– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I THINK… – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 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 kitchen, I’d left the tap on and the hot water ran cold!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
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! = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Each day brings new challenges: Accifauxpas, Whoopsiedangleplops, Seizures, Errors, Mistakes, and of course, Failures and Depression. This has to be coped with, I know this. It’s possible to accept these daily trials, because I also know there is no way of changing things. Docile-Subserviency is my only defence, well, it’s not even that really. There is no protection, no shield from lousy luck. One option, I suppose, is to go crazy… mind you, I’m on my way there now. You could not write a fictional diary with so much bad luck as I suffer diurnally in real life. There’s an element of humour within this tale of woe. I can’t find it yet, thought. But it’s there, maybe conjured from within my watered brain, Dementia Doreen, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, or my previously famed resistance to depression. But of course, I can ask them for guidance, but getting a reply is a bit hopeful. Hehe! However, silly as it may sound, I think there is a better chance of getting an answer from these ailments than from Social Services. I was going to get help with the wheelchair problems, my computer problems, my financial problems, water on the brain problems and Neurological assessment and treatments… none have arrived yet. Still, I may live long enough for just the odd one to come? Which one would I like it to be? Erm… well, perhaps, or not, maybe… anyone would be of help. Chances of getting any? Zilch comes to mind. But, you never know, I might get surprised? On the other hand, my recent medical history says none, with a loud inner voice. Shame! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Woke at 04:55hrs. Night bag removed, and into the wetroom for a stand-up body scrum, teggies, a shave, this did not take place, then some medicationalisationing of my inner and outer extremities. Totally, at that time, I got dressed and went into the kitchen to take some shots of the view on offer from the kitchenette window. Again, hoping to take a decent one at least. The second was better. Got on the computer, but ran into complications again. From MS Word, CorelDraw and Google. No idea why things were acting up like they were. So many aspects were misfiring. Space bar not working, then came on again. CorelDraw froze. I got a message from MS re: Excel, but could not grasp the technicalities, so closed the window and then all the others and left it for a while before trying to boot again. Went to make a brew, returned and reset the calendar clock, and gingerly, but hopefully, turned the computer on. Nothing happened? The lights were lit? I meandered back to the kitchen in the full grip of . I took this snap of the slowly lightening sky. It was not a bad one this time. Compared to what my one eye saw and how the picture turned out. To say I was feeling so low and in a fair degree of depression, I noted this. I reckon I was convinced the computer had thrown in the towel, angry at all the failed promises of help that never arrived, and had resigned myself to it. Back to the computer and turned it on. This time, noticing the external drive thingamajig was flashing away at a fair pace. Took a snap of it, I’ve not got the foggiest idea why. The computer booted up, and the working light continued. I think it might be MS Excel and Word updating something? I waited 30 minutes for the flashing to stop, then opened Google and CorelDRAW. Ah, that’s better, things seem to be working correctly, well, as near to properly as one can expect from bug-ridden, overcharging CorelDraw. My attention was interrupted by a text message on my mobile phone. Ah, hopefully that will be the night catheters ordered by my Carer last Wednesday. (It was). I was tickled pink when the computer came on again and had a visit from . Which proved enjoyable and rid me of worry. But also this rare but welcome ‘Sod-Em-All’ sensation that comes with Horis’s attendance, caused me to wander off the plot, and I spent over three hours plus, working on the much missed ‘lost-but-no-idea-how’ word-list recreating. Was I bothered at the time? Nope! I regretted it in the morning when I realised I had done absolutely nothing on this blog and had to start from scratch. Yet I thought I had made a start? I suppose I can blame .
Then, I had the longest-ever seizure that I can remember. I estimate that it was for three hours, and the day had gone! The Carer was ringing as I was recovering from the effects of the visit into the unknown. My part-drunk mug of tea was stone cold, my body half hanging out of the chair; I reckon I was lucky not to fall off it. Yet the after effects, compared to a mini-seizure, were piffle; I was back near normal, within seconds, and the acrid taste coming up from the innards was barely noticeable. Carer gave me my medications, rubbed some pain gel in the right knee and was off, bless him.
The District Nurse arrived. I’m always glad when this happens. She’d come to check on my right leg and but saw the state of my left arm, and proceeded in a no-nonsense manner to pick out the dried blood and lymph blobules, clean it and put a plaster on. Telling me (with a smile), she had not come to do this, just your leg. Then she moved onto the leg; whipped off the diabetic strapping, pulled down the under-sock, and removed the blood-soaked plaster, cleaned it and put a new plaster over it. I thanked her and off she went on her rounds. I bade her farewell. This is when abandoned me, and . And stayed for the rest of the night.
This Is Spunk A New Mexico resident who dwells with a large clowder of cats. Don’t let the cute expression fool you. He is the leader of the group and his paperatzzi owner, Tim. No doubting it, he’s a handsome one. Although please don’t tell other furries that I said so. Hehe! 😹🤎
I overcooked my oven chips a little (a little? Hehehe!) That was after going through the whole packet of chips, especially selecting the small ones that would cook faster, as hunger was starting to get the best of me. I knew I’d just got to run a sweep of the computer with CCleaner and thought they would be nearly ready by the time I finished, about 12 minutes. But no, of course not. Had me deciding to do a few minutes of the word-listings. Eventually, an hour later, the door chime chimed, and I smelt the burning! I took the tray of, shall we say, singed chips out and photographed it. The Carer didn’t notice the smell, which amazed me. Medications were issued. Then I made up a meal of crisps and opened a can of pork hock. It had a ring pull, which I pulled. The result was a cut finger, well, a cut thumb. I got a packet of Cheesy Curls, some cheese, and put the meat on a tray. I missed the chips naturally, but was pleased that the makeshift meal tasted good.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I had a theme for my Ode to relate, My body needs my brain to cooperate, It talks to itself – rubbish, bletherskate, My dream? In a cave, the walls began to corruscate, I was with someone, a Carer, lover and old mate? As he/she started on me, to lambaste & berate… Its body faded, it began to loudly cachinate… Folks from my past appeared, as a conglomerate, Hands in hands, they issued me looks of hate, Then howled out loud, they did not abate… I cooked roast potatoes, one on each plate, I wanted to talk, welcome them, hospitate… The howling temporarily stopped, as they ate, Telling me I was a terrible ingrate? Dark Dank Depressing Darius began to inumbrate, The cave grew cold, and I began to sudate, Saying out loud, “What the Hell’s going on, mate?” Dead relatives came, their intentions vulnerate, They came towards me, starting to ululate, I tried to stroke, touch them, to vellicate… I think they may have escaped via St Peter’s gate, Their bodies began to rapidly deteriorate… They started to dissolve, one by one, demoniacal! Is this real, happening, or maybe notional? One went ashen, pasty, anaemic, demonical… One shrank to nothing, all absorbable, One cursed & swore at me, all abuseable! Then exploded. Like a bursting bubble, One blew me a kiss and said I was adorable. I tried to hug her, but she was not touchable… A ghostess, how can she be damageable? She burst into flames, so she was destructible, One turned to glass, she was vitrifiable… Then found out she was also smashable, An eerie hum all around started to bominate, Then the nightmare… morningmare did vacate… 07:00hrs, by gum, I did sleep in late, Fell off the bed, what’s next to tribulate? The dream ending might compensate. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – But and however… This blog was not started until Thursday evening. Wednesday & Thursday were not good for me, but Monday was not too bad at all. Tuesday was troubled with many mini-seizures, each one with not good after-effects, which took a lot out of me, I’m afraid. Concentration was just not there, many accifauxpas, and Dawned that regularly, each one seemed deeper than it really was. Tuesday is best forgotten anyway, so the lack of photos or memories of what happened explains the lack of detail in the scrawny Tuesday section. Wednesday’s cock-ups ensured me that , bless him, he was again a frequent visitor. Many things will be out of sync and order, sorry. Last night’s lack of sleep, due to And his ranting, perpetual criticisms of yours truly, made any proper sleep an impossibility. At least the seizures, only two, were lengthy. I judge from the ease and the incredibly short time it took me to recover each time. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I gave up trying to sleep. Assuming it was about 04:00hrs, but soon found out, after taking of the night bag and going to the wet room to tackle the morning ablutionalisationings… as Carer Manpreet came in it to the flat, that it was actually gone 07:00hrs! WE got the Health Checks done & recorded, and the medications were issued.
Calendar changed, tea brewed.
Morrison order. Moved them into the kitchen. Treats! Favourites. Fridge loaded.
Afternoon seizures.
Evening shot.
Memory, Jet Black Blank Seizures were having a heyday.
Morning shot, I think.
Evening shot, I think.
Just a guess at this rating.
Another stormy night’s sleep. If it wasn’t for my taking a bashing from , I may well have still been in bed when the Carer came again. I decided to force my reluctant body from the bed, primarily, to get a painkiller, to counter the pain from Shirley’s worst-ever night-attack. I didn’t make it. I’m not sure how long it lasted, but it wasn’t long. I could tell after it was all over by the acid reflux coming up in my chest, throat, mouth, and nose, and it was taking so long for me to recover fully. Although, to be honest, I don’t think I did get back to normal, if anything about me can be called normal, (Hehe!) Until 17:00hrs, or so. My plan, formulated this morning, was to get things ready for when Ejaz arrives, go with me to the opticians, and then do as much as I could in the time left, working on the replacement word list.
Carer Manpreet arrived, and she checked that the HC return figures had been recorded correctly. Medications were given. A gaping blank spot in my memory. I assume I’d had a seizure, but Manpreet didn’t tell me… or I didn’t hear or remember her saying. The state I was in after each one today is no surprise. I got on with the word listings for an hour or two. To my utter amazement, an Asda delivery arrived. What? Another food delivery? Beats and worried me. Cheesey cobs. cheesey wriggles, and some iced bread rolls. I tried to gain access to my vacant memory void, to work out when and why. Come to think of it, I may have got the delivery days wrong, sort of back to way, on the wrong days. They may have been the other way around. Or, not. Topped up with waters of various types. It’s costly having to keep swigging a minimum of three litres every day to keep the bladder working. Meat pies with shortcrust and puff pastry tops. Polish cooked smoked ham, Nurses drinkies, and some bacon bits, erm… lardons they are called. Blimus, I’ve got the fridge and freezer crammed full again. But of course, the social lady promised me help with this problem. Also, with the finances, when I get home from the hospital. Assured me of help with the ‘spent a fortune’ on wheelchairs… getting them appropriately fitted and safe to use. Age Concern said… Oh, forget them. I’ve not heard anything from any of them! I’m disappointed and feeling a smidge uncared about, to say the least.
Carer Mizra, then Carer Ejaz, arrived. Mizra departed after medicating me and seeing that things were alright. Ejaz and I got down to the Opticians only to find that we had arrived too late and they could not test my eyes. Ejaz dealt with the receptionist, and they made another appointment for next Wednesday. How we got the wrong time beats me. Ejaz has always taken care of them for me. Sadly, my eyes are getting worse, and later I checked on the HHS site – bad news. It said that if you do not catch it in time, it cannot be repaired. Great! Now it will be another week before the test, and the optician can refer me to the EENT! The eye is getting worse each day, and I’m struggling at times. Nothing new there then. Ejaz and I returned to the flat, and he put the laundry in the washer. Mopped the kitchen for me, and went to get the laundry into the dryer, and realised it had not finished washing. So left it until his subsequent call to collect it for me. Off he went; he’d done the best he could on my behalf.
I pressed on with the word listings, and Ejaz returned to fetch the laundry for me, and he hung it up on hangers. Night medications given.
I started making a template up for this 3-day blog… and realised it was gone 23:00hrs!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I was sat-sitting in my broken recliner chair, Ftrali And the community nurse did appear, Took off the leg straps, checked Lymphoreoa Leslie, Left leg fine, right leg was a little bloody, The right leg was medicated with cream & a plaster, Replace socks & straps, easy for her to master, I like this retired nurse, the twinkling of her eyes… A no-fuss gal, who seems very wise, My adoration, I could not disguise, Of course, I only imagined her thighs… Or she’d laugh at my miniature size, It would only end sadly with sighs, Naturally, I could only apotheosise, All I could do was to eulogise, Whenever she calls, she beautifies… Even though my pulse may rise, With my disabilities, there’s no compromise, Why I feel this way, I need to analyse, At my age, this urge to harmonise… With nothing below to energise, I feel as if I should apologise, My body can no longer mutually synchronise, If I say I accept this, it would all be lies, All I can do nowadays is to fantasise, Been waiting to be trephinated for 102 days, Glaucoma operation, I’ve lost count of the days! Silence from the neurologist diagnosing my seizures, Broken knee, catheter, hearing problems, arthritis, Lymphorrhoea, colour-blind, and duodenal ulcers,
My left wrist, hand, and fingers had five fractures,
Tried veganism, vegetarianism, cereals and pulses,
A Labour Government, full of fakesters,
Begging for help, but getting no answers,
In the hospital, I had several unfulfilled promises,
From Neurology, Cardiac, & Social Services,
A surgeon will need good eyesight to circumcise
There were threats made against the nurses,
From a bloke face-to-face, emitting curses… I was stick-walking with the physiotherapists,
I got involved when the man clenched his fist,
Told him, ‘Do that again, you’ll get my fist’,
He went quiet. I think he got my drift,
The nurse thanked me for my intrusion,
That patient is suffering ego-depletion,
Is this ward for those with damaged grey matter?
Anyway, the man gave the nurses no more bother,
Getting back from the hospital last month? Dystopian!
I’d been to see my neuropathy diagnostician,
I got lost trying to get to the tram,
Had to ask some “Where am I?’,
How to get to the tram station?,
I got there after some extravasation,
The ticket machine brought confusion into the equation,
Passengers were squashed in the tram so tightly…
Just getting into it was a Hell of a fight…
Will I ever get home tonight?
Then I suffered a heck of a fright!
The tram moved of and I took a tumble,
Help from others made me feel humble,
Two passengers helped me up without exhortation,
They caught me mid-fall, avoiding emasculation,
A lady gave me her seat without vacillation,
In the City Centre, yobboes were the danger,
Schoolkid gangs, I had to walk on tramlines, however…
I struggle up to the bus top, with great endeavour,
Checked the 40 bus times, none, only 40x?
This one did not call into the flats, oh boyee!
Dark outside, lit-up inside, I couldn’t see,
Which bus stop was the one for me?
Ended up in Sherwood, nine stops away,
Had to walk back up Windcheste Street, steep and hilly, Help by using my four-wheeled walker trolley,
Many stops, as I went breathlessly…
Getting a cellphone call, and silly me…
Dropped in in the darkness, dearie me!
Got home to find Elaz waiting, worried!
Carer Ejaz by name, and Carer in reality!
I suppose I should mention my banality?
Dullness, unoriginality or predictability…
No, not predictability, that would be silly…
Certainly not descriptive of Inchie,
Seizure, tumbles, &, ailments with unpredictability,
Why can humankind not live with congruency?
A question of imbecility, verging on stupidity,
Each incident, occurrence, and contingency,
Can pop up suddenly, unexpectedly…
No one can be completely accident-free,
Politicians used to act collectivistically,
Is the coming Apocalypse be cataclysmically?
Societal collapse, to humankind, devastatingly?
I don’t view it as a catastrophe, Politicians becoming deific… They really do make me feel sick, See the end, as being welcome and terrific!, It’ll come soon, but I can’t be specific. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Sorry, but it’ll be short and sweet. Time is thy enemy. Well, he is mine. Hehehe!
Morning shot from the kitchen
No visit to the Porcelain Throne until late evening. But I felt it brewing up in the afternoon. Tiny escapages that stunk awful, putrid! I’m expecting a Trotsky Terence affair later.
Carer Ejaz did the first two calls. Body checks, Phorpain gelling, Barrier creaming tended to.
Midday Darkness?
Oh, I nearly missed this one. The end of the car park. 🎵Where have all the pappaps gone?🎵
NOSH Faggots in gravy, & mashed potatoes. I peeled & cooked a beetroot, then chopped it, added some of the gorgeous Krakus red beetroot, concentrated borstch, and some pork gravy, mixed it all up, and cooked it in the microwave for 6 minutes. I’ve redeveloped a fancy for faggots lately. The Parsley Box ready meals have great tasting gaggots… no, I meant faggots, not maggots… I made a grammatical mess of typing that! I thought I’d just leave it in. Sad! Hehe!
Soaked up the tasty liquid with two large cheesy-topped bread rolls, Mmm!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – THE RAW POTATO Why is it here, beside a worm & a centipede?
He’s told his mother was but a seed,
In his short life, he’s never peed,
Rained on, yes, and he got very soiled,
From his birth home, he was roughly freed,
His family was thrown in a tractor and stored, Being a big spud, he was selected to be baked…
But Inchie liked him, and he was adopted…
It changed his life forever as the oven heated,
Potato’s essence was to be adulterated…
Destined to be beaten up with cheese & roasted!
But a change of mind, Inchie decided…
Out came a knife, Potty was segmentated…
Sliced, and he was cruelly cut up & chipped! THE BURNT CHIP
Potato was cut up and thrown into the air fryer,
His skin gone, his shape did alter…
Talk about hot, but it didn’t matter…
His life had not seen laughter or glamour,
Just inactivity, gore, mud, creepy-crawlies galore,
No one to talk to, no bother with any computer,
Not that this mattered anymore…
Burned to a crisp, dried out, but he felt sure…
Inchie would still try to eat him out of hunger,
He’s obviously a gannet, who’s eating more & more,
He’s talking to himself, as he commits potato murder!
Sure enough, he bit into a chip; moreover…
Toothache Tiffany gave out agony from her molar…
As Chip slid down Inchies throat, he did agjure…
To the ‘Potato God’ to make Inchies pain more…
Sure enough, he had a dizzy spell; he fell on the floor,
A crumpled heap, realising this Ode is pure aporia…
From this Odester, fantasiser and wool-gatherer,
Off he drifted to the gates of St Peter…
Who said: Hello, here comes an old, bald meshuggener! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Five hours of sleep, continuing the slow increase in sleep time gathered over the last five days. I believe the problems might have been my being on the Amoxicillin. The assessed nightly hours of much-needed slumber have been: Mon 0, Tues 0, Wed 0, Thurs 4, Fri 5. So, it’s going in the right direction. I believe Hitler thought the same thing on his way to the Russian front. Haha!
05:10hrs: I gently woke up, and that doesn’t happen often, and nodded back asleep almost immediately. 06:15hrs; I woke with the usual jerking around for a few seconds, and forced my legs off of the bed, to make sure I got up this time. As I was taking off the mocturnal catheter pouch, I estimated I’d had five hours of kip. Good! Remembered to do the balance exercises for once, and all seemed fair. The only problem I could detect was the left leg’s Catheter, Chloe, which was faux-giving way a few times. She was the same all day. The last thing I want or need is to have another tumble. I think the fear of hospitalisation again is making me more wary. I poddled out on the balcony, and took two snaps of the progress made on the Nottingham City Council’s tarmacing of the old gravel path up to the Woodthorpe GrangesPark. This one, taken on the right, both through the glass windows, was of the Citrus Way end car park. Can you see something different in it? No little red car on the chevrons!
Off to the Porcelain Throne. For another wet and splurty evacuation, this time nearly caught me out with a second watery torrent splurting out a few seconds after the slodgy-wet first one. Back to the junk room to start the computer, and with five minutes, I was on my way back to the Porcelain Throne. Another wet and over-willing affair, but no follow-up.
I got the update done on the Friday blog and posted it to WordPress. Then made a start in this template I’d already prepped. Fingers crossed, I haven’t made any foul-ups this time with it.
As I opened CorelDraw, it was always a risky business. The damned thing nearly always has something wrong with the first opening of it. This week, as I recall, one day it opened with all the right-hand dockers not showing. Pallets, Text, Transform, Glyphs, and Colour had to be put back on manually. Then, on Tuesday, I think, an error email report opened up while loading. It wouldn’t let me fill it in or close it, so I had to force a shutdown and reload from scratch. It cost me so much memory that I had to use CCleaner, which found two ‘vital’ updates that needed to be installed. Clicked on Install, and was told after a few minutes, “Unable to install”. Huh! Then on Thursday, CorelDraw froze while writing text, well, making a border for the text. All off again, gave in a few minutes and rebooted. Huh! Then it told me several fonts were unavailable!
I made a mug of Redbush Rooibos tea, and Googled the tea’s properties, benefits and side effects. I gave the box of bags to Carer Ejaz to put in the laundry for someone ot pick it up. Apparently, if you are on Warfarin, you should give it a wide berth. So that was that, a lovely flavourful taste as well.
Carer Ejaz gave me a good going over. Medications. Body check. Hoovered. Foamed & barrier-creamed various ailments as needed.
I was working on this blog. Suddenly, I found myself lying on the top of the bed, wondering how I got there. The computer was on and had gone into sleep mode. I estimate I’d been there for around two hours. I was so confused, I couldn’t remember why I thought it was two hours, now. But Ejaz had just arrived for his second call. A short one, and he was asking about the two upcoming hospital visits. I think he said he could not go with me to the hospital on either. The first one, next Wednesday, was too early for him to help. And the second one was on a Thursday. Which was concerning, I think. Cause they will be asking someone who knows what I do when in a seizure to explain to them. How can I, when I can recall noting of the seizures, all I can tell them are the after-effects that I get. Then again, I was feeling confused when we spoke. I’ll try to clarify the situation when Ejaz returns tonight around 17:45hrs. If I remember to.
I’m going to get my ablutions done now. Porcelain Throne first, Trotsky Terence again. Toothache Tiffany’s Teggies were painfully cleaned. Not a single cut in shaving! Fractured knee, Catheter Chloe, Arthur Itis, Shaking Shoulder Shirley, and Twitching Neck Nicolas were all Phorpain gelled. Flabby Tubby Tummy Timmy, Underarm Herbert, Man Breasts Boris, and Two-Testicles-Thomas were barrier creamed & foamed. Blephergelled and dry eye sprayed Glaucoma Glady’s eyes. Nasal spray was sprayed. Then the seriously hurtful job of cleaning and medicating poor Little Inchies’ Fungal lesions was tackled. With very little oohing and arghing, although a curse word or two did slip out. I remembered this time to put the barrier cream on top of the Terbifine Hydrochloride.
Giant potato baked and halved. Sliced the flesh, salted and no-butter butter dolloped in. Very tasty. There I was, with the meal balanced on my conveniently big-enough belly, eating away and watching a recorded TV Heartbeat episode, and wallowing in almost joy and contentment… In came a landline call. I struggled to get up to the phone without spilling any of the gorgeously tasty nosh. It was Sister Jane, and he was most upset, almost annoyed! After Nottingham Forest’s 0-3 defeat to Chelsea, Manager Ange Postecoglou was sacked, minutes after another defeat. The poor gal was distraught! Also, this defeat dropped Nottingham Forest into the relegation bottom three teams! I returned to the now cold meal, well, what was left of it. Unfortunately, the potato husks had hardened too much and were upsetting. I’ll ring Jane in the morning to see how she is, poor gal.
Later, I was trying to take some photos of the night sky, but my efforts were rather dismal; As you can see here, Tsk! AS I was taking them, Carer Ejaz arrived on his last call. And came to the rescue, taking this one on his super-camera’d mobile phone. I read that Tim Price uses a cell phone. He takes many great night shots with his camera. https://offcenternoteven.com/2025/10/16/owl-sighting/#comment-153634
I think I’m not steady enough to hold the camera still.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Parts of this Ode may reveal emotion,
Inchie wrote it as a sort of antidepression,
It didn’t work, but it gave him indigestion,
I expect he’ll lose concentration & attention,
He apologises for bits that underwent abscission,
And those that he missed from inclusion,
And his concentrations lack of addression,
Nowadays, he struggles to master delineation,
He searches for a cure-all, a diacatholicon…
Hoping he may retrieve his moyo, that’s long gone,
His nousse used to be like a mental dzong-jong,
Defending against disagreement and dissension,
He seeks not gold, fame, fortune or Zircon…
But fears his medications may bring zombification,
Scared that his dementia will create vilification,
No confidence left, he touches would for unberufen,
He recalls that his life has never been utopian…
Aware his thoughts, body, & brain don’t work in verbatim,
Lost his desires, he’s become an anythingarian,
Prays, hopes, pleads, begs; as a futilitarian,
His ageing body and brain have no synchronisation,
His understanding shows significant misinterpretation,
What he gleans usually includes jealousy & effluvium,
His own thoughts need elucidation or interpretation,
Yet, taking in all the considerations…
Along with his countless medications…
He knows this world is totally free of perfectibilians,
Oligarchs claim to be, and there are millions,
Inchie finds it easier to mix with the minions,
He gives his ailments a twice-daily examination,
A daily battle, vs confusing seizures & depression…
I think he’s hoping that life is just an illusion. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I woke up later than I have done this year. It was 06:55hrs! No time to get my ablutions done before a Carer was likely to arrive. Still, I lay there and nodded off again. Waking at 07:15hrs, cursing, and forcing myself out of bed, most reluctantly and disinterestedly than I have ever been on any morning before. I bent down to take off the nocturnal bag and found it wasn’t on. But the much smaller day pouch was bloated, and once I moved, it was painful. Some foul language was emitted.
I plodded into the kitchen and got the Detox bag in a mug, awaiting the water in the kettle to boil. Then I steeped the bag. This type needed a 30-minute steep. So, I took the chance and visited the Porcelain Throne. Another Trotsky Terence torrent followed. Messily!
I took some morning shots: Three red cars this morning. Sky shot to the north. Then to the South East. I took them within a minute of each other, and I could see how the colouring had changed so quickly.
Carer Ejaz arrived. Did a good job for me. Medications. He antispeticated the eankles for me, then fitted my diabetic socks. A quick body check and some barrier creaming. And the lad was ready to go, but not before I took a photo of him for this blog. He posed like a professional model! Handsome bute! Oh, and Ejaz took a snap of the much better-looking healing ankles.
Within half an hour of turning on the computer, an immediate problem with CorelDraw arose, followed by the arrival of the Iceland order. The driver took the bags through to the kitchenette for me. Two items for the freezer. Chip Shop Chips and a ready meal. Can you guess what the frozen meal was by looking at this snap? Some food for the fridge. Then the tea cupboard. I won’t have time to do it right now, but I hope to separate all the different tea bags and put them in containers. A big job now. I’ve got Ty-Phoo extra strong tea bags, Ty-Phoo ordinary, and Tetley Extra Strong, late in the week. I have some cheap tea bags coming. It’s going to be a big job; I might not have enough room in the cupboard. I got rather carried away yet again. I made a mug of proper tea and got back to the CorelDraw programme.
MYSTERY I was resetting some default settings, and it was as if I’d blinked. I’d obviously been making error after error with CoralDraw, but don’t think it was seizure after effect, cause I might have been suffering with a loss of balance, but was clear-headed enough to realise vaguely that I may have had an order from Iceland. Yet the only thing I recall was struggling to get the tea into the cupboard; nothing else about the delivery. Yet I’d written it on the notepad?
THEN ANOTHER LONG SEIZURE During which, as far as I could tell, I did absolutely nothing. After this, it was a guesstimate – about an hour. I came back into reality, sat on the four-wheeled walker on the balcony, with the sun shining in my eyes and making me virtually blind. Glady Glaucoma does not like sunshine. It took me a long time to get my vision back to near normal. But this time, no severe loss of balance. A Carer thinks there must be different things causing different seizures. It could, I suppose, be FND, Peripheral Neuropathy, Dementia Doreen, or something new?
Better get a meal started. Frozen meal, beef in black sauce, with added Lung Po and Mixed Vegetable pickle, and Marmite stirred in before cooking. Then some Chip Shop Chips were done in the oven and added. I may not try this again. Wednesday saw five trips to the Porcelain Throne, with me being late on the third visit.
Lovely evening shot from the kitchen window. The sun had just vanished from the horizon.
I consulted Google AI earlier.
About the mystery blank I had.
This was AI’s reply.
Transient Global Amnesia (TGA): A temporary condition involving sudden memory loss and confusion, or another serious issue like a head injury, stroke, or seizure. It is crucial to consult a healthcare professional to determine the cause and receive appropriate treatment. So, I did. I got an appointment at the Doctor’s in five weeks. Crucial? Did Google AI fib?
Or, the Doctor ignore me?
No treatment was offered.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – A new invention, a creation of Inchies’ first ever attempt at launching his mind-boggling ‘Off-Track-Semi-Ode-Ode’.
A Pioneering, but rudimentary, bound-to-fail jobbie. The idiot came out from a nocturnal seizure last night, with the idea of mixing an Ode, with his usual losing track of the theme, putting a load of waffle in between his lines of terrible rhyming and plot.
He anticipates this will turn out as a labyrinth of unsophisticated, hard-to-interpret, hogwash and buncome. Added legitimised, characterise notorisations & apologises between verses, in an effort to further syllogise and maybe psychologise the end product. He realises this is doomed to failure; he knew it in the early hours of this morning, even when he was recovering from the seizure at 02:10hrs, as he came back to mock life. Decided the whole concept was rubbish. Then, at 15:30hrs, Premorbid Cognitive Impairment Iris rebirthed the idea in his cerebrum. Now the silly old sausage (not hostage) is going to give it a go. I warned him, but he never listens to me. Another tooth was broken today; it’s his own fault for eating nuts! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – The flat in which I live reminds me of San Quentin, The bare balcony, partly hidden by a thin, tattered curtain,
The windows are filthy, the window cleaners have absconded,
My cleaning them had to be abandoned…
My fitness and alertness, that once abounded…
Mental & physical problems are constantly added. It’s being contained within the flat that gets to me. Not able to meander over to the tree cops for a chat with the animals and trees. No visiting the ponds to feed and natter with the ducks and pigeons. These pleasures have gone, along with the abilities to get to them. I had to go down to the ground floor lobby three times this week – What a pleasure! Although the ailments didn’t agree, namely, Arthur Itis, Cartilage Chloe, and Anne Gyna, during the Wednesday farce with the laundry not getting dried, you can add Duodenal Donald. It took me five hours to get the laundry done, and that was after the Carer had gone. From the moment I got in the lift. Having already paid for the laundry to be done. Donald played me up for two more days. Of course, had this happened a few years ago, when the NHS prescribed Aludrox SA medication, it would not have been a problem. This ulcer medication was A1, great, so effective. But HMG is cutting costs, and the result? I get prescribed an over-the-counter Peptac medication, which adds to the long list and line of reasons for Dark, Dank, Depression Darius having such a heyday nowadays.
Bohemianism, with its unconformity, unorthodoxy…
Which bodes unfamiliarity, out & out novelty,
Dictatorship, Communist, or Starmers Oligarchy?
None of these is working as far as I can see,
Not one of them is interested in antipoverty…
Herr Starmer’s HMG acting openly asininely,
Plainly ruling corruptly, unethically, & fraudulently,
Achieving nothing but Keir’s soundbites aplenty,
I’d be content if the git died next Wednesday, I wasn’t too keen on Blair’s lies, but they weren’t openly recognisable at first. Starmer burst on the scene, freebie & backhander seeking. Grumpy Brown, the do-nothing leader. I didn’t like that bleeder. Starmer led Labour to a landslide victory at the 2024 general election, ending fourteen years of Conservative government with the SMALLEST vote share of any majority government since record-keeping began in 1830. But does this sink into the over-confident, smug, incapable, lying, two-faced Labour Party Principles ignoring Starmer? No, of course it doesn’t. I can’t understand why he has not been assassinated yet. I can dream… then again, who is going to get in power; if I’m lucky and he resigns, gets thrown out by his own cabinet, commits suicide or gets his head blown off; the last option would be best. Cause he’s so conceited, and a bloody good barrister, his lying style proved this; He’d probably sue them.
Well, Ajaz has just finished his teatime call,
I need more help, and that’s apodictical,
Apprehensible, perceptible, clearly palpable,
But will I get any? Will I be able?
Sod it, I’ve just banged Cartilage Chloe on the table!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I spent so long on the Ode, I’ll have to cut this short.
Up at 05:00hrs. Urine pouch is a decent 4 on the scale card. Made a mug of Detox tea, the cheap kind that requires cold water, so it can only taste better if it’s over-steeped.And I left for 35 minutes. Then off to the wet room to get the tended to. Got myself seated on the plastic WC, and instantly Trotsky Terence released not any torpedoes like Constipation Konrad would, but his usual sticky but soft spatterings all over the porcelain. I didn’t have any deposits on my body this time.
Rushed through doing the teeth, shaving (3 cuts), body washing, and all the usual medications went reasonably well. Just Cartilage Chloe was any bother.
I pondered whether the bed needed tidying up. It didn’t. I collected my dressing gown and went to get the Detox tea to sip. I spent about ten minutes tidying up in the kitchen.
Then I limped through the doors and onto the balcony to take some morning shots. Starting with directly below and to my left. I took these through the glass, the dirty glass, which wasn’t a good idea on reflection. Then, I had to pop back to the . Same mode as the first one. But this was half expected, given all the pickles and vegetables in last night’s stew. However, there was just one more visit to come today, about 18:00hrs, same again.
I then finished the tea that I’d forgotten about. I think I may be a bit of a twit in believing this might help me lose weight. But you never know! Well…
I belatedly changed the battery clock and calendar, and made a mug of proper tea. I used two of the Tetley Extra Strong one-cup ones.
I got the Health Checks started. The BP was slightly elevated on both checks today. But the blood & urine were fine.
Carer Ejaz arrived and did a good job this morning. I explained to him the importance of the new socks not getting screwed up when put in the washing machine, and showed him the L & R to identify which foot each should go on. Also, could he please check after drying, so that the L & R will be visible? The nurse said that after she called, it is crucial to get them right, as they are weighted in the correct places. If I get them on the wrong foot, the rough skin will get pulled in the wrong direction and can come off, causing worse leakages.
I had some problems with CorelDraw again.
The nurse called. I do like her. She explains things so well to me, as with the socks earlier. She checked my rear end and advised me to continue applying the barrier cream, even if it doesn’t feel sore. So. I will. I try to grasp all she tells me. Bless her. 🤎 I mentioned the diaper pants costing more now, and she was amazed that they didn’t supply them for free! She will look into it to see if she can get them on prescription for me. 🤎
When she asked if I had a sugar level tester, I mistakenly thought she meant the machine I have that takes readings from the finger. She is going to ask if she can order some of the needles and the kit for me. 🤎 She took a look at the legs and removed the plasters, telling me they are clear now. 🤎 She said she will ask about the diabetic socks and will come later in the week to measure my legs, so they know which size to order for me.🤎 What a treasure!
Carer Nimra did the noon call. Well, it seems to be 17:30hrs now. Not that it matters. We had a laugh over my new glass frames, and she was off. (Short call this one). I’ll ask a Carer to take a snap of them for me, then you can have a laugh as well. Hehehe!
I had a series of three in half an hour. Each one seemed to have shorter recovery times. I can’t weigh this up. Why?
Got the potatoes in the oven. Baked cheesy potatoes, with Marmite.
Copericus sausage and red, orange and brown Isle of Man-grown tomatoes. Lovely!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – ……….., erm, how can I explain? If I am able…
Some of my thoughts don’t seem to be translatable,
I can’t guarantee, or be sure, they are veridical,
Or even my own; does this sound plausible?
Dementia, Cognitive impairment, not only horrible…
But nervous-making, not controllable,
I tried grasping reality; it was not entirely feasible,
Does water on the brain make me mentally drownable?
Some people can be unintentionally smart-aleckal,
Not knowing why yourself can be tenuous, even mythical,
Mental gweilos in the head, that’s not theoretically,
I’d have laughed my head off at the thought, in 1963,
That was another me, no brain-dwellers then, I was free,
Now, I talk to myself, for it must be me, logically…
Begging myself for mental peace or an amnesty,
I find my brain often communicates antagonistically,
Seizures, ailments, just won’t back away…
Sometimes I ask myself, why have the neurosurgery?
I’ve awaited the Glaucoma lasering since 2023,
My rare self-sympathy is so cringeworthy!
1972, the last year I felt anything like Christmassy,
What happened then? Someone shot me in my knee,
Nothing changes, I’ve no Christmas tree,
But shame and guilt, I have aplenty!
If I were a Catholic, I could do a confessionary,
Tell them at thirteen I lost my cherry,
To a 46-year-old neighbour, her name was Sally,
Why, how did I manage it? That’s not a mystery,
The first time viewing of what she showed me!
I was excited, satiated, she laughed at poor little Inchy!
We met weekly, collaboratively,
Something else that bugged me incessantly…
Well, more so now, Earth’s warlike history,
It’s going to happen again, more seriously,
Again, World leaders are showing complacency,
But little clemency, compassion or coherency,
So many more this time are acting bodaciously,
They’ve created a worldwide mamihlapinatapai!
Assuring that if not all, billions will die!
Because politicians are part of the WW narcokleptocracy,
Any input from minions like me is nugatory,
With their parsimonious greed and profligacy…
Oh, I lost the plot of this cacography,
Not unexpectedly, but again, I’m sorry! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
A quickie today. I got carried away with the day’s Ode.
I rose and did a double back flip off of the bed and over 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, landing perfectly, and yodelled for a few minutes on the balcony. Ahem!
Better colour today.
Carer Ejaz arrived. Medications issued, sock put on. But later found they were not diabetic ones and the leg wounds flared up… or should that be flared up? Carer Mizra changed them on the lunchtime visit for me, back to diabetic ones. Ordered some more later on in the day.
The mini seizures came on earlier today. I got confused after each one, and there were so many again. At times, one after another.
Popped out on the balcony later. Took these snaps.
I took the first of my Detox tea bags this morning. The cheaper ones. They had to be made using cold water. And left for 30 minutes. So I did. Aorted the waste bags out, and paid a messy, slimy, runny Trotsky Terence visit to the Porcelain Throne. Back to get the brew, and squeezed the bag, and it burst open. Bits of seed and grass all over the cooker, me and the floor. I cleaned the mess and investigated the details on the other Detox teabag box. This one is made with boiling water, I needed to steep it for 15-20minutes. It said I could add honey or lemon juice to flavour the drink. So, I did. Lemon The top cheaper ones that exploded were two a day. This one was once a day. Tasted okay with the lemon added to it. Oh, it must be sipped, not drunk.
A later-than-ever start on the blog today. And with the seizures being so furiously rampant, not that they bothered me too much; it was the after effects that put me in a right confused state. However, I pressed on, ever correcting errors, but I think I enjoyed doing it. The Ode took me so long, I thought I might need another shave and shampoo. Hahaha!
I was baffled. Then I realised I might have hit the wrong key combination, which possibly caused this dilemma. The self-hating turned itself on. I waited and waited, but after half an hour, the completion rate had only gone up to 76%. Was I bothered? Of course I was! I sat here at the computer for another ten minutes, and it was still showing as 76%.
I couldn’t, didn’t have the means to turn it off via Windows. Then I think the screen flashed, inverted or wobbled threateningly.
My mechanical heart missed a beat!
I thought I was on the verge of losing my computer. Although something happens every day that makes me think this, this time I was sure it would snuff it – when the % went back down to 55% in an instant. Deepened. Terrible thoughts floated around my head. In there, from somewhere, I got a memory prompt telling me I had not made a will yet?
It was the horriblest feeling of the week. And that’s taking into consideration Tuesday and Wednesday’s soul-destroying events. I didn’t think or expect to have such nightmares again, as soon as this. I was wrong, of course. I made a mug of tea and drank it, brooding over my failures, my own limitations, uselessness and so on.
And the scene went blank, then off. Very slowly and with a jumpy restart, the computer restarted – but only as far as the blue crash screen; with a new system laid out to get the computer restarted.
After losing more hours, I had no choice but to risk turning it off at the plug. I was more scared of making a wrong selection amongst the strange options that were on the screen. So, I did! And with an unexpected lack of fear. I angrily accepted that this is the end of the world-famous blog. My fans from over the globe will be distraught. Both of them.
I left the computer turned off for about 15 minutes and then rebooted it. The old blue start-up screen returned with the known options to select! And Wallah!
The main page came up, and I opened Google. Then, my impending joy was cut short when I opened CorelDraw—it froze!
Carer Mizra called and took the socks off, gave me Peptc and got the nocturnal catheter bag out for me to use later. After the lad had gone (up to now), I have not had another seizure. Great!
I pondered whether or not to bother making a meal. I was tired and more drained than usual. Cooking might be a risk. I decided not to make a meal. Just had a yoghourt and a bag (or two) of Frazzle crisps. I don’t feel terribly hungry anyway.
But so weary, unbelievably so. I made a brew of tea and sat to watch some TV. Nearly 21:00hrs already.
Back in the morning with an update on the event in case anything interesting happens. (As if? Hehehe!)
Two editions of Red Dwarf were just starting on TV. I was so pleased, and got myself into a comfortable position as is possible in the incommodious, uncomfortable, cumbrous, toe-curling, cringe-making, second or third-hand bought from the Oxfam Charity shop, Cathleen-Catheter-Tube-Crushing, hurtful for Harold’s Haemorrhoids, germ-ridden, Horrendously grungy, uncomfortable, not-working recliner… and fell into a deep yet dream-filled sleep. When I stirred, the light from the TV enhanced the shock of doing so, I believed it must be getting up time already… But, No! Red Dwarf began at 21:00hrs, and the credits were rolling for the end of the second episode. So all that dreaming, albeit seemingly restful as well, had lasted for 1 hour and 40 minutes. As I was trying to get back into the land of Morphius, who came calling on me? ! I got the Toothache tincture spray and used it. Tiffany was getting naughty with it, and I took a Codeine 30g as well..
.
I decided to mount the oooospital bed. Climbing into it, while crossing my fingers that nobody telephoned me, took a concerted effort. Why? Cartilage Chloe! The moment I got up to get the tincture to counter Toothache Tiffany, Chloe kicked off distributing her aches and pains, and she’s still at it now – I likely twisted her into action, climbing into the bed. Sunday morning 08:50hrs! Then, by the time I actually got into bed, the task of getting that into a comfortable position was somewhat challenging. Why? Well, it’s complicated, slightly similar to the Labour Government, but not as bad or crooked. I cannot reach the light switch from the bed, so I use a wind-up torch to see the controls on the bed movement panel. But I dropped it and it fell down the gap between the bed and the wall.
Trying to manipulate the controls using the torch was bad enough, but things got worse. I dropped the wired bed control box, and it bounced into the dark depths of under the bed.
I made do with the indulated rippled state of the bed. But could I get to sleep? No! The three main reasons? Toothache Tiffany, Cartilage Chloe and Thought Storming Steve – then, as if to put the cream on the cake, Anne Gyna joined in.
I’d been planning on getting some sleep for about four hours. Two hours in the recliner and two in bed. It was almost a blessing when I had to get up to utilise the . I gave myself a en route. All but tripped over treading on the dropped control panel wire, and arrived at the wet room, only to trip over my walking stick! .
I didn’t get sat down in time!
Had Constipation Conrad been in charge, I’d have missed this pleasure. But, Trotsky Terence returned instead. Splatt! Spray! Soggy mess to clean up.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – ODE TO CONCENTRATION KONRAD
One of my ailments is Konrad Concentration…
Not to be confused with Conrad Constipation,
Although both are ace at obstruction and prohibition,
Konrad, in control of memory blocking & recollection,
Conrad, in charge of my back passage obstruction,
Causing pain, and Haemorrhoid Harold’s bleeding,
Conrad swaps with Trotsky Terence often…
Trotsky guarantees a liquid, pongy evacuation,
It reverses the next day, rock hard, tarnation!
Concentration Konrad does not bring physical trusion.
The hassles that come from Konrad Concentration
Are mental, cognitively, unending, in perpetuation,
My responses can vary, sometimes an epiphenomenon,
A byproduct, physiological, needing explication…
Often bringing on self-expostulation,
I think that Konrad’s affects need explaining,
I see the neurosurgeon re. my upcoming trefination…
Not until November; I’ve no trepidation,
Until then, my brain is forgetting & fragmenting…
Frustrated, self-hating, waiting, with some aggression,
There are times that I’m 100% certain,
That something was done right, then became uncertain,
Change my mind again – mental vociferation,
Did I know, then, how if so? Flashforwarding…
These instances can involve anything,
Appointments, dates, and times – do I get fussbudgeting?
Not knowing leads to self-vilification and condemnation,
I am mentally challenged, FND, or maybe a vaurien?
Three years ago, a psychiatrist mentioned verbigeration,
What does it mean? I looked it up, but I’ve forgotten,
I must do it again. Will I? Here’s hoping,
Last night, I gazed out at the gloaming…
Something weird was beginning,
I left my body and floated up to look back down at me…
I was there, but I looked to be about three,
No more memory of what happened, you see,
Suddenly, I was in the hospital having an angiography,
Then back in the wet room, emptying my pouch of pee!
The door chime chimed, rudely waking me,
I wish an oneirocritic would analyse this for me!
BONUS ODE If a politician lied, can it be called insinuated? Or, claim it’s proposed, suggested, even adumbrated, Can Starmer’s lies by omission be shrouded? I think he should be hanged or guillotined, He’s a reprobate, immoral, degenerated, SpecSavers, Arsenal, Sausages & hostagers, To taking backhanders, he is not averse, Robbing, fiddling, killing pensioners, & farmers, Backhanders? Arsenal, glasses, For his wife, designer outfits,
Lord Alli gave £500,000+ to Labour over 20 years,
Corporate box: by Arsenal valued at 8,950 pounds, 40 sets of free tickets during his time as leader, £698 of Coldplay tickets in Manchester, £4,000 of hospitality at a Taylor Swift concert, Accommodation valued at more than 20,000 pounds, Glasses valued at £2,485 pounds,
£4,475 of discounted personal training sessions,
A free £4,500 holiday to Welsh beauty spots, £5000+ from various gastronomers,
A suggestion of hidden gifts of beverages! Wouldn’t surprise me to see MP abscotchalaters, Keir’s not exactly surrounded by MP artificers, Or honest, reliable HMG inspectrices, I hope Starmer doesn’t miss any Arsenal fixtures, Hope the git doesn’t get any snottier, I hope he gets even more unpopular, And meets his own assasinator, If not, he dies of gonorrhoea. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Catching up. That’s that done.
Well, look at this… YEE-HAA! Mind you, DDDDD took over again around teatime. Humph!
05:20hrs: I reluctantly dragged myself, still feeling tired out, from the bed.
Got the nocturnal pouch emptied. I took a sample first, so the Carer could grade it later.
I took this snap above of the misty,
but tickling with rain, morning.
Carer Ejaz arrived. Sorted the medications and issued them. Then, the lad performed a body check, applying Cetraben cream to the areas that needed it. He checked Lymphoreoa Leslie’s leg wound and said he would change it on Monday if it got any worse. I thought it was fine, apart from the neuropathy-driven electric shocks being more regular today. I put this down to the patch dropping off so regularly; Mizra had put tape on it to keep it in place. Ejaz changed his mind and applied a new patch, retaping it firmly in place. Seconds later, the body fluid could be seen leaking under the plaster. As expected, with the tape being tight, but it’s better than the plaster falling off. Don’t worry, the nurse is due on Monday or Tuesday. I’m dreading Wednesday’s medical day. I may have to miss blogs off. But not if I can help it. Ejaz then creamed the hand injury, & took a photograph of it. It looks a lot worse than it really is in this snap. It’s drying up and scabbing now, which is a good sign, methinks.
A few hours on the blog, and the food delivery arrived. I retrieved the bags from where they were left in the foyer, carried them to the kitchen, and put them away. Got some garden peas.
I’ll have a super choice tonight.
I did have a bit of an Accifaupas, though. I caught the hand wound as I
was putting things in the fridge.
Nothing really, wiped it with a tissue,
and it stopped bleeding.
Carer Mizra called, or was it Carer
Akeyo? I’m going out of it again here.
I took another sky shot.
I’ll have to take a stand-up shave and wash now. Still can’t have a shower cause of the leg. Back in a bit. I’ll try to rush it (not the shaving bit). To get it done before the next Carer call.
All done and eaten!
Carer Mizra did the last call. I performed safety checks in the kitchen and fitted the night catheter bag. The lad looked tired; I was his last call.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Ponder the nature of the beast, at its best.
Disposition, personality, temperament, avidest…
It’s bodgiest, boggiest, boldest, bolshiest,
Briefest, brightest, briskest, bristliest,
Crookedest, crossest, crudest, cruellest,
Care needed to identify its cunningest,
You’ll be obliged to despise and detest,
Identify his traits, lies and falseness,
Gracelessness, gimmickiest, at his glibbest,
At his dishonestest, sneakiest, & sleeziest,
Danger in this concealed recreantest,
Dangerous at his dorkiest, this dweebiest! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – A bit darker.
Oddly blue morning sky.
The calendar clock changed.
Worth mentioning (just about); 1. Blood-Test Appointment arrived on Monday. 2. A Community Nurse visited and put on new plaster for Lymphoedema Leslie on the leg. Said she would be back on Monday or Tuesday to check it. 3: Ten minutes later, the plaster on Lymphoedema Leslie’s leg fell off. 4: Carer Mirza, put another plaster on Lymphoedema Leslie’s leg for me. 5: Ten minutes later, the plaster on Lymphoedema Leslie’s leg fell of again. 6: I got the old plaster back on and wound tape over the top of it. 7: Carer Ejaz did a body check, and ointmentated the wound on my left hand. 8: Text message from the Red Cross, a technician will be calling next Tuesday. I think it will be about the wheelchair? Just guessing here. 9. Email referring to the neurology surgery clinic: they will be sending an assessment logistics form to be filled in and returned, and confirming the November appointment at the Neurologic Clinic, 1st floor, Leengate Clinic. They recommend bringing a Carer along with me. 10. Email from the Dentist, with the usual threats of financial loss and charges if I fail to attend next Thursday’s appointment, or am late arriving. They also suggested I bring a Carer with me. 11. I found I had run out of money. I need to speak with Carer Ejaz to see if I can stop by an ATM on the way to the dentist. This means we won’t have time to do the laundry, cleaning, or financial checks. I anticipate getting into a mess next week with no clean clothing, and even filthier flat to live in, and a call from the bank manager. 12. Aha! A good one! Carer Mizra has got the ringtones on the new phone to change! Much louder. I can hear when anyone calls, now!
