Inchcock Today: Ode & Diary – Saturday 15 May 2022

Approached creating this ode quite guiltily…
My ideas for it were whimsical, bonkers, delusionary…
I pressed on all the same, but involuntarily…
For Alto-Inchy was taking the piss at me,
If it comes out passable, I’ll have to be lucky…
So, I hope to avoid getting any vilipendency!
Will it get boos? Or be received gladly?
Here I go… I’ll have to wait and see…

Last night’s Porcelain Throne visit showed sanguinolency,
I had to clean things quickly, with no time to dilly-dally.
Cleaned, medicated the fungal lesion, piles, cuts, that’s three…
Pain, medicating the lesion send me cranky,
And Harold’s Haemorrhoids too, it took me a while,
Good job that I’ve got many a mans-nappie!

It’s Alto Inchie writing this verse; Inchcock did insist!
But, things got nasty for Inchy, the lyricist…
Stubbed his toe and started to update his word list…
He spent many hours on it, needed a wee, but had to desist…
Went to hit the save icon, and I missed…
Lost the file, and he sank to his saddest…
He almost cried; it must have been hard to resist…
Then he sank further and got depressed!

I lost six hours trying to get back my lost writing…
Couldn’t find it; I was confused, lost and dithering,
My previous determination started withering…
Duodenal Donald kicked off; it was appalling,
The whole incident was depressing and galling!
I believe that I was so low, beyond consoling…
I wondered, what’s the next thing that’ll need bungling?

Alto Again: It was sad to see Inchy being nigglier,
His computer works are getting much messier…
He didn’t look well. He seemed to me pastier…
The outlook for him to finish this ode is murkier,
And even he’s not usually a shirker, but a worker…
I can see in his eyes that he’s getting lower…
No point in talking to him until he feels betterer,
Hello, his door chimes rang out, in came a Carer…
He turned sourly around to see who it was, looking peakier,
His face lit up, his smile radiated, for it was Carer Sarah!
I could tell that he’d immediately got feeling friskier!

It was Carer Sarah who came to do me today,
This cheered me up, I have to say…
I lost all signs of acting acidulously…
Lovely gal, pretty and chatty,
I began to feel once again, altruistically,
I hope she comes again on Sunday!

Alto: Inchie knackered his computer and got in a shaking panic,
The idiot’s actions and bungled repairs were catastrophic,
He had trouble concentrating and was mnemic…
His moods all day were somewhat chameleonic.
Inchcock’s plans and thoughts were all semantic…
Yet he seemed to be taking it all phlegmatic…
In fact, he ended up feeling somewhat apathetic?
Then he found his legs had gone all phlebitic!
This is why some folks, quite rightly, consider him pilgarlic!.

Diary Saturday 14th May 2022

05:00hrs: I woke up with my bum half off of the £300, second-hand bought, c1968, nauseously beige-coloured, not-working, rusty, rickety, difficile, crumb-covered tatty recliner. The right leg on the floor, the left one on the arm of the recliner? A position that I could not physically get into on my own, even if someone offered me a million pounds to do it? Painfully I got my bum back up on the cushion, then tackled the left leg retrieval task! Have you seen that programme on the telly Truck Hell, where they have to retrieve HGVs after a crash? That’s like the task I had on.

I got it freed and the foot down on terra firma. Hehehe! It took me half an hour to achieve it.

Then, I noticed the right leg only had suffered a vein explosion. The first photo is of the front of the leg. I had a good look at it. There were no pains from the veins. Then I wondered about the back of the right leg. Got the Canon camera again and took a blind picture.

Aha, more veins showing through? On a closer look at the photograph, later on, it looked to me that last time, the surgeon who did them had left his name tattooed on the leg? Hehe! I’ll put this one on more prominent than usual to see what you think. It’s on the top right of the picture. Wonder what it is?

Ah, well, better get up; the Carer may be calling soon… and…

As I stood up to catch my balance, I knocked the camera off of the ottoman. I went into the bathroom to ready things for the ablutioning later on, and took this snap of the new marks on the face, this time! Then tried to take another snapshot of the morning view, but the camera didn’t have it. Sob!

It seemed to take the photo, but nothing was getting put on the SD card to view, other than this one and the legs? Miffed off, now! Another blog without many pictures, Humph!

I made up some waste bags, mashed a brew and got on the computer. And the morning carer appeared without ringing the buzzer and made me jump. Haha! Carer Sara was a pretty young thing, and she was sociable. ♥

On with the blog. I finished the update two hours later and posted it on Facebook. Went on Facebooking. Then the WP Reader, and comment reading and replying to.

The usual for the weekend. An increase in Herbert’s noise level. On and off all day, at times, I thought he must have hurt himself with the clanging and banging. At times, I could hurt him myself!

Got on with the Ode template for Saturday’s blog. But a disaster befell me…

I used two pages of saved words on Notepad and got on with selected suitable or better options. And the Peripheral Pete’s Neurotransmitters failed, as Shuddering Shoulder Shirley kicked in simultaneously. There was controlling my movements at all.

The arm shot across the keyboard with the left clicker pressed firmly down, hitting various keys as it went to my left, knocked the SD reader flying as the connector broke off, and it was all over in seconds, but it did a lot of damage, and worst of all, I lost all my words in the two files!

I then spent the following hours of the day trying to understand what the warning messages that came up meant and trying everything within my limited knowledge to find the missing files. No such luck! Photos not going on again.

Made a large meal and ate it all. Wee-wee. Carer Valerie called. Head down, but foolishly tried to watch a Dirty Harry film on the box… I did, in a way, but in about 25 episodes, I watched one each time I woke up and nodded off again!

Cheers!

Inchcock Senses Alto-Egos Presence!

Alto-Inchy nearly became visible!

.

What the hell are you on about?

Do you believe in the Morlocks?

No…

Bet yer don’t know who they are?.

I couldn’t give a sod who they are or ain’t.

A simple question, no need to gerrall upset abarght it, me old fruit…

Oh, frug-off! I don’t know where you’ve been, but the last three days have been heaven without you! Wherever you’ve been, can’t yer sod-off back to it…

No, no, no… I’ve been visiting the Morlocks, and I am the first Alto-Ego to do so!

Bollocks!

Ah! Yer see, you really don’t know who the Morlocks are then, do you?

I told you I couldn’t give a rats arse about who they are; why do you want me to know about them, whoever they are? I think…

Ah, but yer doesn’t think, that’s why you’re missing out so much… No! Let me finish…

Oh, go on then… let’s have it…

Well, you smarty-pants know-nothing. The Morlocks inhabit the earth’s inner and underside… and have done for longer than any tellurian life forms have, even before…

Is this going to take long? Only I can feel the need for a crap coming on… which will mean I’ll have had two loads of crap today… Hahaha!

Look Dumbo! This is important; I’m not kidding either. This could benefit both of us, and we can have a lifetime of fame… Well, fair enough, not you, you’re about to snuff it anytime now, at least I’ll be the most famous Alto-Ego ever…

I’m not interested nor bothered about dying – that’s cause you, yer foul-breathed bully Alto, have made me this way. With yer constant putting me down, decrying me, making me so depressed, frustrated and angry, fed-up with failures, this never happened before I found you lurking in my body and mind!

Well, that’s so nice of you to say so, and admit it too! I may have misread you a little. To know that you appreciate all my efforts to maintain your grumpiness, self-hatred and demoralised at all times – I think I

I’ve got to admit it; you’ve done a cracking job. So, go on, tell me about visiting the Morlocks then…

They told me how I could gain some visibility to humans! The Morlocks could see me clearly all the time… but I didn’t like that. I couldn’t sneak upon them, and they knew where I was all the while. No, I shan’t be returning to see them again. Thank heavens, tellurians don’t have this ability! But this gaining part-visibility is excellent! Again, I have supreme and individual capabilities that no other Alto-Ego has! Meaning I can scare the living daylights out of my current human, that’s you, of course. And learn to go fully visible with a bit of training. Of course, your time is nearly up, so I might go a little easy on you cause we’ve been pals for a long time now, and…

‘Ode on mush! Let me get a hold of this. You’re using me as a guinea-pig to practice yer visibility training? After telling me how much yer appreciate my help? You’ll likely give me a heart attack, and my limited time will be shorter…

Oh, yes, did you not see the outlines of weapons on me when I arrived? You should have; I’m a little disappointed that you didn’t, cause I wanted…

Screw you! You scumball! How would you feel of you had a limited life span? You’ve destroyed my self-confidence and frustrated and depressed me; I wouldn’t be surprised if you weren’t responsible for giving me Vascular Dementia… Ah! You were laughing at me, you horrible Alto-Ego! I just got a glimpse of an outline of the form you’ve taken…

Keep it cool, man! Well, I say man… Hehehe! No need to start getting new abilities now. You’ve got little time left to use ’em anyway! Why gerrupset? At long last, you’ve worked out that Alto-Egos distribute such ailments… Hold on, yer going red in the face now, that’ll do yer no good, Inchcock!

Why the pluck do you want to give innocent humans a mind-crippling thing like dementia? Are you telling me that you Altos are responsible for the ailment?

Of course, we are, Blunderbrain! It’s the easiest thing for us to inflict on humans – that’s why so many of you get it. Gawd, you’re thick! I mean, it’s not exactly easy, cause when we pass it on to you, we’ve got to wait twenty years before we find out if it has been successful or not, so you must appreciate, we have done it for our own good, yer see…

Gragnangles! How does yer work that out then?

Oh, Inchcock, you are so sad. You cannot see what’s happening at all, can yer?

Worrya mean?

Look at your ailment graphic above, and that’s not got the Kathleen Cataracts, Glaucoma Gladys, or Doreen Dementia on it yet, has it?

Well?

Listen, what’s yer worst worry, not counting being deaf, and can’t see much? Go on; I’ll wait while you muse over it…

Erm, not counting being deaf and can’t see much?…

That’s what I said, no rush, take yer time Inchcock; not too long, cause yer ain’t got a lot of time left, have you?

I’m trying to think here; I don’t need you confusing me more…

Exactly my point!

Wot?

I’ll keep quiet; let you work it out then…

Ponders: Erm, Duodenal Donald and Bladder Belinda have been bad today… Cathies Cartilage and Peripheral Pete have been playing up for a day or two… Dizzy Dennis and Sock Glide Brenda have had me over at the weekend…

Then, I scratched my head in the wet room, and it bled a lot… but I’ve since found out the Warfarin INR blood count was a little out of range; they’ve changed the dosages now.  Summat happened on Friday, what was it? Oh, yes, The blood pressure sys went up to SYS 205 and DIA 88, and the Pulse had gone up to 97 bpm. I remember that. And having in the right eye (red-eye) subconjunctival haemorrhaging, which cleared up after two three-a-day days of eye drops? Ah, that’s summat I’d forgotten about. I must ask for some more of the eye drops. Colin Cramps has visited me for the last five nights, Little Inchies Fungal Lesion has been bleeding… and wee-weeing is painful, and sprinkle at the moment. A good job is that I’ve got a large stock of PPs (Protection Pants) in-store in the wet room to use. But Harold’s Haemorrhoids are stinging more lately but not bleeding as often as they usually do… Although the change in the INR level might be causing the bleeding on the arm after a blood taking session?

Even so, forgetting things is mayhaps the worst thing, so it’s Dementia, Doreen?

Yes, Alto, are you still there?

Aye, I’m waiting for you to tell me that it’s Dementia Doreen; that is the worst worry you have!

Well, pickle-my-walnuts! How did you know that?

All part of Alto-Inchie plan and design matey! By giving you Doreen to keep you worried, see how all the other ailments fade into the background?

I’m not sure… I suppose there might be summat in wot you say…

Even my being here, like it or not, takes your mind off of the ailments a smidgeon!

Yea… but we always end up disagreeing, which is not good, is it?

Or, is it indeed?

Anyway, hours ago, I asked you why you had a weapon with you. Well, why?

Just showing off what I learned from the Morlocks, Inchcock. Don’t fret; they are not real weapons. I don’t need them…

Har-Har! What you mean is you cannot fire them… you do not have the capability or physical skills needed to shoot them, innit?

No need to get sarkie with me, mate! It’ll only get me going making you feel tiny, a fool, an idiot, incapable of manual sex, mini-cocked, bald, socially unacceptable, pot-bellied, uncouth, smelly, repugnant, despondent, uneducated, lonely, miserable, uncouth, ugly, uncultured, underprivileged,  scatterbrained, and pestiferous. Deserving of condemnation or execration… a totally pathetically inept old, repugnant fart, unwanted and uncared for, a coffin-seeking has been, who…

Has yer finished yet?

For now, yer!

Oh, good. I shall not return the insults, just suggest you go forth and multiply. Hopefully, with you never returning again…

Hahaha! The only reason I’ll not come again will be when you are dead, so keep on wishing, dumbo!

Oh! See yer anon then; in the morning, Alto?

Cheers, cocker!

A much confused Inchcock got ready for bed, did his ablutionalisationing, and climbed into his £300, second-hand bought, c1968, nauseously beige-coloured, not-working, rusty, rickety, crumb-holder of a recliner. And once again sensed the presence of Alto-Inchie, watching him ready for a verbal attack… As if prearranged, they started on a rhyme-a-line verbal battle…

Oh, you back again, come to lickspittle?

See that, no welcome again. Is your nastiness congenital?

Worrever yer want, be quick, cause I need a pittle…

Why can’t you be a little more angelical?

Cause I’m trying to sleep, and along comes you with your prattle…

Oh, that’s nice, to cheer you up I call twice…

Pig-off Alto, you’re the nasty one. Not nice!

Well, me helping you must come at a price!

Sod-off, I’d sooner be visited by lice!

I only came to tell you what day it was, Christ!

I think you are definitely agathokakological!

Your wording is anti-logical…

Tommyrot, you know that I’m sociological…

More like demonological!

Do you know what the words mean you are using?

Well, not all of ’em, but I find it amusing…

Amusing? I cannot allow you any of that, or contentment, entertaining, or smiling!!!

Was not? I’m just asking…

You nitwit, it’s the reason for my being, to cause you pain, confusion and much inconveniencing…

You do that alright, with your constant word-mincing…

Doreen Dementia has got to you again; you’re word misplacing and mispronouncing!

You horrible Alto-Ego, I wish I could give you a trouncing!

Well, that’d be better than us kissing…

Can’t we just calm down and start pleasantly talking?

Nae, you’d only start grumping, moaning and trumping…

That my unwanted, human-hating antisocial Alto would be due to your tormenting!

Well, I have no morals or body, like you who are in a state of decay…

Hey, hey, hey! You’re having a dig at me again. Oh, lackaday!

A?

A? Are you referring to my doomsday!

Yea! When you snuff it into the ether, your body and mind will stray…

No salvation, just nothing forever and a day…

You might try to pray…

But you’re faithless, right or wrong, who is to say?

Your end is nigh, and it makes me sigh; you could be dead by midday! Hahaha!

At least your fatty body will waste away…

Oy, Alto, You are betting sarky and bitchy!

Yes, thank you, it’s just my way…

I suppose I’ve led my life abstemiously…

That’s the spirit; at least your painful, pathetic, sad, pointless existence was led altruistically…

Altruistically? I’ll check that on the online dictionary…

Don’t waste your time Inchcock; your lack of education left you with a mental block…

And what about forgetting things, losing time, dates, days, keys, codes and the odd-sock?

You’ve not had a lot of luck, have yer? Remember when you were conned by the financial Shylock?

Aye, and being shot twice, made redundant three times, heart failure, Mother running away, ending up in the dock?

Duodenal Donald, going deaf, poisoned, being treated with lice, Shock after shock…

There’s a lot of my history you seem to know, Alto? Have you always had access to my memory box?

Oh, yea! From the go, mate. The first word I heard on this assignment was your Mam’s when she said to the midwife, “I don’t want it; throw it in the Trent!”

Cor, you heard it all, so it was true then, but that’s no consolement.

Aye, I saw it all, the fights twixt yer parents, the police collecting Mam for trial and imprisonment…

Oh, and the tin bath hanging outside on the wall in the yard, outside coal house and toilet, you getting bullied at school… yer life then wasn’t exactly suent!

You having your heart broken by Grizelda, playing truant…

Your fumbling attempts with Mavis from the end house when drunk…

Alright! Enough! Imperfect as my memory is, there are some things I’d like to forget, many a stunt…

Now, here you are 70 odd years later, done-in, pissed off, disabled, and languescent…

I remember the happy times when I lived in digs on Wilford Crescent; my life was incandescent!

Me too; I had a bit of a fling with another Alto…

Ah, but yer couldn’t have sex together, though?

Too true, but it was bliss, till she had to go… so sad though…

Why? Let your story flow…

Do you remember a geordie in the digs by the name of Joe?

I certainly do; that was sad. Heart attack, Joe died as he laid a double-six domino…

. Well, my affair of sorts was with Joe’s Alto-Ego…

She was transferred and assigned to another human called Domingo.

Wilford Crescent was good for me, bad for you, but there you go…

Yes, I lost concentration while Alto-Ego Christine was around… my making you miserable and depressed was not so profound…

I never thought of you as being capable of loving anyone…

Yes, to me, from her backside, the sunshine shone!

Which sounds emotional, as she didn’t have one…

What?

Arse!

Inchies Tips & Advice for Whippersnappers, Ablutionalisationings & Medicalisationings

ADVICE & TIPS ON FUTURE AILMENTS TO COME

I’ve given myself a challenge here… Where do I start?
Well, I don’t want to sound like a worrywart…
But you may like to put this guide on a wall chart,
Get prepared, to wee-wee, bleed a lot, and fart?
To the wet room, with ablutionalisationing, we’ll start…

Well, getting your clothes on and off, will be a work of art!
The socks removal will hurt in every leg part!
Pants and PPs, shirt and hat off, you’ll be knackered,
By the time you start teeth cleaning, paddy-whacked!
Then the toothpaste to extract…
Peripheral Pete causing shaking hands, distances inexact…
Toothpaste on your chin belly and feet… it’s a fact!

Nasal clearing, avoid catching the new pustulation…
And shaking hands, need careful manipulation…
Stabbing up the nose can cause a concussion!
Due to the dying nerve-ends neurotransmission!

Then the eyedrops, they miss each time, despite my best attention,
Evolve drips anywhere but the eyes; to the mouth, via obambulation,
Oh, while I think about it, you’ll have to have a fundoplication!
Shaving’s the next job, which always causes apprehension!

You’ll cut yourself several times, no need for overreaction…
The Brut aftershave serves as a blood stopper medication!
Mind you, it stings, you’ll swear in protestation,
It’s just another necessary daily ritualisation!

Then comes, the dangerous part, of showering!
It’s no good fearing, and cowering…
It must be done, like an everyday thing!
Dizzy Dennis arrives, you stop the soaping…
Then drop the loofah, bend in retrieving…
Hit your bonce on the powerbox, your heads now reeling…
Loss of balance sometimes, a usual old folk feeling…
Then you often find yourself falling…
But getting back up is more appalling and galling,
Usually, you’ll drop things again…
But, to avoid any more pain,
You’ll kick it away, then you may start talcing?
Till you stub your toe, then start cursing!
But there are more things yet, that will be paining!

No mirrors in the wet room, I mention tactfully,
For fear, you’ll see your flabby midriff’s rotundity,
Which will bring on the depression, for a certainty,
You’ll find spotting your reflection, rather dismally,

Little Inchies Fungal Lesion will need ointmenting,
Especially if it’s been leaking and bleeding!
The certainty of agony needs acknowledging…
Some think this procedure, is bestiality, brutality…
I can tell yer, I don’t think about affectionately!
And I don’t tackle the job exactly bravely!

Arthur Itis knees to be Phorpained, to lessen rheumatically,
An easy enough task, although the limbs can get greasy…
It’s the Phorpain Gel, the box says it’s liable to flammability?
Still, a good massage and rubbing in seems to work easily.

MedPhorpain

The Germoloiding of Harold’s Haemorrhoids is a pleasure,
Always effective, instant relief, this ointment is a treasure!
But you can’t buy it when on a Special Offer…
Full price, cause the makers, want to fill their coffer…

You’ll be able to get a cream on the NHS, Anusol, but it’s crap,
And you’ll need to wear sunglasses and a hat…
Use walking aids, hearing aids, spectacles, blind as a bat!
Cataracts, Glaucoma and Saccades will be begat!
I’m getting mixed up here, where was I at?

I named Accifauxpas, to such incidents as the above,
Having digits etc. bruised, and cut, you may not approve,
But incident rates will never improve…
As you grow decrepit and old, it’s the truth!
There is no way to make things accident-proof…

I named Accifauxpas, to such incidents as the above,
Having digits etc. bruised, and cut, you may not approve,
But incident rates will never improve…
There is no to make things foolproof…

But there is a way, to ease them and help make them better!
You don’t believe me? I can hear you mutter!
But clean the wound, Give it a Germolene smother…
As antiseptics go, there is none betterer…
It soothes and cools wounds with no palaver…
Keep a tube in the first aid box, it’s a good manoeuvre!

You’ll lose any skill you had at handcraftsmanship,
Sewing, darning, woodwork, sculpting, or need a replacement hip,
A new knee or two, a mechanical ticker, ready for the crypt…
So when things start to fail and collapse, don’t lose your grip!.

Don’t look back at the days when you were nonhandicapped!
Or even when you could risk being back slapped,
Or when you were capable of being able and schlepped…
It’s important for you to be able to adapt!

You’ll only compare things, with now and then,
Your mental and bodily decline, remembering girls like Gretchen?
Your confidence, comparative memories, do not enrichen!
In fact, they have been known to bring on depression!
Recalling the romances, victories, how many were they, ten?
Your first fumbling grope – can you remember who and when?
The Auntie who always bathed you… you were happy then!
But such days will never return again…
Have you still got love letters, written with a pen?
The name of your very first kitten?
Or the first dog by which you were bitten?

When your life was considered to be sublime, Utopian…
Some details will be embedded in your brain, unforgotten…
But many of them inspire things you think were rotten!
Actions and decisions that were taken by you; were you forgiven?
Or like me; having Thought Storms of guilt and derision?

There is an ailment that can free you from making many a decision…
Vascular Dementia Doreen, she’s good at memory suppression,
Also, she jumbles up numbers and dates, like a statistician…
Or mayhaps, more like a politician?
That reminds me, the Dentist and Optician…
Appointments to cancel, that’ll cause derision,
Is it a pediatrican or maybe a metaphysician?
I might be better off with a dietician or magician?

Cataract Surgery is my latest thing worrying,
Two Phacoemulsification operations or something,
Then Glaucoma operations in both eyes…
Then there’s Saccades procedure right eye,
But worrying about it is not very wise
Seeing an assessor on 3rd May waited five months, irking,

So by the time you Whippersnappers get to my age,
The NHS will be a memory, but you should manage…
Unless there is a world war again, violence is savage!
The private owners of the hospital will add a surcharge…
£200 for a bandage, £30 to be unbandaged, if you haemorrhage…
£50 a pint lost, and for cleaning up there’ll be an added charge…
An entrance fee if you have to use the triage…
Visitors will be charged, £35 an hour on average…
£40 a cup of tea, £60 for coffee, £40, for other beverages…
Medications, an Aspirin at £35, according to dosage…
Visitors can have a variable-priced massage…
Grizelda £45, William too, either-way Brenda, £200 with frottage!

I think I got carried away there, sorry!

Inchcock Today: Tues 5th April 2022 – Introductory Ode!

Inchcock Today

Introductory Ode!

All Inchies’ plans, hopes, desires get obliterable,
All of the wishes and prayers fade; it’s unfixable…
In a crowd, he’s always the one that’s unnoticeable,
Thought-Storms, wild ideas become pestilential…
His handwriting is now virtually untranslatable,
Voices, alarms, so many to Inchie are unhearable,
Problems are increasing… not many are solvable,
Friendships, chinwags are all uncultivatable,
As seeing lip-reading with Cataracts is not doable…
Vascular Dementia Doreen has ruined the potential…
To do anything that is enjoyable or cherishable!

Inchie should get a medal for being so confusable…
He’s given up socialising, he’s no longer compatible,
Inchies depressions are no longer confineable,
Hell, they are not even logical or describable…
He tries to talk seriously, his views are uninfluential,
Inchies common sense is turning surreal,
His neurotransmitters are no longer connectable…
To the brain; so too falls and shakes he is liable…
But hopes of a cure are almost non-existent… Sniffle!

Yet he can have hopes, some of them substantial,
But why he bothers is just unanswerable…
Will he feel better when his eyes are done; its arguable,
Cataracts, Glaucoma Saccades, are treatable…
But will Inchy love long enough? Life’s a raffle…
For 25 years now, he’s been totally tea-total,
He never thought he’d persist and be capable,
See? Summat he got right is detectable!

On past City & QMC visits, he became reflectable,
Hoping those he awaits will not be fatal…
He’s waiting on dates of five procedures at the hospital,
Will soon come about and be arrangeable,
But he’s not too hopeful and not getting flappable…
He’s more worried about the logistics; will he be able…
Which can do him no good and be detrimental…
That’s another thing he needs, treatment dental!

He fears arranging things transportational…
A carer to stay with him, which’d be pleasurable,
After the 3 procedures, stay for 24hrs – is this possible?
What’s the procedure: is it cost credible?
I don’t know why I wrote this; it’s grammatically unpublishable?

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Tues 5th April 2022

03:30hrs: The now, usual for the last four mornings anyway, jumping awake to the tormenting sounds of the Thought-Storms, driving me into instant confusion, began.

I reckon the storm lasted for about three minutes, then faded fast. No idea why, but happy about it!

Even getting out of the c1966 recliner and up to catch my balance was easy-peasy! Three-limps with Metal Mickey to the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee Bucket) and took another reluctant wee-wee. Without any PM (Pre-Micturitional) or CM (Cessational Micturitional) dribbling. Things looked hopeful to me for a better day in the offing? Until…

I soon learnt that Peripheral Neuropathy Pete had replaced the Thought-Storm as the primary ailment. Although, right Cartilage Cathy was assisting in making hobbling a smidge difficult. But I’m not complaining; this knee pain and wobbling leg were a pleasure to put up with compared to yesterday morning’s Dracula Depression. Yes, I was feeling much better already!

Emptied, cleaned and disinfected the bucket and had a wash of sorts. Then, returned the NWWB to its handily placed position. Just in case things change with the bladder, off to the kitchen.

The view from the kitchenette window was very similar to yesterday’s beautiful picture.

I took this photograph. Even if it looked like yesterday.

As I opened the window, the wind caught me out. I moved a little with the camera and knocked over the knife block! I managed to catch it without any harm or injury, and only one knife fell out of the block! I was trying not to get into a Smug-Mode, as history has taught me that doing that can prove almost fatal! At minimal a foretaster of something else going wrong, at least! I made up two waste bags and placed them near the door. Got the kettle on and made a brew of JS Extra Strong tea. And off to get the computer going.

I kept getting messages telling me to put a disc in the F: drive, which had been there all along. The SD card reader refused to react again. So I left the card in to see if it would later on. I occasionally responded by giving the SD card a soft jingle – but it made no difference. Hey-ho!

Carer Richard arrived. He soon got me sorted with the medications, alarm-alert battery checks and looked at the supply of drugs in the drawer. He had to shoot off. He gave me a bit of a natter, though, bless him. He didn’t look too good this morning. Hope he’s going to be alright.

After updating yesterday’s blog for a while, I made another brew. Glengettie this time, and I tried the new ‘Just Milk’ in it again.

I’ve no idea if anything in it is different to normal semi-skimmed milk; the writing is too tiny for Cataract Kathleen to make it out. But I have to say that it lets the flavour of the tea come through without masking it, better than any other milk I’ve tried. As I got back to updating the blog…

The need for the Porcelain Throne interrupted me. As I casually got up and grabbed Metal-Mickey, the urgency of the need snowballed, and it ended up with just making it in time, after a panic, rush and quick hobble! Hahaha!

Not exactly as smooth as silk, and it was accompanied by different pains areas this time, despite the evacuation being semi-soft. All over in about a minute! No bleeding, stinging or hurting from Harold’s Haemorrhoids either. As I was cleaning up after the event. I realised that it may well be my having a second vegetable meal in three days that made things uncomfortable and nearly caught me out? Back to chips and a pastie with tomatoes tonight!

Made another brew, Thompsons Punjana this time. Oh, I am spoilt for choices with great tasting teas! My best four are, from the top: Glengettie, Thompsons Punjana, Co-op 99 and JS Extra Strong Brown Label. But there is little between them. All great!

Made a restart on the updating of yesterday’s blog. At long last, I got it done and posted it off to WordPress.

Sphygmomanometerisationing began. The Boots machine returned slightly better figures this morning. The SYS has gone down from 169, 161, 159 and now to 157. My blood pressure is going in the right direction! And the body temperature is so very nearly on target again, at 34.8°c. Good!

Back to the wet room, no waiting this time, first songs and I was off. Hehe! Bubbly is one word to describe the evacuation this time. Almost frothy? Not a lot, no bleeding and no pain!

I replied to some Emails… well, the one. Hehe! I did some Facebooking catch-up. Starting the WP Reader viewing and…

Mr Nice, from the flat above, launched into some clanging about.

I spent a long time trying to get this post started. The concentration did a runner, and so many mistakes were made and had to be found and corrected. I imagine I’ve missed some; there were that many! The top Ode cost me a few hours of disheartening faffling about.

It was well into the afternoon when I got up to here with the scripturising. I like that word; I expected Grammarly to tell me it was spelt wrong. Oh, sod it, it just told me belatedly!

Better get some nosh sorted out then.

Took a photo of the Chestnut Way end car park. Just to see how red-van-man had parked.

Even with the Cataracts, it caught my eye that the popularity of car colours on the front spaces. Grey, black and white seems to be in fashion here at the towers. Disabled ones, perhaps?

I got the nosh all sorted out. Fishcakes with mushy peas in them, imitation fish sticks, tomatoes and some reasonably decent chips. Dessert and milk roll bread. Rating: 7/10.

Fell asleep watching something or other on the TV. Two hours or so later, ♫ Oh, Susan ♫ chirped from the door chime, and the evening carer arrived. An obviously experienced young chap, not seen him before. Good at the job, sorted the medications and came up with a solution to dropping the tablets and regurgitating without noticing. The Carer suggested taking them one at a time. Good idea, I’ll try that! Thanked him, and off he went.

As I checked around to make sure no taps or lights had been left on and all was safe – I saw the view from the kitchenette window. It was beautiful; I got the Canon and took this photo.

Then, a programme, well, two consecutive ones, were shown on the same channel. I fancied watching them both and got myself settled with a bottle of spring water, the wee-wee bucket nearby, feet up on the chair in readiness to enjoy them. I fell asleep at the first set of adverts and woke up two hours later to catch the finishing credits for the second documentary! Hey-Ho!

Inchcock Today: Saturday 2nd April 2022

02:30hrs: I burst into wakefulness with one heck of a jump. Tired as I was, I could feel the shakes coming via the Peripheral Neuropathy in the feet and toes. There was no pain with them, just an odd, weird sensation of ultra-strong tingling. That would undoubtedly be the neurotransmitter’s nerve-ends trying to get a message to the brain but failing. There is a chance that of they succeed later, the pain will then be felt then. This had happened before many times. Hahaha! I nodded and woke repeatedly; it seemed like every ten minutes to me.

Hehe! 03:35hrs: I was reluctant to get up again… but the need for a wee-wee forced me into action. I disentangled my flobby-bellied body from the second-hand, c1966 recliner! I caught my balance and wobbled over to the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket) and got a surprise. The evacuation was short but relatively intense. What caught me out was the amount of PMAD (Post-Micturition-After Dribbling). I must have been standing there for some minutes, waiting for the PMAD to stop. It must have been three times the amount of that the wee-weeing passed? With the gentle encouragement, I was giving to urge things along. Unfortunately, Little Inchies Fungal Lesion started bleeding! You didn’t need to know that did you? Sorry!

Made a Brew of Glengettie, had another PMAD ridden wee-wee, washed and got on the computer. I found this shot of last night’s incredible short sunset. I tried to load the photos, and the reader let me!

Then, I went onto the WordPress comments section. Next, the WP Reader, not many new posts on?

05:15hrs: Off to the wet room. What a magical, smooth, almost pain-free, clean evacuation that was! I’ve not had such a pleasant movement for months! Grrreat! It may sound an odd thing to say, but it was a genuine relief and pleasure!

Celebrated with another mug of tea and went back to the computer. To update, post the Friday blog, which didn’t take long with no photos to use. Grumph! But a least I got a few on of today. Phew!

Made a start on this blog. Had to stop due to Dementia Doreen and me, forgetting we’d not done the health Checks – So we did them!

Started with the Chinese (Hong Kong) made by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, contactless thermometer. Try saying that when you’ve had a few! Hahaha! Even closer to the target figure of 35°c this time, Good!

Then the Boot’s Sphygmomanometer, which was made by ZDEAC (Zhongshan Daguan Electrical Appliance Company Ltd) in Guangdong, China.

This one was not such a good result; the blood pressure was a smidge high again. Well, a fair bit high, really, methinks.

The Pulse at 77 bpm wasn’t bad at all.

The site said mine should be 74 to 102 beats per minute, which was a good result.

Herbert kept me aware of his presence throughout the morning. I suppose the odd thud, clunk and tap-tapping, so I don’t get bored. Hehe! His better points are his being standoffish, antisocial, smarmy, and ignoring greetings when one says, Hello, or are you keeping well?

I took a shot of red-van-man’s parking on Chestnut Way, broom the balcony. Brr! I took it through the glass, as it was pretty nippy out there now.

I made a start on this blog, and within minutes the Morrison Delivery arrived. Left the parcels in the doorway for me, and off they trotted.

As I was about to take the parcels through to the kitchenette…

The morning carer arrived, the first time she’s been to do me. She helped me move the packages into the kitchen. A professional carer. Name of Ann, or Anne. She got the medicines’ doses sorted correctly, and although she was just starting her shift (I asked), Anne gave me a couple of minutes to chinwag. ♥.

I got the barfs opened and sorted out the many items I’d purchased. Two things were unavailable, the text message said, but I didn’t know what they were. Found out later it was drink treats and cakes, so no bother over that, then.

The Lacto-free whole milk, jelly and custard pots and mini ice-cream suckers were put away in the fridge and freezer. Note that they delivered some potatoes and leek stew packs – they will be consumed this evening, I hopeth. I cut up some more potatoes to be added then to the leeks. A drop of soy, Worcester sauce and some Bisto. I’m planning to add a can of peas later on. The bottled mineral water, orange jellies, liquid soap, bleach, crispy fried onions, and Germolene were put away. As for the tomatoes, they were found to be Spanish, so I’m not too hopeful about putting them in the leek and potatoes… they are bound to taste bitter. Then I took the waste from the delivery and prepping out to the rubbish shute in the lift lobby. No injuries to report!

Got back on with updating this blog, and Sister Jane rang me. We had a good chinwag, which I enjoyed muchly. Then I got the pots and leeks with seasoning into the large pan.

Back on the computer to work on this blog. Oh, I am good! Well, pretty fair… not too bad. Crap really!

Cleaned the kitchenette surfaces, and made a mug of Co-op 99 tea.

I looked up at the wonderfully fresh-looking clouds in the sky. And had a few minutes of pareidoliaing. I saw an animal head in the first shot, I forgot what I saw in the second, Tsk! And two animals in the third photographicalisation.

I can only find the top one at the moment, though.

An hour or so later, I checked on the potato & leeks concoction. Had a taste, and thought it was coming along nicely. Still got to add the peas later, and am doubtful about putting the Spanish tomatoes in… Ah, I’ll go and have a taste of one, then I’ll know if they are worth the bother tastewise. Back in a bit…

I’m back. They’ll do. I added the peas and sliced some tomatoes into the mix.

SD Reader not working again. But Herbert was, clank, thud, tap-tap, thud.

The evening carer arrived, I’d just fallen asleep watching some rubbish on the TV. There is a film on later, the odds of my staying awake are minimal. (I hope). A good job she came, cause I’d left the leek and potatoes on the heat, cooking.

Tablets, injections, and medicines were soon sorted. No treat accepted, and off the Carer went, taking the black bag to the chute for me, bless her.

Got the nosh sorted and consumed. Took a photo of the evening sunset such as it was. Can’t get them on the system yet, I’ll try again in the morning.

TTFN.

Inchcock Today: Inchcock Today Diary – Tuesday 29th March 2022

Inchcock Today: Diary Tuesday 29th March

05:35hrs: Woke to pea-souper fog.

I dragged my not-slept-much body from the clutches of the second-hand, overwhelmingly-sickeningly beige coloured, £300, c1968,  tatty, uncomfortable, wobbly-recliner. Then went to make a brew of J Sainsbury Extra Strong tea and drank it pretty quickly cause the need for the Porcelain Throne arrived.

So, off to the wet room come WC I went. And the evacuation operation was positively under the influence of Constipation Conrad!

So, out came the crossword book. As I awaited some movement from the rear end, I studied the clues, determined to do better than yesterday’s solution-finding of only two! There was no rush, so I looked at the options for a good ten minutes. Then the activity started… and stopped a minute later – solidly refusing to recommence again! Which gave me another ten minutes or so of puzzle-solving. Well, that’s not strictly true… I didn’t get one answer! But I persevered, with an unnatural desire to succeed.

As you can see in the second photo, I made no, zilch progress. Which was annoying. Haha!

I went back to the kitchen and sorted out the spring water bottles. Opened the fridge door to find that I’d already done them last night. Dementia Doreen again!

The wee-weeing started and was pretty persistent again throughout the day. I made a brew and got the computer to update Monday’s blog.

Carer Richard arrived. He was looking a little better than yesterday; bless him. We had a good nattering session; things of old we had in common were the theme. I could see he was ready for his bed and appreciated the chinwag but cut it short to let him get home to his medicines and, above all, bed. Bade him farewell, and he took the waste bags to the chute for me. Hope he’s not coming down with anything. He’s got enough already.

By the time I got around to doing this post, I could see clearly the writing on the reminder pad – Consip victory! I’ve not got the foggiest of what it meant! Sad, innit? Hahaha!

I got on the computer again, finished updating, and sent the blog to WordPress.

This morning, jolly good figures from the sphygmomanometer, even though it was nearly midday by now. Gosh, the day is flashing by! Even the body temperature had risen again… bot by a lot, but that’s two days on the up. Things might be getting better? No, I am a fool!

I spent the next four hours on the computer, making mayhaps my biggest cock-up of the year!

I’d started doing a Local News Snippets one for tomorrow! Pillock! And had not finished and posted the Monday one yet!

Then, after updating and sending off the Monday post to WordPress…

Instead of starting this blog, I began doing an Ode blog!!! Gawd or Mighty, I’m Going Potty!

The mind was so puddled. I stopped and went to make a brew of Glengettie tea.

Filled the kettle but did not turn on the heat!!! Argh!

I took these two photographs of the evening sky. There is no sunsetting to speak of, but I still found them beautiful, Mother Nature at her finest. I appreciate There’s something special about the skies, not as much as a good natter. Hehe!

I’d made a start on two blogs now! Neither one finished. And had to get this one started then! Dumbo!

I had a call from Meridian saying the evening carer would be late. They already were. I told them no bother, not to worry. Which was true!

I put some potatoes in the oven and added a pastie later, peas in the pan.

I got on with starting this blog. The evening carer arrived later, apologising. But there was no need; I appreciated that she was in a rush but still found time for a bit of chinwag. 💙

I made some progress with this blog, but it was so late, and tiredness overcame me and my hunger.

I’ll have to finish this in the morning. I’ll get the jammies on and nosh served up now. TTFN.

Wednesday morning update:

I was up until gone midnight again.

Made a well-overcooked meal. But it went down nicely, all the same, despite fighting to keep awake while eating it. Tsk!

The darned Thought-Storms raged again when I washed the pots and got into the c1968 second-hand, E-plan recliner.

Gragnangles!

Inchcock Today: Monday 28th March 2022

MONDAY 28th MARCH 2022

In Brief & Ode

Problems a few, well, really quite a load…
Accifauxpas, bleeding, no real Smug-Mode…
Noisy Herbert, getting on my goad…
Memory blanks, mistakes made? A shitload!
I had to look up my own postcode!
The Thought-Storms constantly flowed…
Wee-weeing? The bucket nearly overflowed!
Stabbed myself with a toothbrush up my nose,
Will it get worse, discommode? Nobody knows…
What evils and stupidity Satan may bestow?
I’ll have a mug of tea and a marshmallow!

Haveth a great day!

05:30hrs, the usual jumping awake, with a verbal “Uhrge!” arrived. I pondered a few seconds to check on the time, day and need to activate the brain to join the body into some form of starting.

My hazy and befuddled brain sorted itself out in a fashion, and I decided to get the sphygmomanometerisationing done first thing. The grey plastic was half-filled before I started this slash. By the time I’d escaped the c1966 recliner, the need for a wee-wee had developed. And the urine flowed and splashed at a rate and pace never known before! How I held onto the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket), I don’t know. But obviously, I had been wee-weeing throughout the night.

I still can’t work out how someone in my condition can free themselves from the recliner, take the few paces to the bucket, pass water (ferociously!) and get back down again… even once, and yet, not know he’s done it; when he wakes up? Someone must understand this. A psychologist or somebody? Which followed nearly every one of the wee-wees that followed today, and there were dozens of them! No wonder I can feel the dampness in the protection pants of the damned PMAD (Post-Micturition-After Dribbling).

There was much handling of things in washing and cleaning; poor Little Inchies’ fungal lesion started bleeding again later on. Humph!

I finally got around to taking the Blood Pressure. A fine set of figures they were too! SIA 144, DIA 48 and Pulse at 72… No, hang on. The DIA’s a good bit low… I’ll check it out.

No, that’s not too bad, only just in the red area anyway. For some reason, the low DIA brought it up overall a smidgeon. I’ve had it a lot worse than that. Last week one day, it was Sys 171, so I’m not fretting.

I used my Chinese (Hong Kong) made by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, contactless thermometer. The result was a bit higher this time, almost on the target figure of 35!

All went well, apart from the teeth cleaning, which was bloody. Thanks to ailment number eleven, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley. As it did two days ago when she made me drop the mug of Glengettie, her timing was cruelly well-timed. I was about to put the brush in my mouth, and she struck! Despite it being the brush end than entered my nasal channel, it was so fierce that it brought blood. However, it could have been worse, and I soon dried it up. A bit sore now, though, Hehehe!

I started updating yesterday’s blog, and Carer Richard arrived. The poor lad didn’t look too good; he was obviously weary, worn out, tired at the end of his shift. I brought him around a smidgeon with some nattering and a laugh or two, as much as was possible. I think his blood count was low. He said on leaving, he’s going to take his own medicines and get his head down as soon as he gets home. He still had a chinwag, though; I appreciated that from the man. Bade him good luck and health as he left, taking the taste bags with him for me to the chute.

I then spent hours trying to get the Card Reader to work to get the photos on the computer. I was at the limit of my patience and know-how of what else I could try… and wallah! The card suddenly returned to working mode? Although there have been odd, weird times when it tells me the reader is not recognised. So frustrating, I lost hours on the day messing about, turning everything off and back on, the card in and out of the slot… swearing, and at one point, I almost cried!

Eventually, I got the blog finished and posted it off to WordPress. Thank heavens for that!

Time for a mug of Glengettie!

I took these photographs of the view from the kitchenette window. The first one to the left (South), the second down almost straight ahead (East), finally one to the right (North)

I pressed on with starting this blog going. It was concentrating mind…

My sociable, kind, understanding, compassionate, snotty-nosed neighbour above started his clunking, banging noises with some venom. I think he’s realised he was not so bad yesterday and is making up for it?

I stopped to make a brew of Glengettie, wrapping the tea bag up and placing it in the small waste bag; this is what I saw (on the right here). My initial reaction was… Argh! Another Boll Weevil! Oh dearie me! Out came the sprays, and the kitchen got a good covering in all corners and every hidey-hole or corner that I could get at!

I got what I thought was the offending animal out of the bag – but I could not see if it was a weevil or something else, thanks to Cataracts Kathleen, Glaucoma Gladys and Saccades Sandra.

Well, well, well! Another cock-up made yesterday, discovered! Tsk! I looked at the watch, then the clock. A difference in time showing? I’d forgotten to put the clock forwards with all the others, but a true Masterstroke-Whoopsiedangleplop with the new square, easier-to-see wristwatch! I’d put that backwards instead of forwards!!! Humph! It took me a while to work out what time it was now! So, I now have no idea when I got up this morning.

The sky turned into a bright blue; I’m glad I caught it with the Canon cause minutes later, it had turned back into a bright pale blue shade. It turned out to be a decent effort, I thought for once.

I took a photograph of the Chestnut Way end car park. It appears that the Red Van Man has not used his vehicle since yesterday. Hope he’s not poorly. Time to get some fodder organised.

The evening carer arrived and soon had the medicationalisationing sorted out. Took the waste bag with her to the chute for me on her way out.

I took an easy option tonight. Cooked some mushrooms with balsamic vinegar, squid sauce and chillies powder. (Not as ad as it sounds as it turned out, Hehe!) I sliced some lovely yellow tomatoes and forced myself to cut up some of the sickeningly bitter, foul-tasting Moroccan red tomatoes. Added the last of the ‘Batter bits’, a small apple and a banana. A Lemon and Lime M&S yoghourt that needed a mortgage to buy. And tucked into the feast… Oh, and of course, with the two hot dogs with BBQ sauce added. Flavour rating 7.2/10.

I went to Washed the pots, then me, Putting the trousers back on afterwards by mistake for the jammie bottoms! Tsk! Then settled to watch my favourite TV show, ‘Heartbeat’.

I couldn’t enjoy the programme properly, cause Colin Cramps visited my left hand and fingers. Never known him to be so painful and persistent!

Unbelievably, Colin Cramps stopped tormenting me the very moment that the end credits rolled for ‘Heartbeat’. Ah, well!

I rose for a wee-wee, and boy, had I taken some over the day! On the bright side, Little Inchies lesion was not bleeding. Check the taps (faucets) and electrics, and I got down in the £300, second-hand, decrepit, Haemorrhoid Harold-testing, sleep deterring, nauseatingly beige-coloured, not-working recliner.

The Thought-Storms kicked off straight away. They dragged things from over sixty-plus years ago; my errors, bad choices, failures… on and on, they kept coming! Some I had actually forgotten about altogether… they had to be mused over. I’ve no idea why; it only made me more depressed.