Carer Mizra a help

Inchie: Tuesday 28th April 2026 = Computer Assessed, Not Good!

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Worra Night!
After eating the meal of the day and really enjoying it, washing the pots and visiting the Porcelain Throne, I unfortunately suffered an Accifauxpa and didn’t get there in time. But it could have been worse; it has been many times this year, and it only took me about 15 minutes to clean things up.
I decided sleep was next in line for my attention. I seemed to have fallen asleep quickly… I felt I had when waking at 02:00hrs, again in desperate need of the Porcelain Throne. Not wanting to risk another accident, I fumbled my way out of the bed and hobbled-hastily to the wet room.
A darned close call, I only just made it. Where all the evacuating little, short dollops kept coming from, I don’t know. I cast my mind back as the plop-plops kept coming. I only ate my favourite nosh, cheesy baked potato. I can’t recall such a reaction to these before. To be on the safe side, I got down in the £300 second-hand shop bought, c1966. moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, Catheter tube trapping, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not working recliner. To enable a swifter reply in case I need to go again. 
0315:hrs, and I was off again to the Porcelain Throne. I got there more swiftly this time. No accidents.
When I got back to the recliner, I almost felt another follow-through trying to make its way down. I could not get to sleep again now. I sort of just waited for the next evacuation warning to arrive. It came at 06:00hrs. A lot less passed this time. Thankfully, I got there in plenty of time. I pondered, I do that sometimes, you know. Was the cheese in the baked potatoes out of date?
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The day brought forth some challenges, not of the rear-end evacuation type. Attilla the Carer, Rachid did the first two calls, so my low mood was set. The feet and toes seem to adapt much more easily at first. Three toe-stubbings in the first hour put an end to that bit of pleasure. I partially opened the balcony curtains, and when the sun comes out, I have to close them. Bright sun doesn’t suit Cataract Katie or Glaucoma Gladys. This snap came out as it looked. A medical delivery arrived. Concentration was bad when I got on the computer. But I reckon it was less bothersome than yesterday morning. 
I did my best to get the Monday blog finished before the computer man arrives. I pressed on, making mistake after mistake, and I don’t know how long it took, but I got it sent off. Fearing that many cock-ups will be in the finished blog.

I took another shot through the balcony windows, dead excited about this blog, innit? Hahaha!

Carer Rashid did the next call. Nothing much happened; if he can ignore me, I can ignore him. Haha!
After he’d not too soon for me, gone, I got the kettle on.
And the intercom sounded. I was overjoyed!

The Computer Man Cameth
Less than a minute later, Carer Mizra came in behind the computer genius Andy. Who spent a long time asking questions and assessing the state of the computer for me. Mirza conducted the communications. After much effort from Andy, trying to install the two-terabyte external hard drive in the computer. At least I think it was a two-terabyte-sized one. The old computer would not let him transfer anything from the other drive to save space,
Mizra ran out of time, so no time for me to have an assisted shower or to get the laundry done again.

Andy ended up asking if I wanted to use this machine as it is, with slightly more memory, but not a lot, or do you want me to source a suitable used one with Asif, that will cope with CorelDraw, which has very little space left to do much. I said I’d go with his recommendation. The goal was to get a new computer. Fair enough for me. So, be it. Bank Balance considerations, of course. Andy will report the needs back to Asif. Closed the computer down.

As Andy left, I realised that the Catheter pouch was overdue for emptying. So, I emptied it. Haha!

I’m feeling a smidge more hopeful now that Andy’s been and sorted this computer out, and I agree with his decision that a new (second-hand, refurbished) machine would be the best option for me.

The legs, feet, and toes were all looking better when Ejaz took these snaps, which I put together, but not very well. Looks like a mangle of limbs, the way I did this, manipulating. Hehe!

Frank arrived with some treats that Jenny, my angel, had sent for me. I gave him a small box of stuff for the Charity or handing out. Had a little outing with Frank, a lovely couple of neighbours who I am very proud to have as Guardians & friends. Bless them both. So understanding and helpful. X I’d made a meal earlier, I’ll not eat all of it, after the feast from Jenny.


The computer went down, died!
The landline stopped working!
The TV stopped working!
My heart and interest in living went into hold mode. My first actions, apart from panicking, were to try to think about what I was doing or did wrong that caused the catastrophe in the first place. Or had Andy missed something earlier? The chances were that it was my error, a mistake, or that I accidentally caught a dangerous, fatal combination of keys. As I have one in the past. Causing all sorts of problems due to the dying neurotransmitters.
They warned me there was no treatment, saying they cannot mend damaged nerve ends, and it will slowly get worse. They were right.
I thought I’d give it some time before trying to restart the computer, in case it was doing something all technical in the background.
I picked up the landline thingy, put it down, and it made a tone. The mystery deepened.
I had no idea for certain of what I did with the TV to get it back on. Turned it on a few times, and it turned itself off. Got it to stay on, displaying a No. Connected sign. Then pressed the TV button on the remote control, and the TV closed down again. I pointed the remote at the scary, threatening Virgin box, and the red light turned yellow. Then tried again to start the TV, and dropped the control thingy. Got the picker-upper and retrieved it, to see that the TV had come on?
I prayed that getting the computer back would be as easy as that. (It wasn’t and didn’t!) 
In the past, when launching the computer, I’d get a ‘DoS’ message telling me to press ESC for details. This would bring up a dreaded blue screen. Press Enter for options. Another blue screen says to press F1 to start the computer. This has happened each time I’ve opened it for about 3 years or more now. 
But not now… The black screen opens, but pressing ESC does nothing. Also, I could not turn off the computer at the button, had to switch the power off. I kept repeating this pattern, so many times and for so long. Not knowing what else I could try. Each go was met with failure.

No sleep tonight. Mind on the verge of exploding. self-pity, futility, anger… Mostly, the sour, blood-draining effects of Deep, Dark, Dank, Depression Darius.
And to think, I had gone up into a high a few hours ago when the computer was sorted…
That didn’t last long, did it?

Heartlessly, I put the meal in the microwave. It looked okay, smelled okay, but after feartily enjoying Jenny’s treats, combined with the Computer problems, I just couldn’t eat more than a few spoonfuls. I couldn’t get to sleep either. I scribbled down the times I got up to try to restart the computer. 

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Inchie: Friday 17th April 2026

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Sorry, no Ode – Sad that. Details below are a smidgeon teeny-bitlong-winded, perhaps. Sorry again.
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I have two pages of notes on today’s rather miserable day. With no sleep at all overnight. I was going to go shopping with Carer Mizra. But 9 hours of bladder pains with no urine getting through again, and this time it was far more agonising than Wednesday night’s performance. If you don’t mind, with it being fresh in my mind and no notes recorded of this period, I’d like to explain the Whoopsiedangleplops and Tale-Of-Woe of the Nottingham Lad’s Friday, well, agony, first.
This covers 2100hrs to 0630hrs Saturday.
The morning had little, if any, trouble from the Catheter or bladder. In the afternoon, things slowly got worse. The amount of urine entering the bag gradually decreased, and twinges and stabbing pains developed. Despite my slurping more water than ever, I was nervous of the night bringing what it did. brought.
21:00hrs; I added the Catheter Night Pouch to the day bag, and from then on, no urine flow. I managed to drink about a gallon of water. Until the pain increased, then overnight it got horrendous. horrendous overnight. I got a little sleep, for twenty minutes or so, just after midnight. I could not sit or lie down. Pottering about at first, in the kitchen, then the spare room, to get things done, in an effort to get the pain out of my mind. It didn’t work, of course.
I had to keep trying to take a rear-end phoo.
I took a variety of attempts, all but one were too painful to pass, giving my bladder a pasting of pain. 
The last one, Oh, drearie me, I did not get there in time. “Another mess to clean up, which caused more hassle”.
I was suffering by the time I’d cleaned it up and myself. For the second day, I summoned the community nurses for help. They got the catheter working. But it stopped within five minutes of them leaving. But still… erm, er… forgot what I was going to say then.

My eyesight is terrible.
I’ve had no sleep for several days.
The Catheter is giving me so much GIP, I can’t concentrate on anything. I’ll just do short blogs, if the computer lets me, for a few days.
Saturday was another “Why do I bother” day!
It is now Sunday. I’ll put some photos on, but I doubt I’ll remember what was what and when.

Morning shot of the balcony


The day brightened suddenly

List of things to get done on Saturday. Hopefully, Carer Mizra will be able to take me shopping. But only if the Catheter starts working properly.
Needless to say, I suppose, but this did not happen.

Nice night shots.

Carer Mizra asked if I wanted a meal done. But I could see he was running late, and declined the offer.
I made a cold meal, though.
Keilbasa (Sausages), seaweed. mushrooms,
and some ready-cooked chestnuts. Nice.

This is what can happen if your Catheter plug shoots open when you are in the kitchen… cause the pee started coming out, and it filled that quickly, and decorated the floor as I had to hobble through it with the walking stick, to get the mop and bucket!
Finding this mess, fallen twixt the non-working cooker and the floor cupboard, its door hanging off.

The sleep proved to be a third night of no sleep.
Even worse, it was not really painful, more like an excruciating, piercing, agonising, Insomnia-ridden, antsy one.


Instead of calling me, James Timothy Gerald, Percival, Algernoon. Luckless might have helped.

😖 TTFN 🤔

Inchie: Wednesday 15th April 2026

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A lot of things were missed on today’s blog. Again. Time utterly defeats me. If it gets any busier, I’ll see if I can go back to working. Luckily, I managed to keep the snaps I’d taken. More snaps today, fewer wafflings, other than visitors and the results, and a little bit of moaning (Of Course).
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The events are out of sync, sorry.

Falls & Recovery Team member called.
Took a look at the wheelchair after our Q&A and assessment. She will refer me to someone, can’t recall who, for getting some help with the leg and foot grips so I can use it. This would be wonderful if it could happen. Great. Other things that took place have drifted into my mind’s vacuum section.

Morning snaps from the balcony.
The Kodak Tim-2 is now taking almost square pictures. I’ll ask a Carer if they can sort it for me.

Carer put one of the replacement letters on the keyboard as it had worn away. See it? Hehe!

Suddenly went dark.
Took this one through the window cause of high winds coming up. Got a bit of reflection from glass.

Then the sky brightened so quickly.
Then it darkened a bit again.

Nurde Maude arrived to examine my lower-front Little Inchy fungal lesion. She thinks the cut has grown much larger, which may be causing the problems with the Catheter not working. But there is nothing they can do to solve the issue. I thought that afterwards it might be best to use the pouch on my left leg? The Nurse sent a message to the Doctor to see if the strong painkillers the hospital gave me, the only one that has any effect when the bladder-flowback, Shaking Shoulder Shirley, Annr Gyne, or Kidney Keith kick off. Twice this week I’ve had three of them at the same time. Not nice! So I pray they will supply me with some more of them on the NHS prescription. Please!
Think I’ve made another mistake here… it was Nurse Maude who referred me over the wheelchair.

Confusion not only continues, but affects me so much more often since Monday; it has got worse.
I got in a tangle while working on the week’s blog templates; luckily, Care Mizra arrived and sorted me out. The Arithmaphobia and my eyesight is getting worse by the day. (Moan, over) Well, this one. Haha!

Jenny came to see me with her niece, or was it yesterday? Lovely lady anyway. Jen brought me a lemon cake, which was lovely! WE had a good natter. The Nurse arrived, and they had to go.  They went without the bag of bits I was giving them for her charity. I decided to take them down to Jenny’s flat, to save Robin Hood Frank coming up. There was only one lift working. Managed to get there, and Frank took the bag, we had a sort of natter & laugh. Getting back up, I had to go down to the ground floor and back up to the 12th floor. By the time I got back in, I found that Anne Gyna had paid me a painful visit.

Back on the computer, needless to say, but CorelDraw gave me a lot of Duodenal Duncan pangs.

Then we had some rain.

Carer Ejaz did a visit. He’s a good laf to me.

Misra did the last call, he spread some bread for meto have with peas, beetroot, mushrooms, potatoes and a chicken leg with roast pork on the bread. Slurp!

Washing the dishes, I dare not leave them for Carer Rachid to do, even when he makes me a mug of tea, he leaves tea stains on the cabinet top and front.
I took these shots of the evening sky,

The first effort was accidentally artistic
The second was better.

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Inchie: Sunday 12th April 2026

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Sorry, but today was a nightmare. I was so far behind on the blog and made such cock-ups with the graphics and photos; there are a few on here from when I was going through the blog and saved the snap graphics to the wrong date. What a pickle. All I can do is try to get them sorted, but I need the time. Busy day Monday, nurses called, Catheter problems, Carer unwilling. And the pain from the lower left chest came on again. With my arithmaphobia ever-present, more mistakes were made, and the quandary got even muddier and slipperier. Then, like a twit on Monday, I deleted the wrong day’s snaps. I did an Ode for Monday and carried on, forgetting I’d not done Sunday blog yet.s. The confusion is worse, with mt doing the day’s blog often two days later. I’m in a mess and have had to move the date to Sunday. Thinking I’d been getting somewhere, I then deleted loads of Sundays, thinking the date of the blof date… Now, Monday, trying to sort and save what I could… the chest is playing up, and no Morphine left, I got very angry with myself. I phoned the District nurses when the Catheter stopped working… I’ll explain this in Monday’s blog, if I ever get around to it and don’t find any more mistakes I’ve made with my ‘brilliant’ idea of deleting old graphics to save memory and keep the computer going… I’m waffling. A short Ode.
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Up at 0610hrs. Ejaz did a full-body check, medications, and creaming and foaming of areas in need.
I’m missing tons of, as per usual, my eyes are even worse now. The notes I made… maybe 10% are readable. Grumph, Moan, with a touch of pathetic self-pity in there somewhere. CorelDraw froze again.
Photos saved that I did not delete, not many and of the views from the windows.

Managed to save the meal show, but not sure from what day, I think it’s Sunday’s.
Now I see it, it could be for Saturday,
I’m fed up. Oh, it might be Sunday’s.

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TTFN
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Inchie: Thursday 9th April 2026

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A busy day, with perhaps more than usual computer worries, and the worst day (later in the day) for physical pains, this year.
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Bad night’s sleep, mainly due to the returning chest pains, and
Didn’t get out of bed until 07:15hrs, and it took a lot of willpower. A messy, very messy, Trotsky Terence visit. HC’s taken. (See above). Then I did my teeth and had a wash.
08:40: Carer arrived. I had to ask for my , to be Phorpained. 
Gave medications. I found two dirty tablet cups and cleaned them. Carer on mobile again. Stood up and said, “I’m going to use your toilet… Okay!” More of a threat than a question. Haha! As if I’d say no.
Asked him to make sure the HC readings were recorded correctly. All was okay. I had to interrupt him as he had abandoned his mobile and was taking his BP with my sphygmomanometer. No body check was performed on this visit. He departed. 

Now my notepad reminders are barely, some not at all, readable of the next few hours. Not going to guess.
Words and lines, I know and can read, with a slight degree of uncertainty, follow.

I: He stopped texting, stood up and put his gloves on, issued the medicine, porpaine gelled my right shoulder, all without talking…
2: Rachid’s attitude improved after being told…
3: Ejaz, no body-check, but texting… Shot off.
4: Cather staps adjusted, then Rachid
5: Tabs. Balcony photo. These, mayhap on the left, I assume.
6: Placed an order with Iceland for tomorrow for items unavailable elsewhere.
7: Rachid showed far more awareness than on his first call, I’m pleased to report.
8: 8:40 to 8:56…
9: (unreadable)… I use your toilet, okay. …wrong syncing here, methinks…
10: Eyes are getting worse as evening dawns…
11: ? any worse, I’ll phone the District nurses or 111.
12: Nomadic Clusters (side note)

Ah, my scribblings are a little clearer now, so the photos make sense. (To me).
Waiting for Cara Mizra to arrive, I made a rare mug of tea, and got the second doses of medications ready to save the lad time when he arrives. Toothache spray, Olive oil for the earholes, and Germolene for my delicate areas to be ointmentated. Hehe!

Then I got the bowl, microwave, prepared, and marinated vegetable mixture, stirred in a little Tiryaki sauce, and gave it all a good stir. Ready to go in the oven when Carer Myzra finishes his late call.
This dish looked like a tasty treat to me.
Bombay potatoes, with added water chestnuts, pineapple, and a splash of soy sauce.

So tired, but semi-contented, with this Thursday’s reasonably
acceptable amounts of hassle. Despite my being warned by my inner voice  not to adopt a single Smug Mode. As Friday will bring fears, frights, and frustrations, that will take even you, the El Unlucky one, towards the end of your tether. Admittedly with was in a dream overnight. What’s the point in warning me if these things are going to happen anyway? 
Ha! I laughed at this omen.
Naturally, I regretted saying this.
“I’m writing this on Friday evening”.
As Friday will bring fears, frights, and frustrations that will take even you, the El-Unlucky-One, to the end of your tether, it was a spot-on piece of prophesying from . Those of an uneasy and nervous nature might like to give Friday’s blog a miss. It’s not pretty, just true!

Carer Mizra arrived an iota late, and I was, as usual, pleased he did. We spoke of plans for the weekend as he issued the medications. He wants to check the mail, if we have time after doing the shopping trip to Sherwood. I must ask him for a list of the arranged rota calls. He had to rush, but I fear he may have missed his bus to his last call. My fault, waffling. Sorry.

Marvellous Flavour.
A medley of East Asia. China-Japan!
With UK Sourdough bread!
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Inchie: Tuesday, 7th April 2026

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06:30hrs: I stirred into a weak replication of life.
The left ribs were still giving me far too much bother when I bent, stretched, and, as for sneezing or coughing, 50% worse. But I don’t like to complain. Luckily for me, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirely was much calmer. And Back-Pain-Brenda was almost absent, to start with. She came on at the usual time, which was around 17:00hrs.

Took the night pouch off the day Catheter bag; left it for Carer Rashid to suss, check, and colour-grade on the Excel BP-Blood graphic. Then the other checks were started in full. Both Blood Oxygen and Pulse were slightly elevated. But the BP was bonkersly high. Off to the kitchen to check if I’d left anything on or running that shouldn’t be. All clear, after yesterday’s cock-up, leaving the oven on for 12 hours, and I treated myself.
I took this snap as I was leaving the kitchenette to consolidate the waste bins.
The need for the Porcelain Throne arrived. So, off to the wet room.
Nothing evacuated. Although that’s not strictly speaking true.
Where all the wind came from, I do not know. I wouldn’t be overly surprised if one of my neighbours complains later on. I may ask the Nottingham City Council to check the flat’s foundations. Hehehe! 

Carer Rashid arrived. As I went into the room he was in,  he moved to another, with his mobile in hand. It was funny at the time. I asked him, I think, on his second visit, to help me wash my feet and change my socks, which the lad did. He checked my legs and barrier-creamed the scars. He Porpain gelled Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirely, no need for any attention on being-kind Back-Pain-Brenda. 

Getting Google to start so I could get on blogging took over ten minutes of going through all the opening options again. A different one each time works. Getting CoewlDraw to open took me even longer. It got as far as this picture I took of the apparently frozen screen. The busy icon was working, but the light on the external hard drive had stopped. An hour passed as I kept nipping into the kitchen to put a giant potato in the oven. These usually take 45 minutes on 200. I set the heat to 120, as I was in no rush. Half an hour later, I nipped back to check on CorelDraw’s progress. Zilch!
Well, if it won’t load, I can’t shut it down without powering it off, which may gun the works up,
AS I finally decided I’d have to unplug, CorelDraw started to load. My life is mind-blowingly overly complicated. Frustrating, depressing, & unlucky.
Still, you don’t like to complain, do yer? Spit!

Then I smelled the potato burning in the oven. Hobbled hastily to the kitchen, to find the potato husks had thickened and flaked, with the flesh well overcooked. Somehow, the oven was red-hot, as if on full, but the dial showed I’d set it to 130. Think it’s kaput! So, a change of plans. I halved the potato, & emptied the husk into a basin. Adding some Leicester cheese, sea salt, and no-butter butter, Bashed it all up.

Got it back into the broken-down, overheating mini-oven, to reheat and hopefully create a slightly burnt cover of the cheese,
This will need concentration; I must keep an eye on the oven. Had to check the noise coming from the entry door area. A little loud, it sounded like someone scraping something. Back to check, it looked good, and I removed the cheesey spud. It was softer than I’d planned. I may have overdone the no-butter butter input? The terrible photo of it was disappointing to say the least. I worked on the blog while I ate it. Super-Tasty! Shame about the photos.
Annoyingly, CorelDraw froze, and I had to reload it again, losing a good bit of work I’d done. I took another snap of it as it restarted.
Ate the meal, made a brew, and Carer Mizra arrived. He’d bought me some bread. and green tomatoes. Made a sandwich later on, thanks, Mizra. 👍🏻 mate.
visit No.2. Five small cementlike sausages. Hard work, encouraging, willing and forcing things along. No bleeding!
Great, no mess to clean up!
Carer Mizra took the laundry down, ringing Jenny as she asked us to, and got the washer going. Frank later brought up the washing for me. Jenny had folded them nicely, and Frank brought them up for me.
Today, I was wearing a black Kagoule. Frank followed up on last week’s quip when I had the brown one on, “You look like Friar Tuck”, with “You look like the Sheikh of Aliba!” Hehehe! I love his quips.

Ejaz made his only visit of the day. Medicated he, Phorpain-Gelled, the shoulder. The lad was not his usual self. I asked if all was well. He said, “Fine, if I had a problem, you would be the first person I would tell and ask for help.” I was touched by this. I looked at these two efforts as the sun set on the horizon. As my EQ delivered some unearthly events that are due anytime now. I am not joking, and EQ is rarely, if ever, wrong. 
This forecast from him is distinct in detail in parts of his multiple messages.
The gullible will see renewed hope for peace in the world. Temporarily.
The next stage of humankind’s insanity will be revealed within 48 hours.
Hopes will be replaced with fear, combined with the knowledge that nothing can be done to save humankind, for without a planet, we cannot survive.
# Oligarges can escape into space but will not survive for long as oxygen, fuel and food are depleted.
Many will commit suicide, depressed that there are no proletariats left to rob, kill, overcharge and manipulate.
# Alright, I made that one up to cheer us all up.

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Inchie Today: Wednesday 14th January 2026

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Woke late at 06:30hrs. Night pouch removed.
Balance, Toothache, Backache, my right Shoulder pains, and Dizzy Dennis… the ailments were gathering. I took a shot of the view from the kitchenette. All the same, I was in better knick than yesterday morning. I did have a rare early morning seizure, but the after-effects were minimal.
Porcelain Throne used, made up waste bins. The right shoulder is still painful. Toothache, Tiffany is playing up. Carer arrived. Med’s issued, shoulder, legs and ankles were foamed. Extra painkiller taken.
The mental pain that was to follow (Oligarchs British Gas) took over as my main worry for the day, when I tell you, I’d like to point out that I am not exaggerating.
I tried to get the blog done as much as possible before Elaz returned for the two-hour call.
But progress was stunted with my bad eye almost blind in the afternoon and evening. I made a ton of mistakes, and I got very little done. Went to make a brew of tea in the kitchen, I’d left the tap on and the hot water ran cold!
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CorelDraw, which had been okay up to now, shot into full-screen mode, with a message coming up on top.
As I mused over what the heck I’d done this time, a text and an email arrived simultaneously. British Gas, telling me they urgently need a meter reading. I knew about this, but no one knows how to get the figures up. The Wardens, or neighbours. I’ll ask Ejaz to ring them for me when he comes again.

Back to the problem with CorelDraw. I turned it off in the end, but had to close and save everything first. It would not let me click the cross. All off, then rebooted, and opened CorelDraw to see if it worked.
At first glance, it seemed to be okay… then I realised page eight, the one with all the tabs and clipart I’d done on it… Had disappeared. I took this pretty well, I thought. Just the usual swearing, spitting and hexing. All gone now, so I have to make new ones whenever I want one. And word lists that I’ve redone, not many of them, keep disappearing from the file? Now I was spitting blood!

Got a message or two telling me to do this and that if I want to keep my Cloud access. All beyond me.

Ejaz returned and had a few things on my list for him to help me with. He took the laundry down first. Came back and called the Dentist to ask if they could get me a Wednesday appointment, so the Carer can go with me. All good with this. Then he called the Doctors to book a Wednesday appointment. This was not so good, but not bad. He’s got one for me after a verbal tussle.

Then… He called the oligarch-owned British Gas to ask them how to get a reading on the meter. After ten minutes, I put my hearing aids in to talk to the lady on the line… I couldn’t hear or understand a word she was shouting. Ejaz put the speaker on the landline. I still could not make out what she was saying. She had an Asian sounding tone, but even Ejaz was struggling… Then, the phone kept cutting out on us.
On about the fifth time, contact was lost altogether. Ejaz rang back. You could hear the frustration: this time, they needed account numbers and passwords! Luckily, I had these nearby. He got connected after more queries of why are you calling? Who are you? etc. Poor Ejaz got reconnected to the same ever-increasing, losing-it, and irritated lady.
Ejaz was sent four times to get the meter reading. I went with him. What we were being told to do, I recall pressing the orange button, or any of the other things they told us to try, worked! The line kept cutting out for a few seconds at a time.
We looked at the three electricity boxes in the flats’ foyer; they were all different types of meters.
I came back to the phone and told the lady, who complained about not understanding ‘Your carers’ accent, (Not that either of us could make out what she was saying either); I told her my age, disabilities, and that I just want to give you a meter reading that British Gas have asked for for over 6 months now. I need someone to come and show me how to get them… Then her voice became crystal-clear, “Oh, I can arrange that for you!” I replied, “Yes, please, please do that. Thank you.”
Cor, Luvva Duck!
Poor Ejaz shot down to get the laundry back, because he was on a deadline that was almost up for the call.
He left the bag on the bed. Unfortunately, I forgot about getting them out until late in the evening. When I did, I had to sort out damp, tangled, clumped together clothes and slippers. The hat, which I put in the bag. should not have gone into a machine; it should be hand-washed only. I couldn’t even force it onto my head. Haha! I’ve only worn it once, so why did I wash it? That’ll be Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, or Doreen Dementia to blame. Maybe the British Gas farce broke my concentration? (That’s easy to do with me)
I’ll sue them for £4.99, Har-Har!
I got back onto blogging and made some progress, not a lot, mind you. Then the eyesight really got worse. Not that I was surprised, it does this every day when I get tired. I’m hoping to hear from the NHS EENT soon about the cataract lasering. Hopefully, before my 90th birthday. But I’m not too hopeful.

Bombay potatoes, with a good dollop of
Sharwood’s Gung Po sauce added. With extra water chestnuts, red onion, tomatoes, extra baked & chunked thick-skinned red potatoes, and mushrooms. Nice & tasty!
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

TTFN

Inchie Today: Monday 17th November 2025

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

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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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Inchie Today: Thursday 30th October 2025

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

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I can reveal to you what lies ahead…
More wars, millions of innocents dead,
Millions born, who can’t afford to be fed,
Sheltering in the gutter, they have no bed,
Compassion will soon be exhausted,
Crooked leaders will be acquiesced,
Putin’s underwater nuclear weapon test,
Trump claims his will be the best…
Starmer issues teachers with a stab vest,
Victims remain alone, uncounseled, 
UK’s PM Starmer is so uncredentialled, 
But he got in power, the voters were fooled,
His lies have gone all unattributed,
His robbing of pensioners is unappreciated,
His future will be undiverted…
By truth, honesty, he’ll stay subverted,
His lies seem to be accommodated…
And still he’ll get backhanded!
His actions will not be totally whitewashed, 
In a short time, humankind will be kyboshed,
The world will be aureoled…
The planet is destroyed; well, it is getting old,
Going to the moon to escape may be attempted,
But there’s no point, you may be annoyed…
But our Universe will also be destroyed,
Leaving a rather large void,
Could it be rebuilt by a Martian Zoid?
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Up at 05:00hrs, and hastily removed the night catherter bag, and even hastlier fumbled my way to the wet for a Canstipation Konrad evacuation, I’d managed to get a little cut on my finger somehow, so ran it under the tap and dried it off, then got down on the plastic seat of the Porcelain Throne.
It took me ages to force things out, and a couple of rock-hard follow-ups.

Friday morning: Got up, cleaned the mess in the kitchen, then opened WordPress.
ARRRGH! 
All the blog had partly disappeared, except for up to ‘rock-hard follow-ups’ on the page! ???
I’ve not got the heart to do it all again. Hours of work lost – along with the mini-disasters, which I will put on again, but not in so much detail.
I’ll start them here; the photos are out of sync.

Just a drop of urine overnight?

The mug of tea to see,
Ended up on the floor.
Via my dressing
Gown, knee & me!

No photo for this one —the second-most-annoying of the day. I was tired, it was late, and I’d still not done the ablutions due to my repugnant habit of leaving the hot tap running. I was making up some Catheter Cathy spring water, and picked up the grapefruit juice to add to it… I dropped the bottle, and I don’t think there was any part of the kitchen floor that didn’t get a taste of the fruit cordial as it spread.
No less than four kitchen rolls were dropped on the juice, in hopes of containing it.
I tried treading on it to help soak up the juice and collect some from the floor.
Paracetamol, Codeine and fizzy Paracetamol followed. And I had to cope with , from all the bending down. I almost, nearly, well, thought about going into a . But after I’d emptied the catheter pouch and returned to the kitchen, the floor was so sticky that it had to be mopped. After mopping, it was still sticky, and I almost lost a slipper as it stuck to the floor! I used a vinegar-based spray on the floor, and gently dropped some paper towels down. I left it to hopefully dry unstickily before making a meal.

Deciding the floor must be checked, I thought I’d make a brew of tea if the floor was dry and not sticky. It was tacky. I kept to the right of the kitchen—the less messy bit—to make the tea…
Joined in with , with affecting my right hand, I crushed and then dropped the packet on the floor. Genuflecting again to pick them all up, I’d got about 80% of them, then realised they could well have come into contact with the bleach, vinegar and floor cleaner that I’d been using on the tiles! I threw them away, not wanting to risk using them.

I took a snap of the view from the window
as I prepped the meal of the day.

I fell asleep while eating the meal and was woken by Carer Mirza, who needed to be admitted.
A nice lad. I mentioned the visit to the Neurosurgeon and gave him my mobile. I asked Mirza if he could read it and tell me how I should respond. Which he did, and I followed, and a minute later, I got an email thanking me for replying. After Mirza had departed, with my thanks for helping, I received another message from Neurosurgery.
They will post me details and instructions along with an appointment number (needed if I am to use the Hospital Transport).

Carer Ejaz did the last call and read the message just received. Hopefully, the letter with the necessary details will arrive in time for me (Well, a Carer) to book a lift with Hospital transport.

Another Almost Typical Day, Humph!


MAY FORTUNE FAVOUR YOU!

Inchie: Friday 29th August 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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Random things that can yet, or did, make me happy…
From memory, diaries, and some even theoretically,
At 14, a Lady of forty took my cherry,
Which I loved, but why? It confused me,
Which life has done, ever since, diurnally,
Later, developing a natural negativity,
Cynicism, defeatism, and despondency,
This helped me cope with life’s adversity,
At birth, Mother said, ‘Throw it away’,
Life would have been a little shorter…
but have gone less problematically,
Am I losing the plot of the faux-poetry?
No, it’s just my affected memory…
In old age, my teeth are rotting away…
Diabetes Don, Anne Gyna, Cartalige Chloe,
Duodenal Donald, Toothache Tiffany,
Premorbid Cognitive Impairment Peggy,
Myoclonic-Seizures-Sid, Peripheral Neuropathy,
Inchy’s Fungal Lesion, & Lymphorrhea Leslie,
Méniere’s disease, Episodic-Ataxia-Ellie,
Harold’s Haemorrhoids, Eric’s Eczema,
Premorbid Cognitive Impairment, mentally,
Earache Eric, Whoopsiedangleploppery,
Herings aids, both needing a battery,
Ingrowing toenails; Unguis Incarnate Nelly,
Mechanic Ticker Trevor and Reflux Valve Rene,
Newly-diagnosed Hydrocephalus-Harry,
They don’t overbother me, individually,
For they are all a part of me, intrinsically…
Even when affecting me painfully or cripplingly,
Coping with a warped brain & disabled body,
Getting through each day makes me happy,
Another secret, to help you feel less crappy,
Concentrate on hexing Starmer (the Iffy),
His soundbites on isonomy prove his inanity,
He rules crappily, but has got inexpugnability,
Taking backhaners from the Oligarchy,
No one can deny his lies & criminality,
I pray for a political solution, philosophically,
We can do nothing legally curatively,
I’m only thinking this whimsically…
I’m hoping he dies painfully…
very slowly and in utter agony,
Tomorrow perhaps? Hopefully,
That’d make me overjoyedly happy!

TODAY’S COCK-UPS

I tell you now of my discontent,
Why is my life so abhorrent? 
Whoopsiedangleplops Accifauxpa torrent,
Unsolvable Problems & ailments,
The computer, now an inconvenience!
No help from anywhere,
Its memory is now bare,
Tonight, CorelDraw died,
My depression cannot be denied,
I managed to save some graphics & photos,
Got old ones, I’ll have to use those,
Struggling with this Odes prose,
Made an order by mistake on Amazon.
Tried to cancel it, reply waited on,
Already got my lowest ever bank balance,
Find a Solution? I haven’t had a chance!
Will it let me update this blog? I’m not yet sure,
All my problems, not one cure!
I feared being forced into an old folks’ home,
At this moment, I realise that I’d not be alone,
Financially, physically, and mentally sick!
In the morning, I woke up in a seizure,
And then came the morning Carer,
Of which there is little I can remember,
It may be the end of my blogging,
I don’t know yet if this blog will be saved,
But after all my work in creating…
If not, it’s going to be so gauling,
I’m hoping that CorelDraw will be loading,
Not confident, just hoping,
The wheelchair ordered is self-propelling,
The standard one, I got it four weeks ago,
But no Carer has taken out, though,
When I get paid for the self-propeller,
And get it inspected by a Carer,
I can get out and feel freer,
But what I do now fear,
By the time it’s checked & inspected,
I might be too old to use it, well dated!
Still no appointment made for the Audio Clinic,
No delivery of the Diabetic osenitic,
I’m feeling so depressed and sick!
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Up 05:55hrs. Urine was a 5 on the Richter scale. 

Views taken from the balcony
End car park.
Towards Mansfield Road
Towards the park
Left, front car park & flat balconies

Had a bit of a mini seizure that lasted seconds, I thought. That’s a guesstimate. After the seizure, a little out of it, I made a mug of Detox tea and tended to my ablutions. Then shelled some garden peas to nibble cold and add to the planned stew tonight.

To the intercom to let in Carer Ejaz. Who did a fair job for me this morning? Diabetic socks were put on.  
Medications were given.

I started to do the blog.
I noticed I’d not changed the date on the clock.
Got a mug of proper tea, and the peas to nibble. Seeing that I had still not changed the date on the clock. So, I did!

Started to update yesterday’s blog.
I got into it and felt the catheter bag drop; the urine pouch was full to the brim, and the weight of the bag tugged the tube in little Inchy. I believe I may just have used some naughty language.
Just look at the amount of urine that came out. The bag is a 200ml one, but the jug indicates it is 400ml. No wonder it felt down.

I got a call to say that an ambulance was on its way to see me. No idea why? 

Sister Jane rang me. It was hard work without the hearing aids. I’d been trying to book an appointment for 4 weeks with the Carers. But no joy. I moaned a little about things to her. And she moaned back about her problems. Hehehe! And told me off, of course.

The intercom chimed. The chap came in with an electric scooter. I thought at first it was a Red Cross man bribing it for me – what a clot! It was a Carer, Ahbul. I showed him the wheelchair on the balcony and moaned that no Carer had taken me out on it yet; in fact, it hadn’t been fully erected and checked for safety yet. The lad departed, and I’d been talking (I talk a lot nowadays, mainly to myself and my alter ego, Inchie) about the wheelchair. I went on the balcony and checked out the disabled machines.
The four-whelled walker.
The new wheelchair, unused to date. Fitted a cushion on it. Searched around with the aid of the impractical, worthless manual, which had such tiny printing that it was really of no value.
At least the cushion fitted. I found where the passenger brakes were and tried them. Crude tinny metal, but they worked.
Then had an in-depth, almost pointless perusal of the mwinenace/instruction manual. I think it might have been for the wrong model. As you can see in the photo I took, this is for a self-propelled model with large wheels.
This model has tiny wheels.
However, the thought of having a self-propelled one and the advantage of not needing an expensive Carer to push me means I perhaps could get to the Social Room in the other block of flats, Winwood Court, and have a chat with others. Maybe, perhaps, possibly. Or not. There’s bound ot be a difficulty in getting one on the NHS, but I felt one would benefit me.
So, I went to the Amazon site to investigate.
The prices ranged from £69 for a child. Up to £3,999 for a Sports Model. The ones that caught my eye were those with pad-cusions for the back of the legs, which was the first criterion I adopted. Many of them had a strap across the front of the frame. These pads claim to be better for people with diabetes. So, I went through all 44 pages of what I searched for: self-propelled wheelchairs with brakes at the front and back. (Leg pads in brackets)
Five at £184, one at £148. The £184 ones all looked the same model. The £148 did not have handbrakes for the pusher. This was the only difference that I could find. Then, I checked the comments about the £148. Not good. 2.5 rating overall. I was going to check the comments for the £184 one, but Carer Nizra arrived and I forgot all about checking. 

Then the mobile rang. The £35-a-bash toenail cutter was on its way up to me. 

When I got back on the computer, I found that I’d ordered the £148 wheelchair. Nobody told me… except Amazon, in an email. I went to Amazon to cancel the order. The message said, ‘We will try to cancel it, let you know, and advise you.

The gal got my nails cut, and we managed a little chat and a laugh.
Look at the time already!
A fantastic site, no, sight!

Off to the Porcelain Throne. Trotsky Terence led the session, but not as dominantly this time.

When I got back in the front room, I was pretty ashamed of the mess in there.

I made up the meal for later on, one of my off-the-cuff stews, or whatever they should be called. Masses of garden peas, other vegetables, chopped some water chestnuts into it, and added Bovril. I had some bread left over that wasn’t too hard for dipping.

Turned off the computer and had only put on today’s cartoon. So far behind again.

CALAMIY, FEAR, MORE DEPRESSION DARIUS!
I couldn’t save the work I’d done in CorelDraw.
Not enough memory available!
I went to make a brew to help me think through my options available to rescue things.

Despite my morseness, I still took these snaps of the view from the kitchen window. Not even knowing if I can use them or not. Proof that I need help!
As if I didn’t know beforehand already!

The meal came out well.

I went to wash the pots, and yet again, possibly wasted my time taking this last snap.
Still, it’s worth it, a bit of nature.

Another day of Depression & Frustration,
Seizures, errors just never lessen,
This should teach me a lesson…
To get mental rest, do I need absolution?
Mistakes, lost words, or an anachronism…
Forgetfulness, confusion, an aphorism,
It’s months since my last cachinnation,
Life once livable is now a damnation,
Today I felt as if I was forsaken…
Of course, I could have been mistaken,
No help, hope, or satisfaction…
High Mood Horis was missing in action,
So many things, to curse or gurn in reaction,
I’m depressed, more than a fraction…
I find life & living, all a guesstimation!

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I REALLY HOPE I’LL BE BACK!
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Sorry, I’ve had so little time to get on the WP Reader & Comments. It’s been even busier than usual lately. And I’ve not started writing Saturday’s blog yet.