Depression

Inchy Today: Saturday 3rd May 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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What controls one’s advertences?
Without them, you’ve mental curtains,
Which blocks your observations,
Lose your morals and convictions,
Dreams, inspirations and motivations,
You may select the wrong adorations,
Bringing on unwanted altercations,
Also, financial complications,
Getting interest rate reductions?
Do you doze off during meditations?
Do you struggle with DIY contraptions?
Why not consult enchiridions?
Do you use too many idioms?
Do you get drawn into fixations,
Understand your own contemplations?
Do you have naughty inclinations?
Do you mix with Oligarchs or patricians?
Comfortable amidst the proletarians?
How rarely do we question the criterions,
Not all criteria of verifications…
These can be classed as desideratums,
It’s vital to carry out investigations,
And done with great intentness’s,
Their objectives, ambitions, & intentions,
Find out their aim with negotiations,
Tell them it with confabulations,
Or conversations or consultations,
Don’t use the word investigations!
After scrutinisations, & observations,
Re your resulting appraisements…
No ballpark figures or approximations,
Declarations, not propositions,
Release only certitudes, positive decisions,
Analyse your ascertainments,
Then, create new recommendations,
Plainly, this is mostly theorisations…
I am not surprised I get mental altercations!
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I fell asleep last night in the aged, grotty-looking c1966 made, charity-shop-bought, horribly beige-coloured, £300, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, non-operational, acne-giving, virus-breeding, rickety, easy-to-fall-out-of recliner. Woke up several times overnight, but far less than when I was in the hospital bed. Around 04:30hrs, I woke again and decided to get up and catch up early on the blog. The mind was willing enough, but the body sort of said to me, ‘Sod off!’ Several times. I could not get back to sleep; a few bouts of eye-drooping were the best I could achieve. I lurched from the recliner, noticing the time was 06:20 hrs. I detached the nocturnal pouch from the day bag, and plans changed when I got up and started the gentle morning balance exercises. The wind erupted from my hindquarters; long, loud, noisily, and aromatically contaminated the room. Off to the wet room, I trudged. By the time I got there and sat down on the Porcelain Throne, the agony from my toes was as painful as it had ever been! Only Anne Gyna and Little Inchies Fungal Lesion are that bad. I thought they hurt a lot when they were cut yesterday. £35 I had to pay for this torture session, too! Haha! To rub it in, I had to clean up endless toenail clippings when the Carer spotted them later on the carpet.
I did not wash or shave, but did I rinse the teggies? I put it down to the pain I’d got and had all day every time I had to stand up and or walk. I unlocked the door as I exited the room so the Carer could get in later. My getting up late annoysed me. My plan to catch up on the blog was in ruins. The new four-wheeled walker attracted my attention, and I tried again to get the loose right handlebar stiffened. I failed, of course. 

Carer Ejaz arrived. He made me proud this morning. He assessed the urine rating, issued medications, and then changed my catheter bag. Next, he did a full-body check for new wounds or bruises. New spots on my leg and another bruise on my back were found. He then ointmentated both ankle lesions and legs with barrier cream under the men’s breasts, arms, and in the crutch near the catheter tube. I reckon that the right Lymphorrhoea Leslie’s lower leg, which had been bleeding overnight, had dried up well enough and was reduced in size. But things with Leslie change day by day.

I went out on the balcony to take two shots. That rain we had earlier leaked onto the car park’s end. But we still need more rain here. It’s unnatural that so little rain is falling. 
A skyward shot next. What beautiful cloud formations we get. Always differing.

At long last, I got on the computer to update and post the Friday blog on WordPress. It took me hours, but still.

Midday Carer. He took a look at the new walker handgrips for me. I turned the gripper, and it came loose! This could bode unwell!
The skies were even more interesting.
The top shot was to the left of the kitchenette window. The bottom one to the right.
You wouldn’t think they were the same sky.

As the day progressed, the pain from the ingrowing toenails worsened. Walking at times required two sticks; the pain from both nails was so bad. I decided to try to get a bowl with disinfectant in the water, to wash my feet. Getting the bowl filled and into the room near the recliner was a struggle. Dettol was added, and a towel was taken in. But I could not get the diabetic socks off until the Carer arrived.

The Carer came on the last visit and timed it perfectly, and the water was still hot enough.
She removed the socks, and I got my feet in the water.
After two minutes in the bowl, she fretted about being late for her next call. She dried the feet with kitchen towels and kindly applied some barrier cream to Lymphoedema Leslie’s thick, cracked skin on both ankles. Bless her. Cleaning up after was a struggle because, as usual, the toenails sting for a while after doing the feet. Getting off to sleep took me ages, and I was also tired.
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Evening All!
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Inchy: Friday 7th February 2025

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

If we are not aware, it may be too late for aftercare,
I speak to those with compassion in their agenda,
Not as a knowledgeable man or an auger…
To those who self-profit is not their main allure,
Whose desire is to help others as an alleviator…
Even if they fail on the alcoholometer!
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Look what pure greed did to Tony Blair,
Incompetency led Rishi into the political backwater,
Now in charge, we’ve got bean-counter Starmer,
A liar, ever-seeking self-wealth and a backhander,
To pensioners & farmers, well, he’s a murderer,
He comes across as a blind bullshitter!
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Last week, I wished a slow death on the bloodshedder,
I admit, he’s made my blood boil over, has Starmer,
In 1968. Starmer became a barrister,
In 1969 a Labour bencher; Until 1990, as a legal officer,
1990 onwards, in a Doughty Street Chamber,
Then became the Labour Party Führer!
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Starmer, the decency and honesty boycotter,
The liar, caviar-loving, promise backstabber,
The everyday growing creepier and dishonester,
Untouchable for his fibs, he grows crueller,
This epitome of a cheat and self-contradicter,
This fork-tongued, backhander connoisseur!
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I’d be happier if he turned into a cadaver,
Should he do it painfully, I’d chanticleer!
If he dies by assassination, I’d be that person’s idoliser,
I’d put his ashes in a low-class cuspidor!
Credit the git; he was an excellent prosecution circumventor!
Shame he caught greed and cacodemonomania!
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I’ve been very busy today, so this is only starting at 17:00 hrs. I estimate it will be finished in the morning. A shorter-than-usual rush job is needed. I’ve been down to the foyer three times to admit people visiting. TTFNski.
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Up at 0540hrs:
The night bag is sorted. NHS class 6

Despite a bit of a rush in the afternoon, the seizures were far fewer than they had been for several days. The freezing sensation coming up the legs continues occasionally. There were no electric shocks today!

Carer Richard made the first call.

I brewed a mug of Glengettie and got on the computer. But it did not go very well at first.  and were obviously set on hassling me. And they did. For hours, I got nothing much achieved, yet somehow found mistakes that needed repair on what bit I had done. I had to give up, which frustrated me, yet I knew a late night was coming, and it’s here now! 

As messy as it could be!

I had to go down to let in the nurse, who was due between 09:00 and 10:00 hrs. Thankfully, she arrived early, so I didn’t have time to get cold in the foyer. She asked if I could do the Anoxaparin injections myself. I explained that it was no problem, and no one told me why you were coming. I could have told them I would do them anyway if they had.
The world… and my world is going mad!

From 12:00 to 1400, I was back in the lobby. I only had to wait for half an hour, and the person who forgot about the food order arrived. Somehow, he had already taken two bags up to the flat. I went with him to back up and get the food away.
Bags out in the flat lobby.
Started emptying them.
I ordered the wrong things, and no others wanted them. Grrr!
The fridge still had room in it!

Carer Kara arrived. (I’m rushing this, I hope I’ve got the chronologicals in order) Carer Joanne joined us, carrying out the weekly catheter bag change for me. ♥ Kara did a Q&A session. Nice to see her again.

Getting late now. Tsk!

Getting dark already.

Made an order for next week. I’ll have to check that I’ve not already done one with another shop.

I’d put this photo in the wrong place and missed it. I took it this morning to catch the seagulls as they searched for cats, little dogs, small birds or squirrels for breakfast.

Carer Promise arrived early. I’m about to get something to eat and hopefully get some shut-eye. (He says, hopefully).
I’ll catch up in the morning. With any luck!

07:30hrs Saturday.
I’m Back! Hehe!
I prepped and served the meal, which took a long time because I was making another mega-feast for myself!
Anyal Royal potatoes, Dutch tomatoes, red onions, and the last of the fresh garden peas (always a sad time for me, Hehe!) 
Palin cooked beetroots, some Morrisons smoked ham, two cheesy cobs with no-butter butter and a slice of German smoked cheese in each one. The Morrison’s ham was tough, and their red onions were disappointing and tasteless. The vegetarian lemon dessert was mega-good and tasty.
I got seated in the aged, grotty-looking, c1966-made, charity-shop-bought, horribly beige-coloured, £300, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, non-operational, acne-giving, virus-breeding, rickety, easy-to-fall-out-of recliner.
The tray of food beneath my chin to catch any spillages or droppages. I turned on the TV to watch the football match whilst dining. I felt snug and contented as the game started.
rang from the door chime, and Carer Promise arrived. He was not here for long; nothing to do other than ask if I needed any painkillers and the nocturnal catheter bag to be fitted to the day bag, which the lad sorted for me.
All this did not stop my eating marathon. Hehehe!
I finished it off and had one of the cream cakes. I gave the other to Promise in thanks for his help in not disturbing me. They were raspberry and cream turnovers. Although I had not tried them before, they were different and pleasant enough to the tongue.

The match continued as Promise left, but the question was whether I could stay awake long enough to watch it all?
No was the answer!
But I still need more sleep to catch up on all my sleepless nights with the Novovirus. Although it was a broken night, I managed another six hours in the land of Nod.

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Fare Thee all well!
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Inchy: Wednesday 5th February 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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I’d sell my soul, but to which acquist?
Old Father Time, or a reincarnationist?
Treat myself, & come back as a rheumatologist?
A scepticist, somnambulist, maybe a spiritualist,
A perspicacious psychiatrist or psychoanalyst,
What’s a phenomenologist? I’ve not got a gist!
No, I’d like to come back as a sensationalist,
Not as another feeble-minded moderatist,
I’ve lived this life with ostentatiousness,
Dithering, meandering, graciousless…
Though this year, I’ve acquired some spiritedness…
I’ve learned hatred, in recrementitiousness,
I’ve Starmer to thank for this…
For him to die in pain slowly, I wish…
No guilty. I hate Keir, the non-socialist socialist,
Think I’ll put my name on Old Father Time’s list,
I hear St Peter likes a sesquipedalianist,
And await the arrival of Keir the Schlockiest!
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MEMORIES – Mr Fooey. Long gone but not forgotten!
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07:10hrs: I stirred to the pain and my being awoken by  . Doing his best to detach my head from my torso. Soon to be joined by in the ‘Let’s shock Inchy awake’ campaign, by . Humph! The brain engaged first gear, triggering the mixed memories of my situation this morning. The worries about all the jobs and tasks that the Intercom had caused me to fret over and what I needed to do about them. I’d made mock plans. The first was to get the blog finished and posted. Then, to get down to the lobby from 08:00hrs to 0900hrs to admit my beloved Nurse Hristina. Being as the intercom had gone wrong on me. It’s still not working at all now. Worra Day!
I hauled my body from the comfort of the hospital bed, forcing every move. Then, I made a proper mess of photographing the nocturnal night pouch. A number 7 on the NHS graph.

I went to check the taps and cookers in the kitchenette. And the view from the windows was fantastic. After taking the top snap, I wondered if I could take a photo worthy enough to capture the two planets way up high in the sky. Of course, I couldn’t. Nothing like what my eyes were looking at. Tsk! 

After getting the blog finished and posted in a short time, I looked at the intercom to see if it would show anything on screen. It didn’t!

Time to get some clothes on for going down to the ground floor foyer for nurse Hristina. A pleasant thought, that! ♥

Arrived as I finished getting dressed. He did a rush job giving the medications, and he got my diabetic socks on in no time for me. Then I quickly looked at the intercom but couldn’t see why it was not working.
Helped me get the coat on, then assisted me in getting the walker and to take with me. Then, he kindly went down to the lobby with me. I sat in the lobby, and it was cold there. Doing the crosswords, but only for half an hour. And Nurse Christina arrived 🧡.
She was unhappy with me going to the lobby but understood why I had to. We went up to the flat, where Christina had a look at the intercom. As she was taking my INR Warfarin blood samples, she said that she would ask Julie about the intercom for me if she was there. Bless her!

Then I changed the dates on the c1970, made a clock/calendar, and started this blog. Things might get complicated in a while; I only had an hour and a half to work on this blog before needing to go down again to the ground floor lobby to wait for the arrival of the returned JS food delivery. A Financial Carer is now due to fill in my pages-long HMG Social Q&A papers. These are bound to clash, especially if the Cardiac nurse arrives. What next? 
The threat of mental mayhem lingers!

09:45hrs now. I’d better get my coat on ready. A smidge of guilt tickled me when I saw the hospital bed, which I thought I had straightened earlier.

Took a quick snap of the kitchenette windows as I made the first brew of the day.
I can’t wait too long for the financial visit. I must get down in time just in case the JS order arrives early, and I must stay down later if it arrives late. Thus, I may miss the financial help call I’m paying for. Life is a mess here!.
Grumble, groan, moan!

Carer Kimberly arrived at just gone ten. We set about the NCC (Nottingham City Council) Q&A form filling. It took a long time, but we arrived in time for me to shoot down to the lobby again and await the J Sainsbury delivery. I met an old friend from long ago, and we had a natter. She has also had her intercom go down on her. She was doing her laundry, and we had a lovely chat. I had to nip up to the lonely flat to empty my catheter. She kindly kept an eye out for the JS delivery. I emptied the catheter and returned to the ground-floor lobby. The gal went up to her flat and then returned with a note she’d written for me and left it on the external intercom, stating that flat 72’s intercom was out of action; please ring the ‘wardens’ who can let you in.
Very nice of her. 💘 Thank you, Angel.
The JS van arrived, and we all went up in the lift. Little did I know that I would soon be cursing, swearing and spitting at and at the very thought of J. Sainsbury’s! 
The driver may have been a little embarrassed when he told me that two bottles had ‘burst open’ and many items were covered in shandy. But the packaged goods were sealed and should be all right. (Never has a man been wronger!)
The empty box had the fresh foods in it for 2 minutes!
The shandy had permeated through the outer and inner packaging. I had to throw away the chocolates, biscuits, wafers, onion rings, bread, and patties. Some of the others look likely to end up the same way. But, they did not charge me for the two broken bottles. But of course, this put me below the minimum charge, and I got a delivery charge added.
My opinion of JS sank. I could not stop cursing and swearing at them. I opened each multipacket, only to find that the inner packets had been soaked for so long that the products had been soaked in the shandy. I’m still spitting occasionally. I got a phone call on the mobile and asked the driver to take it as I could not hear what the caller was saying. He said it was the NCC, saying they would call on Friday to look at the intercom. I thanked him muchly.
The bin looked well-filled already!
I suppose I can cope with the shandy-soaked potatoes?
The shandy-soaked label on each baking potato took ages to get off. The cursing returned! I’m hoping the fresh garden peas will taste alright. The cream cakes and parmentier potatoes I suspect witll have a shandy flavour to them. The beetroot was the only container that seemed shandy-free! Even the tomatoes had some dark liquid inside their box. The pattis had been permeated, but I think the Eclairs may have resisted the flow of shandy. I suspect the sliced red onions may have as well. The outer jar of peas and Anchor butter was sticky and wet, and, of course, I’ve no shandy to drink now!
A third round of anger and cursing ensued! Made worse by the incident not being my fault. Despite the delivery arriving, having to throw so much stuff away left the fridge still looking a little bare, to say the least.

Then I got a landline call (much easier to hear what they say on this line) from the Cardiac Team. The nurses will not be calling today; they will advise me of when after they have made rearrangements. I should hear from them via email by next Wednesday with the details. Well, that will save me another trip down to the foyer!

I must record the happenings on my notepad/Google Calendar. Since the maintenance crew did not give a time of day, I’ll put it on the calendar for the whole day. So, I did!

I got a late phone call from Sherrington Park Medical Surgery with the new Warfarin INR level dosages. Mon to Wed: 1.5, Thursday 2, the rest were also I.5. 

Carer Promise called early at night.

This prompted me to take a look at the evening sky. I just caught the sunset again.
And lovely it was, the first picture almost like a painting.
Then I took a close-up of our Mother-Sun on the horison.
I imagine this is how Mars would have been portrayed in the 1930’s and earlier?

I made a bread roll filled with about everything I had in stock. First time I’ve tried bamboo shoots. Can’t say I was impressed… I was also a smidge annoyed at forgetting the beetroot and pickled egg. Humph!

Carer Promise did the last call. Whipped off the diabetic socks; no medications were needed. He also returned the bag of laundry. I’ll sort that out in the morning.

Sleep came late, but it was a much better one.
And it lasted for over 6 hours! Yahoo!
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TTFNski, Each!
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Inchy: Monday 3rd February 2025

/ Inchie / 12 Comments

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Humankind, the epitome of entanglement,
Each human individually so different,
Some are passive, some violent, some truculent…
Oligarchs, politicians, proletariats, the ignorant,
Some of us struggling to pay for heating & rent!
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The depressed, who are glad life is impermanent,
The poor, without clean water, living in a tent,
The guilty: defiant, obdurate, unrepentant,
The lying greedy shower in Parliament,
Those mentally challenged & obmutescent!
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The law-abiders, who are so obedient,
Who’ve mostly had enough, who go acquiescent…
No one listens to their problems, they grow conticent,
The rich, addicted, drugged and crapulent…
The ‘Oh, so lonely’, and impuissant!
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The ashamed, who brandish a mock insouciance,
The fearful, that live in a state of presentiment…
Stewing inside with injustice & resentment,
Outwardly displaying mock-contentment,
Their hopes & desires are only ruminant!
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The aged, growing more gloomy and depressant,
They forget things, making them more inconscient,
Those without catheters may become incontinent,
Their life’s meaning turns intervenient,
Their faith is long lost, & physical pains are recrudescent!
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The Grim Reapers call will not be inconvenient!
Dementia, dodgy bladder, Cognitive Impairment,
Using the Porcelain Throne can be sanguinolent,
I can no longer afford to get myself temulent,
Starmer did me in, stealing my winter fuel payment!
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I don’t often find myself pitifully verklempt…
What chance of my body and brain’s renascence?
I often go off track, lose the plot and scent…
Forget what I’m doing, hoped for, done, or my intent…
For years, my body has been going putrescent,
Mentally, I suffer daily pesterment,
I’ll leave this Ode as my testament!
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I didn’t wake up this morning; it was another unfortunate night of no sleep. Well, I did get one hour in!  04:00hrs: I gave up the dream of any sleep and rest, removed the Nocturnal Catheter pouch, and decided to get my ablutions sorted out. Which had a few interesting aspects to it. Don’t they all, you ask? Hehe!
I finished the ablutions early, just in case I fell asleep later. Why I should think that baffled me after three nights and four hours of sleep. It is probably why I feared nodding off—as if I could!


I amassed all that was needed and got them in the wet room. The main thing I noticed was no calls to the Porcelain Throne. I couldn’t sleep or evacuate. Then , kicked off as I got my feet into the bowl to stand in and soak them.
I’d hung a long shirt on the shower rail when I entered, and as I’d wet the neck and face in preparation for the foam to be applied, the shirt slipped off the hanger and dropped over my head! For a second, I thought, ‘Hello, I’m dead’! Not that it bothered me. But I did see the funny side of it. Haha!
When I’d sorted myself out and rehung the shirt, I realised I’d left the hot tap running, and the water had gone lukewarm! So, I had no choice… well, I did. I could leave the ablutions and return later, or do what I did and get the kettle on for the shaving. That was a little risky, carrying hot water in one hand, the walking stick in the other, and offering a prayer that neither Cartilage decides to collapse on me. Peripheral Neuropathy Pete didn’t give me a leg dance, and Dizzy Dennis didn’t visit. Yet I coped surprisingly well with the ailments (apart from ) all being kind to me. Yes!
After what seemed an age, I finally got on with the shaving, and… I did not spill any water on myself. !
I also carried out this task without a single cut or knick!

The medicationalisation of the tender areas did not go well. The groin area had been bleeding and dried on the few hairs left there. I had to clean things with a little more gusto to remove it. (I imagine you know what’s coming next). After getting the Barrier cream on and feeling out how big and sore the Spanish onion-sized right testicle was, I moved the top holding strap, sadly pulling at the Catheter tube overmuch, and the bleeding started afresh! I did not see any humour in this! I antisepticised and cleaned the left area again. While doing this, I thought there seemed to be a large amount of little spots of blood on the tissues, and it dawned on me that Little Inchies Fungal Lesion was now bleeding as well! I got things sorted. Then the eyes, ears, belly and knees were medicated and back to the computer. Took a swig of cough medicine, an extra tablet, and a Codeine.

I took a morning snap of the kitchenette view. I wasn’t such a green colour this morning out there. A brown tinge rather than a blue one, too!

After a long while of trying to get CorelDraw to stop freezing on me, I needed to go back to the kitchen and wet room to check that I’d not left any lights, heaters, or taps running. All appeared okay. Interestingly, when I entered the wet room, the hangar that I knew I’d hung back up on the shower curtain rail after getting the shirt & dressing gown on was back on the floor. Is this part of the Mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, spirits, or the Fata Morganas, or whatever, that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind, which is losing its marbles? Hehehe!

I was heavily into doing the day’s ode, and Carer Richard arrived. I asked how he was. He looked well-tired but said little conversation-wise. He didn’t even tell me off about anything this morning. So, I knew he was not in a good place—bless him! He did let me make him a mug of strong tea, though. This morning, he fitted both leg brackets and the long crutch.

I worked on yesterday’s blog and am getting it posted early today. Whatever was bugging CorelDraw earlier stopped for a couple of hours. Ten minutes ago, it was back again. Grrr!

After Carer Chloe called, I remembered I’d forgotten to ask her to replace the day catheter. I blame Doreen Dementia!

I’m going to get something to eat now.
No, I’m not; I’ll wait until the Carer Comes and ask him/her to fit the Catheter Day Bag, which should have been done last Friday. Carer Promise came later, fitted it for me, and made a good job of it. Finally, the pain and pulling of having a new top strap eased the pain. Carer Promise took a photo of myself to use in a later blog post. Thanks, Promise.

Now, I’ll try to get a meal made.

While the chips were cooking, the cheesey-topped cobs were sliced, no-butter buttered. Smoked cheese slices were added. And readied for chips to be added.
Pickled onions, chips, and a pot of lemon yoghourt were put on the tray. I wiped the oven tray and settled to watch ‘Heartbeat’ on the TV while eating this tasty meal!

Partway through, Carer Promise arrived. He removed my diabetic socks. The lad adjusted the day cather contraption and added the nocturnal bag.

I had a feeling that tonight, I would get some sleep in. Of course, I wasn’t sure; when was I ever certain of anything?

Well, it took a while, but Sweet Morpheus did arrive. A few jumping awake episodes, but I reckon I got over 6-hours of sleep in. Yes! Yahoo!

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Here’s Mud in your Eye!
– – – TTFN – – –

Inchy: Sunday 2nd February 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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– – – PART 214⅔ – – –
My confidence in politicians is gone forevermore,
It’s been fading, but now we have Starmer…
I don’t want to be an alarmer…
But the animal is a liar and a falsifier,
Prime Minister? More lie a financier,
A get-rich-quick dictator, a Führer,
I hope he soon starts to flounder…
His dodgy use of his filibuster,
Attacking now the fox-hunter,
After robbing money from each pensioner,
And financially crippling each farmer,
Next election, we’ll have no agriculture!
What next from this fiddling fraudster?
This untouchable political freebooter?
What is next on his agenda & addenda?
Expect anything from this tax-imposing liar,
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As for his pensioner’s fuel-payment abduction,
That was his most significant, cruellest abomination!
No sign of the Railway’s renationalisation?
The only things that he shows any affection…
Seems to be backhanders, port & bourbon,
His ego seems to flourish and bourgeon…
Increasing taxes, with contradistinction,
WASPI campaign, Starmer tapped into the emotion,
“Said he’d help them get compensation”, more aversion,
HMG denied 3.6 million women’s discrimination!
He said they would cut energy bills to £300 immediately,
Set up GB Energy, a publicly-owned clean power company,
1st Jan; the EPC came into effect, bills rose, alarmingly,
More Starmer lies proven, Ministerial batrachomyomachy!
Labour promises are fake and disobligatory,
Starmer’s killing off the Labour Party… magnificently!
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Starmer has all of the required political armamentaria,
To be the most successful Labour Party annihilator,
He’s moraless, and a clever cunning misleader,
An effective commoner, worker & proletariat bleeder,
He seemingly believes his own counterpropaganda,
Lies freely, takes backhanders without any forfeiture,
Installs a lack of faith & hope in each Labour voter,
He’s ridden with greed, self-wealth & pleonexia,
He’ll falsify, confuse, cleverly pretends to palter…
I’d like to see him go on a psychogalvanometer,
He has arrogance, deceit by the plethora,
A verbal illusionist, an indirect trickster,
This completes today’s Ode to Starmer!
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I’ve been counting Starmer’s lies, worse than I thought – He simply won’t stop! All politicians are economical with the truth. Sir Keir Starmer has lifted lying to a new level. And he doesn’t even hide it. If there’s an art to lying, the PM hasn’t bothered to master it. He lies and lies again, and there’s no art in it at all. He just says whatever suits him at the time. Broken promises, u-turns and pledges, and it’s exhausting. I’d quickly run out of space if I tried listing them all here. He started by lying to his own party, winning support for the Labour leadership with 10 key pledges, including abolishing student tuition fees and the two-child benefit cap and nationalising public services. All quickly dropped. Having secured the support of the Corbynite left, he stepped up his efforts by lying to the rest of us to win this year’s general election. Starmer led us to believe Labour would retain the Winter Fuel Payment and said nothing about scrapping the £86,000 cap on social care costs for elderly or tax-targeting farmers! There are further proven 162 lies recorded that I can use later. Undoubtedly, he will have added to the total by the time I get around to using his current lies and deceitful statements. Bless the unscrupled git!
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04:00hrs: After one hour of sleep, I bolted awake, coughing away,  jerking my neck and head to my right. I’ve never had a more extended Ted session before. I was close to pressing the alarm-alert wristlet. I was getting a little unnerved by the Twitching. But within 5 minutes, the chesty coughing died down, and ten minutes later,  calmed down. Phew! He didn’t just stop as he usually would; this session was a gradual slowing down of the rate of twitches until it stopped. 
I removed the grade 7 on the NHS chart urine catheter pouch from the day pouch. I realised the weekly Friday changing of the catheter day bag had not been done this week! No wonder I’m suffering with pain from the tubing in poor Little Inchy! But it’s partly my fault; I’ve had unfamiliar Carers calling this weekend due to the shortage of regular carers with illnesses. I should have reminded them. 
Later, I even forgot to ask Carer Shaquille to do it. Tsk!

I suspected things may be different today when the innard’s warning to get to the wet rooom Porcelain Throne was interspersed with violent belching and noisy escapages of wind from my rear end. I was right! It took me a lot of pain, effort and time to force the one massive, gigantic, solid submarine to even start evacuating. I can’t remember any events of this nature where it took me so long to achieve the required bowel movement. Amazingly, there was less bleeding than yesterday, but the escaping product was half as large again compared to Saturday’s torpedo. It was so much so that I added water, waiting for the cistern to refill 3-times from the tap to encourage and unclog the monster on its journey to the sewer below!

I took some early morning shots of the view from the kitchenette window. Both have the ‘blotch’ partially hidden.
Again, there was a green hue in the sky. I took both shots slightly higher than usual, so the darkest bits masked the blotches. Haha!

I got the computer going and started updating the Saturday blog. First, I needed to use CorelDraw. After doing so, I had the first run of since yesterday’s teatime. They were all short ones, but this made them more easily recognisable. So I decided it would be better to go and make a brew of Glengettie. Gave way on me as I went through the kitchen door. Banging my knee against the cabinet corner triggered a reaction , and both ailments got a good dose of Phorpain gel, and I took a Codiene to be on the safe side. When any cartilage and Arthur Itis get a clouting at the same time on the same leg, well, it does hurt a bit. Haha! Of course, this didn’t bother a fit young man of my granite-like pain-bearing qualities.  

The tea had gone cold, so I made another one. Making sure I drank it while it was hot enough! As I took this photo, I realised I had not yet changed my c1970 antiquated, old-fashioned clock calendar. So I changed the day & date on my c1970 antiquated, old-fashioned clock calendar. Then, I discovered that I’d made  I’d been dating all the graphics with the wrong date and had saved some as the 1st and others as the 2nd to different files! It later cost me hours to find and move them where I wanted them. Obviously, I did not swear, curse, spit, thump the wall, growl, wail or get angry or depressed over this at all.

Carer Shaquille arrived. Changed my socks, medicated me, and we had a short natter & laugh.

I was working on the ode, and revisited me. Boy, was this bad. I had to give up, but I did some work on the Liar Starmer insult content. My hatred for him still came through!

Carer Kimberly did the next call. Which helped me come back from the brink of unconsciousness. I’ve not got the foggiest idea what I was up for the previous few hours before her arrival. We spoke about the dentist and nurse’s visits and the Q&A form for HMG that I need to fill in next Wednesday. Kimberly will go through it with me.

As the seizures eased off, took over as the primary ailment in action. The occasional coughing and sneezing, presumably from the Novovirus.

The sunshine was trying to come out late this afternoon. I used the loan camera from Jenny for this one to avoid blotches. It came out okay?

Another emptying of the catheter day pouch. I must remember to ask a Carer to change the day bag. How I keep forgetting beats me. Mind you, so does the cotton wool, which looks floating in the urine. Might the cause of the feedback pains be the pouch not being replaced and the cotton stuff blocking the exit tube? I must remember! The regular Carers usually remind me about this on Fridays. But so many are off work poorly. I felt guilty; had I passed my virus?

I was desperately trying to get to sleep. Amazing… I nodded of at long last after days without sleep!

Carer Victor arrived and woke me up!
I struggled again to get back to sleep for about four hours.
Blessedly, I nodded off again.
Carer Richard arrived and woke me up!
After this awakening, I could not get back to sleep. I gave up the idea at 01:30hrs and got my ablutions tended to.

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TTFNski!
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Inchy: Friday 31st January 2025

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

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My ponderings are, at times, encyclopaedic,
Though they rarely show any signs of being gnostic,
Mostly, dizzy, ditzy, sceptic, and simplistic,
You could say they’re Starmeristic?
Though at birth, they can seem astronomic,
In reality, they can be catastrophic…
Regularly scatterbrained and nonspecific,
They come and go like an epidemic,
They all possess a degree of the unspecific,
Mingled with thoughts, though microscopic,
Seeming to others sort of verbally monolithic,
With humour, fear, desires and the hyperbolic,
Often resulting in being self-homiletic,
Common sensical, yet psychedelic,
Like life, ponders can be oneiric,
But pondering is not all that terrific!
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VERY PLEASED WITH THIS WEEKS RETURNS!
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I  gave up the ghost of sleeping. I took off the nocturnal night pouch and meandered into the kitchen to take photos. None of which were up to par. Tsk!
First, there is a chronically badly taken view from the kitchen window. Which is nothing like the view my eyes saw. One of my worst efforts!
Followed by a wider shot, which produced an almost as bad a reproduction as the first disastrous effort. This lone camera will have to be studied. I can’t see the small print on the instructions nor determine the option buttons. I tried again an hour later and got this effort on the right,   using the other camera. Better?

I’d been up late, so there was not a lot of catching up to do on yesterday’s blog. I titivated it and posted it to WP.

I felt terribly cold this morning, but my flu symptoms were no worse. My throat seemed easier than it had been yesterday. 

Then, the morning summoning from the innards sent me scurrying off to the wet room for the daily Porcelain Throne evacuation.
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Soft as things were that evacuated this morning, there was a worrying amount of pain & blood (not too much; it was Harold’s Haemmorhoids) that came with it.

I had a slow, steady washing and a painful medicationalisation session. Little Inchies Fungal lesion and, more rarely, Harold’s Haemmorhoids gave me the most hassle. The piles were bleeding far more than they usually do, but not too painful with it. It was stopping the flow that took the most time.
After finishing and getting dressed, I returned to the computer. After about an hour or so, the sneezing started to kick off, but the throat was much more manageable. As usual, there were a few specs of blood from the nose. Blowing the nose, I realised how the tissue was getting cut up.
I’d not had a shave!
pillockI shall go shaveless. And try not to shave at all. See how it goes, as Tim Price put it, ‘Going Caveman Style.’

Unknown Carer arrived at 09:45hrs. 
I worked on the daily ode.
Carer Suen arrived at 11:15hrs. It was too short a break between calls for any painkillers to be issued.

Having done a bad job of this morning, Jenny loaned the camera. I tried the old Kodak Tim camera, hoping that by some miracle, the blotch on the photos would not show up this time.

Oh, dear, that didn’t work either. The blotch is more prominent than ever now. Shame. 
I put the lens cleaner on it, went over it with the soft cloth and spray, and tried again.
Did my bestestest.

I’ll make some nosh then.

Very nice it was too!
Chinese belly pork (very fatty, naughty… but nice!) & baked potatoes with No-butter butter and a blob of BBQ sauce. 

Washed the pots and sat in 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 two episodes of my favourite, ‘Heartbeat’.

AT LONG LAST…
I fell asleep, Oh, the sheer Bliss!
Five minutes later, Carer Precious arrived.
Could I get back to sleep after? No!

Carer Precious did the last call and took off the diabetic socks. Meds were issued, and he fitted the catheter night pouch.

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Merci Beaucoup!
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Inchy: Thursday 30th January 2025

/ Inchie / 10 Comments

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Now HMG oozes sycophantishlier, 
Starmer, the hater of the farmer…
Robber of every pensioner,
Ever ready to take a backhander,
A well-proven by-omission expert liar,
Self-Wealth being his main desire,
What’s he doing in Labour?
He’d make a better dictator…
His compassion is in absentia,
Labour values, he does besplatter,
With Oligarch’s, he’s getting chummier,
He seems a qualified puppetmaster, 
Like Goebbels, he’s good at propaganda,
As he leads the UK to disaster!
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Another Sleepless Night!
The Bug is Back. Influenza Norovirus. Sore throat, chesty cough with the odd painful sneeze here and there. Wheezing, aches & pains of the joints. Runny nose and eyes.

04:00hrs: Gave up trying to sleep and got up. Feeling so weary, achy and confused at the same time. I soon felt the pain from the weighty, overfull day pouch tugging at Little Inchy when I got out of bed. Last night, I felt even more confused and realised that the Diabetic socks had not been removed, and the Nocturnal Catheter Pouch had not been attached.
Not a good start to the day. (Little change here, then!)

Computer on, finished yesterday’s short blog and posted it.
Made a tentative start on this blog. Noticing that the stomach cramps were getting worse as the time passed. Humph!


An instant demand from the innards had me scuttling to the wet room to get to the water closet in time to avoid the assessed coming of an involuntary evacuation… I didn’t make it in time! What a frustrating affair! It took me ages to clean up. It was such a messy, smelly, sticky evacuation. Red-Face-Engaged!

Carer Richard arrived. I knew he’d been off work, but I thought it was just because of the flu, but he mentioned his accident at home. He fell backwards, hitting the back of his head on the washing machine door and knocking it off. Waking up hours later, covered in blood! Concussed. Poor lad, he appears to be as lucky as I am, which is not lucky, of course, well, not good luck. 

I’m still doing better in the Health Check returns this week.

But sleep, or rather the lack of it, that’s another issue that defeats me. This afternoon, just like last week, I felt so drained that I attempted to use all my experience to try and get some!
I ate some battered fish balls to settle my stomach. Put the TV on, usually one guarantee of nodding off, and sat in the second-hand, c1968, eyesorely-horrendously grungy beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, microorganism-microbe producing, gungy, moth-eaten, beige-coloured, non-working, bacillus encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, c1968 recliner. With my feet up on the chair, the recliner does not work.
Four hours later, I was still wide awake and yet desperately needed sleep. I was pondering over whether I should move onto the hospital bed.

The door chime chimed out – It was Frank, Jenny’s husband. He bought a camera for me to use from Jenny. ♥ I was immediately off into a worried mode that it might go wrong while I had it. Thanked him for Jenny. We had a lovely little laugh about things we were suffering with. Frank has only just got over the Flu Novavirus himself. So kind of them. And Tim Price, my cyber-mate in New Mexico, has said he will send me a new Kodak camera to use. I’m being well cared for here. Bless them!

Carers Selina and Simon made the subsequent calls. I laid on the bed, lights out, and the curtain drawn. I got plenty of lethargy, languor, and listlessness but no sleep!

So, I started updating this blog.

Photographs taken today:
Puffer clouds.
Afternoon sunburst.
Sunset.
Sunset zoomed-in.
Not a good one, but the moon.
Evening all! Not used to the camera yet. (Excuse! Hehe!)

I made next week’s food order. J Sainsbury this time.
Tuesday 4th February 6>10a.m. 

I went on WordPress Reader, did the ablutions and put my head down. The TV failed to get me to sleep.
Finally, I started to drift off a few times, but each time, I’d wake with a helluva jerk and jump,  shooting to the right, creaking & cracking the neck.

I gave up at 04:10hrs and meandered into the kitchen to take photos. None of which were up to par. Tsk!

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TTFNski
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Confusionableitis Reigned Tuesday 28th January 2025

/ Inchie / 10 Comments

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In my dream, were things terrestrial, 
Thoughts, hopes, desires, nothing bestial,
Treaties, warrants, insurances, so torchable,
Guilty, Oligarchs, politically, & legally untouchable,
Due to our lawmakers being so quickly bribable,
MPs values, honesty, reliability at best theoretical,
How have they solved the Bermuda Triangle?
The mystery seems to be uncrackable,
No-hours contracted workers, legally sackable,
Farmers, pensioners, HMG find robbable,
MPs expenses no longer seem checkable?
Proven dishonest leaders are impeachable?
Guilty murderers are so quickly freeable?
Ministers are unpalatable, unpardonable…
Them lining their pockets seems unstoppable,
Morals & standards are sacrificeable,
Decency & compassion are no longer salvageable,
Despotical bigotry, actions detestable…
Wars, violence, greed everywhere detectable,
Can we trust anything electoral?
Politicians are doubtable, dishonourable,
Do they need help, exorcistical?
They are unceasing with their flummadiddle,
They’ll always seek a way to fiddle!
They are the reason the world’s in such a pickle!
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With no Carer to loan me a camera for a week now. (Which is understandable; he’s taking photos of his new baby daughter with it, [I hope]). I’ve been fairy-minded and took a picture of each day’s meal in the hope that one may get on the Kodak. However, I’ve not been checking to see if the last six had made it to the SD card until this morning… well, it was late afternoon.
Last night, none of the others made it to the SD card, but this one did! (Or did it?). I half expected it not to go on. I spent ages trying to get the card recognised, and when I eventually got to it, this photo was there! There is a chance it may be an old one, of course. So, I took another picture straight away… that did not go on. The second, third, and fourth ones didn’t make it either.
Now I’m doubting what I actually had for the meal. 
With the others not going on, I think it is likely that I made a mistake somewhere along the line. My new excitement at thinking the camera had miraculously started working again was replaced with a new low – mostly at my stupidity in thinking this was from last night. Humph!
pillockConfusionableitis Reigned.
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Once again, the night’s rest was well-broken. However, I soon nodded off after each awakening, back into the bliss of sleep. I had several dreams, but my memories are too vague to guess at their topics. When I shot awake at 7:00 a.m. and realised it was so late, I also realised that I must have skipped at least six hours. So that was good.
Then the run started.
I removed the nocturnal catheter pouch and started standing up using . Within seconds I was clunking back down into 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. Unsure if , or hurt the most. I decided that a cautious, weary trip to the wet room for cleaning up and medicationalisationing was called for. So I went!

I cleaned up and medicated the lower regions first. Then the areas, then the rear end. Then, the Phorpaining of both Cartilage Chloe and Carole’s cartilages moved onto knees. Olive-oiled the ears, applied, and Creosoted the Ankle Ulcer. I’ve named it Creosoted because it reminds me of it when I painted it on. Haha!
Then, I decided to get the showering and shaving done. I had to get a long shirt and fresh dressing gown sorted first.  I’d run out of clean shirts! These can’t be washed in a machine, or is it dried in one? Anyway, I had one unopened new one, so I used that. This, of course, got me all confused. I ended up washing another shirt in the sink. Hanging it up to dry over the sink… but the shirt was too long. I went into Sherlockian Mode to work out what I could do? Finally, deciding to hang it on the shower rail with a bowl underneath to catch the water. I very nearly adopted a .
I went back to the wet room and hung them up. Of course, now I couldn’t get in the shower. So I pressed on with having a shave. As I’d got the foam on, I dropped the can. I held onto the seek carefully as I bent to pick it back up – naturally, the foam was on the sink, and my hand slipped! .
I hit the top of my head on the Porcelain. Carried on with the shaving and noticed a trickle of blood coming from the top of my head in the mirror. 
As I went to grab the aftershave, I knocked the long shirt off of the rail… it fell into the water below… I swore rather vociferously, as I recall. I retrieved the shirt and rehung it, all freshly rewetted. Huh!
The blood had by now left a pretty pattern down the side of my head, over my chin, and onto my man breasts & chest. I used paper towels to clean it. Using a lot of aftershave to stem the flow. Back to finishing the shaving… The shaving was completed within a minute or two. By this time, a similar pretty pattern of the leaking blood had reappeared.
Off to the medical chest to get a plaster cleaned after shaving the tiny little wound and applying a plaster.
Then I wrote on the memory pad, which enabled me to write this rubbish in detail later. 
I had to sort out the mess in the kitchen from earlier, the wet room, and the shirts. What did I do? I decided the most crucial task was to make a brew of tea, which I did! However, I didn’t get to drink it. Carer Chloe arrived at 08:50 hrs on her first visit.

She pointed out that I had blood running from my head—haha! She wiped it and put a plaster on it while I bore her with tales of my calamities of the day. She then issued the medications and put on the diabetic socks. She also took the laundry with her, including two long shirts. That was kind of her. She was due back later on a domestic call.

As she departed, the innards informed me of my urgency to get to the Porcelain Throne post haste! So I hastened!
This evacuation was the messiest ever! Well, not counting the involuntary one when I had the stroke, of course). Gooey in the extreme! An entire toilet roll standard! Stinky! .

I’m no longer as confident of events as I was earlier. Things got foggier when Carer Chloe returned. She’d kindly returned the washing all done apart from the long-shirts. They could not be used in a hot drier, and the ones in the laundry room do not have that facility. So, she hung them back up on the shower rails again. All that help is back at square one. Hehe!
How can people talk about being bored in old age?
If, as I have, one becomes accustomed to Accifauxpas, Whoopdiedangleplops & evil luck, it certainly avoids any chance of boredom setting in. Just a point, but I’d rather like time to get some being bored in! Not too much! I just want to see what it is all about. Of course, I have the benefits of Cogniscent Impairment Iris, FND, Diabetic Doreen Dementia, & Seizure Sandra’s attentions. Is having all four of these ailments probably better than having just one? I’m not confident or sure of how I worked that out now. But it seemed apparent & logical to me at the time.
Chloe checked on the dates of the food. I asked her to take some short-dated items for others to use. She washed the main kitchen windows for me and quickly wiped the floor.
Tomorrow, I think, is a finance visit. Maryham, I guess.

Carer Sam called. We had a precious laugh.

Pressed on with the blog. But such a late start. I’m miles behind with things yet.

It’s now mid-afternoon. Not a single seizure from Sandra has not reported a single seizure. However, I’m sure the mini-ones have been missed in the past.

17:20hrs: Carer Rachel did the teatime call.

I gave up on this blog and went on WP Reader & Comments.

SUGAR! is off again.

I’ll try to get summat to eat.

Carer Rachel made the last two calls.

Sleep was a long time coming tonight.

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AU REVOIR
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Inchy: Sat 25th /Sun 26th January 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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INCHY’s ODE
When an ankle-snapper, my questions got cupboarded,
Always complicated; the house was candlelighted,
We had gas: non-payment meant this was sequestered,
Things didn’t bother me then; life was uncomplicated,
Even when Mother ran away to avoid being arrested,
To head cook, washer and cleaner, I superseded,
Dad got me part-time jobs – as if they were needed!
On weekday mornings, I made sure Dad was breakfasted,
Then rush to school to be bullied & headbutted,
From school to do the paper round hurried,
Back home to get Dad’s meal, the fire prepared,
Happy days… to me, this felt normalised,
Of course, not knowing when I get octogenarianised,
That I’d physically & mentally get disableised,
Or be flat-bound, high in a High Rise,
Or the Pensioner’s fuel allowance would be shanghaied!
Or the end of the world would be visualised,
Nor would I consider getting myself schnockered.
Or stuffed with Morphine & Beta-Blockered,
The line above would not have been included,
If Starmer & Dementia hadn’t obtruded!
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Sunday morning: I stirred, for the first morning for five days on the trot… without the grating cough greeting me. Boy, this was a good moment. Finally, the ‘bug’ was weakening and letting me know this. No adoption of any . Too cautious for that.

I’d just had a night’s sleep of over six hours duration, and it was grand! I removed the nocturnal night pouch and sat there pondering and getting myself uptight at the many things I could not rectify. The Banking details, the medication shortages, etc.

When joined in, I heard, or thought I heard an alarm of some sort. I went on the hunt to try and find what it was that had sounded. The Alert Alarm? No!
The Intercom? No! The Water Tap Leak alarm? No! A Text Message? No! The electricity panel showed no lights. Ah, was it the door chime? Nope! This made me think it may have been the Foyer Intercom, so I looked out the door, and nothing was there. Had I ing that I’d forgotten about? 
It’s time to turn on the computer and take a look. There was nothing on it for today. I did note that I’d put the Iceland order on the wrong day for next week. I corrected it (I hope) after going to Iceland to confirm the difference first.

Carer Selina came in without ringing the buzzer, fritted me as she stood behind me, and greeted me with a cheery face. Hahaha!
She confirmed the colour grading on the NHS chart as a 7, but I put it down as a five in the Excel graphic for some reason. Then she got a pair of diabetic socks fitted, and I asked her if she’d seen my laundry anywhere. It had been three days. She skipped down to take a look and returned with the laundry bag. Bless her. She issued the medications and had to rush off.
When I put the things away, I found smears of fluff growing from the laundry room floor over the dressing. It’s not unusual. All the socks were there this time, and there were no extras, unlike when I had gained a bra and a pair of ladies’ knickers.

I got onto WordPress to start on this blog. And what a disaster the first two paragraphs were! I could barely understand what it was I’d been trying to say! Ultimately, I gave up and deleted it, starting from scratch.

Carer Simon arrived for the midday slot. I took the opportunity to mention the laundry. The problem was finding out where my bank passwords were. I pointed out that I was not complaining; I just wanted to know they were in hand. I also explained the medication shortages in detail. Simon said he’d try to find out for me on Monday and look into the medications’ situation to try and get me some clarity. Thank you.

Back to WordPressing. I replied to the comments of my hoard of followers. All three are friendly people. Then I went on the Blog Reader viewing.

Carer Richard made the last call. I was having my very first long seizure of the day at the time.
Nothing to report from a blank, vague memory.

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Somethings coming… I know not what…
The Grim Reaper with his chariot?
What will be lost, found, mistaken or misbegot?
May I choke on medications or chocolate?
My Glaucoma op arrived? That’d be a shock,
Mayhap never another seizure or mental block?
A Bhagat just may be begat or wot?
Politicians may do things without a subplot?
No, that’s asking too much, what?
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TTFNski!
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Inchy: Wednesday 22nd January 2025

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

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I could never do a headstand,
I’ve never had a house husband,
I did once get stuck in the heathlands,
Can’t get out now, I’m somewhat housebound, 
I found a hairband on my hatstand?

I was confused, not worried,
I’d taken some tablets that were Cabbinoid,
Hehehe! My Carer was jealous and annoyed,
No sleep for two days, and I was bed rid?
More alarms, something smelt putrid & fetid…

The computer was acting like an invalid,
So many problems I was fumid,
I’m giving up now; it makes me sick.
There must be someone who can help me a bit…
I’ve got no teeth left to grit,

On my second night without sleep or rest,
Couldn’t sort the computer, tried my absolutist,
Anne Gyna was at her painfullest…
Phlegm from the nose and stuck in the chest,
There are little medications left in the medical chest!
Angina tablets for three days at best…
Beta-blockers; the chest is dereft!
Carer Richard is off ill, none ordered from the chemist,
I’ll ask the morning Carer if he or she can assist,
There was a moment. Mayhap the days blessedest…
I dropped the catheter bag and tripped over it…
Fell forwards headfirst down into the WC abyss!
A smug mode, I just had to utilise…
Confused and tired, but I did realise…
I stopped myself from hitting my head and eyes.

The smugness didn’t last for long after the accidents…
The Trotky Terence evacuation was fluid and icterious,
My next problem was a smidge more serious…
I hit the doorframe with Shaking Shoulder Shirley.
And Anne booming Gyna turned on the pain, serious!
To the kitchen, already feeling delirious…
En route, I realised the piles were bloodless…
I soon turned to feeling self-piteous,
I’d left the hot tap running, disastrous!
Cause it had overflowed, The alarm was cacophonous,
The phone sounded, and a half-asleep voice asked us…
Are you all right? Your kitchen overflow alarm is sounding,
I lied, telling her that everything was fine, apologising.

The phlegm in my throat and chest was almost choking, 
The sore throat hurt so much when coughing,
It was even worse when I did any sneezing,
Got the bucket & mop from WR, & started cleaning,
By which it was not so easy, breathing,
To the wet room, the cleaning things returning,
What I saw was almost blood-curdling…
I’d left the washbasin hot tap running!
At least it wasn’t overflowing,
I wondered what the next Fauxpa would be coming!

After that, I, more or less, shattered…
My interest, plans, and hopes no longer mattered,
In search of sleep, I got the bed battered,
Spent an hour getting the up-down positions mastered,
I threw on a giant thick quilt and got under the mattress
Stayed there until the arrival of the DVT INR nurse…
I consider Hristina to be genuinely precious…
She is kind, caring and pulchritudinous,
This photo of her on the balcony is priceless to me…
It was framed and sent to me by Cyber-Mate Timothy,
Lovely Hristi, I wandered off-track there, sorry,
Back into the hospital bed, not feeling sleepy…
I covered myself with the giant quilt completely,
I didn’t know it then, but consequently…
Tomorrow morning was to go worse, astoundingly!
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This bug is depressing, to say the least,
No sleep, depression, at least at the moment. The seizures seem to have died down a lot.
I’m a little worried about the Anne Gyna medications and others that are about to run out again. Richard’s not coming on Monday was not his fault; the lad’s was so poorly. The stock was not checked, so no order was sent to the doctors for prescriptions from the chemist. There are only three days of Ansoperapol left to treat my Anne Gyna pains. I mentioned this to the late Carer Colin (I think) on Thurs.

I kept trying to catch up on sleep every day, but it failed. I wish I knew why. I have been without shuteye for three days now. Concentration is just a memory. CorelDraw and the computer are playing up, and there is no camera. The Caregiver, who was off for a few days, needed his camera to record the birth of his second child. Hope it all goes well for them. 👍🏼

I still need sleep, but I don’t feel all that tired?
This bug is a bugger!
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I’m Struggling Here, Midears!
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