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Up at 0700hrs.  
A blue coloured foggy morning.
Straight ahead.
To the left.
To the right.

Computer tea, calendar clock set.
The blood on the tissue was from the cracked lips. Nowt to fret about. I put lip balm on, stopped it.

Balcony shots through the window later.
Front car park.

, , and being the main contributors, pain & botherwise.
I lost count of the things I dropped, knocked over, or lost this morning.  and onto the list. Oh, and started leaking a little later on. Walking sticks at least a dozen times. Eye drops, Ear drops, razor (twice), toothbrush, tea mug, teatowel, scrubbing brush, milk bottle, teabag caddie; there were many more, but these came to mind easily enough.   
Also, I had two can’t-let-go-of-it episodes. The first one was the kettle, which took a lot of time to be convinced to release it, then, after I’d freed the mug , it had a go at me in the same hand. For the first time ever, Pete refused to release my , and cameback as I was trying to force the fingers to open. Fortunately, Carer Ejz came in at that moment. He could not believe how hard it was to prise his fingers apart. Then later on, while checking the potatoes in the oven, I burnt my right knuckle as joined in.

Also, an old ailment that I thought had cured itself and had not visited for about 3 months returned ! She surprised me and made me jump, as the current shot up my right leg into the groin area. Still, I had missed her. Haha! She did it again last night, twice, and as I write this on Tuesday at noon, she just gave me another. Still, looking on the bright side, it is much improved.

I got an email from Jenny, and I answered it, thanking her. But at this moment I question if I did or not… Tsk! I’ll have a check now. 
Yep, I did it. Jenny sent me an email. She’s got a cold coming on. I hope it doesn’t turn out badly for her. Jenny & Frank are in the photo. 🌺

A blue-topped message popped up from Bang & Olufsen, asking if I wanted to make changes to my hard drive. Should I?

I went to get the spuds out of the oven and noticed the mist had turned to fog. I opened the kitchenette window to take these shots. Knocked a bottle of vinegar, a pot of black pepper, tarragon, and gravy powder off of the windowsill. I swore a bit, I may have growled, too. Then, as I bent down, supported by my , and tugged at the . I suppose it was more of a Howl than an Arrrgh that came out. Followed by some pretty crude curses… which became positively crude as the release tap opened as I grabbed at it, weeing on my sock, dressing gown, slipper, and the floor. I’m not certain,
I don’t think I can take this much more!
Cause cleaning the floor, washing the feet, getting the socks in the laundry bag, was a mammoth, not to mention painful, job for me in the state I was in.
Now I’m sure I can’t take much more.

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No-butter buttered baked potatoes,
& Hahal chicken frankfurters!

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Woke up at seven, by the Carer. I was not up to having a body check this morning… Again! I felt ‘Out-of-it’, and well so for the first hour.
The new medication, Ezetimibe, could possibly be the cause of these terrible, debilitating morning reluctant awakenings. And the tremendous resistance to getting out of bed? These disinclinations indeed began after the first day of taking Ezetimibe.
Carer Dilan, so hard for him to understand what I am saying, and vice versa, issued the medications and asked if I needed any foaming, gelling, or creaming done. I said no, not until I get the abnlutions done, thanks. All I felt I needed was to get back to sleep, despite having a five-hour sleep that night.

As I slowly began to feel more with it, I grabbed the Kodak-Tim-2 and hobbled into the kitchen to take a couple of shots of the blue sky visible from the open window. I put the kettle on. Doing so, I realised I’d not put in the olive oil in the earholes yet. Back to the wet room and did so. Returning to the kitchen to check I hadn’t left the window open and to make a brew of Co-op 99 tea. To find I’d .
A bitter, sour feeling came from the innards. My self-lambasting began. Name-calling, swearing, and all out loud. I hope the neighbours couldn’t hear me.

NHS
This happened later, but the memory is still sore. But Monday proved another problem-ridden day.
I’ll tell you now, to save me writing it later and getting more depressed. For at this very moment, is with me. temporarily and suddenly departed. I wish he’d sod-off!#
Last week, I got an email asking me to make an appointment with the Doctor, no idea why, no reason given. Carer Ejaz rang the surgery, and after a long time, was told the available slots, and Ejaz wrote them down on the calendar for me. They will ring us back with the time of the appointment.
They rang today to see why I want an appointment. I told them I didn’t, and I was told to book one. Which has still not been confirmed. Date & times given to the Carer: January 28th, at 15:15. 15:50, 16:00, 16:10, or 16:25hrs. They will now ring the Carer to arrange a time that suits Ejaz and ICC, so he can take me and be available to answer any questions.
I don’t need any help to get confused; I can do that perfectly well, on my own.

I made an Asda order for food for Wednesday morning, 08:30>09:30 hrs. I checked on the site before making the order to ensure I had not already ordered one.

Although I was so far behind with these blogs, by nearly 21:00hrs, my vision had faded so much that I could not see sufficiently to continue. Glaucoma or Cataract? Or both? Always the same when evening arrives. I lasted a little longer tonight. I made a meal of sorts, wearily. 
As I ate it, all my current concerns weaved their way around my watered cebrium. Finances, Neurology failing to contact me, EENT still not contacted me about the Glaucoma/Cataract, Will I be moved into a home? Or will I manage to get extra Care cover? The mix-up with the Doctor’s appointment. The dentist is changing the appointment. Silly to worry about, I know, but I have not had a known Seizure for two days.
The computer problems. The catheter was not changed on time. No one reminded me to do a Lifeline check call. The urine has gone so dark and stinky-poo after starting the new medication. Although the late leg bag change on the catheter may have played a part. I’m going to ask the morning Carer to change it and put the new one on the other leg. Now, this past week, I reckon I have left the hot tap (faucet) running cold five times. Left the oven on overnight twice. Walked into walls and doorframes. On the bright side, I’ve only had one tumble, and was lucky that it happened in the hallway, with both walls within reach and nothing in my hands, so it was avoided. No one has contacted me about sorting out the wheelchairs yet. The help with the computer remains absent. No news on the 2 adrenaline auto-injectors, or a prescription for them (Although I was in hospital, when they told me, after recovering from heart failure, so… did I dream this?). No news about the check to assess whether a Trephination is needed.   
I may make a complete list of of my unattended needs, and maybe my failures… then when they burn my decrepit body, they can burn along with me. Just in case they can’t remember me. Hahaha!

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TTFN each!
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Inchy: Aye-up thicko. You’ve had it tough lately!
Inchie: What? No, everything’s going smoothly!
Inchy: That reply holds some artificiality…
Inchie: Well, I’ve had enough with failures, losses,
forgetting things, worries, depression, Cock-ups
with CorelDraw,  the Cloud, and Grammarly.
Then there’s the possibility of moving to a new locality…
Inchy: Ah, but that’s not yet a reality…
Inchie: What is?
Inchy: Your move to a different locality!
Inchie: I’d not finished telling you yet, you Wally!
Inchy: No need to, do you not remember? It’s me
that monitors, nae, controls the brain of Inchie?
Inchie: The cataract, toothache & neurology…
Inchy: I know nothing of otorhinolaryngology…
Inchie: Erm… You talk with obliquity…
Inchy: Your replies are full of obliquity…
Inchie: What are you trying to tell me?
Inchy: Just getting on yer goat, to make yer angry
Inchie: Why?
Inchy: I’m fed up too, with your acting otiosely,
Inchie: Meaning? Tell me!
Inchy: I suppose to you. I’m something ghostly?
Inchie: Spot on, matey!
Inchy: And where do I live, Inchie?
Inchie: You dwell in my brain, Dummy!
Inchy: Of which you have no ontosophy!
Inchie: The neurosurgeon gave me a tomography!
Inchy: And the result, what did he say?
Inchie: I’ve likely got Hydrocephaly…
nchy: He also said you may need a craniotomy!
Inchie: Well, yes, that it’s a possibility…
Inchy: Why have you not had it done, ducky?
Inche: They are too busy, ostensibly, no
answer when I call them, frustratingly,
Inchy: This is really depressing me, actually!
Inchie: What?
Inchy: The fact that you just can’t see?
Inchie: What?
Inchy: Soon, when I talk, you’ll hear gurglingly!
Inchie: Are you referring to my ophthalmometry?
Inchy: No, you pratt! sadly…
Inchie: What then?
Inchy: Water on the Brain? Who lives there? Who’s
the one who has the same fate as you to scare?
Inchie: Water on the brain… But you live in there?
You’ll get drowned? Now I see it with clarity…
Inchy: Tell the neurosurgeon to gerrit done quickly!
Inchie: Alright, leave it with me…
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I woke a few times during the night. Notwithstanding, I got a total of… wait for it… 8 hours kip!
Waking up around 0800hrs, with the assistance of Carer Ejaz. He said it took him a while to get me to stir. This is all taken from Ejaz’s words; I have no recollections of the first few minutes of wakefulness. Ejaz was concerned about my unbalanced, faraway status, and I was talking gibberish for the first two minutes. It was just pure exhaustion and tiredness, I think. When I tried to stand up, I failed, and Ejaz insisted I stay in the chair. (I’d fallen asleep 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.)
I think, well, he would have given me the medications. But no body checks, creaming, or salving was done. He apparently arrived late and had to leave. After making sure I was okay. A great lad.
I soon fell asleep again, waking around 10:30 hours. And caught my balance before moving. Did the balance exercises as well… I think. 

I was a little unsteady, but much better than I was when Ejaz called. Seems I’d put the TV on, no recollection of doing so.
Oh, a much-belated, meant  Good Morning Each.

It was amazing how quickly I felt better. I washed the pots from last night. And readied things for the , and off to the wet room.
I did forget to do my teeth. But shaved with only two teeny-weeny cuts. Then, I had to delay the washing to utilise the . And what
a surprise that was. Three days’ worth of  , now had returned with a vengeance. What a messy evacuation!
The hot water was no longer coming out hot. I knew what I’d done, and left the wet room, went into the kitchen and turned off the tap (faucet) I’d left running. The usual grinding of my teeth, swearing and anger at myself developed. Yet, nowhere as violent as usual?

Back to finish shaving. A body scrub and the medicationings were done where I could get to them. No hassle involved. I even had three lucky breaks when I was getting fresh protection pants on, yes!
First: As I reached for the pack to get the pants from, I knocked over a two-litre bottle of bleach. Fret not, for not only did it not burst open, but it also missed my ingrowing toenail and feet.
Two: I was carrying out the usual procedure for getting the PPs on, and got a
bout, and lost grip of the seat-raisers’ grab-bar. I kept my balance because  was within reach for once.
Third: As I was leaving the room to get dressed, I tripped on the mat and took a forward tumble through the open door… Now, it did have a downside. I’d moved the clothes airer closer to the wet room make it easier to reach the clothes. Downside?
It no longer works. Humph!

Better get a move on, it’s Sunday already and nearing the afternoon.

The sun is getting through in the front car park. But a smidge misty above.

Made astart on updating the last blog.

Later, the sun moved across, making the picture taken through the balcony window look bright.

Forgot to put the lip balm on.
It soon stopped the bleeding.

As the Carer arrived, I spotted the early evening sky, which looked photo-worthy.
Gorgeous!

The keyboard suddenly stopped working!
No panic yet, I assumed the batteries had packed up and replaced them with new ones. I dropped the two batteries as I was taking them out, and now, Sunday at 12:10 hours, I still haven’t found one of them.
Anyway, this did not solve the problem.
I consulted Google. tried their advice, without any luck. (This goes without saying, really. Hehe!)
Saved the work, closed all down, gave it a few minutes, and then rebooted. No luck again. Fingers crossed, I got the spare keyboard, a cheapo Technet wired one, and got that linked up. AHA! Now things are typable again!
Working again? It’s all a mystery to me!
But so glad it did restart.

Got one of, if not my favourite meal, Bombay Potatoes come a close second, but this meal I love, when I manage to cook it right. A long preparation time and baking, but it’s worth it. Even the mass of washing up the mixing bowls and sticky cutlery… are you wondering what it is? Cheesy baked potatoes!

Pre-heat the oven, I put mine at 180°. Place your large spuds in the oven, but keep checking until they are cooked enough to mash.
Take your Shredded Leicester Cheese (essential: to use Leicester cheese; it’s tasteless raw but magnificent cooked). Get your mixing bowl, and let it warm a little for the mixing. Liquid sea salt, black pepper, light soya sauce (It’s stronger than the dark), malt or distilled vinegar (wine vinegar if you like it, most alcoholics do), and a half-spoon of Marmite. Ready to use.
Then, I usually burn my fingers getting them out of the oven and cutting them in half, no different this time.
Cut each potato in half lengthwise. Scoop out the flesh into a mixing bowl. After each half is put in, a little cheese and each seasoning is added. Then mix the ingredients with a fork until well combined, and use a spoon to finish the job. Then spoon-fill the mixture back into the emptied potato husks. Run a fork over the top of the potato mix to help it crisp up easier.
Back into the oven, but keep an eye on them.
This is mine after serving them up.
Did you notice that there are only seven of the half potatoes in this picture? That’s because I ate one while prepping the plate. Darned Tasty! A bad time of year for tomatoes; avoid Spanish and definitely Moroccan this time of year, bitter! I was lucky to get the one in the photo; they are Dutch, possibly irradiated, but at least they tasted like tomatoes, unlike the Moroccan & Spanish tastelessness.

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🌺 Cheery-Bye, Each! 🌺
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Things were going fairly well this morning.
Then I woke up.
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04:20hrs: Night catheter pouch taken off. Thought I’d put the news on to see if World War Three had started yet. The internet came on, so I assumed not. Bags sorted, and the innards informed me that I needed to attend the Porcelain Throne. I did. It was one heck of a long visit, too!
Lots of arghs, owowows, ugeeeers, and much forcing and pain; things began to move. A few ‘flipping hecks’ further, and the torpedo evacuated. Relief!

Cleaned up, and off to the kitchenette to get the kettle on to make a brew of 99 tea.
Not only did I leave the tap running, but I dropped the milk bottle. What a mess to clean up. Made the tea, left it to brew, took two snaps of the morning view to the right, then left. Not that much shows up.
Started the computer, and nipped to the kitchen to take some photographs now that it was getting later and lighter. Both were taken through the balcony’s closed windows. But they turned out a smidge better than I thought they might. The end-of-car-park photo on the right here seemed to show some activity. A few vehicles had their lights on. Only one car had parked on the chevrons this morning.
This one came out much clearer and more detailed.

The Asda order came after seven o’clock. Apparently, I ordered all the right things this time. No hidden unknown extras for once.

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News of the crane crashing down on a moving train in Thailand. I checked for updates on Friday morning: 32 dead, 68 injured. Then found that two people were killed, with many injured, after a construction crane collapsed onto a highway in Thailand, a day after a crane accident in Thailand. Leaving 32 people dead.
I feel terrible for them and their relatives. RIP.

Misty
Turning into fog, methinks.

Getting thicker, later.
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IN THE LATE AFTERNOON
I was working in CorelDraw and seemed to be doing all right, as it happens. I should never think things like this with my famously bad luck?
I wanted to add a page to the file, simple enough, drop menu – press Add New Page, what could go wrong? Well, something did, obviously. Possibly, with only one eye working, courtesy of Cataract Katie, I may have clicked the incorrect option. I may never know, cause all the page tabs disappeared! Leaving a grey-blue continuous strip where the tabs were seconds earlier.
Naturally, Panic Set In. Not having the slightest idea what I’d done or not done right didn’t help my investigation on how to get them back.
My language, through frustration, was abysmally bad & abusive. Boy, did I get angry with myself? YES!
Thought I’d take a look at the option list to see if I could identify the problem. See if there was an option on it to remove tabs or something similar.
I felt a bit of an idiot (fair enough). When I actually got the mouse to where the tabs should have been, the grey-blue continuous strip, I realised the drop-down arrow was on the tabs that were no longer there!
Depression, frustration and self-lambasting all increased in unison. Hope was fading here!
Something I do regularly with CorelDraw cock-ups, is try to save everything, close it down & other programs. Run a Virus Check. Then turn off the computer. CorelDraw let me close it down in the usual way. So I did this again. I happened to note the time as I did this, 17:30hrs. It took 15minutes to save the file!
This did not bode very well for a successful outcome. I pressed on with little faith, Sved Excel, Notebook, Internet and MS Word. Ran the Virus Check & Cleaner, then turned it off. After a couple of minutes, I unplugged the computer and went to make a brew. To give the computer & peripherals enough time to cool. A Carer arrived, and he could not help but notice my crochety frame of mind.

This, of course, meant my concentration dissolved.

After issuing the medications, we spoke of the Doctor’s visit next Wednesday… not sure I was paying enough attention, because I can’t recall if we’d arranged to do anything? The limited brainpower was still pondering over the thought of how to get the CorelDraw page tabs back and avoid being unable to do the blog.
My biggest fear.
Thanked Ejaz and off he went. I just had to go back to my efforts getting the page tags back.

And I did. But , I could remember what I’d done and not… although it did come back to me after I’d given up and started the chips & pie meal. I remembered how long it took to save the CorelDraw file.  Used CCleaner, just in case I’d missed it. Not a lot of junk was picked up, so I assumed I’d done it earlier. More time lost.
\\\\\\I brought me meal to the computer and nibbled at it as I waited for the computer to boot up.
Restarted the computer as the meal got colder.
Fingers crossed, I opened CorelDraw.
The Page Tabs were still missing!
I saw the funny side, then laughed gave a smile,
No longer annoyed, and after a afterwhile,
Is getting annoyed & angry, worthwhile?
Silly of me to get worked-up & volatile,
What am I saying, wait a while…
This is just not my usual style,
That’s cause really I’m full of bile!
I’m feeling rather adversarial…
My talk of me laughing, was artificial,
Then Friday morning came a miracle!
I got the tabs back on, then just as terrible,
I lost Grammarly… abominable,
They now use AI, no one is talk-to-able,
After two hours of advice, questionable,
I’d got 14 tabs open on Google…
Told IT I’d dementia, thtat was ignorable
I want to leave Grammarly, quickly,
A.I.’s instructions were simply,
Confused, I need to check my spelling.
Grammarly, I want to be leaving,
Just follow these instructions…
Six more tabs, I gave up!

Then the Age Concern Lady phoned. Can’t recall what shew said apart from she’ll call me back. (Friday), cause I won’t be able to do a blog now, until things get sorted. Which I an’t see happening. Mind you, I have some graphics ready done.
Christine, the Age UK lady rang back. She is sending a letter to the doctor about my situation. And as contacted the Social Services. They will get in touch with me later about a possible move to a home. I’ll miss the morning photographing and the tree copse. Then again, I may not be able to do any blogging unless I can get help with the current problems. Memory boost, Grammarly & CorelDraw.

And maybe I can get help with the Grammarly farce. Wot am I saying – Huh!

Keep well, and A;; the Bestest.
Ah saw it… All the Bestest!

TTFN

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Broken sleep, wake-ups delivered (that I recall) from Twitching-Neck-Ted, Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley, and with Acid-Reflux-Fred on last awakening, I assume that must have had nocturnal Seizures. 
By the time I rose, detached the night catheter bag, and visited the Porcelain Throne, Carer Ejaz was coming in.

Very oddly, Ejaz told me I was all over the place and not talking usually. How did I not know this? Once the idea lodged in my nut, it became apparent I was meandering mentally and physically. Odd, this was!
He got me to sit down, and it was obvious he was right. My balance was terrible, and Ejaz wanted to call for help. He issued the medications, but didn’t do any creaming or foaming, as I wished to get the ablutions done. With the lad’s caring nature and activities, within five minutes, I felt much more transparent, aware, and better balanced. I do occasionally have mornings like this, but I’ve always been aware of how I felt, but not this morning. I think the new medication could be affecting me, because out-of-mornings are getting more regular since starting the Ezetimibe tablets. Also, the urine has darkened appreciably. Both are on the long list of side effects. And maybe the ‘make you feel more tired & drained’, too?

I stripped and went off to the wet room for a scrub-up.
The shave produced just one teeny-weeny cut, and the after-shave soon stopped it. But afterwards, I realised that I’d not done an outstanding job of shaving. Trouble is, the hair I had was blonde, but now it is almost a transparent white. I felt it, but could not see it in the mirror. Could cataract Katie have been the cause? Or Peripheral Pete? I lost the plot again!
Got the teeth done, but was annoyed. Putting it mildly. Body scrub, and got on with, the . Well, here I could get at.
Olive oil, the earholes, eye drops, spray, and cream . Got the hearing aids in.
Then put some foam on , with the aid of the Short-Picker-Upper-Unwin. 

Got a khagoul and dressing gown on, and went on the computer. I was well and truly behind with the blogging again, Humph! As per usual nowadays.

I took a break after an hour or so to take several photos of the morning view. Which were to appear here. Had I not left the Kodak-Tim-2 SD card in the computer slot last time I used it? But they were not very good.

GOOD & BAD LUCK: Then I set out to find the long-missing MS Word lists… wait for it…
And I found one, well, two! Miraculous! There’s always a but – But, it got so convoluted during the searching in files that I knew nothing about, I’ll be ganged if I can find it again to retrieve the other one that was hidden in the maze of confusing sections of the computer. 
They were both old ones, one from 2004, the other from 2014. So I opened the 2014 one, to find that it had not been alphabetised. That was it for the next four hours. I was so overjoyed to find and upload it. Although it hasn’t been sorted, it has dampened the spirits a smidge. But I was determined to make a start on it. Four hours later, I had to stop; time and mental fatigue had caught up with me. It was an enormous file, and I think I’d only done about 10% of it, if that much. Yet still had an admittedly diminished joy at finding it in the first place. I was sort of Semi-Smug, now.

Then lost heart a little further. When I couldn’t get back to where I’d found the files, more time was lost.
I couldn’t remember where I’d found them earlier. them. History searched, then realised it would not be on the internet anyway. During this failed farting about, many things happened.

Carer called, got another Warfarin dosage through the post. Ejaz did the creaming and foaming of areas I could not reach earlier.
In between, I did take some pictures.
But mainly of the views

First one.
Later…

Colourful.

Then the nosh


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TTFN

 

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Another of the repeated reluctant to get out of bed awakenings. Not sure how many times I nodded off again, but it was 07:30hrs when the Carer woke me with the sound of the admission intercom.
I got tangled up in the long tube from the nocturnal catheter pouch as I hobbled half-awake to the control panel in the mini-hallway. Clouted my right shoulder against the wall, trying not to fall. And Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley Dawned. She was on and off all day long. Can’t work out why she now hurts when shuddering too; up to two days ago, she didn’t at all.
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The body rots,
Mental problems? Lots,
Bills, debts, no honeypots,
Failures disasters & hotchpots,
An HMG of oligarchs & idiots,
I won no lottery jackpots,
Senility, at a good rate of knots,
No more sex, but I get the hots,
Instead, I just wash the pots…
People replaced with AI & robots,
I’m getting more late-life crisis,
I need help, and/or diorthosis,
To cope with this late-life circus…
Want to see the early-blooming crocus,
Before I leave this hocus pocus…
To St Peter’s Gate; I am temerarious!
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An uptight Sunday
But High-Mood-Horis, in his way,
kept Depression Darius at bay.
Naturally not for all day,

I do so love doing wordsmithery,
Although I’m ageing & getting doddery,
I’ve never ever won on the lottery…
But that doesn’t mean a lot to me,
Try to help others along my way,
Spread a little joy, every day,
I’ll merrily greet fading-away,
Forget the cardiopulmonary,
Being shot twice, once on my birthday,
To whom should I pray?
For a less painful, but peaceful day?
Putin? Trump, someone heavenly?
Forgive my foolery & foppery,
It’s the new medications you see…
I blame it mainly on my ancestry,
Many relatives have been locked away,
Called Mad-Houses, back in the day,
Lunatic asylum, nut farm for the barmy,
Now, a mental health facility,
The men in whitecoats missed Gerry,
Now, they want me sent to a facility… 
A Residential Home is that for Inchie?
Lost the plot again, admittedly,
The telephone rang, interruptingly,
My bank wants to see me at the Trustee,
A bill to pay and not enough money…
I’ve heard nowt from the NHS Neurology,
Or from the Orthopaedic, at the QMC,
To check on my fractured knee,
Ah, well, I’ll make a mug of tea, 
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Light coating of snow
Not many lights on again.07:50hrs, No Carer yet. Hope
he’s alright.
Lights on, getting lighter.
Got carried away, lost the plot and did
more work on the Word Lists.

I rang the Carers to see if anyone had been
or not. At first, she said that he had been; I was about to thank her and apologise, and she realised that, indeed, he had not been yet. He is on his way now. Fair enough, as long as I hadn’t forgotten.Took another view.
Jenny rang me to say that someone from Age UK would be calling me at 11:30 hours, bless her again. She’d rang them and told them of my struggles. Bless her. 💟I couldn’t concentrate now, so I put the TV on.

Carers desk, table.

The INR blood taker arrived. Enoxaparin injections
are due to start again if the level gets lower.

The Age UK lady rang. Mega-long Q&A session. So she knew my problems. Naturally, she could do nothing about the Neurology absence of contact, the seizures, Fractured-knee Frank, Arthur Itis, the Cataract, the Cramps, Cartilage Cloe and Carol, Glaucoma Gladys,  or Shaking Shoulder Shirley.
She will contact Social Services to discuss whether anything can be done, what action, if any, is needed, and whether any decisions can be mandated. Other options to be addressed.
This is where the kind patient lady asked if I had considered going into a home. I said previously that I had fought against this happening. However, now things had got so much worse healthwise and helpwise, yes, although still semi-reluctantly, I would be willing, after discovering the ways & wherewithals of the home. I related the incident after the stroke when I was put into a home for 6 weeks to help me recover. I also mentioned my problems with the bank, arithmaphobia and an unaccountable fear of opening letters. I’ve a stack of them in the flat, but I’m too scared to open them. Why? I don’t know. And this is the first time I’ve revealed this problem to anyone other than Jenny.
So many difficulties, no solutions. I brought up the Virgin and EE problems as well. But so many, I’m not sure I made a lot of sense. At times, I forgot what I was saying in mid-sentence. I must have done myself no good with this interview. It probably scares them at the thought of putting me in their home?

Surgery phoned with new Warfarin dosages. Have I already said this? Errors galore.

Blue Hue this morning.

Late start on the computer.

Sidetracked onto the word list.

Sundays, I missed off. Tsk!

Evening shot.

Late views.

TTFN
Sorry, this isn’t up to standard.
New worries came in, and fighting.
Darius was hard work, in a way.

Haveth a Good Day

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Humans from different nations should be mingleable
Nations resist being intergratable, annexable,
I blame them for being self-financially acquiral,
Oligarchs, Politicians, unrightly boondoggle,
They rob, steal. Kill fellow humans,  brangle…
Haves & have-nots rarely commingle,
Words rarely exchanged, mostly conjectural,
With unknown illnesses, cerebral, neuronal…
Evil thoughts & desires, greedy, demurral, 
Were we the same when we were primordial?
Did cavemen have dinosaur cordial?
Compared to us, did they have less trouble?
We have heart attacks and seizures…
COPD, wars, arthritis in the knees,
So many kinds of rapaciousness,
Hate crimes, cancers and murders…
Neanderthals, of course, had no doctors,
Mine is Sherrington Park Medical Practice,
Appoints? First, there’s the artificial intelligence,
If you are lucky and give the correct answers,
You get through to the ‘Care Navigators’,
Whose soul task is to issue bullhittings…
To stop you seeing the Doctors…
Emergency ring 999, 111 or Chemists,
Do not phone if you want prescriptions!
Email us, and not text us!
His clever claptrap discourages,
Little Faith Left in the NHS!
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Time is a big enemy of Inchie. So Much he’d like to write, but so much happened, and it’s gone midnight already. I’ll skip the hogwash; leave the bits out.
Finish it tomorrow afternoon.
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Early morning view.

Waste bags collated.

Spuds readied for tonight.
Leaving them out helps
me remember the meal plan.

Made a brew. I intend to crack on with blogging.
Due to Doreen’s Dementia, this did not happen!

A J Sainsbury food order arrived.
UNSODDING BELIEVABLE!
There was no stopping Depression Darius, and Frustration Frank was dawning after this!
Obviously, I ordered it, I know this from the food delivered, my regular gastronomic choices. But, when and why did I? I must have ordered it. I had an Asda order on Saturday, but I knew I’d placed it. I just ordered it for the wrong week. I got so confused and angry with myself. I’m short of cash as it is. The self-lambasting started the moment the driver left. I stored the fodder away. Spitting, shouting, and cursing as I did. I hope the neighbours didn’t hear me. How I need the promised help with this problem. From the neurologist who has not contacted me since November.
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I had not really calmed myself down by the time I got the food away. I emailed Jenny to make sure where the freebies were to be left. The C|theter needed emptying, and what a dark colour it was. I hope it was not an effect of the new tablets. To help stop myself thinking about the cock-ups, I got ready to hoover the hallway.
But it didn’t get done. I had to visit the Porcelain Throne, and it took me ages to clean and wash up afterwards. Trotsky Terence was back in charge.
A messy session in the extreme! I walked by the Hoover, but then I was back to talking to myself, changing subjects as I nattered along.
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The Carer arrived. Gave me a body check, foamed and creamed areas in need. Medications were given. We spoke of the Doctor’s appointment still in abeyance. And which way to handle it? No conclusions.
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DONET YET AGAIN!
A second delivery of food!
4 carrier bags full.
Many items are repeated with JS.
Talk about self-anger!
Spring water.
Freezer choker!
The fridge is the same.
Hallway.
Top corner.
Cupboards.
Drinks.
Shelves.
I’m so depressed I can’t talk about it.
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Sunset.
Sunset.
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This was not bad, but the chicken was dry.
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Late picture.
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TTFN
Not Up To Much.
On a super shameful downer!

What an ars… a Silly Boy I Be!

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Am I having a different type of seizure?
I need an astrologer, & maybe an auger,
In every seizure, I exist in the ether,
When I come back, there’s no one to cheer,
The reflux is sometimes milder…
The reflux, sometimes, it’s wilder,
Bitter, certainly not ambrosia,
Recovering, recouping, can take much longer,
Occasionally, it seems much quicker…
The brain can recoup, with little bother,
As it did yesterday, my brain recovered…
Another after-effect that I discovered,
For an hour I was a shaking ambisinister,
Drop it, or I can’t let go of something,
Walk into doorframes, leave taps running,
Getting better> There’s no acquiral…
I must be archetypal, or typical…
I know my mind’s only semi-reliable,
Keeping concentration is variable…
90% not, 5% yes, 5% suppositional,
If not theoretical or intellectual,
I had a mini-seizure this very morning,
Came round, and I felt abounding,
For ten seconds… it was amazing,
Clarity of mind was soon aborting,
Later, another for order receiving!
So annoyed, I started the self-hating,
Carer called, then I started computing…
The intercom started buzzing…
Who could it be? A nurse calling?
ANOTHER food order, who can help me?
Not a word from NHS neurology…
Nothing from the Social lady,
What do I need? Ziprasidone or zircon?
Oh, I had my second Ezerimide medication,
Note how my wee-wee did darken?
Another tablet to take with caution,
Still, things could well worsen…
Putin or Trump, neither is a nice person…
Could it start humankind’s destruction?
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Read all of the dangers & instructions.
Before taking your Ezetimide 15mg.
Apart from the fact that I can’t read the minuscule printing,
I went online to copy instructions for these tablets from the NHS site, but nearly ran out of memory in my head and on my computer… Hahaha!
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Up at 04:45hrs. Pouch off. Pots washed. 
Porcelain Throne visit. Constipation Konrad. Morning view shots. The first one wasn’t perfect, so I took another. I hit a low at this moment. The realisation of my walking into town each day, taking photos willy-nilly. The daily walk through the tree copse, the walks into Arnold and the bird & geese feeding, all gone now. Took the last one, and dipped even lower into self-pity. It’s pathetic. I know I can’t get out anymore, and realise the many reasons why. But this morning it hit home. Frustrations are building up, I suppose.
Silly Old Sausage! (That’s not Hostage, Keir!)

Blue moon morning?
Late risers today, not many lights on.
Oh, yes. It’s still early.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been up so early.

I forgot why I took this or what it’s about.

The UK snow here, well, there.

Lovely early nosh.

Why is there not much at this time?
That’s cause I got distracted and was
redoing a lost Word List… well, started one.

Then, I got a call from the Doctor’s practice.
It seems she (the Doctor) wants me to make a visit to the surgery, but no details of for what. Telling me to take a Carer with me. She asked a lot of questions (the receptionist) for an hour or so.
I explained the difficulty I’d have getting there, and on the last trip out, I had a seizure and walked into the road and traffic. Saved, pulled back by my Carer. That was when we went to the dentist.
After what seemed like hours but wasn’t, the kind lady asked me to see if the Carer could call her back. This, after I’d told her there is only one day a week when the Carer gives a 2-hour visit. Doing the laundry, checking the prescription, catheter, hearing aids, knee and leg straps, pouches and Protection Pants need ordering. Also, to do a clearing-up session. WE try to arrange medical appointments for that day, a Wednesday. I said I’d get him to ring her back on his next call. 

When The Carer arrived, the intercom to the flats was not working. He rang me, and I had to get dressed to go down and let him in. I didn’t bother dressing this time, went down in my dressing gown… Oh, Yes! My new slippers arrived earlier. 

When the Carer got up, he telephoned the surgery.
WHAT A FARCE that was!
During the call, he was cut off three times. I’m going to have such a large telephone bill. After much fact-chewing and assessing the situation, she gave him Wednesdays when an appointment could be made. The first one is in twelve days: 29th January. 15:40, 15.50, 16:10 and 16:24hrs. But they will soon be gobbled up. Asked if the Carer could sort it with his manager and ring them back to reschedule and finalise the appointment.
Of course, it’s the weekend now, so we can’t call to arrange anything until Monday.
, and no visitations yet today. Humph!

TTFNski!

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Started a trial of Ezetimibe by the Doctor.
Checked for side effects on the NHS charter,
15 pages of them, I’ve got 10 of them for a starter…
Time for me to become a bequeather?
This all seemed to me to be a lot of bother,
I agreed to the trial; did I make a bloomer?
Changed Virgin Password, done by the Carer,
Tried to use it, to find that it had disappeared,
Virgin, Oligarchs & the NHS I’ve feared…
Putting the NHS in there felt weird…
But they are so busy & underfinanced,
Being admitted is a bit of a misadventure,
I’ll have to get used to this new acculture!
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The confusing call from the apothecary,
Weighed on my mind somewhat heavily,
This all changed; a calamity with the laundry!
Carer went to fetch it, returned to tell me…
It was still soaking wet, and he was sorry,
But the dryer was broken, & very sadly, 
He used another one, but he can no longer stay,
So I’ll have to fetch it, unfortunately…
In forty minutes, it should be ready,
With that, to his next call, he had to flee,
With no blame, coming from Inchie,
Concrete proof of my being unlucky!
Had to get dressed, shoes on… feeling dizzy,
All that bending, head spinning, you see,
Set off with Four-wheeled-Walker-Willy,
Down to the laundry room, hastily…
But, taking out the dried laundry,
Losing-Grip-Linda visited me…
Socks, shirts, I dropped so many,
Collecting fallen items went on exacerbatingly,
Bending so often, the head went dizzy…
Back-Pain-Brenda, felt woozy and giddy…
But I got them all in the three-wheeled trolley,
Depression Darius arrived, and I got bitchy,
With the way things were going today,
This Ode was prompted by events yesterday,
To the flat, socks paired, frustratingly…
Colour blindness and Cataract Katie,
Clothes on a hanger, made a mug of tea,
Emptied the catheter of dark coloured pee,
First pain for weeks, from the fractured knee,
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Living with bamboozlement, as a boondoggler,
And frequently, a bit of of a beseecher,
Still hoping that things would get better,
Improve, maybe even to get boshter,
I thought I’d managed well with the Accifaupas…
Not at the time, but maybe later…
But I was not yet out of the wars,
As my mind began to wander…
I had a short, sharp seizure,
Fell, & trapped my arm – I am schadenfreude?
Now I’m feeling even more toeier.
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Preparing for today, to go smoothlier,
It’s about time I had a day go easier…
The catheter-valve leaked; Am I a no-hoper!
I’m tested and tried, but remain a trier.
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I stirred, again, late & reluctantly.
For some reason, I took a snap of the desktop.
Oh, dear, I thought, is it going to be another of those days, as the resulting photo was well below par.
I took another try at it…
Not good, but an improvement.

A delivery arrived from Ocado.
Judging by the comestibles delivered, it must have been made by me. All my favourites were in there.
Including the beetroot, pickled mushrooms, cheesy-topped bread rolls, and a Milk Roll sliced loaf…
The Polish sausages, ham and even more beetroot. Lemon yoghourts and some Sub-Rolls? 
And two, not one, bags of baking potatoes?
The scary thing is, I do not need these things. The scarier thing is, I cannot remember making the order, but judging by what arrived, I must have. The third thing that annoys and scares me is the promises of help from the Red Cross, Social Services and Neurologist when I was last in hospital. Well, the lack of anyone contacting me was, like, an insult, I think. Then again, did they actually come to the bedside and say they would provide assistance with my problems? Can I be certain? Did it happen? I genuinely think it did. But…
I am aware that sometimes, especially after a seizure, anything could happen; the aftereffect each time is sheer confusion for a while. Yet I do believe that they said these things, just after the Doctor told me I had had a heart failure. But do not remember anything about being taken from the ward to be resuscitated, as they told me I had, and it is out on my NHS record. As far as I  know, I’d just had a seizure and woke up.
Help is not easy to get nowadays. I was so down about things last week, came out-of-it, and have just sunk down into the depths of complete depression & frustration, in equal parts, after writing this bit of the blog. And the realisation that I cannot concentrate on, or solve, any of my worries or stupid, seemingly uncountable or at times unaware of my own actions. It seems like any one day, I can have, or not have, three or four different personalities? Changing so often, as if the brain were stuttering… I see it like a roulette wheel, deciding how I feel next. Without any logical reason identified. Not that I’ve ever played roulette.
Having just read the above passage to spell and grammar-check it, I feel a right whimp… a moaner. I shall try not to moan anymore.
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While the Carer was here, I was talking to him, and a mini-seizure burst forth. He says it was only about a minute long, and I was shaking about with my arms and legs. When I came back, I was almost hanging over the arm of the chair, and had somehow or other, trapped my left arm, cause it hurt. After the Carer departed, I had a look at the arm and took a snap of it, not that it mattered, no one responds when I sent in any photos to the neurologist anyway… Not moaning, just saying! It looks far worse than it was. In fact, now (Thursday night), it’s no bother at all.

The Carer arrived for the longer session. And set about phoning the Hospital Neurology to find the Doctor’s secretary’s email. Blown if I can recall the result, but I do not have the email on the notepad. So I assume he couldn’t get it for some reason. He did his best.

Then the big farce! Virgin Media! 
The Carer arrived and took the laundry down for me. Returned and got the Virgin email opened and showed me what needed doing to change my memorable word, so we could get through to talk to them… or even a robot. That word suits Virgin.
Clever lad, this Carer. Whipped through the stages needed, completing them. It looked easy when someone in the know did it. We went through each Q&A and changed the word. Then he went down to retrieve my laundry, bless him. 
While he was down there, I checked the email to see if Virgin had confirmed the new word. Nope. So, after all that work he did, I still can’t get on my Virgin site!
He made a grand effort for me. Not his fault at all. But I was getting all upset about the failures, not to mention the seizure farce.
The lad returned to tell me the clothes were still soaking wet, and the dryer wasn’t working again. He’d put them in the other dryer and told me to go down to collect them in 40 minutes. As he was at the end of his permitted time, the Carer had to rush off. Thanked him and as he left, Depression Darius really got to me, and an anger, a frustration grew within me at failing again.
I was another person, I swore, cursed, and felt like screaming. Not moaning, just saying how it was. I was moaning then, of course.
Now, I had 40 minutes to get my clothes, shirt, jumper, jacket, and shoes. Then get the three-wheeled walker from the balcony. This took up all of the 40 minutes, and the pain of getting me trews on, Humph!
No socks, of course, that is an impossibility for me to do, a step too far. If I genuflect or bend down, Dizzy Dennis and Lost-Balance-Barbara will take the opportunity to have me over.
I left my cell… no, flat, and took the lift down to the laundry room 12 floors below. No one was in the laundry room, and I started taking out the washing and untangling it. Lost-Grip-Gertrude kicked off. By the time I’d emptied the washer of clothes, nine pieces were on the floor. I wished I’d thought to take a picker-upperer with me now (Too late). Amazingly, although there were a couple of times when the giddiness hit me, I didn’t go down. Then I cleaned the dryer filter, which had not been done in a while.
However, I did take Kodak-Tim-2 down with me. I took some photos to show you of the ground floor foyer, one of the laundry room after I’d left it first.
Laundry Room: the far-right offending drying machine.
Laundry & walker, in the foyer.
The prison’s main foyer doors.
Foyer walls by the seats.

Early Evening Sunset
Frist…
Zoomed in.
Cloud streaks or contrails?

LOVELY JUBBLY!
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The more one cherishes…
Sitting in the sun on your terraces,
Starmer will still raise your taxes,
Gather to resist, bring your axes,
He wants a modern-day Axis,
Trump & Keir, the wiseacres…
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❤ KEEP SAFE – TAKE CARE ❤
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