life is inexplicable, theoretical,
I loved a natter, gossip or twattle…
Seeing and hearing can be a battle,
Daily complications with my catheter tackle,
I can no longer voluntarily piddle,
My aorta valve is made of plastic & metal…
I feel as if I do not fit in anything tellural,
Success is no longer there or accomplishable,
Depressions are now giving me trouble,
Around 1969, life burst my bubble…
I don’t exactly walk; it is more of a hobble,
I was theistical, but it is now there’s so little,
Confusion, delusion, constant refusal…
Lies, murders, killings, wars, tarradiddle,
With Herr Killer Starmer on the fiddle!
Every nation’s decisions are incomprehensible…
to each other, and inscrutable, dubitable,
Earth’s leaders, moraless, in a shemozzle,
Oligarchs, criminals so sybaritical,
I’ve become a loser and comical…
Old age is the sum of a riddle!
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I grafted to catch up on the blog mess after getting to bed around 0400hrs THIS morning. I got my head down for three hours and had to get up for the Carer to arrive.
No Carer Arrived. Had to guess at the medications because I’ve not sorted them myself for many months. Also, I can no longer read the label instructions of the writing in the carer record book. I Pottered about not getting onto the computer because I may not have heard if the intercom went off if I had. So, I’ve had two missed calls on the trot! And had to gamble with the medications. I’ll know later if I got them wrong. Tsk!
A quickie blog from here on, as it is now 2100hrs, and I’ve to do the ablutions yet and get summat to eat. It’ll be morning again before I get to sleep. I’ll rush.
It’s not been a good year up to now.

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Release valveless nocturnal pouch.

Waste bins sorted.

Reet rainin’ this mornin’.

Phor!

End car park mudslide.

No Carer arrived, which is the same as last night.
Essential to get the medications right.
But I could not read the labels.

Topped up the Nurses’ and carers’ treat
box of nibbles. Wonder if I’ll ever see a
Carer again. Hehehe!

I made a brew, then changed the clock calendar and got it on the computer to make a belated start on the blog.

I found two snaps that I took last night and forgot to put the SD card into the camera. Better late than never.

At midday, Carer Chloe arrived. I explained that the last two Carer calls were not made last night and this morning. Well, New Year Booze, Mayhap? Har-Har! 

Kicked off.
Thankfully, I had some pain spray for the teeth.
It does ease things a bit.

Teatime views.

I’d spent a lot of time doing the odes at the top. 
And got little else done for hours.
Carer Promise arrived. Medications given. 

The legs looked better than yesterday.
I’ll not mention the fungal lesion that’s being
tugged at by the catheter tube bleeding.
Oh, I did! Hehehe!

A better shot of Devonshire Avenue.
It seems to be well-lit compared
to the other roads?

Nosh-Time now.
I regret to inform you that, once again, the picture taken of the cheesy potato, mushrooms and garden peas meal has done a bunk from Kodak’s SD card.
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TTFN
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Useless Inchy: Monday 30th December 2024

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

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I just had to copy this one!
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It’s so important to hang on to hope,
I thought of this today when I awoke,
Without him, life is all upslope,
You should keep him on a tightrope,
Have you ever caught a single raindrop?
Shouted for help from the rooftop?
Lost your thoughts while taking a troke?
Caught flu, COVID, shingles or croup?
Did you have a heart op or a cystoscope?
Been shot, imprisoned or had amblyope?
Are you deaf, neurotic or have deuteranope?
A catheter fitted? Had an oesophagoscope?
Your feet & ankles turned a deep heliotrope?
Is it different every single time you poop?
Does Peripheral Neuropathy make you quoke?
If something goes right, do you glope?
Do you stutter or make the odd malaprop?
Do all others consider you a fruitloop?
To counter these things, you need hope,
You must attain it, try mentally to evoke,
Hope? I’ve never met the bloke!
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A cold health alert has been issued for the East Midlands, warning them that an upcoming cold spell could affect vulnerable people and cause a rise in pensioner deaths.
No doubt Pensioner-killer Starmer will be tickle-pink 
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It seems I’ll have to get used to every night’s sleep being broken, and the abysmal lack of rest and peace will undoubtedly see me off earlier than I expected visiting St Peter. What with our beloved PM, who robbed me of my Cold Weather Allowance? And the caregivers forgot to put my diabetic socks on again. Brrr!
Still, it’ll unquestionably please the living-ready reckoner beyond the reach of any moderator, who’s a hot shot at jiggling truth and data... I mean, of course, the conspiratorial,  surreptitious, duplicitous Herr Heil Starmer! Sorry about that, I got a smidgeon carried away there.

I began the battle to get out of the bed. Back-Pain-Brenda and Cartilages Chloe & Carole were unhappy being forced to move at 0500hrs. I noticed there was not much in the Ncturnal night pouch this morning. At first, I was most satisfied to see the bright colour, but when I got around to emptying it, I realised that it was one of the new ones that eBay had delivered last night. These were much cheaper than the others available but did not have a release valve. Also, the PVC, or plastic bag, was much thinner, and the urine was much darker as I cut the bag. Can’t win’em all!

I got into the kitchenette to check things; no taps had been left on, and no doors or windows were left open. I avoided going into a .
The sky was fog and mist-free! That’s because the snow and ice will be brewing from Storm Darrach, bringing Red Warnings for Wind and Snow. Apparently, the lowest temperature recorded in Nottingham was −13.3 °C (8.1 °F) on 13 January 1987 and 23 January 1963. That’ll cheer up amphibologically-trained murderer Starmer. I can see it now; “200 Nottingham pensioners died in last night’s storm.” Herr backhander-taking Starmer was told, he replied, “So?”

I am so frustrated and angry! 
After being free of them for so long, I’d worked on this blog for nine hours off and on when the Seizures started.
I was so close to finishing it when they came. I felt things were getting more manageable and more transparent, and I expected to find some errors as I seemed to have been doing it for hours while under the influence. After coming around, what I saw made me so irate and self-condemnatory! I am still stewing inside and not in a suitable mode or mood to do much! I am feeling frustrated and depressed! I could almost cry now, my temper had calmed down. Hello, it’s returning with a vengeance…
I scrolled to see what cock-ups I’d made…
And somehow or other, I found I’d published the blog.
But even worse, I must have put it in the WP bin!
Then I discovered that over 2 thirds of the work I’d done was no longer on the editor when I retrieved it.
All those hours of concentration amidst seizures – Gone!
It’s late and dark now. But I shall try to put some more on, but there’s no heart in it. All that work! Of course, to save space in my memory, I deleted some photographs saving space.
My self-anger is building up again as I type.
The sky is red, and I had to force myself to get up to take a photo; that’s not me, this isn’t me. 
Have I died? and am having a final nightmare? pillockAll that stuff I’d done. Some witty, some sarcastic. But it was all a little entertaining, I thought. There were many insults about Starmer – but not now. I’m even nervous to try again. Thoroughly depressed beforehand. Knowing it could happen again if the seizures or shakes return. I’m heartbroken, I think.
I’m going to have to think about this. What to do?

Well, I’ve ‘thunk’.
I’ll not have time to reproduce the same quality as the old blog. I’ll probably never again produce one with the same wit and hilarity as the original. This makes it so much harder to cope with; it was a rare cracking blog. And I was so happy with it.
What the hell went wrong? I’ll not even try to get it as good… well, I can’t now in this mood, and there’s no time to try anyway. Depression is far too weak a word for how I feel at this precise moment in time. I’ll use my few notes and photos, but as I said, there is no heart in it after what I call the ‘Sodding-seizure-to-blame’ disaster. It’ll likely all be out of sync chronologically. I can’t remember the whats, whens and whys now – And I’m not all that bothered either. It could be messy.
I’ll do my bestest, but it’ll not be good.

Starting the second try…
Waste bags sorted.

Carer Richard, Carer Chloe. The last two were Carer Promise.

First emptying of the day catheter.
Bloody and nearly 8500ml worth!

Fogless day.

Mug of 99 tea.

Cobblers.
I just looked on CorelDraw, and I think a few original photos were on the page—I’m sure they were—but not a Bloody one!
What the hell had I been doing?

Say no more…

No record to use for two more hours.

The night shots I had to force myself to take.

Carer Promise came. In a rush, but he did listen to my moaning about myself and the computer cock-ups. Thanks, Promise.

Worries about what I wrote on the first blog…
It took me such a long time to select the wording, but I have no time now, so this will be, in short – a shame. I even smiled at the original moans when I wrote it.

Current concerns;
Getting the hearing aids mended.
I have to book an appointment. The Caregiver said they don’t, so it’s up to me to do it. So, if I can miraculously hear them on the phone and get an appointment…
Then I have to ring Easy-Link to book a lift to and from the audio centre… So, if I can miraculously hear them on the phone
If they can’t fit me in…
I have to call the audio centre to cancel the appointment and get another one made. That would be great if I could miraculously hear whoever was on the phone.
Then, I’ll have to call Easy-Link again to see if they can get it for me that day—if I can miraculously hear them on the phone. Huh!
It’s a Circus – round & round I go… getting anywhere? No!
Six weeks now, I’ve still not got my hearing aids mended!

Another problem is that the nocturnal catheter pouches are not arriving. Richard told me I had to phone the District nurses.
If I can miraculously hear them on the phone.
An unexpected box arrived last week. Thanks to Dementia Doreen and Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, I thought the box contained the night bags.
I got down to the last night’s pouch.
Ended up spending a small fortune getting some pouches from eBay and Amazon. Luckily, Amazon arrived on Monday; eBay should arrive on Tuesday. The ones I have now do not have any release valve on them, but they were two-thirds the cost of the EBay ones.
Carer Kara used to manage all these things for me; she was a blessing, not in disguise.
I had written three more problems, I think, on the first blog, but I can’t remember what they were at the moment.

Nosh!
Despite my low spirits, I countered them by telling myself that whatever lousy luck I suffered, I must deserve it. I should accept these Accifauxpa & Whoopsiedangleplops without all my childish moaning and groaning, self-castigating episodes.
What you give is often what you get – despite not knowing precisely what it is, I must be guilty of it with my luck. Did you know I did the lottery for a couple of years, my neighbour, Jock, won 18 times in 1978. I never won a sausage. So, the sins I committed must have occurred before then.
I lost the plot again there, sorry.
I still enjoyed this mini feast.

Last of the sunset!

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Fings Ain’t Wot Vey Used To Be! Hehe!

Croaking Inchy: Wednesday 25th December 2024

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

Not Starmer, naturally!

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I’m not having any Christmas fare,
I’ll treat the Carers & Nurses, to be fair,
Mentally failing, but I still want to be a blogger
It now takes so much longer, it’s a bugger,
I feel I’m no longer a belonger…
I was happier when I was boozier,
I’ve grown burlier, burblier, & less brainier…
Living life like a boondoggler,
A fungal lesion & catheter in my todger,
Dementia is my brain’s orchestrater,
Mild now, worse as I get older…
Beyond eighty, one can become an obiter,
I don’t look, can’t read ‘em, Gladys Glaucoma,
Never wanted excess money or grandeur,
Others notice as you get gimpier,
You may suffer from graphomania,
Ending up a grammaticaster,
I’ll explain why, at the gates to St. Peter,
Ageing: one becomes thinner or paunchier,
No longer a philanderer, you begin to palter,
Concentration and memory will falter,
You become an easy target for any finagler…
Mugger, killer, blackmailer or freebooter,
My turn to become a contradicter…
It’s hard to explain Cacodemonomania,
When it comes to life’s final closure…
Things will be revealed by your claviger…
Be it a God, Planet, Money, whatever,
Inspect your lifestyle, traits whensoever,
To return to earth, you must be a groveller,
And bare-face liar, like Starmer!
And he’s a bound for Hell, Herr Charmer!
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Tim’s Cat’s Greenies Stand-off. I love this one!
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The result was I gave myself a bloody nose by losing my balance as I bent down to open the Catheter Valve yesterday.  Then, while wiping the flow from my nasal holes, I started my cracked lips bleeding. I rather hope that they do not start again today! (They did!)

I woke up very late, enjoying sleep and having a good dream. Hehe! I moved as Richard entered the room, and maybe a few of my ailments did not kick-off. Until I tried to move my bulk about in the £300 second-hand shop-bought, c1966, moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not-working recliner. I’ve not felt so bad when waking up for years!

My lips cracked and bled as I tried to speak. Speaking was not easy at first; I was more mumbling, I think. 
Back-Pain-Brenda, Electric-Shocking-Sherida, Confusion Konrad, everything seemed blurred (Glaucoma Gladys?), and, for several minutes, I felt like I was in a permanent-seizure mode. Richard was getting a smidge annoyed with me, I think. Because he was talking to me, but I was not receptive and unable to. I all but went over when I finally got the nerve to stand up and take off the nocturnal pouch. I was keeping Richard from getting home with my faffing about, and I was aware of this. I emptied, disinfected and wrapped up the pouch, and by the time I got back in the room with Richard, I was a different person. As if by magic, I’d regained some perception. Richard issued the prescription medications, and my being more with it, we chatted a minute or two. 

As soon as Richard departed, I got the kettle on. Taking this photo from the kitchen window of morning view. Feeling more myself all the time.
I’d left the blood towels out last night, so I wrapped them up and put them in the yellow disposable hygiene bag after disinfecting it first. To my genuine amazement, after drinking the small mug of tea and getting the computer on, the day bag filled almost to the maximum. In fact, it was the backflow discomfort that made me aware of its need to be emptied again. Not only that but in the jug was nearly 800ml of waste water! I think this happened yesterday as well. It continued to fill up all day, but not as much as this one. In the middle of this emptying, no spillages!

Launched into activity. He’s not a frequent visitor, but he hung around on and off all day, then into the night. I feared, as does happen, that Ted often encourages to join in with him. But not this time. She assisted him while I was in bed later to ensure another nasty disrupted sleep for me.

I didn’t mention this but decided, as it had happened, I would. I had to scoot off to the wet room to use the Porcelain Throne when Richard was here. I was almost casually taking off my dressing gown, and the motion began of its own accord! SHAME AGAIN!
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It was a damned Trotsky Terence affair as well! I kept Richard longer and felt guilty, but the mess I’d splattered over the mats, floors and my legs had to be sorted out there and then.👎🏻

I collated the waste bags into one and placed it near the front door.  I opened the door cause I thought I heard a noise outside. But no one was there, which is my flat’s usual state. I closed the door… a simple enough everyday activity… Ha! 
I’d hit the catheter day bag, a decent wallop with the edge of the door. I laughed it off and returned to the main junk room to get the computer back on and update the blog. I would think it was about eight to ten minutes later that I realised that urine from the pouch was trickling down my leg! Once more, the sock, leg, foot and slipper had been self-unrinated on with great venom! The one saving grace was that I noticed it sooner this time and saved the carpet cleaning from needing to be done.

Such shame, disgrace, ignominy, humiliation, and indignity!
The Carers are aware of these things, and the Nurses are. But what can I do? It’s going to happen again, undoubtedly. This very fact alone is enough to get me into a depression. Then the seizures are getting worse, unquestionably. Carer Richard found this morning that I’d left the taps running again last night.
I’m sorry I mentioned it now.

When I zoomed in to take this picture from the kitchenette window, I got a sense that something was wrong or not right. Different somehow compared with yesterday’s viewing. I spent a ridiculous amount of time and kept returning to look with the naked eye. Was it just that the sun had sneaked through, lighting up the scene? I’d enough to worry about as it was, but this bugged me. I gave up and got on the computer. 

Carer Suen arrived. We laughed, and I gave her a choice of bottles to select from for Christmas. Painkillers were given, and my diabetic socks were put on.

I went to make a brew of Glengettie and took this snap of the sky on offer. Then, it dawned on me what the difference was in the previous photo.
It was all the cars parked on the pavements on Devonshire Avenue to the left in this repeated picture. Ah, yes, all those families at home enjoying Christmastime! 
Jealous? Me? Don’t be so ridiculous! Ahem!

I read on the web the list of meals that the prisoners were having in Nottingham jail over Christmas and the New Year.
Jealous? Me? Don’t be so ridiculous! Ahem!
I’d better get my Christmas meal started.
Not as good as the criminals’ meal,
But I’m not Jealous… oh, no!

Imitation fish sticks, potato chunks, sliced bread with a bit of Marmite. Followed by a pot of jelly with three small pieces of satsuma in it. Very nice! This year, for Christmas lunch, inmates at His Majesties Prison New Hall will get to choose from Moroccan vegan roast, Salmon & dill fishcake, Roast turkey with pigs in blankets, and sage and onion stuffing with complete trimmings. Christmas pudding  (vegan option), ice cream, Swiss Roll or banana & custard. For free, of course.
It makes me feel guilty about having my massive feast.
Jealous? Me? Don’t be so ridiculous! Ahem!

Carer Victor did the last call.

I got into bed and drifted off into a nagging, ever-waking sleep. I gave up and got up at 05:30 hrs.
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Sayonara

Dhoti Inchy: Tue 24th December 2024

/ Inchie / 22 Comments

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Are you aware of this Starmer? Silly Question!
As if the Pensioner Killer would be interested!
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I’d liked to have been cleverer, astuter,
I was too busy being beaten up, & my tutor!
Then, I may have had a better life’s agenda,
Whatever is the difference between a proton…
(Not the car), and a neutral nucleon,
I think combined, they make a neutron?
Career paths that I did consider…
May I have written a book or been a surgeon?
Been a scientist, physicist or an inventor?
A scholar, maybe even the Prime Minister,
But I’ll soon lose that desire, seeing Starmer!
Remember the 11-plus, I failed that quickly,
Did I blame this on my angiocardiography?
Well, no, I had that 50 years later…
Or on the girls, who made me droolier?
The blonde-midget they used to call me.
I was about as tall as anyone’s knee,
That, I can blame on my descendency,
Uncle Arthur was only 4 foot three,
Auntie Muriel was even shorter than he,
But I grew to mind-blowing 5’3″,
Had humour and agility, also an alienability,
My failing academically drew hostility,
From those in authority, friends and family,
But the sneering stopped one day, abruptly,
I fell into the canal, in which they threw me!
I worked from 1960 until the first redundancy
That arrived when in security in 2003,
Life consisted mainly of failure & discomfiture,
I started in a house that had little furniture,
Now, in my flat with dyspraxia, & dystaxia…
Apnoea, acrasia, apepsia & aprosexia,
Determined to reach a state of ataraxia,
As I eat my meal of chips & Golonkowa…
And think of ways to terminate Starmer!
Well, someone should; he’s a pensioner killer!
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A Messy, getting-nowhere-fast day.
21:00hrs before I started this main blog.
Seizure Sandra has been busier than any other time.
Luckily, at least up to now, they have all been short (but frequent) episodes. DVT Warfarin Angel Hristina called unexpectedly. It is always a welcome, wanted, satisfying experience. ♥ Carer Cloe did the first call. Then, the second, as well, a domestic visit. Carer Sam did the middle call. Carer Christopher just finished the next-to-last call. Well, it gives him something to eat and drink. Hehehe!
With all the breaks throughout the day, I got more confused and blundered about making errors. Then, trying to sort them out the first time. This did not succeed on one of the problems, let alone the dozens I’d made). I’m going to have to rush this one from here on; sorry if any cock-ups are missed. Otherwise, I’ll never get to sleep again and never catch up on the lost head-downs. It makes things more complex with a lack of scribbled notes, and those I made are not fully legible. Here goes.

Terrible, sad, bad shot of the urine bag.

ABLUTIONING & MEDICALISATIONING

The leg and ankle ulcers looked a smidge inflamed.
I got the bowl out to stand in to soak the plates of meat and had to use the WC first.
Yesterday’s Trotsky Terence’s comeback was short-lived.
Constipation Conrad was back in charge. But to the disappointment of Harold Haemorrhoids. I made a few slip-ups with the razor in my rush.
The Medicationings were made a mess of. Most of them. The groin area was cleaned a little too enthusiastically. But I stopped the bleeding eventually. Then, stupidly, I did the same on the one ailment that’s the most painful anyway, Little Inchies Fungal Lesion. I lost some of the red stuff on this wet room visitation. Plenty of plasters and bandages, though. As I dried off, I felt more blood coming onto my chin. I checked in the shaving mirror and saw that my lips had cracked. They hadn’t been touched or hurt before this. Of course, now my mixed-up Doreen Dementia-owned brain has seen them; they have been irking me all day.

Got the waste bags sorted out.

Made a start on the blogging.

Nurse Hristina arrived, the highlight of the day!
The Carers called one after the other.
I was lost as to what I was going to do next.
Chloe, then Chloe again—bless her for doing the Domestics. She found that many food items in the fridge had one day’s life left, and a couple had to be thrown away. My overflowingly full fridge now looked more on the bare side! The photo taken had dematerialised and was lost in the ether!

The urine was getting a little lighter in colour—good! It was also flowing well. This shot was taken 25 minutes after the previous emptying and contained just under 800ml.

After Carer Christopher called.
I took two shots of sunsetting.

Back on the blog prepping.
I took some snips of Cartoons to use later.
CrelDraw was incredibly slow! Oh, dear!

I pressed on, but it was taking so long. Could I continue? CorelDraw froze, and WordPress seemed to stutter at times.
I keep saying I need help.

Two later snaps of the evening sky.

Not so good.
.

I had to give up.
Tired out and annoyed at things.
I’ll make a meal.
I’ll catch up in the morning. Unless The Grim Reaper calls, but that’s only obvious.
TTFN.
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Nearly midday in the morning. Lots of disaster-mode events kept me from doing this earlier.

Tuesday Continued:
After a decent nosebleed, after I’d stopped to get summat to eat. The tissues burst open the cracks on the lip, stopping the nosebleed and opening them up!
They didn’t pour with blood, but stopping them took me ages! They would start again within minutes whenever I thought I’d stopped them. Humph! 

The intercom rang. I thought it might be an unknown carer, but I could not hear what he was saying.I went out on a hobble to see if I could find him. I gave up and hoped I’d done right in admitting the chap. Later, I went to lock the door and saw a packet not there before on the radiator. I think some meds from the chemist had not been delivered earlier. I wish they had called to inform me.

2140 hrs: Carer Chris arrived as I was plating the meal, so no photo was taken. It was a good one, though: beef in black bean sauce, roast potatoes, and extra seasonings.
I drank a bit of blood when I was eating the meal.
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Inchy: Masses of Mayhem Monday 9th December 2024

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Defective Inchy: Saturday 7th December 2024

/ Inchie / 9 Comments

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PAREIDOLIABLE FIGURES IN THE SEA
FACES, THERE ARE 3 TO SEE.
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I’ve been left in the lurch, besmuched,
Abandoned, ignored, and besmirched,
At first, this left me puzzled…
Like a dog that had been muzzled,
But I’m no longer bothered or troubled,
As my concentration departed, well, idled,
To my inanity & insanity, I came beguiled…
At least when my ailments were still mild,
Soon, they permanently bivouacked…
In my brain, aliens boondoggled,
The inner voices spoke; well, bastinaded,
Often delirious, worryingly bloviated,
They’re me, really, so can’t be hated?
This fact is worthy of being debated,
But results have become complicated,
For relief & help I waited & waited,
As one does when one’s constipated,
At a minimum, insanity & I are related,
It’s myself that I’ve berated…
My problems can’t really be explicated,
I can & do, at times, feel enervated,
Causing more fears to be generated,
Often I’m feeling enfeebled, exhausted,
Decision-making gets debilitated,
Common sense practicality is ingurgitated,
Plans, choices made are perpended…
Worries for the future proliferated,
The simplest acts get shemozzled,
There’s always a reason to be wherrited,
Designs and choices get aberrated,
Lifting moments, hopes just get withered,
Now we’ve got storms to be weathered,
Thoughts unchanneled and cancelled…
Long ago, I became tee-totalled,
I Loved Trad Jazz & skiffled,
Socialised, lived, cohabited,
Memories are available that I stockpiled,
10-minutes ago memories, get abducted,
The catheter bag gets punctured,
Monthly, the bladder is irrigated,
And I grow evermore irritated,
Why? This ode has illustrated,
My hopes & desires get commandeered,
Dementia Doreen has no threshold!
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Carer Benjamin gI semi-stirred and nodded off several times. I was finally woken up with so much pain by Carer Christopher. The guilty ailments were Cataract Chloe, Back-Pain-Brenda and Littlee Inchies Fungal Lesion. A bit off-putting. It got worse as Chris was doing the medications and getting my socks on; I’m such the paid a few visits. Other than what’s been said, this visit was, or is, a blank for details this morning. Back-Pain-Brenda stayed with me all day long. I wondered if I was having sex in a dream and pulled something? Hahaha!
I emptied the nocturnal catheter pouch after Chris had gone and had a painful rinse and wash. BBB was giving me a lot of aggro again.

After running the CCleaner, I continued updating and made extra graphics to use tomorrow before the memory stopped me from saving. It was a clever idea, I thought. Now I wonder why I bothered! After doing them, I continued to put all the imported graphics and photos onto the Sunday blog in error! Then, I found myself even more confused than ever when I saw that I’d saved some for Saturdays and others for Sundays! By the time I had sorted them all out, the computer’s memory would not let me save any more. So, I reran the CCleaner and was satisfied that I had cured the mistake. I was satisfied I’d cured the mistake! Hahaha!
I discovered that I’d cleaned the Sunday graphics and put them on the Saturday page – then cut and pasted them instead of Saturday’s back on the Sunday page. Hang on, there’s more to come… These happened later, but it won’t matter; I’d got everything out of sync now. 
While still in the middle of trying again to get things back in order, the intercom rang. I thought it was the unintended food order arriving – but no! A tenant told me there was a box outside the foyer doors with my address on it. So kind of her. I hastened down in the lift, and the lady met me as the doors opened. She put the box in the lift cage, and I thanked her. I exited the lift and sent the cage down for the lady. Going through the flat lift lobby door, I got myself tangled in the door and floor when I dropped the walking stick and grabbed for the falling parcel! I got indoors and did my best to rub some pain gel on Back-Pain-Brenda. I took an extra Codeine. I was about to investigate the mess I’d made on Corel Draw, and Carer Joanne arrived. As she left, I got set to investigate again…
The intercom rang. This was the food order I didn’t remember making or wanting. 
Another packet of Chestnuts, two cans of water chestnuts, Meet-in-a-jar-Miestwo, fish sticks and black bean sauce.
I put the drinks in junk room three to keep them safe.
I put a few bottles underneath the computer in the 1963-built, falling to pieces, Hopewell’s E-Plan Sideboard, with the doors that had long fallen off.
I took the waste from the wrappings to the waste chute.
No injuries falls, or trapped fingers were encountered; I dropped the walking stick several times.
I returned to the flat and noticed scuff marks near the lift door. I emailed the Low-Cost Food Store to inform them that I would not use their services again. I explained the problem with the food being left outside and my ailments. I haven’t received a reply yet!
The promised rain appeared I took this photo of it when I made something to eat as the evening approached seemingly in haste?.
I decided to take another look at today’s Accidauxpas.
I managed to get the snaps and graphics in the WordPress gallery. But all were out of order, which meant relying on my memory, Hahaha!
The gourmet meal I made for tonight’s feast is on the left.
Two herby cobs with Marmite and some out-of-sell-by-date chips from the freezer. Did them in the air-fryer. They tasted okay to me, well, wellish. So far behind with everything again. I tried to get a good WordPress Reader session, but I was getting so tired so early that it took the shine off. kicked of with venom. As the night approached with and both giving me what for painwise.

I was deep in sleep when Carer Chris came on his last call. He put on the night pouch and the diabetic day socks off, without hardly disturbing me. Bless him. 
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TTFNski each & all!
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