TUESDAY 25th AUGUST 2026
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06:35hrs: I stirred back into ersatz, pretend life. Wriggled and rolled a little to test out which ailments might be the most painful, in my effort to dismount the hospital bed and get my nocturnal Catheter pouch off. The outcome was rather less than expected. The new magic neck pain, the discomfort of the day Catheter tubing, and Anne Gyna were the only ones sensed.
Colin Cramps and a few seizure aftertastes, which had been waking me up so often overnight, had dissipated altogether. Nice!
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I managed to get up, sort the pouches out, and do a safety check of the flat for taps left running and fridge/freezer doors open. Then got the kettle on. Doing these little tasks, I had to make three visits to the Porcelain Throne in 15 minutes. Constipation Conrad in total charge.
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Carer Andy arrived in a perky but reluctant mood. Medications were issued, but we could not find any codeine tablets. We both searched through the medical prescription and Over-the-counter medicine drawers. Andrew said he had informed his head office about them. I got the waste bins into one large bag. It’s still there now (2040hrs).
Carer departed, and I had another dock-hard, Haemorrhoid-tearing visit to the Throne.
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I’d prefer to not mention them again, please. Thanks.
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The new Warfarin INR blood results came in the post; that was quick. New doses confirmed.
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Carer Mirza visited. Checked LV house content problem, and I called Complex Warden Deana and asked Mirza to talk with her about the lower cost of NCC insurance. Not sure what happened. Just had a seizure while writing this. Memory Mangling Malcolm? Mirza fitted a new Catheter on the right leg this time.
He then took the laundry down to the laundrette. Then he mopped the kitchen floor for me.
Then went down to put the clothes in the dryer. Did the safety checks and hoovered up. Checked the drawers to see if the missing Codeine tablets were there, but no.
Then he went down to collect the laundry.
While he was out, more food arrived, and I was having difficulty getting all the canned food on the top shelf of the double cupboard.
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At this point the self-cursing started, as Carer Mirza returned with the washing.
He cleaned up a 
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How did I take this photo with no camera?
Well, as soon as Mirza departed, Amazon delivered the camera. I can’t photograph it, but I’ll ask a Carer later to take one on his mobile and email it to me. Like any other childlike 81-year-old with a new toy, I decided to set up and use the new camera. As recommended by Carer Ejaz: “It would be a good idea to get the same model as before; otherwise you’ll get in a pickle with the new contraptions and workings of a different one” Very good suggestion, mate; a wise idea. Thanks!
So, after setting it up but entering the wrong date and not remembering how I set it in the first place, I gave up and got on with taking some sky-cloud shots.
Here is my first effort…
Then back to try and set a wider
view for the snaps.
I attempted to read the instructions…
Aha, I cracked it…
A smug mode developed.
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Well, me making this a great dollop come mound; this agglomeration, hodgepodge of a gigantic meal, is a perfect example of what can happen when something in my head tells me not to bother and to press on. Worrying.
It consisted of Mushroom pâté, chicken lumps, tomatoes, carrots, garden peas, soft cheese, curly fries, pork & pickle mini pies, cheese & onion bread, cooked beef, gherkins, and potatoes!
Needless to say, I could not eat it all, and must have binned two-thirds of it. I recall eating all of the mushroom pâté, the peas & carrots, the bread and the potatoes.
Then washed the dishes, etc., and moved on to an ice
cream cornet & lemon curd dessert?
Then put the TV on early to watch the Nottingham Forest match against Leeds Utd. (Sister Jane called to remind me it was on ITV). I stayed awake up to half-time, and the adverts came on. Zzz! Waking up in a seizure a couple of hours later, still TV on and the volume louder… Sorry, neighbours. I think going into a home might help me; I’m not coping well.
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Tag: Cartilage Chloe
Inchie: Tuesday 19th May 2026 – A fall & A Flood
The Ode explains my early-morning kerfuffle.
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We had not had time to properly clean the wet room. But my attention was on the flaming new computer mysteries with Corel Draw, the new complicated Note app, and my seemingly new to me (I’m fibbing, done it months now, even on the old keyboard) habit of hitting the wrong combinations of keys, and getting up so many baffling options to choose if I wish to continue using programs I’ve never heard of.
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Carer Rashid, then Dilan, then Mizra, then Carer Ejaz called today. Damned busy, so much that this is going to be another rushed, no-time-to-do-properly, blog.
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The second call was to Dilan. Who got the laundry started and called Jenny to let her know. Then I asked him and explained what I’d like done to finish the wet room cleaning.
He did a great job!
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I’d been looking at the ‘Cool’ battery clock calendar! This time, at a quarter to one PM, I had not updated the clock’s date for two days! Naturally, for me anyway, I swore at myself, added some locally used curses and insults, spat, and sulked for quite a while. Went to do what so many folks do, I made a 
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I partly made a meal, just some spuds to add to it. I haven’t got any fresh ones, so I opened the last tin.
Then I realised that only Asda, Iceland, Ocado, and Morrisons had rejected my sign-in to place an order. Because it was on the new computer. I half-heartedly tried J Sainsbury’s. And got in! Hopefully I’ll have bread, tomatoes, a few ready-made meals, bikkies, potatoes, veg and mushrooms in the morning.
Hopefully, (I did, but it was a terrible day).
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Inchie: Wed/Thru 13/14th May 2026-Horrendous Day!
Things went All-Apeshit on Thursday Morning.
Not that they were much better on Wednesday, just horribly, even worse on Thursday.
With the fear of sorting things out for Friday, the visit to the Audio Clinic, and worries about whether a Carer had been arranged to go with me as required, and with transport not yet confirmed, I am in a bit of mental turmoil. Having no calls for days from the Carers who Care, Mizra & Ejaz, I am getting no information about these things. I only found out late today that the 1-hour extra call that didn’t happen Monday had been moved to Friday, for the escort to the Clinic, thanks to Mizra.
I only started this blog late Thursday morning.
After sorting out the Double-Whammy of Whoopsiedangleplops, I suffered. I’ll explain these now to avoid having to repeat them later and to save time.
Also, the two blogs will not be formatted as usual and will undoubtedly be error-ridden due to my rush to complete them. To add to the problems, on Wednesday afternoon, Trotsky Terence got hyperactive. Anne Gyna seems to have settled back into one of her painful, nasty periods.
Thursday’s Nightmare, while it’s fresh in my mind.
This sort of thing is happening far too often.
Anne Gyna guaranteed a terrible, ever-waking night’s rest. My tierdness could do with a more precise name.
I felt lethargic, bone-weary, drained, knackered, fatigued, and weak, each and every time that the stabbing Anne Gyna woke me up. Taking longer to get back to sleep each time, thanks to incoming houndings from 
I’d not made it into the bed, and had fallen asleep in the fifth-hand Charity shop bought £300, broken down, Catheter tube crunching, dried blood-covered, grotty, dirty, and creaking recliner. The necessity of speed was hampered by Kagoule, a long dressing gown, and I wrapped myself up in a large throw. Had to free myself from those, then grab the extra long night Catheter bag tube, and without time or thought of doing any balance exercises, no time to, I fumbled my way with the walking stick and Catheter pouch to the wet room…
I think you can guess what was coming.
The evacuation started well before I reached the Porcelain Throne. I tore off the Dressing gown and pulled up the long Kaghoule, sat and threw the night bag full of urine away on the floor, to concentrate on Trotsky Terence Torrent that flowed.
As I sat there while the innards spurted out tiny soft blotches of wet excrement into the bowl…
This is when I noticed several tiny soft blotches of wet excrement on the floor. My first concern was when they had escaped and had fouled the Kaghoule and my legs. The answer to both thoughts was yes! Not that it was funny at the time, but I think I said out loud, “Oh, Shit!” The thought of cleaning up, with all the associated pain of bending down, went through my mind… But then things got even messier and worse!
As I stood up to check my clothing and body, I espied that the night pouch was leaking its urine, and slowly filling the wet room floor. 
There I was, with the floor covered in two rolls of kitchen paper to help drain the fluid, and as it did, about 8 of the tiny brown boblets that had escaped earlier showed through. I tore the long, partly soiled khagoule off and fetched the needed toilet rolls and kitchen towels from the hallway.
I was too angry at myself to cry.
After getting the used towels up with the long picker-upper and spraying the floor with disinfectant, I applied another load of towels, then turned my attention to cleaning up my body.
The towels were left, the WC needed cleaning, and I somehow decided to get a stand-up wash and shave.
Got the teeth cleaned, then had a good body scrub and shave. All in a hurry, as I wanted to get the medications that the Carer would normally do. (Well, Ezaz & Mizra would automatically), done and to sort out the floor.
The shave proved to be one of my worst-ever; I hurried so quickly. Later, I realised I may as well not have bothered. Growth on the chin and neck seemed untouched by my panicky effort to cut them.
I had to have a shave later to make things right. I did this because the Clinic appointment is at 10:00 hours in the morning, and the lift has not yet been confirmed; a taxi may need to be ordered. Time will be at a premium. My head was getting confused, and I got on with the body, man breasts, underarms barrier creaming, testicle ointmenting, then I got 
Leaving the “Painful One”, cowardly until last.
Tackled the rest of the floor and WC cleaning. A painful job, and Anne Gyna was not happy at all.
As I was tidying up, the intercom chimed. It was the Carer, Rashid, coming. I put the kettle on as he arrived.
A bad listener by nature, Rashid is. But I had to tell someone of my morning disasters.
He issued the medications, and I started blurting out my Yale of Woe. As I chuntered of, I noticed he was head down on his mobile again. I asked him if I was boring him. I restarted from the beginning of the tale, after asking him to listen, and he will learn some of my problems… not that you would be interested, of course. No reply. When I got to the medicationing I’d done, I told him he only had the stomach folds to barrier cream this morning. Carrying on, I glanced at him, back on his mobile, so I gave up.
He asked if I needed any Peptac. I said no thanks, and he gave me a dose of Peptac.
Then he came over with the barrier cream. I’d just told him what I’d done already, reminding him that only the tummy folds needed doing, and he put the barrier cream away. No body-checks done. No Phorpaining anywhere. No breakfast offered. No tea making offered… mind you, I was pleased about that. The last time He made one, I had to clean up spilt tea on the counter, down the cupboard below and on the floor. And the tea he made was horrible. Hahaha!
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made an early meal
I settled into the £300 second-hand shop-bought, c1966, moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not-working recliner to watch an episode of my favourite, ‘Heartbeat’, on the TV and eat the meal.
And fell asleep, but not for long, the return of Anne Gyna season started. Humph!
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THURSDAY 14th MAY 2066
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Hard work catching up. The waking-up farce from today I’ve already written, but not forgotten.
Number two: Trotsky Terence Torrent messed me up even further, and the floor.
Number Three: The night pouch spit and covered the wetroom floor, already with bloblets of evacuated product on it from escapage
Number Four: Later, I emptied the day bag with the butterfly control valve. I’m not sure whether I didn’t close it or caught it later, causing it to release urine. I noticed this two hours later.
Now I urinated on both legs and feet, and my socks.
Number Five: Getting my docks of triggered Back-Pain Brenda and Fractured Knee Frank into action.
Number Five: Then I had to hand-wash the kaghoule and socks. Or I’d have no clean ones left to use. While emptying the bowl of soapy water, I spilt most of it onto the kitchenette floor.
Number Six: I could not find the camera to take photos for the record. I used the old one, which may or may not work for me.
Number Six:
Got a text from the bank; £1040 had gone out of the debits. I need help on this one.
I told the Carer of my problems. No comment made.
Carer Ejaz did one call, which was annoying, cause when I told the other chap about the cash, he didn’t comment or even look at the text. Taking away Ejaz and Mizra to be replaced with a non-caring Carer brings the idea of going into a home a little more acceptable. Then I would not have to wait 6 or more days to get help with banking (8 days since any). I am not prepared to let a Carer who helps himself to food from the freezer check my banking. Shopping (11 days since any), and arranging lifts to clinics, Doctors, Dentists, chemists, and opticians, which would either be unnecessary or so much easier. As with the problems today… Mind you, if they knew about these problems I’m having, I would not be popular or possibly accepted as a patient.
A FEW PHOTOS.
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Kaghouls and socks to wash, de-urinate!
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Sorry, but I must stop now,
Lots to prepare for and do.
I’m not really up to going out tomorrow, but my need of hearing aids, whatever they cost me, is crucial.
I may have to wait a couple of weeks for them as well.
Today has left me so depressed.
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I’ve not felt as bad for a long time,
Mentally & physically out of tune,
So many things going apeshit…
I don’t like confusion, not one bit,
Lifts have not been arranged for the Clinic yet
Things to take: Do I need a bus ticket?
Which Carer is due? Ah, I think Mizra,
If owt else goes wrong, I’ll be all aquiver,
Something’ll happen; My mental barometer,
At rear-end escapages? I shudder,
Or leakages from the Catheter?
Some say bad luck is bilgewater…
I prayed life may improve, at least easier,
It got worse, not better…
I blame Starmer!
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Inchie: Tuesday 12th May 2026 Carer Missed Call
I rose singing out loud at 0325hrs. Took off the nocturnal Catheter pouch, got up and ran with it to the wet room, emptied it and returned for my morning exercises. Stripped off the nightwear and naked, I went onto the balcony, where I keep my weights. Grabbed a 240lb barbell and did a hundred waist-lifts. Got on the sit-up machine for 600 tugs, touched my toes 200 times, dived down for 400 press-ups. Then 250 squats, 300 planks & lunges. Opened the windows and yodelled out my greetings to the world, followed by a Tarzan Talk with the crows. A robust “Aah-eeh-ah-eeh-aaaaaah!” Jogging in place, jumping jacks, high knees, splits, then launched into ten minutes of shadow-boxing, with some neat left undercuts thrown in. Knee raises, one-leg stands, and leg extensions.
15-Min Beginner Cardio Circuits, including chair squats and 15 downward squats. Abdominal crunches, bent-over-rows, then nipped out and down in the lift and ran back up the fire-escape stairs, eleven double floors.
Back in the flat, drank a gallon of carrot juice and made a banana-and-garlic puree.
Well, alright, I only did 300 press-ups.
I’ll start again…
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I jumped awake at 0325hrs, this was thanks to 
But as
At around 0500hrs, I moved to a different position and banged the ingrowing toenail on the bedpost.
Swore and cursed and 
Slowly, I came to appreciate that the Catheter Flow back was pain-free, and I almost cheered up.
Freed the night bag, and as I did so, an involuntary 
My timing in getting sat on the porcelain this morning was perfect.
Just before I got seated, the evacuation started of its own accord, and kept coming for a good while.
I think I coughed as the aroma filled the wet room. And it did, too. However, I’m a little confused about what happened, for I had a seated seizure mid-flow. When I came out-of-it, the usual acidicness upflowed into the throat and mouth, yet the disorientation seemed so mild compared to normal.
As I rose and started to wipe and wash the rear end, I realised I could no longer smell the pong that had permeated everywhere; it seemed to me to have been there a couple of minutes earlier.
Cleaning up, I knocked the battery clock off of the shelf. It showed 0635hrs? Impossible, I must have caught something when I used the picker-upperer to retrieve the AAA battery clock. Finished cleaning, grabbed 4-legged Wally, the walking stick, and casually made my way to the kitchen to get the kettle and make a brew of Glengettie tea. Spotting the clock on the window ledge, telling me it was 0650hrs. Where did nearly 2 hours in the wetroom disappear to? I had to check I was not going bonkers… well, no more than is usual, and got the mobile phone to check the right time. It was indeed 0655hrs. I think I’d had a second seizure, because there was no acidic taste in my chest, mouth or throat. I returned to the kitchenette and 
The mysteries of Woodthorpe Courts hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, grotesque succubae, ectoplasms, Whoopsiedangleplops, ailments, extraterrestrials, spirits, Accifauxpas, and the Fata Morganas strike again!
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I got the computer going on the second try and started updating the blog… then the Carer arrived. Hard Work. He cleaned the testicle area, but not as the nurse told him to. Disconcerting.
By the time midday arrived, I’d been to the toilet for a rear-end job four times. Each one was of the same or a similar type. Phooey, yellow and soft, but not liquid.
The extra-Carer call for 1330 > 1430hrs (cleaning) did not happen. No one has contacted me. Which is disappointing to say the least. When I did mention this to Carer Rachid, he offered no advice, help, or even a response, as far as I can tell. No apology (not that it is his fault), no support. No help with letters or emails.
Maybe they want to lose me from their books? They have taken E and M off of my daily rota, which is heartbreaking. The two best, I lose. Two hard-to-work-with replacements. There may be something in the air with this action. That I will not like, just a message from EQ. Could be an ulterior motive, surreptitiousness, clandestine, perhaps.
Or it would just be my usual bad luck.
The INR blood girl called in and out in six minutes.
Oh, yes, she’s quick on her feet. Hehehe!
THE FEW PHOTOS:
The filthy gap between the now non-working cooker and the corner counter. I tried to clean it a bit.
Worra Day!
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HORRIBLE DAY
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Not feeling up to much, Sorry.
Inchy: Sun/Mon 10-11th May 2026
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I was dreaming that I was in the porta-cabin where we used to hold the weekly social get-together for the residents. I really did think I was there, and could see and talk to the folks enjoying the meeting that Jenny used to organise. I reckon this caused my reluctance to get up… I must have been trying to nod off again to get back to the enjoyment and fun I was having again. See Gaynor, Cynth, Jenny, Joe, and the others again.
I know it sounds strange, but I was asleep and was knowingly trying to reach for the dream to reappear.
I part-slept for longer than I have since having my 1996 Covid jab, when I slept for 22 hours.
I was eventually forced to get up by a disgusted-looking Carer Dilan. Not amused at all.
rather miraculously got it to boot into action.
Then spent hours and hours doing the one-off blog of Mr Starmer’s reaction to the disastrous local election result for Labour. I enjoyed doing that, but did not get it done until very late. And I was so tired again. Possibly, I thought I might get back to the Wednesday Social in the porta-cabin, if I got my head down?
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Snaps of the day
Attempted wide shots, erm, failed.
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Sorry, no Ode today. Just
A TALE OF WOE… Maybe later?
After removing the night bag, with only 500ml in it, and taking some photos, sorting the wast bins, having a wash, shave and shit, doing my teggies, and getting the dressing gown on… the
Carer Rachid arrived and saw the pain and heard the bad language each time the stabbing, stinging pains hit me. I’ll call the nurses later to see if they can attend, too early in the day yet.
Rashid called again. I was in a lot of pain from the return of the Catheter flowback pains. He said he’ll phone for an ambulance. I explained that I’d called the District Nurses, who will be calling on me, so no need. Adding, if I go by ambulance, I’ll have another nine-hour wait in a corridor to be seen, and I didn’t fancy that again. He picked up the phone to dial 999. I said, “Do not use the landline; if you use your phone, any problems, they will phone you back, and then you’ll keep in touch with what is happening. He carried on using the landline. I made sure what to do when I took the phone, in case of it was not needed. The lady asked me to ring 999 to cancel. Which Rasid later did… on the landline. When he made his next call, the Nurse arrived. She got me on the bed, and he came leaning over me to see things. I asked for a bit of privacy. The procedure took a long time, and the Nurse handled it well. She got the tube out and showed me the black on the inner end of it, with a lot of gunk in it, like last time. Saying this can happen when we get older. So it might not be an infection. She asked Rachid to do a proper job of cleaning the testicle area. She is ordering some foam spray to clean the skin before applying the Barrier Cream. “You’ve made a right mess here.” That didn’t go down well! Inserting the new tube was almost painless; she first used a lot of the pain gel.
The Nurse took a urine sample to test for infection—the new pouch filled in seconds. The Urine was almost red. The only thing was, after she had gone. I found that the new pouch had a butterfly release valve. I’d stopped using them when I kept catching the clip and opening it. Peeing on my legs, slippers and on the carpet. Fingers crossed. Haha!
Photographs of the day
A bit bloody, as was anticipated.
Seems the Sun was losing
the battle again. Lower down,
it was getting through.
But, another mystery here;
Why did the shot of it
not get on to the SD card?
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Despite being overjoyed at getting the Catheter agony removed, I am now feeling very queasy, and not at all like wanting to eat anything. Another Mystery of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, spirits, or the Fata Morganas, that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind: which is now losing its few marbles it has left.
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The last late snaps…
get this one ready.
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All the regular pains returned later on.
The Ingrowing-Toenail-Titus, Back-Pain-Brenda, Lymphorea-Leslie, Colin-Cramps, Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley, Kidney-Pains-Kitty, Fractured-Knee-Frank, Duodenal Donald, and even Anne Gyna threw in her pennorth of pain. But, with the memory of today’s chronic Catheter Flowback Pains, I almost welcomed the return of my regular ailment, which had been overshadowed by the more vicious, cruel Bladder-Blockage-Beryl agony that no medication could counter. Thank heavens the Nurse came. 🤎
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Inchie Today: Friday 3rd April 2026
I tackled things in a different order today.
Then back on the WC, in time to catch the follow-through from the last passing. Better take one of the anti-Trots capsules, methinks.
Then did the teggies, and on to shaving. 
Carer Rachid arrived. I asked for help dressing, but got none. He stood there as I had to bend to get the things on his mobile, filling in details I assumed.
Off he trotted, as I was getting the computer on. Same as the last three days: since the Google update came in, it’s taken me several tries, using different methods of opening Google, to get it to come on. Rashid watched and suggested the new icon, which was the only one I’d not tried, and it came on after a bit of flashing. I lost far too much time. I got carried away when I found an old word list and started to update it. I reckon it took me at least three hours to get it done. Then, I used it to create part of the Ode of the day.
By then, the next Carer arrived.
Then, I had a mini-seizure, I think, that lasted for about two minutes at most. But could I recover from it and regain my concentration? No! I gave up on doing the blog and put the computer to sleep for an hour or so, to give myself time to recuperate. I fell asleep.
When I got back on the blog, I had photographs on the SD that I had somehow forgotten about taking. Confused would be the most innocent word to use.
Now, this one below I do recall taking & why.
During my confused period, when I put the computer to sleep, I went to make a mug of Glengettie tea.
I was actually surprised to find my balance off when I returned with the mug to the computer desk.
Why? I’ll tell you…
Just goes to show I have to be careful, rest and have a sort of R&R time after a seizure.
As I stretched out of the window to get as decent shots as I could, … what’s the word I’m looking for? Oh, yes… ARRGH! The Catheter bag fell down the leg, and
Delicately, and gently, I disinfected it… words like, Whoops, Careful Inchie, 
I had a check on the Evoxaparin blood clots & curds on my stomach. They are still bright after all this time. Good old NHS.
Naturally, all a part of the
mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, & spirits. Not to mention the Fata Morganas that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited sanity of mind. Also, Receptive Aphasia Phyllis, Paroxysmal dyskinesia, Episodic ataxia, Ménière’s disease, Dark, Deep, Depressing Darius, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, Nicodemus Neurotransmitters Dying, Glaucoma Gladys, Stuttering Stephany, Lymphorrhea Legs Leslie, Premordid Cognitive Impairment Iris, Cataract Katie, Sandra’s damned seizures, Back-Pain-Brenda, Arthur Itis, Cartilages Chloe & Carole, Fractured Knee Frankie, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley, Unwin’s Unguis Incarnates Ingrowing Toenail, Reflux Roger, Replacement Mechanical Aorta Valve Victor, Diabetes Doris, High Cholesterol Christine, Hydrocephalus-Hilda, and Catheter-Contraption-Carol.
Night Time Sky.
should remind me of something.
But what it is escaped me.
no-fish fish sticks, cheese bread, and
seaweed crisps.
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Inchie Today: Wednesday 1st April 2026
Yesterday’s Nosh Wot I Forgot To Add
Followed by a pot of Orange jelly, with a couple of pieces of mandarin in it. Again, tasty! Some tomato ketchup to dip the cheese sarnies in.
A Worthy Score of 8/10.
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I woke up, hanging part wat out of the bed, the bedding looking like it has exploded, and all twisted, some on the floor, and believe it or not, some over the top of the door. Puzzled? I was, too! I disentangled myself from the covers, and felt the need for the Porcelain Throne coming on as I got my feet on the floor… well, on some more quilts on the floor. 
I made my way to the wet room, again with the ncturnal catheter bag being dragged along behind. No time to sort the bag out, though; for the evacuation began to flow… this time I was so lucky. Firstly, it was a Trotsky Terrence flood that escaped involuntarily and too soon. 
Along came Carer Dilon. I asked for the back and shoulders to be Phorpain-Gelled. No reply, he just did them. Then we searched for the glasses again. Dilan likes a good ferret and a rummage around, Hehe. But we failed to find them. I had to do the alert alarm battery check, putting on Dilan so he might remember next week. He was getting ready to leave when the District Nurse arrived. She had come to check on my 
She was not happy with the state of the day pouch.
Two pretty views from the kitchenette window were snapped.
Getting the computer to open Google took three tries today. I fear the worst.
Then I started another search for my warm red socks. Every room was searched, including the hallway. Naturally, they didn’t come to light. Tsk!
Carer Mizra called, so glad to see him come, as well. A caring lad,
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Inchie: Tue 31 Mar 2026: Problems increase – Solutions decrease. Humph!
I did not get around to starting this blog until Wednesday night. You will read why, if you are brave enough to read the reasons listed below. Haha!
If I ever get Wednesdays finished, you will read of me knuckling with Carer Mizra in celebration. No kidding… one of the many outstanding worries has been removed. I’ll not let on yet as to the reason, for my rare moment of joy, laughter and glee. Hehehe! For I have a lot of the miseries of Tuesday to record yet. The frustrations & failures… usual sort of day then.
Oh, did I mention that I lost my reading glasses? Not that it matters to Left Eye Gladys-Glaucoma, or right eye Cataract-Katie. Tsk!
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The right shoulder, my back and Fractured-Knee-Frank all seemed a little less painful. I soon appreciated that this was down to the Oxycodone+.
I looked them up on Google. This is what it revealed.
Oxycodone+ is an opioid medicine used to relieve severe, debilitating pain.
It is not usually recommended for the treatment of chronic (long-term) pain.
Oxycodone+ is only available with a prescription from your Doctor.
If you stop taking Oxycodone+ suddenly, you may experience withdrawal symptoms.
There are challenges associated with taking any opioid medicines, so make sure you take these medicines exactly as prescribed by your Doctor.
If you are concerned that you are becoming addicted to or dependent on Oxycodone+, let your Doctor know so that you can get help. You can also call the National Alcohol and Other Drug Hotline (1800 250 015) for 24/7 support and treatment information.
Continue to take Oxycodone+ for as long as your Doctor tells you to. If you stop taking any brand of Oxycodone suddenly, you may experience withdrawal symptoms.
Oxycodone+ 30 mg is a high-dose, potent opioid with significant side effects. Common reactions include severe constipation, nausea, vomiting, profound drowsiness, and dizziness (I’ve had these two for years now). also headache. Serious risks include fatal respiratory depression (slowed breathing), addiction, severe low blood pressure, (Mine has gone higher?)
The higher the dose of Oxycodone+, the greater the chance that you will get side effects.
Do not take any other medicines to treat the side effects of Oxycodone+ without speaking to a pharmacist or Doctor first.
Serious side effects: Sleeping disorders, vertigo, Confusion, and muscle stiffness.
Genital itchiness or rash.
Oh, I’m glad I looked it up. Hehehe!
But it is working a treat so far.
Carer Ejaz and Mizra have both identified that my balance is much worse than usual. Both of the lads are urging me to use both sticks or the walking frame.
Bless them both. Best if I do not mention the other.
ANOTHER DISASTER! 
The computer started showing a graph of needed repairs. Usually, I leave this until activities are showing, save work done, turn everything off, give it a good few minutes, and restart. Not over-technical, is it? Hehe!
I could not get anything to work at all, adding to all the work I’d lost. Then, having a mini-seizure with a series of shakes after coming out-of-it, I should have been heartbroken and suicidal… really, I ought. But, no!
Disappointed and frustrated, yes.
But a strange acceptance of the situation, almost comfortable with it. So many things are going wrong again. I cannot spend any money or get any. Little things like rent, Grammarly, WordPress, and Asda are cancelling my order. No chance of getting Asif to look at the computer when no cash is available to pay him.
I knew I was going to be in trouble even further. But knew of the mass of medication on the desk to my right was available. At that time, it was not angst or fear affecting me; it was just the only way to go. No fear about it. Then I remembered what Jenny said last time I spoke with her on the phone. She really is My Angel.
I pulled myself mentally together, as far as I could anyway, and tried to start the computer again. No chance. But I kept trying… several attempts, turning it on and off again… Google opened! But I could not get into any of the programmes or apps. Give up? No, I tried yet again. This time, when I clicked the Google icon, it appeared for a second and then disappeared three times. I turned it off and, one last time, readied myself for the end of my computer, RIP.
Astonishingly, everything Google loaded all the apps and icons as usual, albeit they were minuscule, and could not be made bigger. Then a box appeared and disappeared within seconds. I’m sure it read something like ‘Google (something) has been updated’
Well, bugger my lugs! All was working again, although a little slower than before.
Mizra made a call; he and Ejaz are nice lads. He gave me the painkillers, then rang the bank to try and get to the bottom of why the card was frozen. Then we got an email telling us it was unfrozen and now active. Because Mizra checked on a couple, Grammarly and Norton, and both were still unable to access their dues. Of course, the usual AI waffle to get through, 0355 number, so that will have cost me about £2 a minute, plus a connection charge. Mobiles can cost up to £6 a minute! When the robot had eventually finished saying ‘I’m sorry I did not catch that (8 times), and went through a lot of passwords, favourite this or that… Mizra got to talk to a humanoid! When I needed to give permission for Mizra to speak on my behalf, I had a witty, sarcastic quip ready, but chickened out. I thought Mizra had explained things clearly, but the humanoid kept asking for confirmation of the answers given. I heard him say, “Ah, I can see what happened… then he asked Mirza to wait a while… It seemed like an hour, but it was obviously not. He came back and said the card has now been cleared. Mizra & I agreed that, with Dilan being told the same yesterday and it still being blocked, we’d wait until tomorrow to check. A wise decision, considering the bank’s failings before.
I relaxed a little; nothing to do but wait now. Mizra will check again tomorrow evening.
I called Angel Jenny, hoping to ask her to get in touch with Asif to give him the go-ahead on the new computer… realising, as I dialled, that, with the lack of money and just a £10 note, this would not be a good idea. We nattered, somehow that gal settles me when I’m all uptight, it’s a gift, a gift from an Angel.💟
I made a start on Monday’s blog at long last, and was making decent time with it…
Typing away, and when I pressed for a Cap G, lines and lines of Craig ccc CraigCccccCraig filled the entire page! Well, that was the end of a short life for the fifth time, of an Amazon cheapo plug-on Keyboard. I turned the computer off again and back on, tried typing G in MS Word, CorelDraw and Google, all filled up with lines and lines 
I had a look at the first abandoned Amazon cheapo keyboards. All with the keys printed incorrectly, except for the first black-and-grey one, whose key numbers were so small that I found it difficult and time-consuming to use. By now, I had to try i
The Carer’s times are now varying a lot. I had asked for a list of their ETAs as a guide. All these changes are getting me out of sync and confused.
Ejaz came this time, nice to see him again. I’ve got this on my reminder pad: 152 – 233 13. I wonder why?
Carer Nizra did the last call. Helped me cook a meal. The computer had long been abandoned.
Medications, and left me eating in the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping recliner.
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🤎 Can’t finish. Eyes are too bad. Cheers each.🤎
Inchie 17th to 29th March 2026: 11 more days in hospital. Mega Depressed!
Ejaz could only stay until the paramedics arrived; he had to shoot off when they arrived. I asked him to contact Paul with the details via email, and showed him where the link was in the Excel Contact listing to pass along for me. That was a comfort, stops folks from fretting at my absence. I suppose.
The ambulance men were also in a rush, and asked me to leave my big coat and not to take any sticks with me as they would only get nicked. I was in no state to argue, but paid the price when I realised I’d left my camera, mobile, card and cash in the greatcoat. Naturally, in all that time, with no pen, pad or contact, the only person who tried to contact me, not surprisingly, was Jenny, My Angel.
We got to the QMC, and I joined an estimated 34 trolleys in the A&E corridors. Someone came shortly to diagnose me, and I was wheeled ahead of the corridors on a trollied patient’s stretcher straight to the cardiac PET team in a side room. I only managed to catch a few readings, but a smidgen concerned, at my blood sugar showing 4.5. After some of the sickly sweet bottles were forced down me, and off the scan, then the X-ray rooms. Then I was moved into a Geriatric Neurology Ward. In the evening, after scrounging a pen and a paper towel, the readings I noted were 169-68, 8. Blood oxygen 92 71. Apart from the blood sugar at 2.6 now, I thought I’d be okay and on my way home soon.
The chest pains got worse, though. The deep breaths they asked me to take on the second visit from the cat team were the most painful to date.
Overnight, many regular checks were taken, but… the blood sugar did not increase despite the clumps of sweet water it was, and sugary drinks were taken.
The next day, they moved me to the Geriatrics, Blue ward. I had visits from the neurology, Cardiac, and Warfarin-INR checks, which I was sure would be okay, because they have been for weeks now, not NO! The INR returned as 1.2; my target was 3 to 3.5. This prompted them to start giving me Enoxaparin injection in my tummy. The nurse who gave the first one to me left a large blood spot and asked if they are usually this big. I explained that the Enoxaparin was injected in a downward direction and the full length of the needle was not fully in before she injected it. She 
Then, the 24-bed Geriatric Assessment Unit (GAU) was launched in July 2024. (4×6 Beds wards What a nightmare. Little knowing what was to come later. I reassess it as not a very good experience. Hehehe!
But this was my most confusing period. After the 2nd day in there, things were beginning to feel easier, and the blood sugar level was up to 4.8. Don’t laugh, but I cannot recall which department the next Doctor was from. He pointed out the bruises from the blood tests, which two days earlier were bright, were now fading very fast; my pallor was ghostly, and I needed some specialist investigations. Also, that morning, my BP was 187/63, temperature was down to 25.0, and Blood Sugar was back down to 2.6. I think she was a diabetologist. Anyway, I was stuffed with orange juice, more rock-solid lumps of cake, and sickly-sweet boosters. The next day, I was transferred to the City Hospital. By then, Toothache Tiffany had started to kick off, and my urine colour was a 7 for the next three days. Each time I went to the loo, which averaged five or six visits a day, a frame supplied to get there, there was blood on the gown from my external haemorrhoids, every time. Then, whatever it was called up the bum to get samples, photos and cream applied. The outside ones were the more painful. I suppose, due to all the lying on my backside for so long. The INR slowly rose a smidgen, showing the benefit of the prefilled 9-foot-long hypodermic syringe, inserted in the belly, times a day. Obviously, that was a joke; it wasn’t that long or anywhere near it, just felt like it. I believe, for some unknown reason, I cheered up a little that day and wandered into another of the mini wards, Yellow. And started a chinwag with two of the people in there. I called on the last two days as well.
Then the night shift ignored every call for help from men needing to use the toilet, empty their catheters, or drink. I found out why: from my bed, I could see the outer door and some of the staff coming in with coats over their uniforms, carrying takeaways. As soon as they’d noshed it, a nurse returned to the bay. He reminded me of Sonny Liston, but didn’t speak as much. This was another bad night because, apparently, as Dave from Yellow Ward told me, the TVs were being repaired, and it was terrible listening to them with the hearing aids in, so I took them out. But forgot to open the battery compartment. They ran flat. Plucking up the courage the next day to ask if they had any, a nurse who had not responded to my attempted forms of wit before, yes, yes, I’ll get you some, and returned minutes later with a pack of eight, for free! The tinny cracking coming from the night watch lady’s desk and the chap in the next bed’s TV. The atmosphere improved when I had a visit from the Cardiac and Warfarin folk, who told me that if all goes well with the next set of checks, they would be able to sign me off! I hoped for the best, and my parole would come through in the morning.
The diabetic tests, well, all four were much improved, and he said he’s signing me out later that day. Oh, the Joy! Getting back to see my Jenny Angel before she goes on her trip to see her Chesterfield relatives with Frank. Great! How hoopefull and stupid I was to think it would happen!
The Neurologist then gave me the all-clear. Bags of new medications to sort out. New painkillers, back on the Morphine again, but by gum, they do work. Others that they may have told me what they were for or not, but you know me. The only certainty is certainly a matter of credence, rather than factuality sometimes. My rare doubtlessness is misunderstood credibility. I think?
Some, well, masses of paperwork to get help with. I won’t bother Jenny or Frank until they get back from their break. That was the plan… Dang dang, fang Dang!
I was due to be parolled at 1030hrs the following day.
I nipped into Yellow Ward to tell the lads, and got back into bed, ready for my vegetable balls in gravy, onions & courgette medley meal.
Dare I say it, I was feeling chirpy! Yee-Ha! But as I was enjoying my meal, a nurse informed me that the Neurologist had not passed for parole! Sob! I may have got the department out of sync here? His results would be known in the morning. If they are good enough, he will sign me off. We felt they would be, and encouragingly, they told me I’d be leaving in the morning, lift arranged for 1330hrs.
Very early in the mornings, a nurse was getting my carrier bag and keys out of the locker, and I just knew it was good news. And, it was! All cleared! But again, a new course of medication to be sorted, and three bags of medications to add to take home with me. So many things to take in at once.
I enjoyed the online. shower of the hospital visits, as I did the earlier one shave they let me have.
Saturday: Full of joy and hope, after the shower, they bunged my things into carriers, cleaned my bed for the next victim, then moved me into the Departure lounge, to await the promised lift home in plenty of time for the 01330hr lift. And, only two escapees to go, me and an old Scottish chap. At 1500hrs, a lady rang to see where the lift was. It’ll be here shortly.
1600hrs: She rang again. It will be here at 1700hrs.
The poor Scottish man decided to take a taxi, which was not an option for me due to Chloe & Carol’s cartilage in my knees. I did mention that DG supply a larger type of taxi that Jenny Angel uses. But I could not remember the name of it. And she called again. It will be here by 2000hrs.
Not surprisingly, my confidence was low, very low. The room I was left in was so cold. Medical staff kept walking through it in a back room, the smell of poo permeating into the room as they left again.
There seems to be another call to them, that the City Hospital did not want to give me a lift, cause it was the QMC’s job? So sayeth the computer lady.
All I had on was a hospital gown, and it had not been washed for 12 days. I started sneezing. That brought back the rib pains as I waited. I found a crossword book, but without the reading glasses, I could not even have a go at that. Then, I wonder what I will find when, or if ever, I get back to the flat.
I think it was nearly ten o’clock when the ambulance arrived. The tension was sensed immediately in the two ambulance personnel, stand-offish at first, I thought, but how I felt after an 11-hour wait, mixed with the worries of what I would find. In the ambulance, I used my humour to force them to communicate. By the time we got back to the flat, they asked if I could manage with the walker and bags to get up there. Ahem! As we got into the lift I let my fears pour our and told them that British gas sai9d the metere will stop working unless I supply them with a read, and it me £26 for the tow failed calls to them to explain we do not know how to read the meter, finally the human we got to0 talk to, spent an hour telling Carer Ejaz how to read the meter, but the coloured buttons where no on the box. He emailed them photos, but eventually she asked me if I wanted an engineer to come and look at it. I replied Yes, please, that would be marvellous!
No one came, now threats of turning off the power!
They mellowed when we got in the flat, and they saw 
He keeps to his timetable and does not even get time with the extra time to catch up on anything.
A Social lady said that Age UK can provide help with shopping. That would be grand, but they said that last time I was in the hospital. I’ve heard nothing. I’m all het-up now again. It got worse. I had to throw away all the fresh food in the fridge that was out of date, except the cheese. I lost the plot there, back to couriers at home. They asked me to press the alarm alert, and I did. They told the operator who I was and of my returning home. Then, something I’d been looking forward to so much, a good, strong mug of Glengettie. I got the kettle on and noticed that the slow cooker had been left on for 11 days, with cracks appearing, and it was bone dry.
As if all this was not enough for suicide, the Bank had blocked my account. Great, if anyone does come to help with the shopping now, I can’t afford any. Who can I get to go to the Bank with me, after helping me find the problem and if one, a solution?
To think, yesterday all I was looking forward to was getting home to see Jenny & Ejaz. I think my mistake was asking the nurses to update my situation. I think this morning at around 0800hrs is the next call.
So, nobody had checked on the flat! ,
I got this update done up to here. It’s now 0620hrs, Sunday morning, and I’m in a worse state than ever.
Which indicates that Ejaz didn’t call once to let Paul know the situation, or do a safety check.
Mind you, he was in a rush when he’d called the ambulance. My fault.
I’m not sure I’ll be able to do a blog for a while, so much to get sorted, and I just don’t know if I’m going to react, medically, over the situation.
I can see things still not getting done, Oh, dearie me.
Now I may lose Grammarly and the internet connection, not to mention the landline and mobile.
British Gas is still telling me the meter is being shut down? Not my fault. Carers have tried their best to help, but the amount of money it costs when they put them onto AIs without the required “why are you ringing” list? Cut you off three times, and you have to pay the connection fee and ridiculous per-minute charges, not to mention the Bank wants to see me.
That’s another thing, who can I get to go with me to the bank meeting? Last time I had to take a Carer with me… the problems are too much.
Thanks for reading this pathetic winning crap.
Away for 11 days… what do I come back to… I’m so sorry. No point in moaning, I know. But I’m getting deeper into a maelstrom of uncontrolled situations. None of my fault, I believe. This makes things worse; I still need of so much help that is not coming.
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I’m turning into a blubbering, worry-wracked
nervous, incompetent, incapable waster.
Just mentioning the obvious.
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Something’s gotta give…
CHEERS
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Yours, Inchie The Defeated.
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Inchie Today: Thursday 19th March 2026
Any of the following may be out of sync, for vagarity and confusion spread their wings. Until 
Thanks to Jenny. 🤎
No more moans, I promise: well, I’ll try. Haha!
He offered to pick it off for me, jokingly, of course.
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.
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.
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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