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Graphicless – Boring – No Photos – Inchie Today
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Saturday
It took me eight tries to open the computer,
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.I was already a few notches up in the stakes; it got deeper!
And oh, far more frustrating & more painful than ever.

The Catheter blocked again. I tried the usual gulping down gallons (it felt like it) of water to force whatever the black matter is that causes this horrendous pain, but it didn’t work. (Of course). And I had to call the District Nurses at this time in the morning. (00:15hrs). Including this one, that is now four calls for help I’ve done, averaging one every two weeks. Every one of them on a Saturday or Sunday, the day of rest… Ha! Having been battered about so often with all the tube extractions and insertions (14 failed ones last time, I think, t might have been more). Little Inchies’ Fungal Lesion has now gained the Award as one of of “Inchies Prime Pain Pesteration!” More later. Tonight, I found that sitting down was just too painful, and I felt a little dizzy from the increased severity of the surges. of pain. I decided to stand up the whole time, using two sticks, as I waited of the nurses to arrive.
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 off again from the recently mauled-over testicles. But as for whether it was a Trotsky Terence or Constipation Conrad, Trotsky was well out of the running, which was what I’d anticipated the evacuation would be. Nothing but wind and little liquid occasionally. And each time I tried to force the movement along, a new, even lower backache kicked in. I decided to take a risk with one of the powerful tablets. Have to take care with this one; I looked it up on Mr Google last week, he said:  Oxycodone is a highly potent opioid painkiller carrying severe risks, including fatal respiratory depression, dependence and Addiction. Accidental overdose. Because it is roughly 1.5 times more potent than oral morphine, it requires strict medical supervision. Conitive & Physical Impairment (Which I already have). It can cause extreme drowsiness, confusion, and dizziness. The UK’s National Health Service (NHS) warns that it can impair your driving ability and warns against operating heavy machinery.
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 that I needed the Porcelain Throne, sure it was going to be a Trotsky Terence event. I got to the toilet and had another wind-only evacuation.
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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Ah, the days of old are so missed…
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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