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Thurs/Fri 8-9th October 2026
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Sorry, only did bits on Thursday.
Alzheimers effects; very bad new trends. Coccyx, District Nurses, Toothache Tiffany, Bladder bloated, new floaters. Leg shakes. Then,
agony from blocked Catheter.
Oxycodone painkillers; no effect!
So far behind; no time to catch up.
Pain; warping my poor Brain
Not that it wasn’t warped before.
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Midday clouds,
As I turned away from the window, I fell…
My right leg suddenly shook; I had a tumble,
My right knee wound started bleeding…
The door chime started ringing…
I shouted as loud as I could, “Come in”!
The postman did, & began my rescuing…
So, no need for the panic-button pressing!
Thus avoided any hospitalisationing!
I foolishy my luck was improving!
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Caer Prem made the late call; he is now part of my chosen elite band of the Carers. Ejaz, Mirza, now Prem.
I explained why I had no time to get my feet and lower legs done, and why I couldn’t have an assisted shower again (it must be eight weeks since). He said he would do it tomorrow night, but the lad would never have the time on a late call, and he got the bowl and washed my feet for me. He had to rush off after that for his last call of the day. Still found time to do safety checks and warn me about the oven being on, as with the days’ keruffe, I was late eating. I know I took a snap of the food tray… certain, positive! But it disappeared from the SD card. Yet I found one on it that of didn’t remember taking. What was the new classification given to me last week?
Alzheimer’s with LBD & Vascular Dementia? Yes!
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Evening All!
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= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Friday 9th October 2026
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Unfortunately, I didn’t. I did learn how to cope with more pain than I’ve ever had from the Catheter Contraption. Mostly teeth-gritting, accompanied by the use of some innovational, demiurgic, quirky, bizarre language, combined with a pathetic adoption of singularly bizarre self-pity.
It worked to a degree for the first blockage, but the second one beat me hands down. On self-lambasting, I did not skimp – But I did feel a right whimp! 
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Spelling mistake? Me? Yes!
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0615hrs: I woke with a fair bit of pain coming from the bladder area of my stomach. Flowback pains! I grabbed the torch to check the nocturnal pouch on the floor near the bed. No night bag has ever had less urine than this one. Later, I identified the contents as 90ml!
The pains were slowly getting worse, especially when I mountaineered from the bed and tried to do the balance routine. I was dizzy the moment I stood up. I retrieved the pouch and wanted to ring the District Nurses straight away, but lost concentration because I needed the Porcelain Throne. As I hobbled carefully through the doorway to the toilet, I knocked a pair of washed trousers off a coat hanger and bent down to pick them up.
A big mistake that! Instead of picking them up, I joined them on the floor! Unbelievable! (well, not to me), Best I recall, the urine flowed from the penile fungal lesions; I hit my head against the door frame, trying to get into as painless a position as possible, to crawl to the recliner and try to get up on my feet again. It might have been morning, but it felt like was nightmare. The pain I put myself through getting onto my knees, and I fought through the pain and got myself onto the recliner. The knee wound was knocked in the battle; blood poured. I stayed there a few minutes, in such discomfort, and waited for the pain to ease. Which they did.
Why did I not just press the alarm-alert button on my wristlet? I’ll tell you the truth… Fear! The thought of going to hospital yet again! Which was enough to make me fight on. Thinking it is likely that I’ll still end up there to get the Catheter sorted… that place is like a torture chamber nowadays with cruel, fed-up, uncaring guards, formerly known as nurses, especially in the Urology Wards. Each of the five visits I’ve been forced to make has a constant sound of wailing, sobbing, screaming, pain-ridden patients ringing around. I could hear them while I was in the corridors waiting to be seen. Finally, I started to clean up the messes I’d made and changed plans again: get back to the WC sharply. During the battle to get the product moving, urine squirted out of the mini-holes in the fungal lesions. Had to put on a second pair of protection pants. I’d only just put the others on. Should I snuff it with a stroke or whatever, I wouldn’t complain. My EQ belatedly said worse was coming. Depressed? In Pain? Me?
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Carer Edward arrived as I was painfully finishing of the mess cleaning. After he gave me the medications, I asked him to ring the District Nurses. Thankfully, they would send someone to look at things. I took a morphine (Oxycodone) painkiller and a Codeine. The pain was slowly turning into agony now. After Edward merrily departed, I had to keep busy, concentrate on whatever I was doing to try to take my mind off of the excruciating pain. Something active, not computer work.
I took two snaps from the kitchen window.
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Middle field & Tree Copse
Houses opposite
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Tidied and hoovered the hallway.
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Then made up some spring and Soda water bottles.
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The nurse arrived. Rebecca, I think. A lot of things went through my head… which, normally, I just can’t keep in my head nowadays. As I recall:
1) I hoped that Becky could get the tube back in…
2) I prayed that I would not have to go to the hospital. I’d sooner go to prison.
3) I pondered whether the computer man might arrive… Silly me! Hahaha!
4) The Alzheimer’s voluntary supporter may come.
5) The Social lady, Sahra, would?
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The nurse soon had me on the bed. (Ah, memories) And put the painkiller in, then removed the tube. I think she said she would order the Catheter contraption supplies needed, then let me know the correct place to contact, email & telephone number. The new pouch filled very quickly. She emptied it and recorded the amount and colour for me. 💗
Then the big issue: getting the new tube in! She told me to take a deep breath, as she got the tube on her first effort. The pain sidipatung is a wonderful experience! I became a little like the old me, the comedian, the happy old chap. It was just great!
I was full of the joys of spring-like.
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Ejaz arrived for a long call; they’d moved it from Saturday to Friday. The lad earned his dosh today, as always. Bless him. He took the laundry down first, then we talked about the appointments we needed to make. He made me a brew of Glengettie; he always remembers how I like it, too. Then he rang the audio Clinic, to book an appointment to have both of them mended/sorted.
Confirmed by text for 12:00hrs on Tuesday 29th October. It took him ages, and he left a little late.
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I was still unaware of the time and was working on this blog. And felt the warm urine as it dripped onto my sock and slipper. The connector on the Catheter had fallen out! What a mess! I couldn’t get my socks off, and the late Carer didn’t remove them. The intercom doesn’t work every time. I had to use the pickeripper, to get a carrier bag over my left foot.

How much more can I take?
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I searched through the Carer’s medications on their desk and took another Oxycodone. Now I’m in a pickle!
Another night without any sleep, second time this week!
I dare not, for fear of the Catheter falling out again.
The bag has just stopped collecting urine, again. The flowback pain is mounting.
Now 0250hrs. What can I do?
It looks like the hospital…
ARRGH!
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I keep guzzling water, hoping of get the wee flowing.
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I’ll press on until I’m forced to get a taxi to hospital A&E.
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Ah, I’m getting a few drops of almost red urine dripping into the pouch occasionally. The pain is lessened a bit.
What’s going on? Did the connector dropping off cause this? Ah, I forgot to tell you about the toe-clipping gal; she came and cut them. Paid the £35. What a terrible day, and then a horrible sleepless night.
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I still can’t get any sleep, for fear of missing the morning’s food delivery and the extra water to drink. And of course, the intercom isn’t working again. All part of the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court. With its spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, and spirits. The damned seizures, or the Fata Morganas that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited sanity. My faith, sanity, and logic were already waning. Worst of all, this damned non-working Catheter contraption. No sleep for two nights this week.
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I met a chap today; he visited the flat, you see,
He had, or was a BCA, MRA, LLM & LLB,
Plus a Law Master’s Degree,
Why did he come to see me?
Importantly, who was he?
Take a guess; it’s all for free!
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There is a chance, cause the bladder is now hurting me, I’ll be on a journey to the QMC,
To go through utter agony…
At the A&E, or urology,
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That’s it from me!
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