Carer Ejaz changed catheter contraption bag

Inchie Today: Friday 8th April 2026

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

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Sorry, but today things got too much for me.

Topped up the food in the cupboard
In the fridge
Treats included this time
Favourite naughty nibbles

Things got on top of me. I lost or couldn’t find something at least 16 times, as I can recall.
Was with me in varying degrees all day.
Then, mid-morning, the stomach started rumbling; I started coughing and sneezing, and Trotsky Terence activated so often that I considered calling the nurses. The anticoagulatio… no that’s not right. Antidiarrheal capsules were consumed voraciously. Almost like Polo mints, or Rolos, once you open the packet. Haha!
In the morning, now… it starts all over again.

The nurse came to check the leg. I’d taken the strappings off, in hope of getting into my slippers, with the reluctant help of Carer Atilla. Cause I seem to be feeling the cold so much. But the leg was okay, much better. She signed me off, saying, “Call us if… no when it comes back.” I love a good sense of humour.

Actually got a call today from Carer Ejaz. How precious that was. Body checks, Porpain Gelling, Catheter contraption checked for comfort. Help with food preparation. All without having to remember to ask for them. And someone who listens to what I need or ask, not tells me what I want. Thank heavens he is off for two days now. Heavenly!

As the eyes faded in the afternoon, the Trots eased off a little but still kept coming, though nowhere near as often as earlier on. Trotsky Terence is back this morning, sprier than ever. But I’ve not been caught out… Smug-Mode-Adopted.

High white sky,
dark below.

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Ooops, the nosh…

Inchie Today: Saturday 22nd November 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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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.
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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!

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
“Hasta luego, cocodrilo”
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Inchie Today: Monday 18th August 2025

/ Inchie / 12 Comments

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Some things contractable, may be pleasurable,
I recall Suzanne, Grizelda and Mabel,
Take care getting your feet under the table,
Beware of disparity, that’s over-respectful,
Disease, bad habits and greed can be contaigable,
Starmer’s all three, yet he keeps out of trouble,
Is there no one who can burst his bubble?
Keirs bent, a liar, but where is the decrial?
How does he remain inextirpable?
To truth, morals, honesty; he’s extrinsical
I think they may like him at Arsenal,
His promises, principles & odd eschewal…
He escapes justice by being cleverly fissilingual,
Decent people consider him to be a furuncle,
Full of infection, like a toothache or a gumboil,
Hostage, sausage, unintelligible,
Once a barrister, so versed in being liable…
Falsifying, jury-misleading, vilificational,
He told the plain truth once, it was unintentional,
As PM, he is unstoppable, uncontrollable…
He does as he likes, he’s ungainsayable,
I think he should be censurable,
Each decision he takes makes someone miserable,
If he contracted a painful disease, groinal…
I wouldn’t be so hypocritical…
If he snuffs it, hodiernal…
Citizens’ happiness would be eternal!
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Will disasters, worries, concerns, seizures, my ailments, lousy luck, mental problems, eyesight, hearing, loneliness, sarcasm, hatred of Starmer, my Virgin Media computer, and mobile and telephone problems ever ease off, relent?
That was a daft question!

Woke at 04:30hrs: The feet needed a soak in soap and some Dettol. Carried out the early Health Checks. BP had gone down a lot.

I took a leisurely paced trip to the wet room to carry out the needs of my phooey body. The Porcelain Throne session produced no movement again. I’ll have some of the Pakistani vegetable curry later; the last time I had it, I ended up with four trips to the Porcelain Throne the following day.
The shaving went fantastically. Just one cut on the neck. The scab on the head wound dropped off.  
Shaving in a bowl of water nearly turned into a calamity when I slipped while getting out. I lunged for the sink to steady myself and avoided a tumble. I banged my wrist doing so, and I put some Germolene on it later. To be right, it was another decent morning for the ailments. Anne Gyna had returned, but Duodenal Donald and Arthur Itis’ knees were no hassle. Cartilage Chloe threatened to give way on me in the afternoon, but I survived unfallen. Haha!
I think I took the ablutions too early to find out if the computer would work when I boot it up.

From the balcony, I took shots of the views.
Above is my beloved Tree Copse.
Then, the end of the car park was snapped. Usual parking from the little red car.
Down from the window.

Getting seated at the computer, I took this shot. It was my knees under the colourful thin Kaghoule that I’d decided to try.
Carer Ejaz arrived before I could try out the computer. He issued the medications and checked those delivered yesterday, or possibly Saturday. If not, Friday. He put on my diabetic socks. He was a smidge late coming, so he didn’t have time for me to tell him about the need for phone calls to be made. The dentist, audio clinic and Dentist.
A nice lad. Took the waste bag with him.

Another fail!

Then on the computer. I can’t believe it was working. Mind you, it was very slow. But working! I spent four hours trying to catch up on yesterday’s blog, but it was a real mental workout. Carer Nimra arrived.
I asked if she could make the phone calls to the three places. I explained that if I don’t contact them to cancel tomorrow’s appointment, they will still charge me. She rang Easy Link. Nimra confirmed that medical appointment lifts need 7 days’ notice.
But she didn’t have time to rig the Audio centre, or the Dentists. And Ejaz was unable to. I suspect that I’m going to get a £50 bill from the dentist’s. Unless Nimra can ask the ICC (Inner City Carers) office to try to get in touch. It’s too late now anyway, I’ve got to give 24 hours’ notice. Grangnagles!

I scuffed my leg against the potato drawer.
Minutes later, the friendly District Nurse arrived. She checked the leg, which was now covered in a new plaster. Inspected and passed my back passage, declaring it was okay now. And adjusted the catheter contraption. She didn’t seem too concerned about the recent rises in the BP returns. So, I’m not. 

Carer Ejaz arrived. I tried to explain about the situation with the phone calls about Easy Link, the Audio Centre and the Dentist. Then… as Ejaz went to take off the diabetic socks…
He was disgusted to see the leg, pouch straps, and sleeve covered in urine. I apologised as best I could; it’s not very pleasant for anyone to sort out. But he did, and readjusted things afterwards. Bless him. How the urine escaped was obvious; the release valve was in the open position. I’m struggling more than ever. Making mistakes, I’ve not done before, repeatedly.
I fear that I am getting closer and closer to being moved into a home of some sort.

If I had some extra care hours, it would definitely help. But the cost would be beyond my means.

I made a meal, and sank as I did it, into an even Deeper Darius state. I was doing things automatically. My mind is musing over so many other things that are beyond my capabilities, coming at the same time.

I didn’t make it into bed. About 00:00hrs, I 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.
Shooting awake to find it was 03:15hrs. Immediately, Thought-Storming-Steve burst into life, not the slightest chance of getting back to the land of nod.
Concerns, worries, & fears matured and stewed…

TTFN

Inchy Today: Saturday 14th June 2025

/ Inchie / 12 Comments

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These are not in a chronological order,
But I’d like to bring back Grizelda,
See the slow death of Labour’s Starmer,
He’s more Tory than Margaret Thatcher,
Prove that Trump is getting barmier,
Putins warring, without any condemnation,
Backed by the Oligarchs conglomeration,
The West? Not even a chinwagging session,
We accept the coming desolation, perdition?

When things go wrong, I get contrarier,
And use profanity, blaspheming coprolalia,
It may be through pain or frustration,
Losing time with my blogging addiction,
Dementia Doreen, who causes me confusion,
Hysteria, delirium, drugs, intoxication?
Where do we see daily insanity & delusion?
In Governments, they turn into a dystopian,
Disheartened voters? A quattuordecillion!

A Few By-the-By Thoughts:
Whoever thought we’d stop using coal,
To save the earth? For what that is worth,
Footballers kiss when they score a goal,
Killers laugh when they are gaoled,
Judges: Life in prison commanded,
Freed in six years, hardly reprimanded,
A week later, another victim was murdered,
Eugene Brown, a killer, was then paroled,
Killed two more, a mother & son, Eduard,
Back to jail, he killed an inmate dead,
Starmer, the liar, really gets to me,
Lying like a barrister, he was one, wasn’t he,
Recalling my hatred almost abandonedly,
Maybe he’ll die of a heart attack, hopefully,
And soon would be nice, preferably,
But that won’t get back what he stole from me,
My Pensioner’s Winter Fuel payout, greedily,
But I’ll not seek revenge, almost certainly…
But, if I can repair my 303…
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04:40hrs, I leapt off of the bed, jumping over 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, did a double-flip, landing on my right foot, and burst into five-minutes of yodelling.
Oh, alright then…
The danged alarm went off at 04:40hrs. I anathematised, using curse words, in retaliation for the alarm going off, especially as I could not remember setting it last night. I thought I’d forgotten how to set the alarm many months ago, so I tried and failed. I do recall that because I got the voice message sign come up and can’t find out how to clear it. That is still on the screen; it has been there for over a year now. Why would I set it for this time, anyway? I lost the plot there; where was I? Ah, getting up.
I got the nocturnal catheter pouch off the day bag. A perfect colour this morning. Later confirmed by the Carer as 3.5.
The acidy niggling at being woken up feeling slowly faded. As I was up, I’d start my daily tasks.

I started with a Porcelain Throne visit. A complete reversal this time. Super messy, nae, Mega-Messy. No chance of any crosswording this morning. By the time I had cleaned myself and the porcelain, the visit had cost me half an hour.

Still, no rush was there. I shaved first. Not a single cut! Body washed. The teeth & throat gargled. The nasal clearout was done. Then I  olive-oiled both ear-holes. Barrier-creamed areas that I could reach. Adjusted the tube-pulling catheter contraption straps and refitted them, and they were a lot less painful. 
Then, I got dressed, put the kettle on for a brew of Glengettie tea, and changed the calendar clock. Next, I started the Health Check routine. 
Much better returns again today, morning and evening ones in Normal High status. The Blood returns were both acceptable, too!

I got the computer on, and Carer Manpreet arrived.
Medications were sorted, and then she barrier-creamed Haemorrhoid Harold’s bleeding rear-end and my male breasts. Showed her where the waste bin disposal chute was in the foyer. Said our farewells.

I got started on the blogging update and stuck with it despite the interruptions and my confusion about where I was and what I was doing before them.
All welcome, just the same.
I recall thinking that a seizure or seizures may be coming on. @ve had very few lately. I remember the two-hour out-of-it spell last week when I did nothing. Well, the current confusion felt similar. I took a snap of the view from the kitchen.

Carer Mirza came just after 13:00 hours for a quick checking call; he liked my Ode. Hehe! After he’d gone, things kicked off. First, Anne Gyna came on starting in the neck area, as she often does before a big stroke, and I thought, ‘Am I going to get one?’
I did.
I think the intercom sound (Carer Mizra arriving) brought me back. It’d have been approximately 17:25 hours that I’d been out of it for about four hours. I’d done nothing. The catheter bag had filled and was painful. When the Carer came in, he noticed that the blog screen was the same as when he had left.
The disorientation had my mind all over the place.

The after-effects were so different, and four hours might be the longest one I’ve ever had. I was trying to work out what had happened and why it was so different when Carer Manpreet arrived. Memories of this visit are bare.

The puffer clouds (or whatever they are named) caught my attention.

Carer Manpreet made the last call of the day, and I was in a much clearer state of mind. After she’d issued the medications, we had a little chat. We went into the kitchen to check the taps, etc. The rain was falling as the sun went down lower. I was going to take photos but decided against it because the sun was bright and might affect my eyes’ health due to My Glaucoma. Carer Manpreet kindly took these shots from the kitchenette window, capturing both the rain and the sun for me. She also sneaked this shot on the left here, of yours truly, as I was prepping the meal for cooking. Kind of her.

The meal turned out decent. Last of the tasteless bread, only tried one slice, binned the rest. Skin on chips, sausages, last of the raw peas, and last of the beef tomatoes.

I was lucky enough to get the pots washed and settled to watch TV before the mini-seizures started.
I seemed to be having them when the adverts went off, missing so much that I gave up and clambered into bed with the nocturnal pouch. Hehe! 

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Sweet Dreams, rest & Peace! 🤎
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Inchy Today: Tuesday 13th May 2025

/ Inchie / 14 Comments

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SMUG-MODE ENGAGED
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Thinking!
Thinking back, I began to hallucinate,
Here, giving me a cuddle, was Auntie Kate,
I guess I beginning, starting to levitate…
Floating back in time, young again, lanate,
Grizelda began to maxilate…
Fondle, hugging me, & to mussitate,
We did things considered misappropriate,
Guilt? I no longer felt, nor was I novitiate,
Freedom, my thoughts no longer obdurate,
Physical ailments began to obfuscate,
Gawd, this illusion is super-great!
Am I dead? A ghost, or maybe a wraith?

Am I being given a forecast or a prophecy?
Am I dead or alive? I viewed this whimsically,
May I be en route to see St. Peter?
I’ve paid my debts! Rent or electricity,
Why do I sense that I’m feeling guilty?
Is this a dream, a seizure or a Whoopsie?
Griselda is still toying pleasurably with me,
I no longer feel elderly, tired or weary!
Under my bed is now a guzzunder,
I’ve not seen one of these since 1953,
What year is it? I don’t feel at all distressingly?
The sky and globe have turned all yellowy…
Opaque, angels, pink clouds, worryingly…
St. Peter has not yet greeted me!

Am I getting sillier? I feel more cheerier!
Is this an end-of-life bamboozler?
Wherever I am, it feels cosier,
I suppose it should, being free of Starmer?
Yes, I must have died; I’ve never been happier,
Oh, here’s a transparent cheerleader…
Glittering eyes, big bust, much curvature,
Ah, she’s just been attacked by Grizelda,
Maybe because she gave me a sly twire?
Heaven or Hell, I feel much toeier…
No bother from Gladys Glaucoma,
Arthur Itis, Shaking Shoulder or Anne Gyna,
Grizelda’s back, with handcuffs and a tether…
Prompting movement in the tallywhacker!

Well, I’m interested and acquiescing,
A billion-long queue of souls is forming,
Grizelda & me at the end, that’s galling,
It’s for St. Peter’s gate, I’m assuming,
For questioning and allocating…
Heaven or Hell’s door selecting?
Grizzly said, there’s a third door we might be using!
I asked for what? This is so confusing,
That’s for souls picked to be returning…
The answer was more than terrifying,
Sent back to earth, that’ll be intimidating!
For those chosen, Starmer will be waiting,
Still be cheating, lying, stealing & killing…
I suddenly came out of my daydreaming,
Starmer is still in power; it’s heartbreaking!
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This morning, I kept waking up at 04:00hrs.
Repeated this action endless times before nodding off again into a deep sleep.
I was woken up at about 07:30hrs. By Carer Ejaz. Who told me it had taken him about ten minutes to wake me up! I swiftly fell asleep again. Ejaz was concerned when I sat up and grabbed my lower belly in response to aches and pains. None were awful, but they remained for a few hours after Ejaz had gone. 
As Ejaz was issuing the medications, apparently, I nodded off again! 
I did not move from the bed during Ejaz’s visit. He removed the nocturnal catheter bag and applied Barrier cream to the leg-strapping wounds. They were much less bothersome and painful this morning. Being in bed for such a long time made the base of my sternum far more sore than it was yesterday, but the wounds looked better. Ejaz took this photo of the catheter contraption for me. I got the diabetic socks put on for me. Ejaz lost some time with having to rouse me. And I had to shoot off; I’d not moved during his visit.

When Ejaz left, I fell asleep yet again! Hence, there was little time to catch up or much photographicalisation today.

When I finally gingerly got up on my feet, my stomach ache steadily improved. But my concentration was not good at all.

I got on the computer, and the catheter pouch filled shortly after. When I went to empty it, the tube on the release valve was not there, making many messy emptyings throughout the day. I searched the flat, thinking it must have come off when Ejaz emptied it. He usually does not take it off. Sometimes, he’ll put it on. After failing to find the tube, I thought he might have pulled it off when he removed the nocturnal bag. He then put it in the kitchen rubbish bag, which has since been put down the waste chute. So, I’ll struggle on. Let’s face it, I’m good at struggling. Hehehe!

I was prepping to get today’s Ode started. But feeling better in myself now. Then…
I found I’d left the damned hot water tap running again. How many times in two days? Three, I think!

A massive vagueness overcame me. It stayed visiting me until about 16:00hrs. It was in full flow when Carer Joe called around 13:15hrs. I’m unsure what we spoke about other than Joe’s plans to start sorting the clothes in the junk room tomorrow. So, maybe there will not be a blog for tomorrow, for the first time since I was in hospital in 2007. I think, but thinking is no longer a strong point for me. Hehe!

I took this snap on the left from the kitchenette window. I remembered to cause
I knocked a jar of mushroom ketchup off the window ledge, and it landed on my . 
Not that it bothered me at all. I merely laughed it off and started singing to myself.
Then, I took another memory, prompting a snap of my beloved tree copse. I may have used the wrong photo here, or the computer posted the wrong one? Anyway, taking this snap hurt me more than the toe incident.

Then I realised that the sun covering Khagoule had fallen into the water jug on the floor.
So, I had to hang it on the shower curtain in the wet room to help it dry out. I also turned on the heater to encourage it to dry.

I visited the Porcelain Throne as well. Trotsky Terence was in control.
It was a messy job that took a long time because there was no hot water. Did I mention I’d left the hot tap running earlier?

The sun died temporarily while I was fetching water from the kettle, and walking with the walking stick was a bit risky.

I got some potatoes into the slow cooker that I forgot to tell you about earlier. 08:00hrs approximately) There are no secrets on this WordPress blog, Inchy Today!

I’m back on this blog after checking, updating and posting yesterday’s post to WordPress. Then, I started on this post.

I’ll check the potatoes. This is going to be a long job. Turn them (if ready), put them in the basin, bash them up, add no-butter butter, sea salt, Worcestershire, and Soy sauce, and then the tricky bit: grate and mix in Leicester cheese. Put the mixture in the oven and cook until the top has crispened. Prep[ping took me 35 minutes, and the washing things up after took me over half an hour.
I pray I don’t let them burn… Please!

It took me hours to get the potatoes sorted and mashed with the shredded Leicester cheese and red onions. I found evidence in the morning, blood on the fridge door that indicated a cut thumb or fingernail) I washed the pots and put the dish into the oven to crisp it up nicely. This usually takes a good half-hour. Here it is before cooking.
Carer Joe arrived as I was putting it in.
Medications issued. Joe said we would start sorting out tomorrow in the junk room. He’ll take the laundry down to the washer, come back, and we can sort the clothes out. This will free up many coat hangers. Because there are so many trousers, jumpers, shirts, and coats that no longer fit me. They don’t call me Mr Blobby for no reason, you know. Haha! He should have time to nip down, get the laundry in the dryer, and dry it for once. Joe’s got it all organised beforehand, which is a great help.

The potatoes were removed from the oven and put on a tray with some bread. I added some cut tomatoes, and I settled into the £300 second-hand shop-bought, c1966, moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not-working recliner to watch an episode of my favourite, ‘Heartbeat’, on the TV to eat the meal.
It took me a while to eat it all, but I did!
Then, heaven… Zzz!
Carer Ejaz woke me up two hours later.
He removed my diabetic socks and mended the nocturnal catheter-damaged day bag. He also added a tube from another point to the current one. I checked the kitchen and bathroom and got my head down, but I forgot to put the nocturnal catheter pouch on. It’s hard to believe, I know.

So, when I was woken up by the pain from poor Little Inchie being tugged on with the weight as the pouch filled up, I had to get up to empty the pouch post-haste. Could I get back to sleep? No! 

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But it didn’t Bother Me, Hehe!
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Inchy Today: Saturday 3rd May 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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– – Or summat like that – –
<<<>>><<<>>>
What controls one’s advertences?
Without them, you’ve mental curtains,
Which blocks your observations,
Lose your morals and convictions,
Dreams, inspirations and motivations,
You may select the wrong adorations,
Bringing on unwanted altercations,
Also, financial complications,
Getting interest rate reductions?
Do you doze off during meditations?
Do you struggle with DIY contraptions?
Why not consult enchiridions?
Do you use too many idioms?
Do you get drawn into fixations,
Understand your own contemplations?
Do you have naughty inclinations?
Do you mix with Oligarchs or patricians?
Comfortable amidst the proletarians?
How rarely do we question the criterions,
Not all criteria of verifications…
These can be classed as desideratums,
It’s vital to carry out investigations,
And done with great intentness’s,
Their objectives, ambitions, & intentions,
Find out their aim with negotiations,
Tell them it with confabulations,
Or conversations or consultations,
Don’t use the word investigations!
After scrutinisations, & observations,
Re your resulting appraisements…
No ballpark figures or approximations,
Declarations, not propositions,
Release only certitudes, positive decisions,
Analyse your ascertainments,
Then, create new recommendations,
Plainly, this is mostly theorisations…
I am not surprised I get mental altercations!
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I fell asleep last night in 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. Woke up several times overnight, but far less than when I was in the hospital bed. Around 04:30hrs, I woke again and decided to get up and catch up early on the blog. The mind was willing enough, but the body sort of said to me, ‘Sod off!’ Several times. I could not get back to sleep; a few bouts of eye-drooping were the best I could achieve. I lurched from the recliner, noticing the time was 06:20 hrs. I detached the nocturnal pouch from the day bag, and plans changed when I got up and started the gentle morning balance exercises. The wind erupted from my hindquarters; long, loud, noisily, and aromatically contaminated the room. Off to the wet room, I trudged. By the time I got there and sat down on the Porcelain Throne, the agony from my toes was as painful as it had ever been! Only Anne Gyna and Little Inchies Fungal Lesion are that bad. I thought they hurt a lot when they were cut yesterday. £35 I had to pay for this torture session, too! Haha! To rub it in, I had to clean up endless toenail clippings when the Carer spotted them later on the carpet.
I did not wash or shave, but did I rinse the teggies? I put it down to the pain I’d got and had all day every time I had to stand up and or walk. I unlocked the door as I exited the room so the Carer could get in later. My getting up late annoysed me. My plan to catch up on the blog was in ruins. The new four-wheeled walker attracted my attention, and I tried again to get the loose right handlebar stiffened. I failed, of course. 

Carer Ejaz arrived. He made me proud this morning. He assessed the urine rating, issued medications, and then changed my catheter bag. Next, he did a full-body check for new wounds or bruises. New spots on my leg and another bruise on my back were found. He then ointmentated both ankle lesions and legs with barrier cream under the men’s breasts, arms, and in the crutch near the catheter tube. I reckon that the right Lymphorrhoea Leslie’s lower leg, which had been bleeding overnight, had dried up well enough and was reduced in size. But things with Leslie change day by day.

I went out on the balcony to take two shots. That rain we had earlier leaked onto the car park’s end. But we still need more rain here. It’s unnatural that so little rain is falling. 
A skyward shot next. What beautiful cloud formations we get. Always differing.

At long last, I got on the computer to update and post the Friday blog on WordPress. It took me hours, but still.

Midday Carer. He took a look at the new walker handgrips for me. I turned the gripper, and it came loose! This could bode unwell!
The skies were even more interesting.
The top shot was to the left of the kitchenette window. The bottom one to the right.
You wouldn’t think they were the same sky.

As the day progressed, the pain from the ingrowing toenails worsened. Walking at times required two sticks; the pain from both nails was so bad. I decided to try to get a bowl with disinfectant in the water, to wash my feet. Getting the bowl filled and into the room near the recliner was a struggle. Dettol was added, and a towel was taken in. But I could not get the diabetic socks off until the Carer arrived.

The Carer came on the last visit and timed it perfectly, and the water was still hot enough.
She removed the socks, and I got my feet in the water.
After two minutes in the bowl, she fretted about being late for her next call. She dried the feet with kitchen towels and kindly applied some barrier cream to Lymphoedema Leslie’s thick, cracked skin on both ankles. Bless her. Cleaning up after was a struggle because, as usual, the toenails sting for a while after doing the feet. Getting off to sleep took me ages, and I was also tired.
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Evening All!
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