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06:15hrs: The rib injury was bad to start with. Large intakes of breath, coughing, laughing, all hurt. Pouch taken off. I took a snap of the morning kitchen view.
Any of the following may be out of sync, for vagarity and confusion spread their wings. Until
, when the electrical and technological problems all arrived one after the other. I panicked and rang Jenny, my Angel, to ask her to please call the computer man in the morning. As per usual, her logic and understanding were perfect. She read the stress in my voice. Calmly telling me to turn everything off until morning and try again. Which I did, and it came back on. Albeit with different, too small icons that I struggle to see. At least now I can cross my fingers (well, I can’t actually, but I can figuratively) and see how it goes.
Thanks to Jenny. 🤎
Whatever is under my man breast that appeared yesterday, the top picture taken by my Carer Ejaz, this morning, showed a great improvement, and the bleeding had stopped altogether. I can’t say the same for the rib cracking. This remains a blinding, blooming nuisance. I can’t see any bruising at all. But when it happened, I was bending to retrieve a dropped remote, and felt pain and heard a sort of grinding noise. I think it must have been a rib causing the problem. It is the same today (Fri), the slightest bend, stretch, even when I press down on the walking stick it hurts. Yet not moving, sitting down, unless I stretch my arm out or up, there is no bother? Which is excellent, because I’ve got a Little Inchies fungal lesion going through agony as well, from the refitted Catheter tube.
No more moans, I promise: well, I’ll try. Haha!
Belatedly made a start on Wednesday’s blog. Talk about a backlog, I’ve got an ever-increasing backlog of backblog blogs to do. 😄
Carer Rashid changed the leathery, crocodile-like
legs. Well, more ankles now. Foamed them and rubbed in ointment in the cracks.
The sun broke through as it rose behind the prison, offering me a photo opportunity. Oh, prison? I meant to write block of flats. Or did I?
Ejaz was pleased with how the hand injury was now healing and was now awaiting the scab to fall off.
He offered to pick it off for me, jokingly, of course.
Then the computer froze!
First, as I was in CorelDraw, which often does this to me. I knew it would not let me save the work I’d done. Depressing, more time lost! I could not close the programme either. Cursing and praying it would come back on, I turned off the power.
Gave it ten minutes or so, and rebooted.
Opened CorelDraw… message told me this file is not saveable – you can work on it, but not save your work – something like that. So, I closed it again.
Then I turned off the computer properly and restarted Windows. What a mess. All the widows’ desktop icons were so minuscule that it was impossible to identify which was which. All off again.
All on Again. The icons were even smaller this time. I upended CorelDraw, this time it opened the last edited without any warning messages… Ahahaha! Great.
An hour later, all the things became unresponsive, bar the mousse, but clicking on anything on the CorelDraw page produced various different, some never been seen before options, but never the binding box.
I decided that I’d close CorelDraw down, and ring Angel Jenny to ask her to call Asif, the computer man, for me, as this problem, or I should add solution, was well out of my reach. I opened Google to search for advice…
ARRGH!
I could not input any text in the search bar at all!
Clicking to open programme icons, nothing!
I turned everything off again and walked away.
I was distraught to say the least. Angry, Frustrated, Sorry-for-myself… pathetic really.
Depression grew even stronger now. I felt so low, and yet I took two photographs as I wandered hobblingly around the cell… no… the flat.
My mind went from raging to almost crying, and a loathsome self-hatred joined in. I felt what I was, I’m afraid, so sad!
Later, after a good while of musing and confusing myself, I returned to the computer. I knew it was not going to work, yet still I gave it a go. Huh!
This time, the desktop icons were all over the place, and still too tiny to identify. I tried Google, Notepad, Corel ’rotten’ Draw, and MS Word. And the screens started to shudder a little. But this could have been due to Galucoma Glady’s, Cataract Katie, or my being in such an uptight condition, my Neurotransmitters. Turned everything off yet again and left it.
I called Jenny 🤎 to ask her to please contact Asif for me. The connection was not good; I struggled with the fast speech and an echo on the line.
I think Jen advised me to turn everything off, which I had been doing for the last three hours, Hahaha! Jenny said she leaves hers off overnight, and it can come back on in the morning. I felt so tense, so I decided to do that and try it in the morning.
To keep my mind off of the computer, I got the meal prepped. Ejaz called and served it up. But it feels all wrong eating with someone sitting there on their mobile phone, making a report. Nothing wrong with it, but for years I’ve lived and eaten on my own, and the habit of eating while watching a TV programme is part of my way of preparing for sleep, I suppose. Also, I forgot to take a photo of the nosh.
After finishing the meal, after Ejaz left, saying he would lock the door for me, bless him, I went to wash the pots, and just had to take these snaps of the latter part of the sunset.
A warmth emanated from the view, with maybe perhaps including a hint of a threat?

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Can it get any worse?
Have I been given a curse?
Why am I penning this verse?
Cause my problems are diverse?
BrainStorm, thinking in Morse?.
Who can help with my annoyances?
Starmer, Einstein or Zeus?
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TTFN
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05:00hrs: I leapt out of the bed, yodelling as I removed the Catheter night bag. Then the innards demanded that I attend the 
As I was making a brew of Co-op 99 tea, guess what I needed again? The
08:10hrs. The Carer arrived. Checked the ankles and, as he changed the Catheter to make it less painful, noted blood on the PPs from Harold’s Haemorrhoids. And
the new scar on the Catheter leg. He creamed it and photographed it.
The blood sample taker arrived, and while she was here, Carer Rashid arrived. A smidgeon
of confusion between the three of us cost me dearly.
Carer Ejaz sneaked this photo of yours truly, the luckiest man alive. I was battling with the computer to get it to respond to my requests.
back of him as he was making his report of this visitation. A handsome young brute of a lad. Looks like a male model to me. Jealous? Me? Well, maybe just a little tiny, weeny bit. Haha!
m the kitchenette window, of the slowly darkening skies. Then had to hastily shoot off, yet again, to the
I went to make a rare-today mug of Glengettie, as my eyes grew tireder and blurrier as the evening dawned, followed by, and I finally got on Word
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innards indicated an urgent need, which was virtually on the way, to use the services of the Porcelain Throne.
Took a shot from the kitchenette window. I dropped the milk getting it out of the fridge, a carton, so at least I didn’t have glass to clean up again. Splashes of its spurting milk, I reckon, were found on every wall, counter, and cabinet. Not to mention my dressing gown, legs, slippers and the floor.
I took a snap of the end of the car park from the balcony. However, I feel I’d taken this earlier and already posted it? Hum?
Two Nurses came in. They were going to remove the old and put in a new Catheter contraption for me.
Ejaz arrived as I was taking these two snaps of the late-day skies from the kitchen windows.
me not to leave the stove on or the tap running.
, and I realised how it had come out… Artistic?
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