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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All day, every try until this one, I could not access any files or folders. Suddenly, I could, so I got the BP graphic on.
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
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Carer Ejaz Body check
Inchie Today: Sat-Sun 30-31st May 2026
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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 o
ff 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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Inchie Today: Fri/Sat/Sunday 15>17th May 2026.
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FRIDAY
So many upsets and disappointments over the three days. But some sweet pleasantries, and even time to start catching up on this blog, on Sunday afternoon. My depression told me I did not need the memory note pad, as at the time I was so down, I threw them away.
I’m sorry I did that now.
Things will be missed and mixed up, no doubt.
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Morning bush flowers
Wonderful puffer clouds
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I had a terrible experience this morning. I can’t say anymore, yet. I don’t know why I told you. It will take time to sort out, then I can reveal all.
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I had to get up early and start getting things ready for the Audio visit. When Carer Mizra arrived, most things were done, but he had to call a taxi for us because he had arrived too late to take the bus. Glad we did, even though the roadworks took us all over the place, and the cost was close to all the money I had taken with me for two trips there and back. But the taxi driver let me in the front seat, and my legs were no bother, really. Until I got out-of-it. Hahaha!
Things went fabulously well, to the Clinic, and even better inside. A nice young lady asked how I lost the hearing aids. I waffled on, getting all excited at someone showing such understanding and patience with my long, drawn-out patter.
Told me I would not have to pay for replacements. Also, I will not have to return to the Clinic to collect them; they will mail them to me.
She then did a hearing test on each ear and pointed out afterwards that it had been 16 years since I last had new hearing aids. The young lady then made inner ear moulds to get the size and fit right. Then, gave me some hearing aids to take with me, for free!
Great! Thank You!
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We caught a bus home, not having enough dosh for a taxi. I had, but didn’t realise this until it was too late. One of the sillier points of Arithmaphobia!
I also forgot that I’d taken the camera with me until we had reached the bus stop on Market Street. (I think)
I took these two snaps.
We caught the bus and returned to the flat.
Mizra had to shoot off to his next job.
I dug into the biscuit barrels and made a brew of tea.
I was surprisingly very tired and fell 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.
Waking up to…
Take these snaps of the
Evening sky.
I was incapable of getting up. The earlier altercation was weighing on my mind, and I had to put up with 
Then, 
kicked in, and all the while I worried over the dispute, lingered.
I made a meal of sorts.
Tasty enough, though.
I fell asleep where I was, Zzzz!
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A little out of sync here, sorry.
THE NEW COMPUTER ARRIVED
The computer man arrived with the new computer setup. Not the bandied about £350 mark, but it was now £850 quid. So tired, I was struggling to keep up with what he was doing and the advice he was giving.
He was patient with me. Nice chap. He spent hours getting it sorted out for me. Even put on the fonts I use. Hepta, Glutton & Aptos Square.
After Adam… Allan? Or Andy had gone, I was too tired to consider setting up the new version of CorelDraw that the lad had installed for me. But hope to get up early Saturday morning and make a start on it.
Thanked and paid him, and off he went, saying he was having a week’s holiday. I was weary beyond belief.
Blowed if I knew how to shut it down!
Where there was one one-off button on the front of the old computer, I could feel four… but which one to press was my dilemma. I had to use Google to find out where the Windows 11 start button was.
By nearly midnight, I found out where it was.
I thought before I use it, I’d take a snip of it and save it.
But could I find the now-removed Snip icon from the bottom tray, along with everything else I had on, when it was transferred from W10 to the W11 computer? No!
Back to search Google. Without any luck, I was not concentrating well and was so tired.
So I got my head down around 0300hrs.
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SATURDAY
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Up at 05:10hrs. A Day in Which I Did Nothing: Other than try to learn and get the new computer, CorelDraw, MS Word, Excel, the Snip-app, change it to the right date and time, and how to turn it on to work. I’d seen Andy put the three fonts on. They were on XL, not on Word, CorelDraw, MS Word, or CorelDraw.
I changed tack and looked up how to open the Snip app. The primary keyboard shortcut to open the Snipping Tool overlay in Windows 11 is: Windows Logo Key + Shift + S.
Well, that was the only real success I had with the computer over the next nine hours!
The new external hard drive was flashing for nine hours. I sort of hoped it might be sorting out the new fonts and getting them onto the programmes I needed. Then I uploaded some of the fonts I wanted, and the machine told me they were already installed. But not available anywhere but in Excel. And that has lost my beloved Origano font, and there are now… wait for it… 869 fonts on my system! Note that later, as you can see, the Origano font reappeared on WordPress while I was doing this part, late on Sunday!
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The longest taking and most frustrating programme was CorelDraw. So many things had changed in the 26th version. It took me until Sunday night to work out how to move the…
SHIT!
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SATURDAY
All the day tabs I’ve made on CorelDraw have turned into gobbledigook! And Windows 11 does not have a calendar with it! I thought of buying a monthly calendar from Amazon, but it won’t let me in on this device, and wants a Google 6-digit validation number. How? No email came in on email or mobile?
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I so regret getting this computer; I could not afford it.
Andy is away on holiday for a week, so I can’t get any help with the computer problems.
Sorry, I haven’t been calling, I spent ages trying to sort the computer out on my own. Fed-up!
I am so depressed!
See how the lettering has gone overnight.
I’ve about had enough.
AM shot
Motheaten curtains
Beatiful puffer clouds
Carers desk
So much has gone wrong…
I’m just coping, but for how long?
Will I ever get back on song?
I feel I don’t belong…
Life is an emotional dingdong,
Still, Prosper & live-long!
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Got a message from My Angel. The calendar is still there; I just didn’t click the arrow, thinking it would open as it used to with one click.
I’m getting worse… Hehehe!
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Gorgeous Taste!
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The week, meaning the good Carers will have scarce visits. I am back with a Carer who ignored two of my shouts for help on my last two tumbles. Grunts rather than talks, and gets sharp with me when I can’t understand what he is saying.
I will see how it goes, but if there are any more let-downs, I shall ask the Carer Company boss to see if he can be replaced as one of my Carers. Explain my fears to her. I hate the thought of doing this, but I’ll see if Care skills and understanding improve.
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Not up to much.
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Inchie: Tuesday 5th May 2026
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Carer Mizra called the chemist to cancel the COVID-19 inoculation. Then he called the Audio Centre and made a pro tem appointment for me. I’ll have to pay for the lost hearing aids, naturally. They were only ever on loan from the NHS in the first place (1982). Hoping that it’s not going to be too expensive. Mizra speed-mopped the kitchen for me. Thank you. The INR gal vampire came for the Warfarin & Renal blood taking.
COMPUTER PROBLEMS
I tried twice to get it to load, but nope! Sulked a while and made a brew of tea, and went back to try again. And it got this far…
Thought I’d wait a little longer.
Drank the n made another brew. Emptied and sorted the waste bin bags. Went to the toilet, a long, messy job. Then, I returned to see this screen appear.
Nothing changed, and after half an hour, I started looking for the computer man’s number. I could not find it, but Mizra has it, I’m sure. Turned everything off and got a text message from the bank about an important email they had sent.
Had to try once again to get the computer on.
Luv-a-ducks! It came on!?!?
I got into the email, but could not find any email from the bank, only old ones. The text had a link… part of a scam, mayhaps? I went on the text on the phone to read it again… Mystery! It was not there. Either I had deleted it… or it was a self-destruct con-job? Haha!
Do you remember the TV series?
“This tape will self-destruct in five (ten) seconds.
Good luck, [Dan/Jim].”
I wish they would show them again; they were the epitome of corny, but I liked them.
Love it when the good guys win.
Morning shot.
As the right leg gets better,
the left leg gets worse.
Morning snaps.
Meal. 7¼/10
Evening dawns.
FOOD ADVICE
For anyone purchasing Morrison’s ‘Sweet Vine-ripened Tomatoes’ in May. As long as you appreciate the utter tastelessness and lack of juice, they’re fine.
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Inchie: 16th February, 2016
George Street in Nottingham City Centre. He used to walk to here from his flat in Sherwood and back again after shopping. Of course, you have to remember that back then, he was still alive. Hehehe! He loved a long walk, and hobbled through his beloved Tree Copse on route there and back to his cell (flat).
The persistent rain kept so many others indoors. Now, it is Inchie that is stuck indoors. This year he has left his flat a good many times; Shopping with Carer (2), Computer shop for help with Carer (2), QMC hospital (6), City Hospital (1), Highbury (2) with Carer, Dentist with Carer (2), Opticians with Carer (1), Diabetes Program Meeting (2) 1 (alone), 1 with Carer, Audio (Hearing aid) Centre, with Carer (2), and the Neurologist (1) alone, the Carer nor lift were not available. He was lifted there, for only £9, but no lift available to get back. That was the day of disasters, if you recall. He had a seizure as he left the building, got lost and had to ask the way to the tram station. The tram had people squished like in a can of sardines when it arrived. It was getting dark. He got on the tram with his three-wheeled walker, condensed as far as he could. As the tram pulled away, he lost his balance and fell over.
Luckily, there was not enough room for him to fall flat on the floor. People around him helped him to his feet, and a passenger stood and offered him her seat. That was so kind and will always be remembered.
Got off in the City Centre, and was threatened jbed and tormented by a gang of youths, yobboes, when he asked them to let him through… and they would not, so he had to walk on the tram lines to get over the road.
Up Queen Street to the bus stop, and had another mini-seizure. He was confused to see that 40x buses were all that was on the timetable. Thinking, well, the same number, they must go to the flats. He got on and took a seat. All is going well now. He recalled working out a possible problem that may present itself as the bus turns down to Winchester Street; he could see nothing out of the windows, too dark. So thought as he felt the bus turning right, that would be the vehicle turning into where the flats are. Sure enough, he sensed the right turn motion and pressed the next stop bell.
It was another surprise to the lad when he realised that the bus had not stopped at his flats and had dropped him off in Sherwood, on Mansfield Road.
He crossed over the road with plans to catch another 40x bus up to near the flats and hobble down to them.
But this is Inchie we are talking about. Nothing ever goes right for him since 1966.
He realised he had no money for the bus trip right up the second-steepest hill in Nottingham, to get home.
No option left, he had to walk all the way up, which he did. Stopping at least a dozen times to let the Anne Gyna pains calm down and catch his breath.
Then, as he neared the top of the steep bit, his mobile chirrupped into life. No lights on this stretch of the road, cracked pavements, bits of branches, twigs, browned and green leaves, dog-poo, and even a used Durex. He knows this because it is where he dropped his mobile and had to dig into the ground to find it! Eventually finding it, still ringing. It was Carer Ejaz who was in his flat waiting for him.
This Tale Of Woe is Authentic.
Since moving into the flats, his life has taken a turn for the worse. A selection of new ailments since arriving includes Glaucoma, another cataract, Renal problems not yet clarified. Fractured Knee Frank, Heart Failure Felicity, Sandra’s Seizures, Little Inchies Fungal lesion bleeding, Earache Erasmus Lymphorrea Leslie, Premorbid Cognitive Impairment, Bladder Infection Iris, and Shoulder-Shuddering-Shirely
On the bright side… erm… er…
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Inchie: Tuesday 28th April 2026 = Computer Assessed, Not Good!
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Worra Night!
After eating the meal of the day and really enjoying it, washing the pots and visiting the Porcelain Throne, I unfortunately suffered an Accifauxpa and didn’t get there in time. But it could have been worse; it has been many times this year, and it only took me about 15 minutes to clean things up.
I decided sleep was next in line for my attention. I seemed to have fallen asleep quickly… I felt I had when waking at 02:00hrs, again in desperate need of the Porcelain Throne. Not wanting to risk another accident, I fumbled my way out of the bed and hobbled-hastily to the wet room.
A darned close call, I only just made it. Where all the evacuating little, short dollops kept coming from, I don’t know. 
I cast my mind back as the plop-plops kept coming. I only ate my favourite nosh, cheesy baked potato. I can’t recall such a reaction to these before. To be on the safe side, I got down in the £300 second-hand shop bought, c1966. moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, Catheter tube trapping, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not working recliner. To enable a swifter reply in case I need to go again.
0315:hrs, and I was off again to the Porcelain Throne. I got there more swiftly this time. No accidents.
When I got back to the recliner, I almost felt another follow-through trying to make its way down. I could not get to sleep again now. I sort of just waited for the next evacuation warning to arrive. It came at 06:00hrs. A lot less passed this time. Thankfully, I got there in plenty of time. I pondered, I do that sometimes, you know. Was the cheese in the baked potatoes out of date?
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The day brought forth some challenges, not of the rear-end evacuation type. Attilla the Carer, Ra
chid did the first two calls, so my low mood was set. The feet and toes seem to adapt much more easily at first. Three toe-stubbings in the first hour put an end to that bit of pleasure. I partially opened the balcony curtains, and when the sun comes out, I have to close them. Bright sun doesn’t suit Cataract Katie or Glaucoma Gladys. This snap came out as it looked. A medical delivery arrived. Concentration was bad when I got on the computer. But I reckon it was less bothersome than yesterday morning.
I did my best to get the Monday blog finished before the computer man arrives. I pressed on, making mistake after mistake, and I don’t know how long it took, but I got it sent off. Fearing that many cock-ups will be in the finished blog.
I took another shot through the balcony windows, dead excited about this blog, innit? Hahaha!
Carer Rashid did the next call. Nothing much happened; if he can ignore me, I can ignore him. Haha!
After he’d not too soon for me, gone, I got the kettle on.
And the intercom sounded. I was overjoyed!
The Computer Man Cameth
Less than a minute later, Carer Mizra came in behind the computer genius Andy. Who spent a long time asking questions and assessing the state of the computer for me. Mirza conducted the communications. After much effort from Andy, trying to install the two-terabyte external hard drive in the computer. At least I think it was a two-terabyte-sized one. The old computer would not let him transfer anything from the other drive to save space,
Mizra ran out of time, so no time for me to have an assisted shower or to get the laundry done again.
Andy ended up asking if I wanted to use this machine as it is, with slightly more memory, but not a lot, or do you want me to source a suitable used one with Asif, that will cope with CorelDraw, which has very little space left to do much. I said I’d go with his recommendation. The goal was to get a new computer. Fair enough for me. So, be it. Bank Balance considerations, of course. Andy will report the needs back to Asif. Closed the computer down.
As Andy left, I realised that the Catheter pouch was overdue for emptying. So, I emptied it. Haha!
I’m feeling a smidge more hopeful now that Andy’s been and sorted this computer out, and I agree with his decision that a new (second-hand, refurbished) machine would be the best option for me.
The legs, feet, and toes were all looking better when Ejaz took these snaps, which I put together, but not very well. Looks like a mangle of limbs, the way I did this, manipulating. Hehe!
Frank arrived with some treats that Jenny, my angel, had sent for me. I gave him a small box of stuff for the Charity or handing out. Had a little outing with Frank, a lovely couple of neighbours who I am very proud to have as Guardians & friends. Bless them both. So understanding and helpful. X I’d made a meal earlier, I’ll not eat all of it, after the feast from Jenny.
The computer went down, died!
The landline stopped working!
The TV stopped working!
My heart and interest in living went into hold mode. My first actions, apart from panicking, were to try to think about what I was doing or did wrong that caused the catastrophe in the first place. Or had Andy missed something earlier? The chances were that it was my error, a mistake, or that I accidentally caught a dangerous, fatal combination of keys. As I have one in the past. Causing all sorts of problems due to the dying neurotransmitters.
They warned me there was no treatment, saying they cannot mend damaged nerve ends, and it will slowly get worse. They were right.
I thought I’d give it some time before trying to restart the computer, in case it was doing something all technical in the background.
I picked up the landline thingy, put it down, and it made a tone. The mystery deepened.
I had no idea for certain of what I did with the TV to get it back on. Turned it on a few times, and it turned itself off. Got it to stay on, displaying a No. Connected sign. Then pressed the TV button on the remote control, and the TV closed down again. I pointed the remote at the scary, threatening Virgin box, and the red light turned yellow. Then tried again to start the TV, and dropped the control thingy. Got the picker-upper and retrieved it, to see that the TV had come on?
I prayed that getting the computer back would be as easy as that. (It wasn’t and didn’t!)
In the past, when launching the computer, I’d get a ‘DoS’ message telling me to press ESC for details. This would bring up a dreaded blue screen. Press Enter for options. Another blue screen says to press F1 to start the computer. This has happened each time I’ve opened it for about 3 years or more now.
But not now… The black screen opens, but pressing ESC does nothing. Also, I could not turn off the computer at the button, had to switch the power off. I kept repeating this pattern, so many times and for so long. Not knowing what else I could try. Each go was met with failure.
No sleep tonight. Mind on the verge of exploding. self-pity, futility, anger… Mostly, the sour, blood-draining effects of Deep, Dark, Dank, Depression Darius.
And to think, I had gone up into a high a few hours ago when the computer was sorted…
That didn’t last long, did it?
Heartlessly, I put the meal in the microwave. It looked okay, smelled okay, but after feartily enjoying Jenny’s treats, combined with the Computer problems, I just couldn’t eat more than a few spoonfuls. I couldn’t get to sleep either. I scribbled down the times I got up to try to restart the computer.
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Inchie Today: Monday 27th April 2026
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0625hrs: I leapt out of the bed, somersaulted over the aged, grotty-looking, c1966-made, charity-shop-bought, horribly beige-coloured, £300, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, non-operational, acne-giving, virus-breeding, rickety, easy-to-fall-out-of recliner. Landing and started doing some shadow boxing. A 100 press-ups, and got the weights out, 150 double curls, and burst into song, ‘I’ve got the Whole World in My Hands…’ Into the balcony, threw open the windows and burst forth with a few minutes of Tarzan wailing. I suppose you have doubts about the validity & truth of the above? Very wise!
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I took off the Catheter night bag and hobbled into 
the kitchen to do the pots and safety checks. Then the bins, and off to the wetroom initially for a poop. Trotsky is in charge this time. Messy! I decided to get a stand-up wash, teggies, shave, etc., while I was there. It all went fairly well, just one bad cut shaving.
Got the kettle on and opened the window to take this shot of the morning sky. Realising how much easier the swollen right leg & foot were today. Nice! I brewed the tea and got on the computer. Slowly, my earlier feeling of being overall in a better place faded. When the Carer called, it was Rachid.
I had another of those long active seizures after I’d got rid of the Carer. Don’t really know how long or what I had been up to. But I noticed the Hoover had been moved, and the mug of cold tea had been knocked or dropped onto the floor. It took me an age to recover from this seizure. I felt almost groggy.
The INR agency worker came to take the blood for the DVT Warfarin clinic testing. The result came back at about 17:50 hours: Mon 2, every other day, 1½.
I had long periods of feeling out-of-it, almost like being drunk. Confusion lasted all day.
And as the late afternoon, tea-time came, I honestly was an utter mental wreck.
The following might be out of sync again, because in the morning, when I read my memory notes, 
well, it looked nothing like my handwriting, and my memory was only prompted by some of the photographs I’d taken.
I can remember this one. I had two giant potatoes left and fancied my hand at making some of my beloved cheesy potatoes. I couldn’t decide which of the spuds 
to use, as they both came well battered about.
At least I could tell when I took this snap, of the battery calendar clock.
These shots of the clouds were a pareidolia’s delight.
The INR blood was taken.
I got a phone call that I could not hear any of the words. The Carer was here, so I asked him to take the call. He did, but said not a word to me; he just started looking around the Carer’s desk and on the floor. Then shot off out of the flat.
Returning to sit down and get back on his mobile.
I never found who or why they called me. Despite asking the Carer. Mysteriousnesses?
I got the potato into the oven and got on with the blogging. It was hard work, as per usual, with snaffles and Concentration Konrad not helping in the slightest. Carer style.
Taking this photo of the sky was when the ultra-drunken feeling and sensation deepened, along with genuine confusion.
The joy of seeing Caring Carer Ejaz make his only call of the day really perked me up. I felt much more like myself. Someone who cares, speaks, doesn’t grunt and ignores me when I say or ask for anything to be done or whatever. He did a full-body check, asked how the legs felt, and asked if I wanted a brew and some bikkies. Phorpain Gelled my painful Shaling Shoulder Shirely, rubbing it in until it was fully absorbed. Much better reaction when they spend a minute rubbing the gel in. 👍🏻
The hard work chap called. Still no body checking, not that I needed it after Ejaz had done it for me. I put the oven on to cook the large spud.
I hastened to fetch the camera from the junk room to take this amazing shot of the evening sky. Another pareidolia’s delight.
I got the spud out of the oven and got so annoyed when 
I had a feast of dropping stuff, spilling things, and losing my grip on things. Plus, difficulty in using the implements needed to make the meal. Unbelievable problem! What a mess I’d made in the kitchen. It was bad enough before, with no Carer cleaning it for three or four weeks now. Ejaz was the last one to do it. I’ll try to remember the sequence of droppages & spillages, etc. Oddly, I could recall these with ease. I think this is because I was all het up and angry at myself for repeatedly making such a mess that it stuck with me… maybe.
I took the monster potato out of the oven; the husk disintegrated on the outside, with flakes of skin all over the counter, tray, cooker, and floor… Grrr!
Belatedly, I got the chopping board out and used that to slice the spud in half. It took a long time to clean up, but it didn’t matter that the veg was cooling, as I was going to scoop it into a basin for mixing, then put it back in the oven to brown off.
I got the no-butter butter from the fridge to mix in, and picked up the large mixing bowl, this is where 
interfered again. I dropped the bowl, & no-butter butter. The bowl, hitting a large stack of Tupperware washed earlier and left to drain, with several different-sized bowls, fell to the
floor, rolled around, and surrounded the No-butter butter! A bit of luck this time, the long picker-upper meant no bending and less pain and dizziness!
Still determined to have my favourite meal, I pressed on after a few minutes of recuperation.
I cut the mammoth potato in half lengthwise and began scooping the flesh into the mixing bowl. It was here, that 
kicked off.
I stood looking down the bowl at some of the potatoes on the floor. I’ll not say what I called myself.
But it was a smidge defamatory.
No choice, I could not avoid bending down, if I was going to clean this up with the little bits on the floor.
I’ve asked every Carer to find out where I can get a long-handled brush & dustpan set. And how! Being as I am now flat-bound again!
Irritation brewed in my mind, not self-pity this time, more like a semi-anger.
Back to cooking. I scooped the flesh into the bowl, added the last of the Leicester-grated cheese, and some No-butter butter and sea salt. Bashed it up for as long as I could, into t semi-smooth state, refilled the two halves of the husk, ran a fork over the top of each to ensure crispiness when cooked, and went for a sit-down without doing any clearing up, and fell asleep.
Not for long, but I could smell the potatoes when I woke up. So, off into the kitchen and they were just how I like ’em, well done. And they were red hot when I extracted them from the oven. So while they cooled a bit, I cleared and washed things up.
Then at last, and with great physical and emotional pains, I got the meals served up… After adding Chilli & Lemon Potato Curls. Great!
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Worth All The Hassle? You Decide! Hehehe!
Despite it all, it was lovely,
But I have to say, costly,
Pricewise, Physically & Mentally,
I say this enthusiastically,
I fare with life intolerantly,
But, voided living in xerophagy,
I need help neuropsychiatrically,
I can feel high, but hesitantly…
With the crap-luck that haunts me!
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Inchie: Monday 13th April 2026
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3:15hrs: I woke very reluctantly indeed, to be greeted by Mind-Mangling-Malcolm, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley and Rib-Pains-Rupert were in angery moods.. As I was taking off the night Catheter, Grip-Loss-Gloria ensured I dropped the nocturnal pouch, and Dizzy 
Dennis nearly had me topple over as I retrieved the pouch. Made a dismal effort to straighten the bedclothes.
Off to the Porcelain Throne, 
Trotsky Terence fashion, sorted the bins and got the Health Checks done. With some poor results again, see the photo above. I searched for the Four-Pronged-Percy. Failed to, but I’ll find him later, of course, I may have left him in the kitchenette with the Wooden-Willy-Walking-Stick.
Got the computer on to record the HC results.
Google loaded second time, then had a right farcical eight attempts to get CorelDraw to load. I then ended it, which was loaded with missing pages, and it gave me a warning that my device’s memory was 96.5% full. You cannot save any changes made to this graphic. Try saving it with another name. ‘Save As’ in a different name. Remember to delete what you can to ensure there will be sufficient room to save. That cost me over an hour to sort out, and I think I may have deleted some unintended files. Cumudgeon-Mode-Adopted! Third visit, same mode, to the Porcelain Throne.
And found Wooden-Willy-Walking-Stick.
07:15hrs: The Carer arrived.
Jenny, my Angel, sent an email, and I responded. Hubby Frank is coming up to see me later. A nicer, kind pair of people and I could not ask for better. Always willing to help out, despite Jenny’s own problems. 🤎
In the morning, lateenalenal morning on Tuesday, (Another bad night & morning involving nurses visiting me and lots of hours of excruciating pain), I found this photographicalisation on the SD card. It took me a while to see what it was of, the reminder notepad on the desk, I think. Then I launched into ‘Wandering-Mind-Mode’ for a few hours. Concentration Konrad had me starting jobs, and at the first interruption to my thoughts, I found myself in another room doing something unrelated. I kept doing this so often today. But many tasks were never returned to, and that ‘Haze’ was in charge too often, too.
Rashid made his next call. I was pleased with his increased attention, and to me. Not a bad lad, and seems to be improving each call. He checked and loosened the Catheter straps and medicated the leg scars. After he’s gone, the bag fell down when the straps broke. After another Porcelain Throne visit (Trotsky Terence mode), I went to empty the Catheter bag… and there was nowt in it? I wasn’t too worried, with all the fuss and bother today, I hadn’t drunk so much water. So I got a few bottles out and started to gulp it down. After three litres had been swallowed, as I checked the pouch, I felt the bad backflow pains start. The pains were terrible and persistent. I decided to call the Community Nurses to ask for advice and help if needed. The AI robot kept repeating, ‘We are very busy. If you are calling in an emergency, please dial 111 for advice.’ After half an hour, another AI voice, female this time, said, “You are number 18 in the queue. I was walking around to take my mind off of the pain, and the door chime chimed. I had progressed to being 9th in the queue and went to the door.
It was the Falls Team, lady. As I was saying about the lack of urine flow, it started flowing again out of the blue. All good. Slowly, the pain eased, and the flow 
continued while the Fall’s Team lady was here. We did some Q&A’s. Kindly adjusted the c1968, tatty, scruffy, unkempt, uncomfortable, virus, microorganism, bug, bacterium, bacillus, germ, parasite producing, eyesore-horrendously grungy, disease-fermenting second-hand, beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, moth-eaten, non-working, itch-encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, Catheter tube yanking, recliner, for me. Thank you. Looks better now. Some no-sores cushions were arranged for me on my recliner and computer chair. Bless them. I was still in some pain and got the shakes and dizzies while she was with me. I lost a lot of what was agreed. But there was something else, I think. When she’s gone, I increased the water intake to be on the safe side.
I got back onto the blog and made so many mistakes again. I was doing reminders for Monday and using the Sunday blog to catch up, and got slightly confused between the two.
So, from here on, I realise there may be more errors between the days. I hope not, but it’s so late in the day now; my eyes are fading fast, and my cognitive attention and recognition are worse.
I, well, my EQ can sense that my conditions, physically and mentally, are getting to me more, and things will get worse in a short space of time. Along with the lack of a good painkiller, the computer and related problems were getting worse, and later on, scarily, I had to shut it down before I was ready, blue-screen, shortage of memory warnings, and the frustrations developed again to keep Dark Dank, Depression Darius company. My wandering mind does not help.
The Catheter problems are returning, no sleep at all tonight, and backflow agony, and my responses to the problems and failed corrections are that I think I’m getting a smidge more resigned to them. Accepting them… what else can I do? Then I think of the help I get from Angel Jenny, and feel ashamed. I’m getting all morbid and self-pitying, aren’t I? Writing this codswallop, and knowing now what was to come overnight, I should be ashamed, too.
Another mystery snap found on my Kodak-Tim-2 camera. Not a mystery of what it is of, but a mystery of why the heck I took it in the first place, possibly not meaning to? All part of the great mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, & spirits. Receptive Aphasia Phyllis, Paroxysmal dyskinesia, Episodic ataxia, Ménière’s disease, Dark, Dank Depression Darius, Chronic Kidney Disease (CKD), Brain with TBI, Toothache Tiffany, Nicodemus Neurotransmitters Dying, Cataract Katie, Fractured Knee Frank, Glaucoma Gladys, Anne Gyna, Stuttering Stephany, Lymphorrhea Leslie, Premordid Cognitive Impairment Inchie, DVT, Diabetic Polyneuropathy, Reflux Roger, Mind Wandering Malcolm, Blood-Levels up & down, Duodenal Doanld, and the damned seizures. With Fata Morganas that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited sanity of cerebrum and body. High Blood Pressure & Cholesterol. Did I mention getting shot twice and my mechanical aorta? My faith & hopes are on the wane. Not to mention my bank account, which is at its lowest it has ever been!
Just thought I’d mention it, like.
This photo, I’m not sure when I took it, but I think it was Monday, and I have no idea what it was of. A work of unintended art? No, a shaking Inchie. Haha!
Mizra made his only call of the day, following Ejaz’s.
WE hope to get the showring and laundry done on Tuesday. Fingers crossed there is no hassle to stick its nose in… There was, tell you next time. 🤐
Got the meal prepped and done. Mizra spread some bread and buttered it with no-butter butter and some soft cheese, to have with my nosh.
Smashing!
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Inchie: Sunday 12th April 2026
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Sorry, but today was a nightmare. I was so far behind on the blog and made such cock-ups with the graphics and photos; there are a few on here from when I was going through the blog and saved the snap graphics to the wrong date. What a pickle. All I can do is try to get them sorted, but I need the time. Busy day Monday, nurses called, Catheter problems, Carer unwilling. And the pain from the lower left chest came on again. With my arithmaphobia ever-present, more mistakes were made, and the quandary got even muddier and slipperier. Then, like a twit on Monday, I deleted the wrong day’s snaps. I did an Ode for Monday and carried on, forgetting I’d not done Sunday blog yet.s. The confusion is worse, with mt doing the day’s blog often two days later. I’m in a mess and have had to move the date to Sunday. Thinking I’d been getting somewhere, I then deleted loads of Sundays, thinking the date of the blof date… Now, Monday, trying to sort and save what I could… the chest is playing up, and no Morphine left, I got very angry with myself. I phoned the District nurses when the Catheter stopped working… I’ll explain this in Monday’s blog, if I ever get around to it and don’t find any more mistakes I’ve made with my ‘brilliant’ idea of deleting old graphics to save memory and keep the computer going… I’m waffling. A short Ode.
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Up at 0610hrs. Ejaz did a full-body check, medications, and creaming and foaming of areas in need.
I’m missing tons of, as per usual, my eyes are even worse now. The notes I made… maybe 10% are readable. Grumph, Moan, with a touch of pathetic self-pity in there somewhere. CorelDraw froze again.
Photos saved that I did not delete, not many and of the views from the windows.
Managed to save the meal show, but not sure from what day, I think it’s Sunday’s.
Now I see it, it could be for Saturday,
I’m fed up. Oh, it might be Sunday’s.
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TTFN
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Inchie: Sunday, 5th April 2026
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The first thing I recall on waking up was 
. Seconds later, I realised I was virtually shivering with cold. I knew something was wrong to feel this cold as I saw this morning’s sunshine blasting
through my cotton-thin, tattered-edged curtains, their hooks missing from the balcony. I took off the nocturnal Catheter pouch, got a hold of 
and went over to 
investigate where the cold was coming from. Taking this snap of the view… through the wide open balcony door! No wonder I was shivering, I’d left the doors open and been sleeping in the nearby aged, grotty-looking, c1966-made, charity-shop-bought, horribly beige-coloured, £300, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, non-operational, acne-giving, virus-breeding, rickety, easy-to-fall-out-of recliner. I closed the door and found that I had somehow lost one of my night socks. I needed to get warm, and, conveniently, the need for the Porcelain Throne arrived. I limped into the wet room and put the heater on. Got sat on the raised plastic seat, and wallowed in the warmth from the convector heater on the wall. It took mages to get the evacuation underway, but as I was warming up, I didn’t mind it at all today. I was convinced after ten minutes of urging and pushing, the Constipation Conrad would be in control. But, no! Although the first torpedo clunked into the bowl, immediately followed of a Trotsky Terence-like 
performance of splattering, stinking, watery mass flowed. The torpedo was dark brown; the follow-up was orangey-light brown. It cost me half of a new toilet roll, and an awfully long time to clean things up after the event.
I tried to get back to sleep by adding an extra-heavy quilt to the other one. But Ejaz rang the intercom to get admission. We did my Health Checks with the sphygmomanometer, blood tests with the Pulse oximeter, and measured the temperature. I think they were slightly better than the previous few days, but still in the High Category. Medications provided. Teeth were tinctured. Earholes olive oiled. Then Shuddering Shoulder Shirley was Salved. Harold’s bleeding Haemorrhoids were Germoloided, and Little Inches bleeding Fungal Lesion was anticepticated. That was the only one that tested my pain level. Arthur Itis and Cartilages Kloe and Carole 
were Pornapain-gelled.
The back, amazingly, did not need any medicating… that’s a first this year. Then, while I was brushing my teeth, Ejaz made me a mug of tea; he’s getting better at it lately. Supplying me with some bikkies to dunk in the mug. Going through this every day can get a bit wearying. But thanks to Jenny’s help, I have longer visits on some days, which stops my blogging, but it is of great assistance when Mizra or Ejaz does it. They know what is needed and do not ask me what I want all the time. They, I think. appreciate my neurological problems and how they affect me, memory-wise, stuttering, and loss of balance. The others even leave me to bend down. Which is a bit galling when they do that, while they are on their mobiles doing reports, I assume.
After bidding Ejaz Cheerio and Tara, I took a decent snap of the view from the kitchenette window. Then had to pay another visit to the 
. This was almost a copy of the first effort of the day. More time lost. Glad that I’m well stocked up with toilet paper! For a treat, I’m using an Andrex roll between each of the terribly thin, cheap rolls.
I’d like to work out what’s happening with these dual activations of both Trotsky Terence and Conrad Consitpation-like evacuation on the same visit?
I hoovered the hallway and kitchen. Well, it’s not a Hoover, is it?
It is an Akitas cheapo version from Amazon. I can’t be accused of being high-class, educated, or a snob. Hehe!
Common as muck would be the best epitaph for me. When they bury my ashes or whatever they do, I’d like a plaque on the wall or put in the press. Perhaps something along the lines of:
“He came, He failed, and he went” Haha!
I think I saw some rain falling as I took this shot through the balcony windows. The door chime chimed, and in came Carer Ejaz, on his midday call. We checked the second Health Check figures were recorded correctly on the Excel log, and I was in so little pain, just took two Paracetamol. Good that!
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As Ejaz was getting ready for Porpain-Gelling Shaking- Shoulder-Shirley, he noticed that I must have been scratching away at the still showing scars on my lower left arm.
He put some Cetreben cream on it. Advising me not to scratch at them again, or they will never clear up or disappear.
Google’s opening was still hit-or-miss. I just kept trying a different icon for the same action until one worked. A different one responded to being pressed 
each time. WordPress was not so jerky today, well, at 02:45hrs, anyway.
This keyboard is getting harder and harder to see with its tiny letters on the keys, and faded off-white ones at that. I’m hoping for the best when the man calls to check the computer out, I think on Tuesday or Wednesday. Mizra made the arrangements for me when we went shopping on Saturday. I loved that, getting out to an actual shop and seeing what I was buying beforehand. I hope not to buy food online anymore. With all the mistakes I keep making, getting help shopping is invaluable now. I hope it continues weekly, please! Hehehe!
Cor blimey, the sun had dipped!
Then the rain came again.
Inchie Today: Wednesday 14th January 2026
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Woke late at 06:30hrs. Night pouch removed.
Balance, Toothache, Backache, my right Shoulder pains, and Dizzy Dennis… the ailments were gathering. I took a shot of the view from the kitchenette. All the same, I was in better knick than yesterday morning. I did have a rare early morning seizure, but the after-effects were minimal.
Porcelain Throne used, made up waste bins. The right shoulder is still painful. Toothache, Tiffany is playing up. Carer arrived. Med’s issued, shoulder, legs and ankles were foamed. Extra painkiller taken.
The mental pain that was to follow (Oligarchs British Gas) took over as my main worry for the day, when I tell you, I’d like to point out that I am not exaggerating.
I tried to get the blog done as much as possible before Elaz returned for the two-hour call.
But progress was stunted with my bad eye almost blind in the afternoon and evening. I made a ton of mistakes, and I got very little done. Went to make a brew of tea in the kitch
en, I’d left the tap on and the hot water ran cold!
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CorelDraw, which had been okay up to now, shot into full-screen mode, with a message coming up on top.
As I mused over what the heck I’d done this time, a text and an email arrived simultaneously. British Gas, telling me they urgently need a meter reading. I knew about this, but no one knows how to get the figures up. The Wardens, or neighbours. I’ll ask Ejaz to ring them for me when he comes again.
Back to the problem with CorelDraw. I turned it off in the end, but had to close and save everything first. It would not let me click the cross. All off, then rebooted, and opened CorelDraw to see if it worked.
At first glance, it seemed to be okay… then I realised page eight, the one with all the tabs and clipart I’d done on it… Had disappeared. I took this pretty well, I thought. Just the usual swearing, spitting and hexing. All gone now, so I have to make new ones whenever I want one. And word lists that I’ve redone, not many of them, keep disappearing from the file? Now I was spitting blood!
Got a message or two telling me to do this and that if I want to keep my Cloud access. All beyond me.
Ejaz returned and had a few things on my list for him to help me with. He took the laundry down first. Came back and called the Dentist to ask if they could get me a Wednesday appointment, so the Carer can go with me. All good with this. Then he called the Doctors to book a Wednesday appointment. This was not so good, but not bad. He’s got one for me after a verbal tussle.
Then… He called the oligarch-owned British Gas to ask them how to get a reading on the meter. After ten minutes, I put my hearing aids in to talk to the lady on the line… I couldn’t hear or understand a word she was shouting. Ejaz put the speaker on the landline. I still could not make out what she was saying. She had an Asian sounding tone, but even Ejaz was struggling… Then, the phone kept cutting out on us.
On about the fifth time, contact was lost altogether. Ejaz rang back. You could hear the frustration: this time, they needed account numbers and passwords! Luckily, I had these nearby. He got connected after more queries of why are you calling? Who are you? etc. Poor Ejaz got reconnected to the same ever-increasing, losing-it, and irritated lady.
Ejaz was sent four times to get the meter reading. I went with him. What we were being told to do, I recall pressing the orange button, or any of the other things they told us to try, worked! The line kept cutting out for a few seconds at a time.
We looked at the three electricity boxes in the flats’ foyer; they were all different types of meters.
I came back to the phone and told the lady, who complained about not understanding ‘Your carers’ accent, (Not that either of us could make out what she was saying either); I told her my age, disabilities, and that I just want to give you a meter reading that British Gas have asked for for over 6 months now. I need someone to come and show me how to get them… Then her voice became crystal-clear, “Oh, I can arrange that for you!” I replied, “Yes, please, please do that. Thank you.”
Cor, Luvva Duck!
Poor Ejaz shot down to get the laundry back, because he was on a deadline that was almost up for the call.
He left the bag on the bed. Unfortunately, I forgot about getting them out until late in the evening. When I did, I had to sort out damp, tangled, clumped together clothes and slippers. The hat, which I put in the bag. should not have gone into a machine; it should be hand-washed only. I couldn’t even force it onto my head. Haha! I’ve only worn it once, so why did I wash it? That’ll be Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, or Doreen Dementia to blame. Maybe the British Gas farce broke my concentration? (That’s easy to do with me)
I’ll sue them for £4.99, Har-Har!
I got back onto blogging and made some progress, not a lot, mind you. Then the eyesight really got worse. Not that I was surprised, it does this every day when I get tired. I’m hoping to hear from the NHS EENT soon about the cataract lasering. Hopefully, before my 90th birthday. But I’m not too hopeful.
Bombay potatoes
, with a good dollop of
Sharwood’s Gung Po sauce added. With extra water chestnuts, red onion, tomatoes, extra baked & chunked thick-skinned red potatoes, and mushrooms. Nice & tasty!
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TTFN