I would have used CorelDraw to cut out my face and add it to the old graphic above. But as CorelDraw has corrupted on the new £ 850 computer, which is not working properly.
Another hint at Inchies lousy luck! Grrr!
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ODE TO MEMORIES OF A BETTER TIME
Hints of naughtiness, from his initial dip into promiscuity,
The 13-year-olds’ introduction, flirtatiously!
A neighbour who was obviously older and wiser…
In the ways of coupling, indulgency & intimacy,
Inchie recognised her instant pulchritudity,
Her first move had him surprised, but smiling,
He’d never enjoyed such passionate groping,
Then hairy-breast fondling, desire for more growing,
On which she was soon educating,
Guiding what was firmly expanding…
Sex on his first date… Amazing!
He sensed an inner central heating,
They carried on fondling and amalgamating,
It turned into a thrice-weekly practice…
One that Inchy would never miss,
The settee, bed or on the Axminsters,
She showed how to use some appliances,
One overheated session, they needed bandages,
I’ll leave you to guess the reasons…
And Inchy has still got the lesions!
He never again built plastic aeroplanes!
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Tag: Ageing humour
Inchie Today: Wednesday 17th June 2026 – Teriible start ot the day!
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MUST BE THE WORST DAY EVER – UP TO NOW
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LOUSY NIGHT – CRUEL MORNING
Managed a few moments of sleep, kept waking up in a right peed off mood. Just needed sleep, but the demons and evilf-fieindly bad-luck-bringing thoughts of my own concoction seemed unbeatable today.
Rising from the bed and hobbling my way to the nocturnal Catheter pouch on the floor near the recliner, my right leg gave way, and once again, as yesterday, I was fortunate enough to lean towards the chair to land semi-softly and injury-free.
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I was still sitting in it, and trying to nod off again, as the intercom chined out its “Oh, Susana” tune. The knee gave way as soon as I stood up, and by the time I’d got to the panel to admit the Carer, it had closed down. I waited a few minutes to see if they had been admitted or would ring back, then returned to the recliner, expecting the Carer to come in. “Oh, Susana”, rang out again. This time, I got to the box a bit quicker and in time to let them in.
Carer Mizra appeared, did a body check, and creamed or gelled the areas in need. Shoulder, back and genitals. Then Mizra got the medications issued.
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I was pleased with how the new computer was working. When first opened, both external drives were accessible! But, of course, within a few minutes, they had disappeared. Back to normal, then. The hour-and-a-half Carer visit didn’t happen, the same as yesterday.
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1) The computer, specifically CorelDraw, froze as I clicked export for the Cartoon to go to the file to use here.
2) I could not close down by the regular route. So had no choice but to turn off at the power sockets.
3) But I could not get the computer to reboot.
Nothing but trouble since paying £850 plus fitting to get this computer, and I could not find his telephone number!
But knew that Mizra had it, as he liaises for me.
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4) Carer Andrew made the short midday call. I asked him to ring Mizra and ask him to call the engineer. No reply, so I don’t know if he did.
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5) While he was here, I tried a couple of times to get the computer back on, but both attempts failed.
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6) I found the Carer lying in the hallway on his mobile.
I thought he’d gone. I asked him again to contact Mizra for me. No response.
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7) I did get the loading to go as far as the opening label screen, but this one usually comes up first… so it was not a surprise when the ‘Working Circle’ appeared and the mouse arrow showed on the screen. It stayed like this for over an hour! Demoralising!
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8) I turned everything off at the power again and lost the TV signal in doing so, and heard a series of Beeps coming from the hard drive.
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9) All off again. TV was not affected this time.
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10) This had to be my last try. I was so downhearted.
11) Then, I got a telephone call from a something navigator, from the Doctors Surgery. She mentioned a meeting with advisers I’d been invited to via email. There was a vague memory, but nothing certain. The lady explained it was about sorting people’s needs out, and the best way to do so. I jumped at the chance. I think she said someone would be calling to arrange a meeting.
Linda, I think her name was. I mentioned my wish, if possible, to go into a home. In hopes of relieving the tensions from getting nothing sorted, with problems being added almost daily, which challenges my sanity, health, and my ability to cope.
12) Today is a good example. The early tumbles. The computer is playing up yet again. No hot water. 4 weeks since my last shower or shopping assistance. Adding to the Banking, British Gas, Virgin Media, the new Catheter’s lack of information or instructions. No help was given with managing procedurally.
13) Do I carry on with a weekly day-bag change? Is it safe to use with a nocturnal pouch fitted?
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14) Not that I could put photos on the blog, anyway, both camers are broken!
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14) Now, my prime love/hatred, the new computer, cannot access CorelDraw or Excel. So, there are no graphics or photographs that can be used. Other than any already in the WordPress gallery.
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15) I rang the District nurses for help on how to manage the new Catheter, who told me to contact the QMC. I went on a little about the situation I am in.
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I then rang Jenny, who rang back. But I was not really with it t the time, in fact, I had a nasty seizure after making the call, mind blank. Extra confusion.
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16) I received a call back from the nurses while still a little out-of-it. I was asked if I am really interested in going into a home. I think I took this opportunity to get my thoughts out, and they will ask Matron Jackie to see if she can get the ball rolling. Brilliant. Cause things are getting worse here now. Problems increasing, solutions decreasing.
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Movements from the rear end started again today, all in Constipation Conrad mode. A bit of blood each time from the haemorrhoids. At least no accidental evacuations with Conrad.
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I’ll have to do only the Ode. Oh, it’s been such a busy, annoying day; I’ve not done it yet.
Changing moods bring ambivalency,
Spent most of the day crestfallenly,
Spent many sessions self-critically,
Problems showing no curability,
Concentration, showing a deficiency,
Hopes, needs, logic, all seem to disagree,
Depression increases, diurnally…
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Is life, like a politician, an effigy?
Not realistic, no ecclesiology?
What happened to youth’s excitability?
80, first time owing for your electricity?
Into the mist, goes you equilibrity,
No more mental or physical euphony…
I used to hope for an epiphany…
But life now proves more euphuistically,
I also dreamt of finding eudaemony…
I got this depressing ennui!
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It was once suggested by Dr Neurology,
To help me electroencephalographically,
But that was in September, 2003,
Then a stroke, TBI, and Cancer hit me,
Dr Neurolgy again saw me in 2023,
Sometimes I can think with clarity…
I hasten to add, this happens rarely,
Then my mind goes wanderingly,
Mind blanks can hit anytime, lastingly…
or for a few moments, mysteriously,
Moments too, of great falability,
Frequent occasions of mental obliquity,
With unstoppable times of neurotomy,
Hoyrly changes to me nimiety,
Dementia turned me flibbertigibbety,
Duodenal ulcer, hernia, verbal nugacity,
But can I face the nitty-gritty?
The crux of the problematic matter?
Slowly but surely going détraquée!
I’m now an ace at dontopedalogy,
Few teeth left, crinkled skin, pilgarlicky…
Had enough of life’s woes & mallarky,
Being as I don’t want to sound sarky…
To avoid moaning and negativity,
I blame it on my pfropfschizophrenie!
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Lack of control, of happenings & events,
My ever-changing consciousness,
From unawareness to utter cluelessness.
People I talk to will see/hear a difference…
No in-between, Depression or High Horace,
Decisions to be made, I’m on the fence,
Knowing danger, what’s my response?
Forget; as it dies in my memory disperses,
Involuntarily, to my memory burners,
Lack of control, of happenings & events.
Make life a struggle, that’s so intense…
Worries, problems, Catheter, fears…
Self-hatred, incapable, many mental fratches,
Solutionless, can’t batten down any hatches,
I hate my changing moods & responses,
Often say things I find erroneous,
Mostly to myself, & of course Darius,
Important dates, numbers, emails…
Texts, etc., that no one can solve,
Fade away, making me feel injudicious,
I used to think that life was so precious,
Now it’s approaching worthless,
New computer, camera, faith, & hopes,
Really, my outlook is hopeless…
I hate my changing moods & responses.
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I’m Struggling!
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TTFN
Inchies Ode: Sunday 14th June 2026
The ailment with the most pain today was undoubtedly 
Also, the balance was all over the place, as if someone had shaken me out of the seizure. Well, I suppose that
I know it happened again after a late seizure, and I took a tumble of the delicate kind, aiming for and landing in the c1966, £300, second-hand charity-shop bought, crumb-containing, odour-retaining, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, nauseatingly beige coloured, non-working, virus-breeding recliner. Dislodging the alcohol to remove the patch on my leg, which holds/keeps the assembly, array of connecting tubes together… but now it dangles loosely. And I cannot ask the District Nurses for help. Should I activate the instructions given to me? “Get a Taxi to the QMC, A&E department”, as I had to do the other day? Well, I can’t, I do not have enough cash to pay for a taxi. What alternatives have I got?
Option One: I could wait until a Carer arrives in two hours, ask them to get me dressed and the walker trolley out, and tell them I will not be in for my next two medication calls. Then catch a bus to Sherwood, one to Nottingham, then a tram to the hospital. Which will mean missing the Warfarin, Beta-Blockers and other doses. I’ll likely spend hours waiting; the fungal lesion will spurt blood and urine again. And another day lost. But looking back at my last bus and tram trips to and from the QMC is like a horror story. I got lost. Took a tumble on the tram. Had yobboes bother in the way back in the City Centre. Then I missed the bus stop, and had to walk up the mountainous Wincester Street hill to get to the flat. The Carer called me en route, from my flat, but did not come to assist me, as I struggled with obstinate Anne Gyna and breathing. Option One was not attractive.
Option Two: As option one, but take a bus to Sherwood, see if I have any money and try to get it out of the ATM. Then get a taxi to the hospital, by which time I may have been poisoned by the backflow into the kidneys, before even being seen. Mmm? Not good!
Option Three: Commit Suicide.
In the end, I stuck some cellotape over the crumpled holding patch and hoped for the best.
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Inchie Ode: Saturday 13th June 2026
I hold my own-formulated view, an apriorism,
What brought about this abnormalisation?
Which worsened with each generation,
Bringing about this apocalypticism,
Be it Oligarchs making ammunition…
Gangsters, Mafia, or another Politician,
Judges, give five 5 tears for non-fatal arson,
Murderers get 10, out in five with remission,
A fine for Bankers showing corroboration,
Barristers, judges, hypocritical and alien,
Starmer, Trump, Xi Jinping and Putin…
Each dishonest, a liar, using abstraction,
They start wars, just for a distraction…
What can be done by the proletariat, scum?
Are all crooks standing at each election?
Starmer is a clever liar; taught as a barrister,
Who often welcomes a backhander,
This is why he is sadly still in power,
Starmer the feigner, the verbal-dribbler,
But the opposition is not a lot better…
Kemi Badenoch, Tory Shadow Leader…
Your Party, the only NHS supporter,
I feel for Kemi, after the Tory disaster,
Nigel is the only leader who’s a smiler,
Despite his failings, Keir’s still the leader?
PM? I see him as a National Grim Reaper,
Promises not kept, the NHS sinks deeper…
He’s a disingenuous, foxy equivocator,
So, I’m ready for my sepulchre…
Life is now full, apocryphally,
I’ve no strength to act anarchically,
Last week, the nurse said to me…
A blocked Catheter is a medical emergency.
The next day, the Catheter was blocked, poor me!
Two nurses came to change the contraption,
Both failed to complete the action…
My Willie refused each attempted insertion,
After they held a phone conversation…
Told me to get a taxi to the QMC,
Reporting to the A & E…
So, I did, it cost me £25.40!
Getting there took time, an hour and forty!
Got inside, the place, A & E, was filthy…
No towels or paper in the WC,
Through the lesions, I began to forcefully pee!
I waited until I was called in the A & E,
Got called, I went, urine drippingly…
A nurse asked questions, & did my BP,
Back in a chair, ever waitingly,
To another waiting room, he led me,
Then the lesion wee’d, more forcefully,
I hobbled back to the main room WC,
Now it had towels and bog rolls, thankfully,
Clean up what I could, embarrassingly,
Returned to the waiting room number three,
“Where have you been?” She said to me,
I had a leak, had to go to the cludgie,
“They’ve moved you to the back of the queue!”
She said, smiling, “I took a seat, waitingly!”
A good job, this was a Medical Emergency!
They may have sent me home to return on Friday,
Two yobboes were arrested, while I sat patiently,
Getting late, will they have time to tend to me?
A Urologist called my name, eventually…
To his cubicle, he then guided me,
He set about putting in a new style Catheter…
With a hook on the end to go into the bladder,
He failed his first try, I was worried…
Tried & failed again, tut-tutted, and phoned,
“We’ll try once more, with Mr Edward”…
“Follow me!” So, did…
Not in a good mood for failing…
He urged me along, as I was hurried,
Mr Edward was not happy either, I’m afraid,
Had his coat on, his expression gave out dread…
He didn’t speak; maybe he was an android?
His angry eyes, I had to avoid…
Think he was on his way home, thus annoyed,
He wasn’t pleased working where I’d wee’d,
He had a go getting the hooked tube inserted…
Gave out a mild growl when he failed,
Tried once more, success was achieved!
No tips or advice on the new Catheter device,
No, I’m wrong, I was not supposed…
to touch the stick-on pad on my thigh!
Got his coat on, out the door he did fly,
I stood in the corridor, like a homunculi,
No one in sight, I almost wanted to cry…
The nice nurse came to me, eye-eye…
I’m to wait in the corridor, and defunkify…
Waiting on a lift home, which was nigh!
Glad I was classed as a Medical Emergency,
Cause I saw no signs of any urgency,
The men came to the ambulance & they led me,
To the vehicle with pains in my right knee,
Then I must admit, to a little self-pity…
As the drivers locked me in and left me,
Tired, hungry, cold, and stinking of pee…
As they went to collect more patients,
To collect them from different departments,
Slowly, they loaded up the ambulance,
I dropped off last, as midnight advances,
They took me up to the flat, taking no chances,
In case I had any tumbles or seizures,
Rang NCC control, using the Alert Controllers,
Then I found the hot water, icily colder!
No wash, shave, or urine removal,
Too risky for me to keep boiling the kettle,
Warmed water, to clean the crutch and testicles,
The Catheter sticker, and divider adminicle,
It moved, collapsed, pulling on my appendicle,
The sticker fell off after a while…
Remember, it’s a Medical Emergency…
To which I should get a taxi to the QMC,
Couldn’t afford a taxi home; I had barely a penny!
I calmed down to make an appraisal…
Nine hours and £25.40, to get fitted…
Four hours later, I involuntarily micturated,
It’s Sunday now, and I’m well-miffed,
I hope you can follow my drift…
Then you can advise me,
My body & mind are acting inappropriately,
I’ve lost my Ode plot again, sadly…
Even thinking is rather addledly,
The right leg is much easier today,
Unlike Shaking-Shoulder-Shirely,
She’s giving me near agony,
I asked Carer Mizra to ring the Doctor,
Then he can arrange a day and hour…
That fits in with the ICC Carers,
I think that’s sensible and wise,
Hope the Catheter has no blockages,
No advice or guides from the QMC Doctors,
On managing with the new Catheters,
All I’ve been told by the nurses is…
“Any problems, get a taxi to the QMC”,
Taxi? I may not have enough money,
And it is a Medical Emergency.
The nurses will be glad to see the back of me,
What with me calling them fortnightly,
And my squirting, spraying my pee…
Through the lesions on Little Inchy,
I think I’d be better in a home residency,
I wouldn’t be bothering Frank & Jenny,
For doing this, I’ve always felt guilty,
Waiting on many a visit, neurology…
Cataracts & Glaucoma, retest the kidney,
Find out what’s causing the collapsing knee,
Help from Age UK, they promised me…
Someone would call, a wheelchair repairer,
Sort the water heater, so I can shower,
Help with the bank site, logging in,
Same with British Gas, and Virgin,
But I got new hearing aids that don’t fit,
I’m hoping to get some financial benefit,
Attendance allowance, will it pay for taxis?
For the instructed fortnightly visits,
I’ll lose a day each time. I’m so needy,
Solving issues? I’m incapable, pathetically,
Depression? I class myself as a Bezonian,
Living with pain, confusion and humiliation,
Without mental or physical coordination,
I’m linked to floccinaucinihilipilification,
I’m forlorn, forfoughten & feel forsaken…
Good luck to me is geason, within reason,
Frequently, I issue self-imprecation,
The brain will not stop its fermentation,
Even after a seizure, with the inanition…
I’m waffling on again, through frustration?
Moan, groan, grumble; is this self-deception?
To avoid possible self-deletion…
I’ve decided! My only solution…
To get things sorted, in fair condition,
Go into a Care Home, it’s the only solution!
I’ll ask how, with a solid conviction,
That way, I may avoid eviction!
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Inchie Today: Up to Friday12th June 2026. A revealing Ode…
During my absence from my beloved blogging, I’ve had another stay in hospital and two visits to A&E. I’ll not mention the Catheter Contraption farce here, or the unbelievable changes made to the medical, or the list of reactionary procedures implemented on the last occasion. In the event of the Catheter bag blocking again. (Five times this week! Classed as a Medical Emergency – You’ll love what I’ve been told to do when it blocks again and each time following.) The Ode I hope to write later will, well, might reveal it all.
Might reveal it all? Why the might? I’ll tell yers…
The engineer returned to look at the non-working, brand-new computer he sold me and performed whatever steps were necessary. Assured me that the comp-F’ing-uter can now access all three of the hard drives, and CorelDraw is working again. Knowing the past record of visits, I did not allow a flutter of belief or even possible joy.
How right I was not to!
The next morning, it took me four tries to start the computer. This told me that access to the required files could not be made. Have they been moved? Deleted? Make sure that (this was all computer jargon from here on; all I knew was that it was in the same crippled state as before the visit). Also, CorelDraw had blacked out all the options again; Save, Import, Export, and could not access the hard drives anyway.
As I mentioned in my last blog, ages ago, both cameras are kaput, so even the pleasure of taking sky shots with them means nothing; I couldn’t get them on the computer anyway. Over my enforced holiday break (Huh!), apart from the Catheter agonies and time spent failing to get the tube back in, I reckon that, counting the hospital ones, I must have had various medics grabbing, bruising, making the lesions bleed, 19 failed attempts to get the Catheter tube back in! The agony needs a stronger word.
At least I’ve managed by asking the Carers, emailing the Doctor and phoning the Community Nurses, to get some more of the precious-to-me Oxycodone painkillers. I only take them when needed; they are very strong with so many risky side effects, page after page.
Now, computer permitting, I shall open my own-made rhyming word on a notebook, and start this rare Ode…
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Each time I woke…
I took him to bed with me,
Now he’s part of the family,
I write this Friday, at 03:33,
Who needs help, domestically?
Who needs help, physically?
Who needs help, mentally?
A man who frustratedly…
It happens to be me…
Who had a thought, suicidally,
Will I act? Determined, bravely?
Eyes that get worse visually,
An occupied mind, that distressingly…
slowly denying me accessibility,
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ODE TO MY LAST HOSPITAL VISIT
I awoke to find myself with new pains in the right knee,
Walking into things regularly, so absentmindedly,
Mind confused, my body unsteady, & wobbly
Care Ejaz came, my Catheter was empty…
I guzzled water, too much admittedly,
Soon, the pain turned into absolute agony,
I took an Oxycodone & Codeine, medically
I rang the District Nurses immediately,
An Angel came to change the Catheter…
3 tries at inserting the tube, all a failure,
I felt I needed another Beta-Blocker,
Nurse left, another came hither…
3-failures to get the tube in my tallywhacker,
Get a taxi to the QMC, go to the A&E,
I got the number from my Angel Jenny,
Jenny rang, it’ll be here shortly,,,
Difficult to get hurriedly ready,
No Carer to help me, do you see?
No shoes, no socks, I remembered the money,
£15 each way, should cope adequately,
Took kitchen towels and remembered the key,
Carer came, took me down for the taxi,
Nice car, legs not squashed, from DG,
I augured a problem was coming to me…
A young, pleasant man, the driver…
To the ring-road – where we met the bother!
Road repairs, traffic unmoving, frustrating,
The ring-road was full, nothing was moving…
Traffic lights were out, and I was fuming,
And the Fare costs were increasing!
Still, we had time for chat & blather,
I just hoped I’d not burst my bladder,
Eventually, we arrived at the hospital,
Cost £25.40, No cash left for a taxi returning!
Through the doors, the scene was awful,
The smell of booze, bad language… dispicable,
Usually I try to be amiable and amicable,
Some patients, gloomy-looking and scowling,
Others muttering, spitting and swearing,
Low spirits & morosness were almost illuminating,
To the reception, answered the questioning,
Told to sit down, so I started waiting…
Someone will call my name, hopefully…
The scene oozed thoughts apocalyptically,
Flapdoodle is being spoken, almost angrily,
Someone shouted Gerald Chambers. Ah, that’s me!
I had trouble getting there, cause of my knee,
The lady who called acted patiently…
Took my vitals, told me to sit to wait to be taken away,
I hoped the bladder & Inchy didn’t get leaky,
Hoping no seizures came, or bleeding from my pinkie,
Prayed I’d not fall asleep, for me that’s customary,
A man came for me, so many corridors, bafflingly,
That waiting room was packed, almost fully…
One seat free, near a door, it was very draughty,
Folks going in and out, returning with a takeaway…
Bottles in brown bags, then whodunwrongitry…
Two people arrived from the constabulary…
Arresting two yobboes, & took them away,
Then, disaster overtook and harassed me!
Urine flowed violently & freely,
For the lesions on Little Inchy,
Embarrassed and getting panicky…
I ask a medic, “Where’s the nearest WC?”
Near the door, where you came into the A&E!
Finding my way went tentatively, nervously,
Through the corridors, any which way?
The flow was getting greater on my way,
No one was in the bog, I’m glad to say…
What I found in the WC caused great dismay,
No bog rolls, towels, my kitchen roll, thankfully,
Was with me in my walker trolley…
The floor was awash, & very stinky
I used it all up, trying to clean body & Inchy,
But felt I must stink. Self-loathing angrily,
My state & condition were full of adversity
Catastrophe, contretemps, then another difficulty,
Ending it all came into mind as an appetency,
Still soaking PP’s, back to the room I did flee,
Unfortunately, getting lost on my way…
Got my bearing, got back, annoyingly…
The desk lady snorted out to me…
You’ve missed your call!
The world around me went into amorphy,
“You’ve been moved to the bottom of the listing”
This pain & frustration were not self-inflicting,
I felt like I was sort of intruding…
I wished I’d bought a bottle of Ivermectin,
This medical horror, I’d not been expecting,
Did I deserve this suffering and vilifying?
As night came on, I was almost shivering…
Damp, cold, and waiting, still waiting…
A blocked Catheter is classed as a medical emergency,
Staff seemed to adopt being unconcernedly?
I was here, involuntarily, & unblamedly?
Much later, a Doctor took me, none too soon…
Into his little treatment room,
Asking me, “What’s your problem?”
Not seeming to want my custom…
Mind you, he was very handsome,
I told him my story, so gruesome,
He inspected things, at first casually,
Then noticed the lesions bleeding away,
These need treatment immediately!
See your Doctor to get a referral quickly,
Then he tried to insert a tube into Little Inchy,
He was determined to get it in forcefully,
Could he get it in? No way!
He made a phone call, then he said…
A specialist is needed, come this way…
Then led through corridors, to see a Mr Day,
Sat me on a chair, more waiting,
At least this time, there was no queuing…
Mr D, I told him the leaking was unrelenting,
Scarily, he said surgery needs doing…
on the penis lesions. Which was nerve-gnawing,
I prayed he was hypothesising,
I hope it’ll all be part of the guarishing?
Tube insertion failed on the first try, worrying!
His 2nd try, and by gum, it went in!
No advice or referral made, & I was listening,
The BP lady arrived, with good news – Amazing!
I’d got a lift home arranged, very pleasing!
Put me on a corrodor chair, again, waiting…
I and my clothes must have been stinking!
I fell asleep, and believe I was dreaming…
Of playing in a World Cup final, & winning!
Woken up by the ambulance men for lifting,
Put in the vehicle, of patients needed fetching,
By then, I was experienced at waiting,
I mused over recent & today’s abhorrencies.
Wild thoughts flowed in abundances,
The ambulance, filled up, we started homewards,
Who got home last? Naturally, it was Chambers,
They took me up to the flat, rang NCC control,
To say I had returned, which seemed subjectable,
I thanked them, my thoughts were now scattered,
My clothes needed throwing, I needed showering…
Body scrubbing, disinfecting, and shaving…
But no, the tap’s hot water was almost freezing!
Used the kettle for hot water, for washing,
Anne Gyna was really hurting,
And the right knee again had me wobbling,
So painful walking, hobbling & genuflecting,
Of course, I’d missed my medicationing…
I called NCC repairs in the morning,
Chap came out for repairing,
The tap was cold again by evening,
I started this blog-Ode, as a Carer was visiting…
He did my bit of shopping,
No blog for so long, I stayed home Odeing,
I really should have gone shopping with him,
Roast smoked pork on the list, I got blended bacon,
Which ended up in the waste bin,
I couldn’t blame Ejaz; I knew what would happen,
Phoned the District nurses, & got information…
They’ll no longer service my Catheter Contraption,
It’s a different one, much more complicated,
Dangerous, Nurses cannot be implicated…
They are barred from attending, I’m worried,
So, as blockages happen fortnightly…
I was instructed to take a taxi to the QMC,
Specifically to the A&E,
If it happens at night, no Carer with Inchie?
Whose to get my shoes and clothes on for me?
What if I have no money for the taxi?
Am I not asking too tendentiously?
The thought of going through the futility,
Embarrassment, pain, and agony,
Filthied, fetid, bloodied, and self-dirtied,
Threatened by yobboes, taxi overcharged,
Waiting here and there, get home so tired…
Angry, a day wasted, feeling withered,
Time for my wild thought to be reactivated?
I’ve never felt so frustrated,
That says a lot! I could have wept…
I just wondered…
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I have no hopes of it being available again later.
It was not available ten minutes ago, I’ll try again…
HUH!
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I could spit!
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What next, I thought…
I just found out that the hot water is cold again!
Walked into the door frame.
Dropped my mug of Glengettie.
Trying to mop it up, using the stick at the same time, my right knee gave way, and I clouted it and banged my head on the edge of the worktop as I grabbed to stop myself from going all the way down.
Breaking an arm off of my damned spectacles.
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One couldn’t write fiction any scarier!
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I want to make myself free…
of failure, fear, living fretfully,
nervously, and lessen the mental
and physical pains & confusion.
Just thought I’d mention it.
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OLD CARTOON
Inchy Today: Mon/Tue 1/2nd June 2026 Fare Thee Well 🌸
I see today more political baseness,
A lack of moral principles, sordidness,
Boastfulness, bluffness, & bluntness,
Bamboozlers, bankrollers, beguilers, belittlers,
More backstabbers, backhander, backsliders,
Churlishness, clandestineness, contemptuous,
Violence, slaughter, governmental bloodshedders,
Deceptiveness, detestableness,
Can our rulers not see Earth’s finiteness?
In the citizenry, fear, contagious distress,
Hopes, needs, turning into illusoriness,
Proletariats, once. quite tenacious…
Exist, survive, but are trepidacious,
Who can we blame for this tragicalness?
My forecast may well not be the zaniest,
The end of days, of earthliness…
part of the real, inherent adscititious…
Earthlings will miss the end of the Universe…
As it implodes, collapses…
Well, that’s my synopsis!
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OLD CARTOONS
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Hope for the future…
To please, please I beg, mend my computer,
Help with the bank account dwindling disaster,
A miracle with my kidneys, & blocked Catheter…
Penal Fungal Cut, before they get painfuller,
To stop leaving the tap on & the cooker,
To stop taking tumbles,
Slow down, to have fewer seizures,
These needs, how do I conjure?
I think life’s getting cruddier.
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On Tuesday, I can’t type in Notepad; it deletes letters after the ones I’m typing. CorelDraw is still not allowing me to import, export, or perform at least 18 other actions that are blacked out. The Computer warning beeps from the hard drive are back again. I’ve got the trots.
TUESDAY: I am so frustrated. Can’t even open a new template. No reply from the calls and emails to the computer man for help. £850 quid plus fitting. He must be so busy.
Hour extra visit: No body check, Catheter comfort check. No cleaning done. No mail help. No floors mopped, or food date checks. Bored on mobile.
Frustrated, depressed, and have had enough!
This computer is the only thing that keeps me going. Now it doesn’t, though I believe it’s not my fault. Notebook, the internet, and the keyboard, I think, are all giving me problems typing. The internet keeps going down. No help.
Help is unavailable with the banking problems.
The promised help with getting the new wheelchair was promised in November last year. Bought six months ago, it had not been brought into a usable condition.
Oxicodone could be my way out?
Tried to ring 111 for mental help, I felt I needed it.
I rang 111, feeling I needed help, as I am having dark thoughts, and needed it.
The phone didn’t work. The Carer had knocked the 2nd unit off the hook while putting the Hoover away. I replaced it and rang 111. The very thought of going through the Robot options was making me feel worse. These are the reasons for my bank. Virgin and British Gas problems, which, along with the Computer ones and the Catheter ones, made me forget about it, and I rang off. I wish I’d stayed on now. Confused, fed-up, and no idea what to do.
Other than adopt my dark thoughts. If I don’t ring, I’ll get no help, but that leaves me where I started.
Fret not if I do get the courage, I’ll be depression, frustration and worry-free. I write this out of desperation, knowing I’m a coward and will surely suffer on longer.
Cheerio. Bless you all.
Inchie Today: Sat-Sun 30-31st May 2026
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Graphicless – Boring – No Photos – Inchie Today
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Saturday
and it was bleep-bleeping all day.
More areas are inaccessible for use.
Old photos & graphics are used, as I cannot get access to put new ones on. Is this due to CorelDraw: Blacking out about 22 screen options, and three toolbars are warped. Can’t Import, Export, Save, Save-as,
I can’t access all the work I did on Friday. Can’t use Notepad to open or save to. All the many hours of work, it (244kb) seems to have absconded? unnatainable. Did a desperate search on the whole computer for anything .txt. They found a few old ones on OneDrive.
One-page able ending, had only 112mb (last one has 320mb) on it, then I realised why: it was from 2018!
Midnight, and things got worse, Much Worse.
And oh, far more frustrating & more painful than ever.
The innards had few areas that were not painful, the kidneys, the back, and Anne Gyna even joined in when I went to the Porcelain Throne. I sat on the plastic seat, and Little Inchy spouted urine out of his teeny-weeny fungal lesion, and the extra pain kicked o
Do not consume alcohol or other sedatives (such as benzodiazepines) while on Oxycodone, as this drastically increases your risk of a fatal overdose. But I took one.
The Doctor’s receptionist warned me about these risks when she phoned me to tell me not to use them unless needed. Fair enough. They are needed, but only for two ailments, if that is the word for the first one? When the Catheter blocks up, and the flowback affects the kidneys, bladder, and lower back, & Little Inchy, the pain is so bad that I have to take them until the Catheter has been changed & refitted. And Little Inchie’s Fungal Lesion is going on the list today; he’s never been more painful. (I’m not surprised, though. Over the last six weeks, I must have had at least 40, if not more, failed reinsertions.)
Little Inchie & his lesion, the worst affected. No wonder the poor little miniature thing hurts so much.
🤔(Little hint for sympathy and help?)🤔Hahaha!
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I wandered off track there, sorry.
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So, there I was in the wet room. The moment I realised only wind was going to escape, I got on my feet to ease the pain a smidgeon. I did, too, but I was getting 
visitations, what the heck, I thought, I can cope with pain! This statement just may contain a degree of falsity
As I was leaving the wet room, to my surprise, pleasure, and hope-boosting, I heard the nurses coming in the door. Very quick timing this morning, I’d guess about half an hour after my phoning in. Bless them!
We walked into the room with the bed, and guess what?
The light bulb died! Do I need any more proof of my bad luck? But on Sunday, I had a few more Whoopsies. Well, that goes without saying, really. Haha!
The two nurses had both been before, the lady four weeks ago, and the chap last week. The no-light problem hadn’t fazed them in the slightest; one held the torch on their mobile, while the other, the lady, had her first go at inserting the tube into battered and bruised Little Inchy. It hurt, but not the tube insertion; that was so smooth and painless. It was from Little Inchies fungal lesion.
The Nurse Got The Tube In, On Her First Try!
Fantastic! I asked her if she would put on the Catheter bag with the press release, rather than the butterfly one. “Yes!” Bless her. She even found my torch for me, and she helped me off of the bed before she left. We all bade our farewells, and I had the pleasure of sitting down again. 👍🏻👩🏻⚕️🧑🏻⚕️
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I made up two bottles of water, got the morning meal cooked, and got down 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 got my feet up on the Carer’s chair and put the TV on, not to watch it, but to lighten the room so I had a chance of seeing what was on my spoon or fork as I ate. I hobbled to the kitchenette to wash the pots, and back into the aged, grotty-looking, c1966-made, charity-shop-bought, horribly beige-coloured, £300, chronically uncomfortable, non-operational, acne-giving, bruise-encouraging, spills-stained, recliner.
I remember settling down, and turning of the TV… and blissfully drifting in a dream. As per, it was things from the past, mostly Gtizeld. At the peak of our mutual man & woman handling, I shot awake – Humph”. But was so back asleep, but no more dreaming. I think I had several nocturnal seizures. Each time I woke, an unpleasant, acidic taste lingered in my mouth, throat, and nose.
I think, well, I must have been doing some shaking about during the seizures, never done that before, but I bruised my arms, right ribs, and both of my knees were actually painful.
I’d not got long left to sleep, and the next time I woke, I was determined to get up…
Late morning SUNDAY wake-up, & get up
I sensed and felt the wet and smell of the urine, which had leaked down my legs, Khagoule, feet, to the floor!
I discovered the Catheter put on had a butterfly closure. I blame this on the physical seizure, along with my Cogniscent Impairment. I must have caught the flimsy, not-asked-for butterfly clasp while in motion during a seizure.
It was something special when I remembered to ask for a push-through Catheter to be fitted. Naturally, I thought it had been. Now I know differently.
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Spent ages cleaning up the mess. Aggravating Little Inchies Fungal Lesion, Dizzy Dennis, Fractured-Knee-Frank, The Kidney-Kid, Lose-Balance-Brigette, & Bad-Back-Brenda.
Then the stomach started to play up, and I was in a bad way when Carer Ejaz arrived.
He was a treasure this morning. Didn’t do body checks, but will on his next call. Made a mug of tea, cornflakes brekkie and reminded me to do my teeth, bless him. A nice lad.
When he was near leaving, I got the feeling 
I thought I might take a Senna. Ejaz said no, they are only taken at night if needed. I asked him to call 111 to see if any other type can be used in the morning. But this meant he was so late and behind. I felt a little guilty asking him.
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Pleasures, women, always pissed,
A social magnet, never dissed…
But these faded off into the mist,
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Things got worse; that’s incontestible,
Before retirement, made redundant,
Had to work in Security, terrible…
Shot twice, I wasn’t capable…
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Ailments came, life got more acerbated,
Had a mechanical Aorta fitted,
Deaf, bad eyesight, knee gets fractured,
Penal lesions, seizures, stomach ulcered.
Cancer, had to have a Catheter fitted,
Heart failure, a stent that bifurcated,
Enough of this, it’s too complicated!
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Why do I find life so incomprehensible?
Luckily, my depression is not transmittible,
Can be lessened if you’re knowledgeable,
How does one achieve this miracle?
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10 Warfarin, Morphine & Oxycodone,
No one to con you, by email or cellphone,
No need for drink, or methadone…
No pains, frustrations, you’re on your own,
No need for you to moan and groan,
But where will you find your soul thrown?
GodZone, DevilZone or GoogleZone?
Of course, all this tosh, I just propone,
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Inchie Today: Thursday 28th May 2026
Most of the day went well, reasonably.
Hearing aids to use, painkillers, thankfully.
But turned in Whoopsiedangleploppery,
Frustration, worry, fear, panic, anxiety…
The bulk of these worries were financially,
Last 3 months, bank statements, texted to me,
Each time £1,000 less than the month previously,
I’ll ring, beg for help, but who can help Inchie?
The Tenancy Sustainment Officer, at N.C.C?
Warden Deana was engaged; she’s so busy,
Rang to Security, Safety, Health and Tenancy,
I struggled to speak, being so panicky,
Wrong words spouted, did I sound barmy?
I was losing; no, I lost my longanimity,
Help, from a wizard, or a vodoo-doctor,
A God, a scientist, maybe a soothsayer?
Without help, I do not have a prayer,
Can’t get through my banksite security layer,
They’ve my ten-year-old mobile number,
To which they sent my one-time number,
Yet they send texts to my new number?
As my bank account continues to wither,
AI security installed, it’s no communicator!
Select this or that, what’s needed is not listed!
Independent living scheme Warden Deana,
Responded, she came to the flat, Bless Her…
Two hours trying to log in, then, however,
Due to our utter and complete failure…
To log in, sign in, communicate or register,
And, their AI, or the bank’s customer vilifier,
It came to hometime for dear Deana,
Who did her best, with pleasant demeanour,
I hope I don’t develop toxicomania,
A possibility, if I get any toeier.
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I discovered how bad my arithmaphobia is getting this morning. I checked the email from Mr Kervic. I’d worked it out that the refund was due by the end of April. So I was concerned about not being able to get into my bank page to check it, hence yesterday’s grand effort by Deana to get me signed in, ans she said she would return after discovering they were sending one-use codes to the wrong mobile. Yet they send me the monthly grand total on the correct number? It’s still important that I get this sorted ASAP. At least I can see why, I think, the balance has dwindled so much. Maybe, perhaps.
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Not much of a blog, but I’ve done my best.
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Bloated and or shrunk in many areas,
damaged due to Loss-Balance-Belinda.
A spot of rain now.
Now the failed banking hassle hours.
At least Deana worked out what the problem
was. I’m hopeful she will return today after
another bash at sorting things out for me.
I rang Sister Jane late on. She has been diagnosed as having… Wait for it, A Baker’s Cyst. She told me to look it up on Google, and I did. asked me,
They can get nasty, it seems. I took a snip (below)
Two differing types of them are being removed,
I’ll have to ask her what the Doctor’s plans are.
CorelDraw gone warped. No graphics.
Could be the end.
Inchie Today: Wednesday 27th May 2026 – Miracles!
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A Wednesday of Miracles… TWO!
First, the new hearing aids were delivered!
Working fine, and they sent some batteries too!
Carer Mizra had to cut one of the tubes and refit it for me. Did a grand job. I wish I could have him more often; he really is such a help. He guides rather than bullies. The same with Carer Ejaz, who helps so much as well.
The second one was when the Carer Arrived… with a box of Oxicodone painkillers with him! Grrreat!
I assume the three missed calls and voice message that followed were from the Doctor or receptionist. But the voice message didn’t record, so it was less of a surprise when it showed up at long last. I’d been emailing asking for some of the good painkillers; 3 times last week, after running out, and no Codiene was left either. A dear friend gave me some of the chemist-bought Cocodamol that helped me cope. Bless-Her-Caring-Cotton-Socks ❤️.
That pulled me through until this morning.
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But I managed to calm down and concentrate on the problem. I hobbled to the wet room and took off the bag. Made a note of the colour and amount for the Health Check record, and opened the release tap over the WC.
I was impassive about things, mainly because the pain had not begun, so there was still hope. The contents in clumps in the tube reminded me of long ago, when I could… but I’ll not go into that any further. But I did remember dreaming of Griselda last night; I often do this when I sleep in bed and do not fall asleep on the couch. A 1966, £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.
Some beautiful but sparse clouds this morning.
The Carer took this shot with a Kodak Tim Two camera. Showing injuries, too deep coloured urine in the Catheter bag.
The difference in the shapes and sizes of my legs. The right foot has warping toes and different amounts of swelling on each foot. Not to mention the different shapes and degrees of colouring of the 
AS I was closing the window,
“Oh, Susanna rang out from the door, I poodled to open it.
Are things looking up for the disabled, bald, partially blind, fractured left knee, Arthritic, Cramp-suffering, Trotsky Terence suffering, TBI-suffering, cataract & glaucoma attention waiting, Seizures & Peripheral Neuropathy bearing, Diabetic Kidney Disease, Lymphorrhoea, Unguis Incarnates toenails, Blocked-Catheter-Agony, Tumble-taking tumbles, Premorbid Cognitive Impairment, mangled memories, Fungal Lesions suffering, Inchie?
I think there is a minute possibility that his luck may be changing… or mahap getting less severe?
Now, how was that, a near positive response!.
He also had to remove some products because they were out of date.
He also packed the meals in order, longest date at the top, very helpful that was. He also read the cooking times on the potatoes and veg, and I planned a complicated meal to get cooked at the same time, ot two types of potatoes, 2 types of mushrooms, carrots, water chestnuts, & and planned, then prepped my meal, with help from Carer Mizra. Back on the computer, I got carried away and made many mistakes, which I corrected when updating on Thursday late morning. (I think) 🤔
Of to the kitchen and managed to concentrate, it was that or fall asleep, Haha, and somehow managed to cope with using the hotplate, slow cooker with mushrooms & carrots in, and the potatoes done in the oven. The Spanish ones are in for 15 minutes, then I added the sliced battered spuds for another 15 minutes. Got tomatoes out for slicing when the meal is cooked. Carer Mizra wrote down the timing on the pack sleeve three hours ago. I added a few drops of Teriyaki sauce to most of the ingredients, and it turned out good! (Did I say that?) While doing the washing up, I realised why I’d 
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FRIDAY TEATIME
I cannot save anything to the external drives at all, which is where everything is, of course.
With the bother with the bank, and Deana unable to come back to see if she can manage to. I seem to be able to do emails, but none are coming in, so I don’t know.
I’ve done some graphics, but I cannot access them.
I think I’ve had enough!
Just updated this blog, but can’t do a new one.
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Inchie Today: Tuesday 26th May 2026
Rush Job today. Sorry.
Misshapen legs.
Lymphwater leaking.
PROBLEMS WITH THE LAUNDRY DRYER
Could say the thing about me.
Plenty of hassle and annoyances today, but do you know, I’m going to mention any no more…
Well, go on then, while I was putting the laundry away, the Carer told me I’d missed 3 phone calls on my mobile.
Wednesday mid-morning. I got around to updating this blog. Been a busy boy this morning. 🤣
I asked Carer Ejaz on the teatime call to listen to the voice message for me to see if it was about painkillers. But by then I was my usual mind-dead, dead-tired and at the most disturbing period ot Out-of-itness of the day. We both forgot to check the voicemail. I can’t ask Carer Rachid on Wednesday morning; his English is about as good as my Pakistani. 😏 I think he said he is doing all the calls on Wednesday. Hope my new hearing aids arrive in time for me to try to hear the voice message. It may be time-critical, as they had tried to contact me so often, a rare event.
Life is not working out, you know. I’ve lost 90% of calls from two great Carers, Ejaz & Mirzra. The others are struggling, and I keep forgetting to ask them to do things they forget to do. Like on Wednesday morning, nobody checked my body. No Phorpain gel applied to the back or shoulder; no Catheter check made. No Bank Checks, financial help, no shower monitoring for I don’t know how long since Mirza last helped me take me last shower – 4-5 weeks? I am in suc a confused state when these blokes arrive, nervous sometimes. And of course on the computer. I will have to stop moaning on this blog, and intend to make this my last one. I can’t concentrate on things, forget things, drop things, or walk into things nowadays. And this is going to make me sooo depressed. The computer is taking so long to get used to, CorelDraw, different Windows, and the fonts changing on their own, as AI said, when I asked about and showed some resulting font 
Things will get worse when the computer man gets back from holiday, and hopefully answers Caer Mizras’ telephone call for help. I’ve written down so many pages of problems I need help with. I must ask him to get rid of all fonts he can on the computer that I don’t need or use. On this new computer, I’ve got almost 9000 fonts, plus variations. I think it said that.
But Andy is a good lad, and warned me I’d struggle.
I hope he doesn’t do what the student did six years ago, when he ruined my laptop while trying to fix it. Gave me his mobile number, took payment, and when I rang him, it rang and rang, but was never answered. Andy won’t let me down, he’s a great chap. I’ve got faith in him.
I’m getting a lot of moaning done, out of the way for a fresh start? Well, that’s the plan, but, knowing me, the next fault, Whoopsidangleplop, frustrating event, or disaster, will likely be too annoying and frustrating to be ignored.
(Did you see how craftily I sneaked in a few of tomorrow morning’s early frustrations?)
But I’ll try to cut them down. I promise. Hehehe! 😄
Off to make a Glengettie evening cuppa.
Boy, was the rain delting down again. I took these two snaps of it through the balcony windows. As I turned to make my way through the three disabled machines, each one holding a promise of being repaired or demonstrated for me… Huh! I thought I’d better turn over the dressing gown spread over each machine. Not a good decision that.
After turning them over, I made my way inside the flat and tore off the lower scab on my right leg, which naturally flowed out a little blood. I got in and used kitchen towels to dry it off and stop the bleeding. I was well tired now, and dropped the towel, and without even thinking, bent down to retrieve it. My head hit the corner of the Carer’s table when I lost my balance. Can’t even see a bruise, let alone a scar! All that pain without any potential sympathy attraction wound… Humph & Tsk! 🤨
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OLD ODE
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