Vascular Dementia Doreen

Inchy: Friday 2nd January 2026

/ Inchie / 20 Comments

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All my life I’ve refused to accept disorder…
I’ve never committed a crime or misdemeanour,
My upbringing? High-quality, premier,
Excellent, I couldn’t have been luckier!
With the girls, this made me ultra popular,
Scored 100 goals a season in school soccer,
Had the best sex ever with Grizelda,
Came top of my class at school: Grammar,
Postgraduate certificate & level 8 diploma,
BSc, MSc, PhD, then a Senior Scientific Researcher,
Went to Australia, became a cattle drover,
Millionaire at 30, 4 Rolls-Royces owner,
Had a marriage proposal from Elizabeth Taylor,
Affairs with Diana Rigg, Judi Dench, & Jane Asher,
Gave advice on the moon landing to NASA,
Helped find the Titanic as a saturation diver,
Retired, & went crocodile hunting in Toowoomba,
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Once again, I was so reluctant to get out of bed.
I lay there, discovering that Little Inchies’ fungal lesion had bled… The ontercom burst into life at the thought of getting out of bed, and to the panel in time; Dark, Dank, Depressing Darius was with me.
I didn’t make it in time, and the Carer called again. I mumble some sort of half-hearted apology, and I admitted him into the prison… no, the building.
I was not with it at all. The first minutes of the Carers call were a jumbled mix of memories.
The Carer issued the medications, and after taking them, I was slightly more compos mentis with things.
The lad talked me through what I needed to make my Bombay potatoes taste better, then left me a confused Inchie, as we said our farewells. I don’t think he is doing any more calls on me today.

Depression Darius was making up for his absence yesterday. I found it hard to instil any interest in things at all this morning. I reckon that Mind-Mangling-Malcolm was present for the majority of the day.
I had a chat with myself, self-lambasted me for a while, asking why I am in this mood? I got no answer.

I sort of went through the motions for most of the morning. The usual drifting off whatever I was doing, ended up with five or so plans started, none getting completed. And I’m angrier with myself.

I did get some photos done, though.
Stupidly, I went out onto the balcony to take my regular shot of the end-of-the-road car park. I took it through the window, so it came out pretty awful.
I got back inside as quickly as I could, by gawd, it was so cold out there.
Tripping over the door runners and clouting my right shoulder on the doorframe. A couple of curse words later, I closed the door and trapped my finger as it slid closed. I added a couple of stronger words, and Darius deepened his grip. Why? Yesterday was such a pleasure, too.
Irritable with myself and probably the world as well, I went into the kitchen to take a window view. That came out a little better.

I got the computer started, and took a snap of it for some reason, I left the flash on and caught it on the photograph. This would not have bothered me in the slightest bit if it had happened yesterday. But it wrangles me, and although impossible, I know, cause he’s not real. He is in my neurologically-affected mind, but I imagined that was mocking and laughing at me.
“Bonkersness is not essential for survival, but I do think it helps sometimes.” Inchies’ Words of Wisdom.
 I can’t believe the change in my attitude today.

I’m getting irked, nettled, piqued, narked, and even disturbed at the slightest thing that goes, or to be precise, that I do wrong. S The going and doing wrong is a daily practice for me, it has been for a year or more now. Yesterday was the best day of the year for me. I was calm… maybe not in control, but let’s not ask for miracles, eh? I’ll be wanting world peace next!

The first day of the year that fooled me, caught me on the hop, and rekindled a hope long unused. That things might be getting better for me…

I took another snap from the window. To my right, that didn’t cheer me up either. The state of the poor tree copse, the jobboes have been at it again.
About midday, I got the computer on. And a Carer called as I took this snap, hearing aids and batteries, vaseline, heart-failure shot if needed, olive oil for the ears, drops for the eyes, Toothache Tiffany spray, and with the ‘Cool’ clock-calendar on view.

The Carer, Dilan, asked me for Codeine, Peptac and Paracetamol. He then asked me if I needed Paracetamol, Peptac or Codeine. We still find it hard to understand each other. I asked him for an effervescent Paracetamol. I broke open the capsule, added it to my spring water bottle, and took the Codeine with it. Then helped myself by grabbing the Peptac bottle and taking a guzzle of it. Off Dilan went on his round.

Back to start on the computer. Launched CorelDraw, and began to upload piccies from Koak Tim 2’s SD card…

CorelDraw then disappeared from the screen, leaving the desktop showing. I handled this situation calmly…Well, I think I did. The normal expected first response expletive that rhymed with hollyhocks. But with the keyboard playing up, I felt confident I’d hit the wrong combination of keys, or one had stuck as I did it (Ctrl+I). I pressed the CorelDraw launch button, and it came back on. 

Late afternoon.
I’m not sure if it is the sun or its reflection from over the thingamajig, the whaddocallit, erm the owsyerfather… Horizon!
I made another brew of Extra-strong Typhoo tea.
I thought about having a packet of the Bombay Potatoes for nosh tonight.
Changed my mind later.

18:00hrs: I just had an epiphany… I’m sitting here doing the blog, and the realisation that I am free… he’s gone  has disappeared!
A lightness came over me. The fear of his return, of course, is present whenever he isn’t with me.
I’m now singing aloud. Currently on Cliff’s ‘The Young Ones’. I know all the words to that one. Now, Frankie Vaughan’s ‘Green Door’… Hello, hello, hello… Carefree time, I hope, stays with me.
Nat King Cole, ‘Unforgettable’…

Aha, Carer Ejaz called this time. Great to have him to call too. He sorted the medications that he’d brought with him into the drawer. Also, the early night doses and Peptac were given.

I was pleased with the shot I took from the kitchen window. Came out well this time, for a change. About time I made a decent job of taking a snap.
I got the rushed, simple meal cooking, and decided to take another shot, this time of a different direction but lower down. Another reasonable shot. This effort turned out okay. Then, as I served it up, I decided to try for a third in a row decent photo of the meal.
So much for going for a hat-trick. What a horrible outcome for all my efforts.
A little disappointing, putting it mildly. Tsk!
Get the pots washed then.

The last Carer call of the day was Dilan.

I must get back on this site and catch up with WP reader and comments. So, I did!

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Came late, but he was precious!
My only defence against Darius.
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Inchie Today: Thursday 1st January 2026

/ Inchie / 12 Comments

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Here are some things you might like to try…
A bungy jump, from a platform 1000 yards high,
You’ll feel excited, your adrenaline will fly,
Should things go wrong, perhaps you’ll die?
Fret not, cause for humankind, the end is nigh!
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Pretend to act unintentionally, conventionally,
When required, act hackneyed, platitudinously,
Cut back on moments of showing crudidity,
Why? If you live to old age, quintessentially,
Your life will turn into a genuine tragicomedy,
Dementia and insanity will not be obligatory,
You struggle to cope with worsening senility,
You’ll glean many an unexpected infirmity,
Those most rife, nasty, often unavoidably,
The ones that seem almost statutory…
That can affect you mentally and physically,
Water on the brain can be helped surgically.
On the NHS, this is not an emergency…
I was scanned, diagnosed, with no urgency…
I’ve been waiting a year now, involuntarily,
Bladder cancer was treated when I was seventy,
Arthritis, Catheter bag, deafness, duodenal ulcer,
Peripheral Neuopathy, Cramps, and Glaucoma,
Brittle bones, prostate cancer, lymphorrhea,
Early life’s things you may well remember,
Recalling today’s breakfast? That’s awkwarder,
Music from the ‘50s-’60s? So much easier
Gene Pitney’s Twenty-four Hours from Tulsa,
1950, the Ames Brothers, ‘Sentimental Me’
Frankie Vaughan, 1955, ‘Tweedle Dee’…
But anything new, I lose, inexpiably…
Memory Mangling Malcom, my incumbency,
You’ll forget when you made a mug of tea…
Get on the wrong bus, miss an appointment for neuropathy,
Leave taps running, doors open, regularly…
Yer catheter will leak, escaping pee,
Take tumbles almost weekly…
A fractured wrist, bad back, fractured knee?
Frustration will send you all hysterically,
Loneliness, well, hypothetically,
You get the odd nurse & Carer,
Disabled, you can’t get to the Doctor,
Who may put you on Apomorphia,
You forget you forgot to remember?
You build a mountain of memorabilia,
Your health  is rarely avuncular… apraxia:
You’ll miss your rumpy-pumpy, so remember…
If you get a positive answer from someone tender,
Get in there, and make it an all-nighter!
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I’ve spent all day updating or recreating the lost Word files. Depression Darius paid a few cursory visits, and High-Mood Horis the odd call to put me in a couldn’t care less mode.

Having managed to stay awake last night to take some photos of the New Year fireworks. (Not too successfully). I remembered for the first time in 70 years, to say my ‘White Rabbits’ for good luck. I’ll try anything. I was shattered and slept for an unbroken six hours until the Carer arrived to wake me up. He was in fine fettle, I have to say.
After he’d departed, I got this morning’s fireword photos checked out and on file.
Gere they be. Varying results.
Not so many explosions this year, and what few that I could, against those I missed, indicate that my luck is not about to get any better. Haha!.
Kept missing the big ones. Humph!
Made a few artistic ones.
Not that I meant to.
Just caught one this time.
Not too bad.
Well…
Ayhup! Caught some!

Really got stuck into the Word files, recreating.
Lots of mistakes. Why change at my age?

Only stopped for Carer calls, emptying the catheter bag, when I stubbed my ingrowing toenail to curse a little. To make repeated mugs of tea and refill the water bottles. As of now, I still haven’t had a wash and shave… Partly because I left the hot tap running while cleaning a teacup. (Mug, but Grammarly’s AI kept changing it) I did take a few photos of the view. There was nothing else happening yet worthy of my Kodak Tim 2 recording. Slowest day for months. If I ever get off this computer and make a meal…
Stop moaning, Inchie!

Afternoon shot.
Half an hour later.
Half an hour later.
While prepping food.
To eat later.
Close up that caught the
streaky clouds in the dark.
Perhaps the best one?
The last one of this session.

Part of the prepped food for mixing nosh.
Instant potatoes today. With Leicester Cheese, no-butter butter and seasalt. Some of the chicken Polish Kielbasa (Sausages). If it hasn’t gone off yet, I’ll slice the tomato and add it later.

Now, I must get back on the blog to catch up.
Oh, earlier I sent out emails with the blog link… got an email back from Jenny🤎, saying the link didn’t take her there. I think I made this cock-up four times this week, not posting the blog. Thankfully, Jenny let me know each time, bless her.
This time, I will get back on the WP Reader, comments and email checking.
Back soon or in the morning if not.

Good Morning.
I got caught up on WP, if nothing else.
Cataract Katie was too bad to continue.
So caught up this Friday morning.
Not a lot to add… very little…

I spend a long time getting the meal sorted.
Mixing the potatoes with sea salt, Leicester Cheese, cheese granules, and no-butter butter was a long job. By the time I finished it, the spuds were cold!
I added a can of garden peas to it as an afterthought. Cut my finger opening the can. No fret, I’ve plenty of ointments and plasters in the drawer.

I got it on the tray and took several photographs of it, hoping to take a decent one. Huh!… this is the best one of the five taken with Kodka-Tim-2.
As you can see, it was a good snap, even for me.
In the morning, my lost photographical skills continued. But you’ll see the mess I made of them on the next blog. That is assuming that the Lord does not return, World War and the apocalypse don’t arrive, or I have another seizure and kick the bucket.

TTFN

Inchie Today: Wednesday 31 December 2025

/ Inchie / 13 Comments

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Cutting up potatoes, I found a wriggler…
A maggot, but used wriggler; it sounded funnier,
Just two cuts, to the same finger…
Using on each a waterproof plaster,
While the sauce got burnt to a cinder,
To give the potatoes a bit more flavour,
I added tandoori, lemon & coriander,
And the recommended garam masala,
Stood-up, how I didn’t fall’s a puzzler…
I went into a dissociative seizure,
Compared to the norm, this was longer,
Spuds were rock hard, my language vulgar,
Got potato waffles from the refrigerator,
I picked up long picker-upper, Peter,
To retrieve the spoon dropped earlier,
Knocking over a bottle of malted vinegar,
After mopping it up, the floor was cleaner,
Finally, I was ready to serve up dinner,
My waffles, burnt and withered,
Everything on the tray was assembled,
Carefully, into the front I hobbled…
My ingrowing toenail was stubbed!
Spilt food, carpet to be scrubbed,
Meal binned, pots washed…
So, my food plans were altered,
To bags of crisps, ready-salted…
Salt & vinegar, and barbequed,
New Year views to be photo’d,
Things didn’t go as anticipated!
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Afternoon Delight.

A little later…

Sunset, Gorgeous!
Zoomed in a bit…
And another…
Then right out.

The third attempt produced this
edible meal. At last! Hehe!

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TTFNski!

Sweet Dreams!

Inchie Today: Tuesday December 2025

/ Inchie / 9 Comments

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I think this may be impossible,
Even, mayhap, unbelievable…
I was sleeping, all peaceably,
A dream began, and sillily…
Although seemingly unlikely…
I knew I was having a seizure, really!
As I flew in the sky, inconceivable,
A pterodactylus sent by the Devil,
Attacked me, I was in trouble…
Then an eagle too, what a kerfuffle,
I’d lost an arm and a leg, pitiful!
I yodelled for help, desperately,
That was when the nurse woke me.
I took your photo, she said laugingly,
Pointing out that I looked pale & ghostly!
The after-seizure reflux rose, all acidity,
But I have two arms and legs, thankfully,
Hydrocephalus, or Peripheral Neuropathy?
Doreen Dementia, or plain insanity?
Was it neurological? Or nonsensical?
Maybe psychosis, anxiety or neurosal?
What caused this wasn’t perceptible,
That dream was certainly original,
Was it symbolic, or metaphorical?
The nurse indeed found it comical!
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I hope to do a better job of tomorrow’s blog.
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Not a good day.

Keep Well Each
I Fang You!

Inchie Today: Monday 29th December 225

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

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I’ve seen things through my flat window,
It’ll do no harm now, to let you know,
Last June, one thing stopped my blogging flow,
A man in the tree copse, blowing a zuflolo,
What happened, you won’t believe, though…
A bird flew down, settling on his elbow,
He got out a bag of bread, of sourdough,
And, proceeded to feed the crow…
A spitting image of David Attenborough,
He put two fingers up at me from below.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Another Challenging Day (Fancy that)
Carer Ejaz arrived late, not that it mattered in the slightest. I was asleep in bed when the intercom rang, and soon discovered what was to be the master ailment of the day.
The Onychovryptosis: ingrowing toenail!
Getting out of bed and knocking the toe on the edge-end, rushing if you can call it that, to get to the panel to admit him in time – I didn’t get there on time. 
Ejaz graded the dark urine, and was in pain in his back. Phorpained it a bit. Ejaz examined the toe and declared there were no marks, swelling, or bruises. It was paiful all through the day… whenever I stood on it.
Seeing me struggle to get around, he phoned the district nurses. They told him someone would call.

I took a snap of the view after Ejaz departed.
Not many lights on out there yet? I was wondering if today is a bank holiday?
No wash, shave, or teggies cleaned. Despite the pain in my toe, I launched into a mood and just did what I fancied!
I decided to make a brew of Glengettie…
I’d left the hot tap running! Rang cold!

A Community Nurse arrived and removed the sock to examine the toe. The resulting advice and information were: There is no skin damage and no signs of infection. You’ll have to see a chropodist.
Then the gal set about replacing the entire Catheter Cathy Contraption for me. Including fitting a fresh day bag, bless her. A grand job was done.

I meandered hobblingly, using some choice language at whatever it is that’s giving my toe such pain en route, A sot of the houses without any lights on. Then I checked out the end car park. I recall struggling to close the balcony door.
Next thing I find is that I’m lying on the bed! Coming round from a seizure, judging by the acid reflux coming up. I didn’t realise that I had been out of it for so long. The clock told me it was about an hour-long session. 
I got off the bed… and , but tempered the pain, mentally, but not physically. Horis was with me again like yesterday. I was not getting anything done that needed doing, and spent so long on the word listings again, it was 17:00hrs before I knew it!
Not sure why I could not recall it, but on the notepad were this week’s INR dosages, the surgery possibly rang me? Or, did someone visit?

I only kept going with the word list! What a Clot!
I knew it, but was not concerned. I am now, after getting nothing done and trying to catch up on this blog. Truth is, today was a bit of a haze.


,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,””’,,,,,,,,,,,
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The computer or keyboard is playing up.
I must get some help.

TTFN.

Inchie: Thursday 4th December 2025

/ Inchie / 10 Comments

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0515hrs: I burst into life, bounded of off the bed and did a double somersault, catching the night bag as I landed on the floor and did fifty swift press-ups. Then ran yodelling away into the wet room and removed the night pouch. A bit of shadow boxing then…
Well, alright then...
0515hrs: I woke up 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 had to force myself t stay awake long enough to get up and fight against Dizzy Dennis and Lost-Balance-Belinda, as I painfully got the nocturnal bag freed and emptied. I was not in good condition, mentally of physically, this morning. Confusion Konrad had a grip on me. However, despite these things, I started the day and within 10 minutes of using the Porcelain Throne, guess who visited me? Yes, it was good old, much missed, and very welcome !
Trotsky Terence was in charge of the evacuation. Messy, very messy!

Four-Wheeled-Walker-Wally was still in there, from my returning from the opticians. I made a mental note to empty the pod, collapse Wally, and move it back into the balcony later. It was a big job for me, and it’s complicated because I have to move things around to make space to get to the balcony. (I didn’t)

Off to get the kettle on for a brew of Typhoo. I took a snap from the kitchen. Is that the moon or a light at the back? I’ll try to get another tomorrow.

The Carer Who calls me “Bapu” arrived. She pointed out that the Warfarin Dosage note was still not there. We had another quick search, but others and I had already made them for the sheets without finding them. I said I’d ring the Warfarin-DVT Clinic later to confirm the dosages. No problem in the morning, cause Warfarin is taken at teatime or in the evening. Nice that my   “Baby-Princess” Carer had recognised it was missing. Medications were given, and she applied Phorpain gel to my knees. Oh, and my lower back.

I decided not to start the blog yet. I searched my Excel Medical file to get telephone numbers for my Doctors and the QMC Warfarin Anticoagulation-DVT Clinic. But the DVT number was not in the file. So I Googled to find it and added it to the Excel file, ready for when I can call. Then found that the number given was the same as the one for the QMC switchboard, so I amended the ones I’d put in the file.
I felt sneaking up on me. This, I assumed, was because I’d done, well, I thought I had done a decent job in getting the contact number… but still double-checked the numbers, just in case Arithmophobia Arron had made me get it wrong.

I tried the Doctor’s surgery first. This first call was answered by a Robot-AI. Telling me I was being transferred to “Our Customer Navigator. Beep-beep. Then I was connected to another Robot-AI. Telling me I had to pick a number to press; Press 1: If you are bleeding heavily or have chest pains, ring off and dial 999. Press 2: If your call is about prescriptions. Press Three; I couldn’t make out what the AI said on this one. But as I needed to know my current Warfarin doses, surely linked to prescriptions? I pressed 2 and got through to a third Robot-AI. “We do not accept prescription requests by telephone, Email, and started to tell me the most convoluted email address I’ve ever heard. Obviously, I could not keep up with what the electroid was blurting out at a rapid pace – so I rang off, pissed-off!
I think it would be easier to get through to MI5 & MI6 than to get to my Doctor!
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I tried ringing 111 to see if they could advise me on how to avoid being ignored, and maybe even who and how to contact for my Warfarin dosages. Or, not.

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A Robot-AI kicked in. Apparently, I was 23rd in the queue.
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Then I rang the Queen’s Medical Centre Switchboard. Well, I was going to, when a Carer arrived. I told him of my difficulties, and we both had another search for the Warfarin-DVT Anticoagulation doses sheet. He couldn’t spend too long, but he did his best for me. A total failure, of course, par for the course. Only a ten-minute call at midday. I also mentioned all the photographs that I’d lost from yesterday’s visit to the opticians. Crying in front of the Carer was not an option, even though I felt like doing so. Hahaha!
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Back to phoning the QMC switchboard.
The phone was answered almost straight away. For the first time, I was greeted by a human. Not a Robot-AI. I asked to be put through to the DVT Warfarin Anticoagulation Department, and within seconds, the call was transferred. Was my luck changing? No! It was getting worse, and it was answered by a Robot-AI! The electronic-faux-human rattled on, telling me the times they are open. I estimate exactly what he said, as best as I can. It may contain errors, or hopefully not. We are open on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays between 1100hrs & 1600hrs; and open on Fridays from 1100hrs to 1500hrs. We are closed on Thursdays and weekends. You can contact your Doctor by phone or email, or 111 at any time… Hahaha! Just what I’d failed to do! You couldn’t make this rubbish up as fiction. No one would believe it. Farcicalness & the NHS go together like cheese & onion nowadays.
It’s the young ones I fear for, well, not the Oligarchs or Eton attending youngsters. More of the proletariat ones. The NHS is not fit for purpose.
Unfortunately, the only party I see that wants to cure the faults in the NHS is the ‘Your Party’. But they cannot win an election because they don’t have enough candidates to stand for Parliament.
A sad state of affairs, politically.

Today was a feast of embarrassment, frustration and confusion. All normal here then!

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The end is nigh. No need to say why!
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Inchie. Mon/Tue/Wed 24/25/26th Nov 25

/ Inchie / 16 Comments

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I had a theme for my Ode to relate,
My body needs my brain to cooperate,
It talks to itself – rubbish, bletherskate,
My dream? In a cave, the walls began to corruscate,
I was with someone, a Carer, lover and old mate?
As he/she started on me, to lambaste & berate…
Its body faded, it began to loudly cachinate…  
Folks from my past appeared, as a conglomerate,
Hands in hands, they issued me looks of hate,
Then howled out loud, they did not abate…
I cooked roast potatoes, one on each plate,
I wanted to talk, welcome them, hospitate…
The howling temporarily stopped, as they ate,
Telling me I was a terrible ingrate?
Dark Dank Depressing Darius began to inumbrate,
The cave grew cold, and I began to sudate,
Saying out loud, “What the Hell’s going on, mate?”
Dead relatives came, their intentions vulnerate,
They came towards me, starting to ululate,
I tried to stroke, touch them, to vellicate…
I think they may have escaped via St Peter’s gate,
Their bodies began to rapidly deteriorate…
They started to dissolve, one by one, demoniacal! 
Is this real, happening, or maybe notional?
One went ashen, pasty, anaemic, demonical…
One shrank to nothing, all absorbable,
One cursed & swore at me, all abuseable!
Then exploded. Like a bursting bubble,
One blew me a kiss and said I was adorable.
I tried to hug her, but she was not touchable…
A ghostess, how can she be damageable?
She burst into flames, so she was destructible,
One turned to glass,  she was vitrifiable…
Then found out she was also smashable,
An eerie hum all around started to bominate,
Then the nightmare… morningmare did vacate…
07:00hrs, by gum, I did sleep in late,
Fell off the bed, what’s next to tribulate?
The dream ending might compensate.
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But and however…
This blog was not started until Thursday evening. Wednesday & Thursday were not good for me, but Monday was not too bad at all.
Tuesday was troubled with many mini-seizures, each one with not good after-effects, which took a lot out of me, I’m afraid. Concentration was just not there, many accifauxpas, and
Dawned that regularly, each one seemed deeper than it really was. Tuesday is best forgotten anyway, so the lack of photos or memories of what happened explains the lack of detail in the scrawny Tuesday section. 
Wednesday’s cock-ups ensured me that , bless him, he was again a frequent visitor. Many things will be out of sync and order, sorry. Last night’s lack of sleep, due to
And his ranting, perpetual criticisms of yours truly, made any proper sleep an impossibility. At least the seizures, only two, were lengthy. I judge from the ease and the incredibly short time it took me to recover each time.
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I gave up trying to sleep. Assuming it was about 04:00hrs, but soon found out, after taking of the night bag and going to the wet room to tackle the morning ablutionalisationings… as Carer Manpreet came in it to the flat, that it was actually gone 07:00hrs! WE got the Health Checks done & recorded, and the medications were issued.

Calendar changed, tea brewed.

Morrison order.
Moved them into the kitchen.
Treats!
Favourites.
Fridge loaded.

Afternoon seizures.

Evening shot.


Memory, Jet Black Blank
Seizures were having a heyday.

Morning shot, I think.

Evening shot, I think.

Just a guess at this rating.

Another stormy night’s sleep. If it wasn’t for my taking a bashing from , I may well have still been in bed when the Carer came again.
I decided to force my reluctant body from the bed, primarily, to get a painkiller, to counter the pain from Shirley’s worst-ever night-attack. 
I didn’t make it. I’m not sure how long it lasted, but it wasn’t long. I could tell after it was all over by the acid reflux coming up in my chest, throat, mouth, and nose, and it was taking so long for me to recover fully. Although, to be honest, I don’t think I did get back to normal, if anything about me can be called normal, (Hehe!) Until 17:00hrs, or so.
My plan, formulated this morning, was to get things ready for when Ejaz arrives, go with me to the opticians, and then do as much as I could in the time left, working on the replacement word list.

Carer Manpreet arrived, and she checked that the HC return figures had been recorded correctly. Medications were given. A gaping blank spot in my memory. I assume I’d had a seizure, but Manpreet didn’t tell me… or I didn’t hear or remember her saying. The state I was in after each one today is no surprise. I got on with the word listings for an hour or two. To my utter amazement, an Asda delivery arrived. What? Another food delivery? Beats and worried me.
Cheesey cobs. cheesey wriggles, and some iced bread rolls. I tried to gain access to my vacant memory void, to work out when and why.
Come to think of it, I may have got the delivery days wrong, sort of back to way, on the wrong days. They may have been the other way around. Or, not.
Topped up with waters of various types. It’s costly having to keep swigging a minimum of three litres every day to keep the bladder working.
Meat pies with shortcrust and puff pastry tops. Polish cooked smoked ham, Nurses drinkies, and some bacon bits, erm… lardons they are called.
Blimus, I’ve got the fridge and freezer crammed full again. But of course, the social lady promised me help with this problem. Also, with the finances, when I get home from the hospital. Assured me of help with the ‘spent a fortune’ on wheelchairs… getting them appropriately fitted and safe to use. 
Age Concern said… Oh, forget them. I’ve not heard anything from any of them! I’m disappointed and feeling a smidge uncared about, to say the least.

Carer Mizra, then Carer Ejaz, arrived. Mizra departed after medicating me and seeing that things were alright. Ejaz and I got down to the Opticians only to find that we had arrived too late and they could not test my eyes. Ejaz dealt with the receptionist, and they made another appointment for next Wednesday. How we got the wrong time beats me. Ejaz has always taken care of them for me. Sadly, my eyes are getting worse, and later I checked on the HHS site – bad news. It said that if you do not catch it in time, it cannot be repaired. Great! Now it will be another week before the test, and the optician can refer me to the EENT! 
The eye is getting worse each day, and I’m struggling at times. Nothing new there then.
Ejaz and I returned to the flat, and he put the laundry in the washer. Mopped the kitchen for me, and went to get the laundry into the dryer, and realised it had not finished washing. So left it until his subsequent call to collect it for me. Off he went; he’d done the best he could on my behalf.

I pressed on with the word listings, and Ejaz returned to fetch the laundry for me, and he hung it up on hangers. Night medications given.

I started making a template up for this 3-day blog… and realised it was gone 23:00hrs! 

Better get something to eat.

🤎 TTFNski! 🤎

Inchie: Sunday 28th September 2025

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

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Inchy felt below par in mind & body, the fool has put the wrong Ode Intro graphic title on here. This is nothing unique; the plonker has done this before. But at least he got the colour of the lettering nearly right. He expects retribution to be exacted, as it was last night. Yes, from Thought-Storming-Steve. Serves the uninhibited twit right! He’s sorry!
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Ah, the wind is blowing, as I try to get the car going…
Twas my old three-wheeled Reliant Robin,
She was aged when I bought her. She keeps stopping,
I thought it was the fuel filter, cause when I got her going,
The engine & plastic body were shuddering and shaking,
She stopped again, near a garage, so I pulled in…
Asked if I could give the RAC a ring…
Two hours later, I saw the RAC man arriving, 
Walked down to the roadway to greet him; it was raining, 
Both of us soaked, I asked the man who was serving…
If he minded if we used his WC to get dried in,
Which we did, a sociable man, we were joking…
As we left, we saw his motorbike & sidecar had been stolen,
No brooding or moaning; well, a little cursing,
I gave him a lift in my rain-soaked, now-working Robin,
To the RAC base, next to the pub, The Farmers Bobbin,
Then on to work, the rain was still coming…
I got to work late after all the kerfuffling,
What happened took some chymifying…
I told the boss what happened, but I was laughing…
I got the sack, he thought I was lying!
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More True Tales of Woe to follow,
That is, if the BP does not stay so low,
I’m running so far behind, I’ll have to go.
Not on holiday to Acapulco…
But to see my friend, Angelino…
He still owes me £150, you know,
No problem, just thought I’d let you know. 💟
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One of those terrible, LESS days.
Everything was a problem, a handicap, mingled with annoying blanks, and I was mentally all over the place. Monday, when I eventually started this blog, although feeling calmer, and the much-appreciated, even if only temporarily, departure of Anne Gyne and Toothache Tiffany, I struggled to get things in order, and some photos I cannot recall taking, but the date on the SD card told me I had taken them on Sunday.
So, I’m already behind again with the blog. With all the extra diabetic blood tests, limping slowly around with the sticks, and my mind still floating from subject A to B, I found myself doing subject C, forgetting to go back to do A and B.
I often sense that I’ve got something wrong. I’m forever going back to the kitchen to see if I’ve left the oven on, fridge or freezer doors open, or my most common mistake, left the hot water to run cold. This often hinders the washing or hand-laundering that I’d planned to do, and I become more confused and further behind with things that need doing, but don’t get done. The frustration grows, the solution being so far out of reach, beyond me.
The ablutions are now taking me a lot longer to complete. Two hours, even without having a shower. Carer Ejaz gets annoyed with me when I try to rush things or bend down to pick anything up that I’ve dropped on the floor; bless him, he has the best of intentions. He fears me ending up back in the hospital, knowing what a nightmare it was last time. Bless him. Tells me to leave them if the picker-upper cannot get them, and he will check on his next call if anything has been dropped in a dangerous place.
So, I apologise if things get out of order, are missed, or are duplicated. It’s hard work today (Monday) concentrating without getting sidetracked of thoughts and tasks that disrupt my intended pattern of plans and intentions.
This paragraph flowed too easily for my liking.
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Here I go, at last…
Bedded down at 00:10 hours, and into a broken, every now and then, sleep, forcing myself to dismount the bed at about 05:00hrs.
Carer Ejaz arrived a few minutes later as I was in the wet room battling to free the dark brown, solid, bobbly nuggets of the Constipation Konrad evacuation.
It was a long, arduous, painful task, needing a lot of urging.
Ejaz foamed the left lower leg lesions and issued the prescription medications. Gave me some extra Laxido to counteract the recent issues.
Did a body check, Porpain gelling Cartilage Chloe, and my lower back above the bottom, which he checked and reported as being bloodless. Then he barrier creamed under my flabby belly, the right arm, and the right testicle. Reminded me to take at least one stick with me whenever I moved to another room, and scolded me for bending down to pick things up. He was right, of course, he usually is, bless him. Within minutes of Ejaz’s departure, I was sitting on the Porcelain Throne again. I felt a little less resistant this time, but it did cause a bit of bleeding from Haemmorhoid Harold.

Made a start of Saturday’s blog, at the same time making several stupid errors that cost me hours to correct. Then, the return of the seizures. Then, the first one made things even worse, as it came in the middle of my trying to put right the earlier problems and foul-ups that I’d made. I’m not sure how long it lasted, but it felt like it was a long one. Because when I returned in incomprehensible confusion and disorientation, it cleared so quickly. I’ve noticed that the longer ones are so much easier and quicker to recover from. Luckily, I hadn’t continued working on the blog… when that happens, it is so time-consuming and annoying having to correct the errors I’d made in the seizure. For some unknown reason, I abandoned correcting of my earlier blogging mistakes on the blog and went to the kitchenette. I got the orange/brown nightshirt handwashed and hung it up to drip-dry on a hanger in the wet room shower rail. 
I took a snap of the kitchen window view. I’m not sure what I did wrong, but this photo had a hue that was nothing like the one in the camera’s eye-viewer when I took it.

Ejaz made a quick call, and I returned to the blog to correct so many errors that even I couldn’t believe that I’d made so many of them.

During Carer Ejaz’s teatime call, he checked, as I did, the PM Health Checks to ensure I had them right. Because the morning ones were so low, back in the danger zone.

I recall taking these cloud shots from the balcony, where I went to picture the end car park, but got carried away with the beauty of these clouds in the blue sky. I saw so many shapes within them… as any other addicted to pareidolia, like me, would.

I had to abandon blogging and finish it later; I’ll catch up in the morning. Suddenly attacked, this time including the foul, acrid taste coming up from the stomach; similar to the ones that come up after a nocturnal seizure. Concentration goes out of the window; concentration becomes a memory.
I think I rested in the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping recliner, and put the TV on. Fell asleep (or had a seizure) and woke up on top of the bed, the acidulous taste lingering, twixt my stomach and my mouth.
I urged my body off of the bed, and got the stick, off to the wet room to use some mouthwash & Peptac.
Within a few minutes, the acerbic taste dissipated, and my thoughts turned to food… I investigated what was available in the refrigerator and freezer.
I created rather than cooked up this little feast.
Country sausage (ready-cooked), cubed potatoes oven-baked, Water chestnuts, and roast chestnuts.
Very nice!

Out of the blue, a nurse arrived, apologising for calling on a Sunday. Someone is coming on Tuesday. Thinking I had been informed about her visit for today. (Naturally, I may well have been and I’d forgot about it – it could happen to anyone… but, odds are this is what happened). I am to have a home heart and blood monitor installed. She will return on the delivery day, letting me know the day before, and guide me and a Carer on how to use it. That was a nice gesture. She gave me a number to ring, should the BP be any lower than it was today. Advised me to pack a bag with things needed, just in case. Towel, pyjamas, razors, foam, prescription toothpaste & brush, slippers, etc. And not to forget my mobile, hearing aids & batteries, spectacles and a list of medications I take.

The Cardiac & DVT nurses, as well as the District Nurse, are also due to change or renew their long-overdue appointments . So, don’t fret if I’m unable to post a blog on Tuesday. As Arni said, “I’ll be back!” Hahaha! I might not even be going anywhere.

Another pretty view from the kitchenette window.

Ejaz made his last call, insisting that I get to bed early and try to get more sleep. Which gave me an inner excuse not to wash and shave, Hehe!

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🤎 Please Taketh Care, Each! 🤎
 And have a good kip, if you can
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Inchy’s Ode: Friday 30th May 2025

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

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I had a great idea, all be told,
To go into today’s Inchy Ode,
I was unshirted, & the brain unsorted,
To the Porcelain Throne, I ventured,
The motion was being prevented,
Constipation Conrad; I was tortured,
An hour later, the torpedo appeared…
To the blood & pain, I was not enured,
It painfully slowly came out, multicoloured,
I felt my innards being distorted…
The monster stuck, it was unimparted,
Surprisingly plopping, it was aerated!
Back to the Ode, but it had to be aborted,
I think my memory box had busted,
My mind & body, both beleaguered,
Back to the WC, I almost blubbered,
I got the second torpedo out painfully,
Then, a brainwave came to me…
I’d lost the Ode’s plot, alarmingly,
I’d tell you of the WC barbarity,
I had to make visits again, how many? Three!
I thought I might take up residency…
Arthur Itis’ knees, both rheumaticky,
Since the Covid jab, I’ve felt so sleepy,
But I’ve not lost it completely…
My brain is acting somewhat whimsically,
Another tumble, another Whoopsie!
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TTFN’ski

Inchy: Wed, Thur 30th May 2025 The end of an era

/ Inchie / 14 Comments

Now, CorelDraw will not let me save or import any graphics or photos at all! Even the ones I took in the afternoon!

Wednesday 28th
Horrible busy day. I took pictures in the morning and got graphics on.
Carer Joe arrived. And he set to sorting the junk room.
Wore me out.

I was peed off when I realised the CorelDraw problem.
I don’t understand it at all.

Thursday.
The nurse came to administer the COVID-19 injection.
I remember last year and the three days of sleeping that followed. It did again.

Friday.
CorelDraw has blanked out all the options on the screen. Can’t import, export, save, or copy anything…
I’ve really had enough.
Can’t see any help on the horizon.
But I’ll bother Carer Joe again when he calls next. And ask if his lads can help me sort out the problem.
With tax, CorelDraw cost me £449 plus this year, and I can’t use it!

I could, indeed have been crying. Sorry for myself.
I’d like to pull out of it all together.
The lads may help me in doing that, I hope.

When I get over this sleepiness and tiredness, whenever that may be, I’ll try to get the spirit to do a graphicless, or use an old one for a daily Ode on its own daily. But my spirits are so low.

I’ve never felt lower.
I also have a lot of comments to catch up on, as well as WP Reader. I’ll do them as soon as I can after posting this saddest of blogs.

Sorry about this.
Cheers.
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