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TUESDAY 13th OCTOBER 2026
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I also noticed I had regrowth on my chest & a bulging tummy of freckles and tiny 
Then the call to the Porcelain Throne developed, with an added gurgling rumble; so I had to move quickly!
More of furry bits of the blasted Prostate, which tells me problems are brewing.
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PROBLEM ONE: I got 3 emails saying the Catheter contraption spares are to be delivered today. With the intercom still not working and no signs of it being done, I decided I had to go 
After and short wait, the van arrived. The driver was not in a good mood – my EQ advised me to be kind to him; he was definitely tense over something. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to; I got his vibes, poor chap. Back up in the flat, he put the box in the doorway; I thanked him and shot off.
PROBLEM TWO: I foolishy bent down to lift the box, and took it through and onto the bed, for the next Carer to sort out for me. As I bent again to place the box on the bed, Snap! My back went! The agony continued for several hours before the blessed snapping-back into position came while I was sitting on the loo! I can’t complain; this is the first time it’s gone in… well, at least 6 months, if not longer.
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Ejaz came and checked the contents: nocturnal pouches and day pouches, both with T-tap closures, day bag straps and Catheter top strap. Insert the tubes and vital pain-gel into Little Inchie before inserting the new tube, or when changing the whole contraption. I think they now realise and expect, as I do, that I’m going to get flowback agony again and need it released more often than ever. I think the fluffy bit coming out in the urine is because it’s bound to block it again eventually. I cringe at the thought of the pain I get when this happens.
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PROBLEM THREE: I wanted to call the Surgery to say the INR Warfarin test was not done yesterday. I also wanted to speak with them about the text message saying I have to go to the Surgery or hospital to have it done tomorrow and that I must take a Carer with me. I wanted to explain the problems with taxi costs, Carer costs, and that I can’t get extra calls without a few days’ notice anyway (Basically).
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I emailed Jenny about my problem. (She’s so knowledgeable, and I always ask her for guidance, which she gives freely 💗.) She advised me to email the Surgery. So, I did!
Found this at the bottom of the page…
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BOOKING AN APPOINTMENT if you dare!
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CONFUSING PROBLEM FOUR: Still unsolved.
Complicated too. A phone call: I received it from the Doctor’s Surgery. They said they had arranged a COVID injection, gave me a date, and they would do it at the flat. Great so far… It got me in a tizzy when she added, “We couldn’t arrange yesterday’s Warfarin INR blood test.”
“So you will have to come into the surgery, or go to the QMC hospital to have it taken”.
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I was stunned. A semi-panic started to grow.
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Then, in the early evening, I got another call from the Surgery. They asked if the Carer was there. I told her she’d just missed him. Asked me to make sure they ring the Surgery in the morning; it is important. I said I would.
But of course, I might forget. So I wrote on the whiteboard: “Carer: Please ring Surgery this morning”. Well, he might see it; it’s written big enough.
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I gave up on starting this blog. I was so fed up, frustrated 
My version of a vegetable curry. I put a can of ready-made veg curry (J. Sainsburies) in the pan. I added a tin of garden peas, then some chopped water chestnuts.
I found a carrot in the fridge, sliced it very thinly, and added it to the pot. Seasonings added: mild curry powder, soy sauce and a splash of teriyaki sauce.
Fingers crossed. 🤞🏼
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Then, tucked into the meal nice and early. Slurp!
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Carer Prem arrived as I was washing the pots. A good lad. He removed my diabetic socks, fetched the torch which had had its solar panel in the kitchen window through the day. Got it in my dressing gown pocket. Asked if I’d eaten, pain killers given, and did a Catheter check.
Then I got things ready to sit down and put on the TV. 💤
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My mind wandered back to the last QMC Visit.
My Catheter was getting blocked every 2 weeks. District nurses are finding it harder and harder to get back in; the pain increases with each attempt. On the last try, they could not get it back in, and the bladder was filling and, oh, so painful. I was told that this is a medical emergency (as if I didn’t know). I had to go to QMC A&E. I had to get a taxi to A&E for future blockages. More spending, reducing my dwindling funds. Jenny said it costs about £15 each way. I had to go to QMC straight away. Carer Ejaz was in the flat and got me dressed.
Got me in the taxi; off I went alone. I had to use coins to make up the £30. Traffic lights out, roadworks… it cost me £25.40 just getting there, so I didn’t have enough dosh to get back. At the A&E, I booked in. The receptionist looked up my details and asked, “Which Carer is with you, Ejaz or Mirza?” I told her neither, as this was a medical emergency, and I can’t produce a Carer with 15 minutes’ notice. I couldn’t afford one anyway. “Why do you pay for them?” I had no answer.
I sat down. I was called for a BP and Q&A session by a kind nurse, then sat down again. Eventually, a man came out to collect me, and I waited in another waiting room. Signed in and sat down. Then the most embarrassing thing happened: the fungal lesions on the penis started spraying urine and blood into my PP’s, and I could feel it going down my legs into my shoes. I’d taken a roll of kitchen towels and tried to hide in a corner while I stemmed the flow. I asked an attendant where the WC was. She said if I left now, I might miss my call. I quickly explained my problem. Told me the WC was near the Q&A entry doors where I came in.
I struggled with the walker through the corridors, sweating and fearing the blockage and leak might take me over. Got to the bog, found it unoccupied, and went straight in. The floor was completely covered in an inch-deep liquid; there was no soap, no toilet rolls and no paper towels.
Hobbled back to the room I was in, got lost en route, recovered, and the attendant told me I’d missed my call, to sit down again and wait. The urine was still trickling out, and I’d used all of my kitchen roll, as a Doctor came out & called my name.
He took out the old-fashioned Catheter and tried twice to insert the new hooked one, but failed. This boded badly for the future. He got on his phone, then took me through the corridors to another room and a medic, a Mr Someone. He was just getting his coat on to go home, so was not exactly in a jovial mood. Even he took twice as long to get the tube back in. He shot off. Apart from telling me not to let the sticky pod which held the new tube array on my leg come off. No tips on whether or when there was a schedule change, when maintenance visits would happen, or what types of pouches I should use. I felt a little uncared for. But that soon changed when I hobbled back to the big waiting area with my walker; by a bit of good luck, I spotted the lady who took my BP six hours ago when I arrived,t and gave her a quick version of my problems, including not having enough money for a taxi. She said I’ll be back in a minute; take a seat. (I did a lot of seat-taking that day) She returned to tell me she had arranged a lift for me. Minutes later, lift drivers came and put me into an ambulance. Being put in first indicated I was going to be dropped off last. Thanks to the kind nurse, I got a free late lift home. Bless her 💜 after about nine hours overall being out of the flat.
I printed this again. Hehehe! Sorry.
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Stayed up until 03:00hrs to get this done
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