Carer Imran

Inchie Today: Saturday 31st October 2026

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SATURDAY 31st OCTOBER 2026
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An untypical start to today. As I slid and tumbled hastily off the bed, I trod on something that painfully forced a mild naughty word or two from my lips. More authentic, almost poetic words followed, and disbelief, as I realised I’d trodden on the ‘repaired-the-day-before Kodak Tim 2 camera!’ I lost my balance and fell against the back of the recliner. I caught the side of my face, and that started it off.
Depression kicked off, and more naughty, self-lamasting language was emitted. It remains an unsolved mystery why I even got the camera with me when I got my head down. I’ve never slept with a camera in my pyjamas before. Haha! Well, I don’t think I have. I didn’t take any painkillers, as a Carer would be arriving.
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I went into the kitchenette and took this misty photograph of the offer view. Then the ‘Oh, Susanna’ chimed from the front door. The Carer Cometh. Andrew. No neck cream, no body check. No barrier cream. No hoovering. However, he made me brew of Glengettie; Andrew made a decent job of it. Meds given out.
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I took off the small buds or nodes growing from the potatoes and put them in a bowl to add to the slow cooker for tonight’s meal. Which was going to be spuds, and fresh garden peas. Beetroot and chestnuts. I dropped many of the spuds’ nodes on the floor, and they rolled into any hole, nook, or cranny they found to hide in.
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Jenny came to have a natter with me, and gave good advice on my problems. Bless her.
Angel Jenny emailed me, kindly offering two of her butcher-bought large sausage rolls from the freezer. 
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I was making progress with the backlog of blogs I had. But it was painfully slow progress. Concentration was the problem, or rather the lack of concentration. I looked up this problem, thinking it may be linked to my Alzheimer’s disease with Lewy Body Dementia and Vascular Dementia. But it seems more likely that my Peripheral Neuropathy is the cause, or they both share the blame. (Dopamine: a type of monoamine neurotransmitter and hormone made in the brain that acts as a chemical messenger to communicate signals between nerve cells) and overwhelm: When a task feels too baffling, big, boring, or difficult, your brain looks for an escape hatch, leading to task-switching, procrastination, or task paralysis. (a state where you feel mentally “stuck” and completely unable to start or complete a task, even though you want to and know it needs to be done)
I sound intelligent, don’t I? I Googled this!
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Frank came up with them; they were so different from the normal ones. Packed solid with a tasty meaty filling. I left them out on the kitchen top to defrost and plan to have them with my meal tonight. Or was this yesterday?
Struggling gain!
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I went to take a photo from the kitchenette window; the photo didn’t get taken, though. Because I hit my head on the corner of the window frame as I opened it to take the snap. This snap is from when I bashed my head in the wet room when my right leg gave way; I used that one again.
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Carer Imran arrived. We decided on what level of pain relief I needed, and it was issued. He did a body check, barrier cream on my blobby belly – I have to lift it for him so he can get at the lesions. It’s got that ginormous. Haha!
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Back to the computer, and my productivity was stunted even further, as I procrastinated and dilly-dallied from one task to another. I was in as full-a-flow as could be, working on the blog, and my TBI’d cerebrum decided I needed to stop and make a food order for next week. Why? Gawd knows! Then I put more things on the back burner, because I wanted more of the Lemon Wafers, but I couldn’t remember where I got them. A Google search revealed that Asda had that brand in stock, but only after I found that J Sainsburies, Iceland, and Morrisons don’t sell them. Then, when I went to place an order with Asda, I found they were out of stock! Also, I had already placed an order with them. Well, I must have got some from somewhere; I’d just opened the last packet.
A search for any brand of Lemon Puffs was carried out on Google; they all but Iceland had that brand in, but those ones are a smidge hard for my poor deteriorating teeth.
As if by some form of sorcery, I found myself hoovering the hallway. I’d done this a few hours earlier! 
Then I sorted the laundry things out. Back to the computer, I found many emails and went through them. And back to the blog. I saw how many mistakes I’d made and wanted to cry, but I didn’t; it turned into self-loathing. After a self-moody, I started making things right.
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Carer Imran looked so tired. He still did a decentish job, mind you. Offered a body check. Heat-treated my back and creamed the back of my neck. Said it had red marks on it now. It does get sore more; I’m sure I’ll endure!
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Now the computer plays up! Followed, or it might be part of the same problem, whatever it is, CorelDraw is sticking; had to close down manually twice!
Not that this bothered me, of course.  
Not a man of my supreme intelligence, patience, calm, relaxed attitude, and imperturbable, unflappable, tranquil, placid nature; I’m well known for it. 
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Carer Prem did the last call in fine form. 
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THE MEAL OF THE DAY
💗 Thanks, Jenny! 💗
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Early morning snaps of the sky & horizon.
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Not very good, are they?
I fell asleep as the football came
on the TV. Went to get some
more water to feed the Catheter
through the bladder when I took
these. Maybe I was out of joint
for missing the footy?
Especially missing Man City,
losing a match – Cragknagles!
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Inchie: Wednesday 23rd Sept 26 – Psychotherapist Day… Well…

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I’d been waking up so often during the night, fretting over something going wrong or forgetting to take something to the meeting with the psychiatrist later on. At 0620, I decided to get up and start gathering and checking things for the trip. Not a good start… 
A . As I climbed cautiously out of bed, my back started giving me some grief, so I got on my feet and stood up to ease the discomfort. I may have eaten something after getting into bed last night. Because I trod on a fork on the floor. Naturally, I just laughed it off.
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When I’d finished cursing, I got a heat pad stuck on my back, and pondered over things needing doing for the visit to the hospital. I thought it a good idea to put the lists Jenny had kindly checked and printed for me into the three-wheeled walker, so I wouldn’t forget later.
Stubbing my ingrown toenail on the wheel of the trolley, I again laughed it off.  
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Carer Andrew arrived; he put some cream on my back and… remembered to put my diabetic socks on. On me, I meant. Hahaha! Medications given, got on his mobile and then off he shot without any ceremony.
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Then I went to the wet room, spending the longest I have ever spent evacuating the almost-water product.
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I did what I could, but time was running out as I waited for the Carer, and luckily the nurse came earlier than planned, and she checked the leg wound, gave them the okay, and hastily got me dressed. Bless her
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Carer Ejaz arrived and rang a taxi; we were soon on our way to the Highbury hospital meeting. The driver took the wrong route and dropped us off in the wrong place. We went inside; Ejaz asked for directions to where we wanted to go. Then we walked to the building. Fortune shone; we got to the appointment just in time. We were taken to a room. To find a disappointing fact.
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After all the hard work Jenny had done to get a four-page list of questions to be asked; typed, printed, and put into envelopes; the lady told me she and the psychiatrist ve had a meeting and decided, after getting her report, that I had two Dementias. Mixed Dementia: Frontotemporal & Vascular Dementia,  and this has now been confirmed.
All without the man or woman meeting or talking to me.
I was hoping to spread the word about my not coping, getting things done and would love to be moved into a home to finish my life without frustration. 
Well, summat like that.
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She told me I would not see her again; nothing further could be done for me. 
So, thus and therefore, my first ever meeting with a psychiatrist did not mature.
I’ve never seen a ghost either, ready to see the Grim Reaper after today, though. Hahahah!
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As we left, I felt guilty and sorry for Jenny. Guilt for not realising they had held their own meeting and decided my fate. And for asking Jenny for her help with the long list, which she did, thinking it would help, and it was unneeded! All that work she did!
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The taxi Ejaz ordered arrived. In the biggest BMW I’ve ever seen! It needed help from Ejaz and the driver, plus a plastic stool to stand on, to get into it. Amazingly, I looked around and asked Ejaz what all this was for in the back of the cab. There were mobile charging points, cup holders, a big shaded glass roof, and buttons to heat the seat if needed! No wonder the trip cost so much.
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We got home; Ejaz had to move on to his next client. I still felt terrible that Jenny’s work wasn’t used. The lady did ask if she could let the psychiatrist see the printout.
I agreed readily and said This is the lady that keeps me going; I’d be glad if he/she would read it. 
I went into a semi-depression then, and decided to tell it how it went when I phoned Jenny. I felt bad.
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Carer Andrew arrived while I was starting to update this blog. I spoke of what had taken place for a long time. As I told him the tale, I took my eyes of the screen; he was on his phone. He did show signs of sympathy. He took these two shots of the skies, as he put my torch on the balcony to catch any sun to charge it up.
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Carer Ahmed, or was it Carer Imran? Well, one of them did the late call. We managed a laugh or two. A rarity.
He took off the diabetic socks, applied some heat gel to the lower back, and issued painkillers. No Peptac, because I’d not eaten yet, not even started cooking it. 
He did the safety checks and asked if I knew the oven was on. I pointed out that I was going to use it after he’d departed, but could I remember what I was going to cook? No! He laughed as I said, “Well, I could blame my bad memory on having Frontotemporal & Vascular Dementia, both types of Alzheimer’s.” But seriously, this past week, my memory has got so much worse. And I swear that the arithmaphobia has, too.
The Carer had a look at the medical returns and pointed out that the urine in millimetres passed, that is, arrived at by adding up each jug emptied and dividing it by the number of jugs used. I had got both figures wrong. I’ll have to correct them on the next chart. Good of him to notice and inform me; he even worked out what they should have been. He checked the taps and suggested, after I recalled that it was the cheap end bits of bacon I was going to cook, that I stay there in the kitchen the whole time. He’s not been coming for a long time, but he’s picked up the things I get wrong quickly. I usually go into the front room and fall asleep until the fire alarm goes off and wakes me. (Not often, though!) This is part of why I miss Mirza, who hasn’t called for such a long time, and Ejaz, who calls far less often nowadays; they are both reliable lads. I am disappointed.
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I got the bacon in the oven, and sliced some tomatoes and salted them, after suxking the blood from the finger I cut. Then took this shot of the sun on its way down. Then got the spuds from the slow cooker and put some Teriyaki sauce on each one on the tray. Then I took this closer shot of the sunset. Nice!
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Back to the dinner making. Started by making two thick-sliced sarnie sandwiches with small-cut pickle spread on the bread. Got the spuds and tomatoes on the foil tray. (Not so much washing-up to do) Added some Sesame Soy sauce, and 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 and eat the meal.
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INCHIES TALES OF WOE
This did not, of course, go exactly to plan.
I didn’t need to say that really, did I?
As I recall it, the first thing was that I’d left my torch on the balcony. So I had to get up, go out, open the balcony door, grab the torch, close the door, come back in, and almost settle into the recliner…
When I turned on the TV, I realised that I’d still got my reading glasses on. Painfully removed my colossally moribund disabled body from the recliner, stubbing my toe as I got to the computer desk, swapped glasses, returned to the recliner…
As I settled into the least painful position so as not to set my back off again, then, at long last, I bit heartily into the first bacon sarnie… And dropped it! I’m ashamed to say, I swore and cursed. As I got out of the recliner, I used a kitchen towel to clean up the spilt pile of no butter, butter, sauce, pickle and bacon from my dressing gown, legs, feet and the poor, now dingy carpet.
Got settled again, and ate the meal and still found it satisfactory under the delayed eating process.
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Inchy Today: Saturday 15th August 2026

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= =Last nights sunset==
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SATURDAY 15th AUGUST 2026
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I WOKE WITH THE MISERY OF YESTERDAY
STILL RAMBLING THROUGH MY MIND.
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04:45: I stirred. Mused, remembered, moaned, complained, self-lambasted, and decided all was lost; thus, I accepted the hopeless situation.
Nowt can be done, thanks to my haughtily non-communicative inept, antisocial, oligarchal, customer-hating, vilifying, snotty, TSB Bank’s refusal to transfer my own money from one account to another. And the consequences of this unfair, typical bank-like decision.
I also pondered whether I should demand all my money on Monday and put it in another bank or building society. After trying to convince the snotty, superior-sounding, bad decision-making, uncaring, customer-hating customer service staff… I stopped myself from daydreaming. Maybe I was a little bête noire in my thoughts and apprehension of the problem?
Should I go in on Monday with the expensive Carer, by costly taxi, to speak with them; Put on a smile, and act super-pleasant with them?
Even have a wash before I go? Practice in the mirror how to put on a smile without showing the five-tooth gap at the front of my mouth? Try to charm them into giving me my own money? I’ve put my truncheon in the three-wheeled walker, just in case.
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Off to the WC, an appalling session this one was. About six chunky, hard, thick, separate greenish-coloured chunks were evacuated, immediately followed by a long, semi-liquid flow of what looked like Chilli con Carne, which was the same colour as Chilli.
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I started working on the blog, finishing and new template, and the Carer arrived. Ejaz: 1 call; Mirza: 0 this week. It was Carer (no listening because I’m on my phone), Edward. On his usual form. Left medication where he used it, not back on the medication table. I asked him to return the pill pot from the computer desk. Other Carers had to search to find them. Then, when he’d shot off, I found the barrier cream in the same place. Times & Carers like this make me lean toward finishing with help altogether. However, it would be risky. But the value of Mizra & Ejaz is much-needed and irreplaceable, as is my money – I’m simply spending a lot more than I have coming in. I heard not a word from the financial institution that the Social Lady signed me up for. I think I know why. She explained that they would aim to make sure I have money over the total of the bills and would give me cash to spend. That total means I have to go out and mug someone or rob a bank to get my cash.
There’s a thought… a TSB bank maybe?
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Inchie Today: Monday 17th November 2025

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– – He’s Easily Framed, you know…– –
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I’m fated to getting the occasional adumbration,
Like they will not go ahead with my trephination,
But that’s not going to give me any trepidation,
Nor my seizure giving me trips into oblivion,
Not my broken knee, or my fungal lesion…
Toothache Tiffany, or Cramp giving Colin…
My catheter, else my cartilages adumbration, 
Glaucoma Gladys, and not to mention…
My bowels fail and non-retention,
Or even my overnight elucubration,
Mainly, the problem is my brain’s fragmentation,
I’m thinking of becoming a futilitarian!
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No question, I’m an excellent forgetter,
And getting worse, not better,
In some ways, I’m a bit of a backslider…
Job not done, cause I don’t remember,
The job I started, when I mentally meander,
Start another, and get all a bluster…
If I get a phone call, seizure or visitor,
Then get asked what to do by a Carer,
Did anyone tell them I had Dementia?
I may go to the kitchen to cook a burger,
Go to the toilet, and, well, bugger!
Come out and start using the Hoover…
Then, back on CorelDraw on the computer,
Then it might freeze, read the brochure… 
But can’t see it, due to Gladys’ Glaucoma!
Then I smell the burning veggie-burger…
I swear, curse, become a self-belittler,
In comes a nurse to change the catheter…
Both leg strapping & socks off the Lymphorrhea,  
We have a laugh, I hold this as dear…
Off she goes, leaving me feeling sadder,
To the wetroom to empty the catheter,
I immediately saw another Inchie blunder…
I’d left the tap running, the hot water,
Now it could not have run colder!
I got even angrier and bolshier…
Leaving, I hit the doorframe with my shoulder!
Depression Darius Dawned, oh, super! 
I should write a book, could be a bestseller?
Under fiction, although true, do I care?
Near blind in my left eye, right one’s clear,
The left one’s view is cloudy and foggier,
I’ll have to inform the Doctor…
Get my eyes examined…
But each call, it’s a different Carer,
On the phone, it is hard for me to hear,
Ejaz & Nimra have been nowhere near,
When they were assured to appear…
They made life that little bit chirpier, 
Talking to the new Carer,
I detected signs of dyslexia,
Suppose because I was disconcerted,
I had to tell him he’d undermedicated,
The Warfarin, I grabbed & imbibed, 
How bad today was cannot be described.
It made me think I had cacodemonomania,
The neurologist mentioned the word cachexia,
He was talking of the effects of a seizure,
Nimra took a video of one I gave a chanticleer!
Ejaz helped me send it to the Doctor,
But no reply, nothing has been heard.
Life is getting harder, complicated, contrarier,
Each day I face enforced frustration & failure,
What can I do, can’t hear or see properly – Caramba!
Getting help? Ha! I’m a dégringolader,
With mind & body in need of many a chiropractor,
Failure, frustration, desperation & dysphoria.
Still, you don’t like to complain, do yer?
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I’m afraid that I’m going to have to cut down on this blog, seriously. For some time at least. Shame, cause I loved doing it so much. I’ll try to keep a cartoon, and an Ode, with a few words of the happenings on the day.
THE REASONS
Health and time. I’ve lost Ejaz. Other than that, I hope on a Wednesday. Nimra will not be coming again.
Carer Mizra, did one call today? I hope he can call more often, a grand help he is. Dispiriting.
Everything I do is taking so much longer.
The cock-ups, errors, and mistakes seem to be getting more frequent. In the last three days: Taps left on, remote control lost, bank and Virgin details cannot be found. Eight near tumbles (Cartilage & Dizzy Dennis). 
The video of me having a seizure was taken thanks to Nimra, and Ejaz helped me work out how to email it to the Doctor, but no reply or appointment has come back yet. The trephination, it sounded to me, like it was going to be cancelled. Fair enough. Waiting for appointments with the Eyes, Ears, Nose and Throat department. Teeth, Ears & Glaucoma; Glaucoma is getting worse in the left eye when I shut my right eye; all I can see is a blur. Not good at all. 
I’ve been fruitlessly begging for more Carers call time. Not that it is now a good thing, losing Nimra and, apart from Wednesdays, Ejaz. 
When I was in the hospital last time, the last few days, several callers half-promised me help. Social, with finances, trying to get extra Carer time (Haha!),
Help with wheelchairs, ordering food online, my computer problems, and arithmaphobia. Suggested rehousing me in a home with 24/7 assistance available. Not that my only experience of living in one after the stroke, encourages me in the least. But no one has been in touch. I’m not surprised.
Depression-Darius has me in his grasp. With the bad news about my Carers, Dizzy Dennis, Concentration Konrad and Lost Balance Belinda all rampant today, I’ve lost the will and interest.
I’ll be trying to get the word list done again; it’s such a slow job. I still can’t work out how I lost the files all in the first place… Oh, yes, the social lady said she would get me some help on that score. Hehehe! I believed her!
As for when the Doctor said they’d resuscitated me. I was gobsmacked. I can’t remember anything of being anywhere for treatment. 
That’s my moaning out of the way. Sorry.

Morning view

BP Hyper this morning!

Managed a mug of tea, before
I got carried away with words.

Carers table. Tided up by Carer
Nimra, before she left,
never to return. Sob!

Brightening up!

Floods at the end of the car park.
White car there again, oh,
and a red one too.

and kept me company all day.

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Have a good day!
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TTFNski!
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