Carer Raj

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THURSDAY 29th OCTOBER 2026
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First of two food deliveries,
Fridge
Fresh garden peas.
Slurp!
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Aha, very late, but I got the Kodad-Tim-two working, with the help of some elephant tape! Food delivery due anytime now, and unfortunately the Carer as well. Not one of the best. Missing so many things. He did go to Sherwood to see the audio shop about making an appointment to have my ears dewaxed.
The Closed!
Google Maps photo.
Reality Photo
But I later discovered it was open.
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Vagaries lingered; confusion ruled.
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FRIDAY 30th OCTOBER 2026
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An even worser flipping day!
When Ejaz came on a longer call, he rang and made an appointment for me for the Dewaxing of the earholes. Bless his cotton socks. DID A GREAT JOB! For 11th November, at 12:00hrs, he arranged for a Carer to call at 11:30hrs, to give us time to dress me and get to the shop in time, using the bus. It cost more than I’d hoped; it will cost me £150 for both ears. I later got an email with a fairly long Q&A session from them. I filled it in and sent it back. Health history mostly. Grand lads, Ejaz & Mirza!
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Email from Jenny
Jenny; she is so kind to me. “I call her my Angel.” X
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I’m amazed; I’ve lost so many photos from the computer; I’m angry at myself too! Really so! Things got worse!
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I got myself all worked up when things went wrong.
Thankfully, a Caring, and understanding Carer, Ejaz, was here when my depression and self-loathing began. Bless him. But he won’t call again until next week.
So many things happened consecutively. An unbelievable series of droppages, self-disgust, and things filled my head each time. The worst is not easy to pick… these may be out of order. And some will be missing, because I got all het-up with my failings; and there were so many, over such a short time. I think I was more affected this time.
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Losing the photographs and not knowing how I lost them started the frustration.
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Then I made mistakes in recording what had taken place, and Ejaz began to correct them…
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As I reached for the notepad to check some items on it;
I KNOCKED THE MUG OF TEA OFF THE DESK!
It fell into an open drawer where I keep paperwork I’ll likely need later. Medical dosages.
What a stonking mess!
I had to throw away so many papers, reminders and mail. Most had partly disintegrated by the time we got them out of the drawer. Tea had leaked through to the cupboard below. More mail was destroyed in there.
My fury was scaring me! Talk about going from a decent moment into the depths of… well, despair, self-loathing. Especially after Ejaz had done such magnificent jobs for me, I was so frustrated. Even more so when, in the chaos of sorting things and not doing a good job of it, I believe I sank into a rare seizure. This has happened only once before. I could see but not hear what was going on as Ejaz, and I were apparently finishing the cleaning up – or was I dreaming? I’ll never know, and I really have no idea. Ejaz did not mention it, though. So the old tortured mind was the most likely reason. Or, summat else. This only caused me more confusion. I can recall Ejaz telling me that Jenny had told him on the phone? What it was is a blank memory-wise. Should I be worried?
When this vague idea came to me much later, I accepted the situation rather easily; not that I understood it.
Now it concerns me, but not a lot?
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Carer Mirza made the teatime call hours later, while I was oddly ordering food for next week. I’d lost track again. My mind wandered; I started doing things, not finishing any, before beginning something else, unrelated.
What Mirza thought, I don’t know. Yet I recall a lot of his visit; rightly or wrongly is still in abeyance. I fear I may have been talking tommyrot. I also recall that I couldn’t get a song out of my head for hours after this incident. Fact can be stranger than fiction.
Back to Mirza’s visit. He did his usual conscientious routine, which was brilliant and caring. He reminded me to take the socks off, which he did. Emptied the pouch and recorded the details on the pad. Set up a new pad for me. Nowt on it yet, of course. Checked the Catheter for comfort. Asked if I’d had my daily meal, and checked the Bombay potatoes with peas added in the crock pot for me. I remembered all this, with few uncertainties. Mizra suggested I put some more tomato juice in the pot. So, I did. The lad did the safety checks, and when I told him how far I was behind with the blogging, thinking I’d never get yesterday’s finished, let alone start today’s. He suggested I make a double one, then post it when I catch up. This I am going to do. I also seem to clearly recall that, as he left, he said not to forget the cooker when I reheat the potatoes, and to try not to worry. (I’d told him of the tea-spilling incident). We bade farewells, with a little hug. Just what I needed then.
Thanks today to Carers Mirza, Ejaz, & Prem care.
Plus, of course, to my Angel! 💗
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Around 20:20hrs, I think, Carer Prem did the last call.
He emptied the pouch; there wasn’t much in it, and he tightened the top gripper, which made me scratch at the itch it caused. I moved the top grip when I scratched.
Not a good idea. Blood flowed from the old wound under the grip strap and pulled off the crust of dried blood, releasing newly drawn haemoglobin. I took these two photographs of the accifauxpas result. Haha!
We both laughed at how my bad luck is never-ending.
But by now, after the last three days of mayhem, I was in a resigned-mode, assisted by a belated but long visit from a !
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Here I am now, 01:15hrs, pressing on with this two-day Inchie WP blog. However, hunger and tiredness forced me to stop. I noticed at the bottom of the new pad and recalled Ejaz writing something I must remember on it. All I had to do was read it… But I’m blown if I can decipher it? Had I done whatever it was reminding me to?
Can any of the flood of followers I have help at all?
Either of you. Please. I may be able to in the morning; or should I say later in the morning, when the mind and body may be a little more alert? Back in the morning to finish off; not much left to do, unless the memory box reactivates. TTFN till then. (He says, shooting off to the
Porcelain Throne. First visit of the day, no, first visit on Saturday. Oh, I hope I don’t fall asleep on the WC!
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TUESDAY 13th OCTOBER 2026
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0525hrs: I woke up, smelled myself, and got up without any delay and went to the wet room. No, no, no! I’d not poo’d myself; I just noticed I had bad B.O.
I also noticed I had regrowth on my chest & a bulging tummy of freckles and tiny bursting pimples. The Carer took a snap of them later.
Then the call to the Porcelain Throne developed, with an added gurgling rumble; so I had to move quickly!
Emptying the pouch, I saw the dreaded signs of another bladder flow-back coming.
More of furry bits of the blasted Prostate, which tells me problems are brewing.
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Banged into the ottoman on the way back to the front room. Another bruise on the knee, and the scab from the previous knocking into or over something.
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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 down yet again to the lobby to await its arrival at the start of the two-hour window given to me. So, I did! (Old photo used), since I didn’t take the camera.
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!
I bothered Jenny again, and she gave me links to find out why the message was blocked. I clicked…
Ah, now I know. Thanks, Jenny💜
Found this at the bottom of the page…
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BOOKING AN APPOINTMENT if you dare!
Couldn’t Be Simpler (I lie!)
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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 detected a lot of furry bits of Prostate when I emptied the day bag. Not a self-assuring thing to find. I must pass this on to the District Nurses when they come.
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I was getting irritable with things and myself. It’s a bloody good thing that I had no idea what was about to happen tomorrow. Although, with my luck, does it matter?
I gave up on starting this blog. I was so fed up, frustrated , and greatly depressed. Not to mention how tired and confused I was of today’s events. I turned of the computer and went into the kitchenette to make a meal.
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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I emailed Jenny back, and while the meal was cooking, I took the boxes with the padding to the waste chute. Coming back to the flat, my right leg gave way without any warning (shaking) or time to prepare. But no bother, I threw myself in the corner of the recessed lift doors, and avoided going down on the hard floor or having to press my wristlet alarm. Mind you, they wouldn’t have heard me anyway at that distance. The bigger bonus was not going to the hospital to be ignored, then mauled. Plus, no damage to the Catheter or leaking! Yes, a bit of good luck there! No doubt! Back limpingly to the flat, and took a snap of the view from the kitchen window
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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.
Took this Snap of the same angle as the earlier one. I’m not getting on with these new Kodaks, disappointed.
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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