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Most of the day went well, reasonably.
Hearing aids to use, painkillers, thankfully.
But turned in Whoopsiedangleploppery,
Frustration, worry, fear, panic, anxiety…
The bulk of these worries were financially,
Last 3 months, bank statements, texted to me,
Each time £1,000 less than the month previously,
I’ll ring, beg for help, but who can help Inchie?
The Tenancy Sustainment Officer, at N.C.C?
Warden Deana was engaged; she’s so busy,
Rang to Security, Safety, Health and Tenancy,
I struggled to speak, being so panicky,
Wrong words spouted, did I sound barmy?
I was losing; no, I lost my longanimity,
Help, from a wizard, or a vodoo-doctor,
A God, a scientist, maybe a soothsayer?
Without help, I do not have a prayer,
Can’t get through my banksite security layer,
They’ve my ten-year-old mobile number,
To which they sent my one-time number,
Yet they send texts to my new number?
As my bank account continues to wither,
AI security installed, it’s no communicator!
Select this or that, what’s needed is not listed!
Independent living scheme Warden Deana,
Responded, she came to the flat, Bless Her…
Two hours trying to log in, then, however,
Due to our utter and complete failure…
To log in, sign in, communicate or register,
And, their AI, or the bank’s customer vilifier,
It came to hometime for dear Deana,
Who did her best, with pleasant demeanour,
I hope I don’t develop toxicomania,
A possibility, if I get any toeier.
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TWO
I discovered how bad my arithmaphobia is getting this morning. I checked the email from Mr Kervic. I’d worked it out that the refund was due by the end of April. So I was concerned about not being able to get into my bank page to check it, hence yesterday’s grand effort by Deana to get me signed in, ans she said she would return after discovering they were sending one-use codes to the wrong mobile. Yet they send me the monthly grand total on the correct number? It’s still important that I get this sorted ASAP. At least I can see why, I think, the balance has dwindled so much. Maybe, perhaps.
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It is now well into Friday afternoon.
Not much of a blog, but I’ve done my best.
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Morning misty clouds.
Right Leg Nigel. Battered right leg, Nigel.
Bloated and or shrunk in many areas, 
damaged due to Loss-Balance-Belinda.
Same Misty Cloud a little later.
A spot of rain now.

Now the failed banking hassle hours.
At least Deana worked out what the problem
was. I’m hopeful she will return today after
another bash at sorting things out for me.

I rang Sister Jane late on. She has been diagnosed as having… Wait for it, A Baker’s Cyst. She told me to look it up on Google, and I did. asked me,
They can get nasty, it seems. I took a snip (below)
Two differing types of them are being removed,
I hope Jane does not have to have hers done!
I’ll have to ask her what the Doctor’s plans are.
CorelDraw gone warped. No graphics.

Could be the end.

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Another bit of fracas mentally, today. 
The split views on this computer are a smidge beyond my comprehension. If ever I get the time, I’ll look up advice on Google. Or, if the computer is in its do-as-it-likes mode, it might be Yahoo that comes up. Grrr! Hope I can understand the instructions, should I actually find any.
I foolishly, but of course, this seems standard for me nowadays. Started Monday’s blog, forgetting I’d not finished Sunday’s yet. Me, feeling a fool? Of course I do.
I’d better make a start on it. Back later or in the morning.
I’m back, as Arnie said. Getting late now, I’ll do what I can, computer obliging, and get caught up in the morning. At least I’ve got yesterday’s bog done and sent off.
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Monday, so I lose good Carers until next Saturday. I asked him to help me wash my feet. He did. I asked him to make a brew of tea, which he did. Red hot this morning, gave him an iced drink and an iced cream.
I bagged my lower back on the door handle going out of the door. Arrgh! I discovered that the nurse who moved the bed to have his last try at getting the Catheter tube back in Little Inchy yesterday had left it too near the door, and it didn’t give as much room. No problem, I just howled, swore and asked the Carer to see if I’d bruised myself. There is nothing worse than getting banged and it hurting so much, and finding no scar or bruise to show for sympathy. Haha! 😄
I think I have had a few times on the computer. Acidic taste reflux, and I was made so many mistakes, it was taking ages to reread and correct. I hope I’ve caught them all.
Then things got scary, although not as depressed as yesterday, it was still hard going. I suppose I may have fallen asleep and not had the seizures, but I will never know with no one to see me and my  exhibition.
It happened so often.
Something was amiss, cause I could read only about 10% on the scribbles on the memory notepad.
Must have missed no end of stuff off.

In the late afternoon, pain was coming from the Kidney Kid, left side, but not from the bladder or the Catheter area? But bearable this time.
The photos brought back some memories.
A Carer noted, when helping me wash my feet and take off my socks, that the bottom scab came off with the sock and bled a bit. Very light blood, not that I know what this does or doesn’t indicate. I asked him to put a plaster on it for me, which he did.

Apart from the back, Little Inchy was still sore from yesterday’s marathon attempts to get the Catheter back into poor Little Inchy’s lesioned hole.
A flipping good job that I put on the Protection Pads when I did my teeth, shaved and a stand-up wash. I’ve still not had a shower for I reckon at least three weeks now.
I was frustrated with my mistakes on the new computer, took a voluntary break, and put the last of the nurses’ nibbles and treats on the Carer’s table.
I must admit, CorelDraw, so hated, swore and yesterday, I thought I was going to give myself another stroke, was only toying with playing up today, the highlight of this Bank Holiday Monday for me!
Is this good luck? It was a very strange sensation!
In the late afternoon, I went to make up some soup for tonight’s meal. Vegetables with added canned peas and chopped boiled potatoes. Adding Teryaki sauce.
Leaving it to marinate and stirring the dish throughout the rest of the day. Slurp!
Then I took this snap of the boiling-hot sun through the kitchen window. Then this rather pretty photograph shows the front car park, the bottom field, and some of the local Sherwood residences.
Half an hour later, I returned to the kitchen to stir the marinating can of vegetable soup, a feast fit for anyone with a fading bank account, failing health, dimming hopes, no pain medication other than Paracetamol, and depression.
While in there, the sky had changed, but the sun was still getting through; as you can see, it had changed somewhat.
Checked the emails and comments, then heated the prepared meal. Email confusion straight away, need help on that… what don’t I need help with… what do I get help with…
Back in the morning, oh, no, this is yesterday’s blog. I must finish it somehow. I’ll tell you about things in the next one.
Back to Email and then comments and reader, then I must get to bed. I’ve confused myself now.
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Good Morning, Tuesday now and catching up on a few happenings to tell you of.
The evening meal brings a touch of comfort to you, doesn’t it? Usually, this one, now I’m back on canned and packaged foods. It was a can of so-called chunky vegetable soup, with some teriyaki sauce and Bovril added, along with some boiled and sliced potatoes, also from a can. I kept stirring this as it marinated in the microwave dish for a good few hours, and several times over the day. I defrosted some bread to dunk in the juices. It took a while to get the pots washed as I pondered on what score to give them taste-wise. I think I’d opted for 6.5/10, as an evacuational motion began from the rear end. I dropped the dishcloth and pot and tore off my thin dressing gown in my unsteady, disabled stampede to the Porcelain Throne.
SPLURT SPLATT, ALL DONE!
I somehow got part of the premature pebble-dashing torrent on the mat, floor, testicles (don’t ask, I don’t know how), legs, feet, on top of the floor cabinet. Even some specks on the outside of the sink! When cleaning it all up as best I could, I swear there was a greeny-brown sliver of Trotsky Terence’s activities on the wall! I know the spurt started just before I could reach the seat with my bottie… so how could all the areas possible have been affected?
Washed myself up last with Dettol in the water, and realised that the hot tap water wasn’t; it was barely warm. I realised far too late, after spending I don’t know how long trying to make things right in the wetroom, what must have happened.
I hastily hobbled to the kitchenette, to find I was right, I’d left the hot water faucet on when I departed in my semi-panic!
I can usually find the right words without repeating myself to describe any of my frequent Whoopsiedangleplops or Calamaties, but I am struggling now.
Frustration, Depression, Pathetic Self-Pity, and Angst that is bigger than my bulging belly!
Then I spotted that the Catheter was not filling!
I quickly went back to check the wetroom for anything I’d missed, grabbed a 1-litre bottle of Soda water, and added a drop of grapefruit juice as my attention dwelt on this worrying Catheter faux-pas, with fears of bladder, kidney, and Catheter pains starting again. With no decent painkillers available other than Paracetamol. A darned good job tha Jenny read about this and gave me some. 🤎 Better than Paracetamol by a mile, but not as good as the ’ones the hospital gave me for my kidney problems. I found out they had stopped them permanently. There must have been a good reason. But will they restart the Codeines now? Not according to the Carer. Baffled, and in pain! Still, the Doctor may find time now that the Bank Holiday is over to reply to my three email requests for stronger painkillers, sent last week.  
Do I believe this? You decide!

Incidentally, my end-of-life cremation is paid for. I got it through Age UK years ago. I’ve got the details, and then when I snuff it, it won’t cost the Government or anyone to burn me.
Paid Funeral. Baguley brothers.
Prepaid with Age Concern. Now, Age UK No.15511624 
It may be advisable to warn the Obergruppenfürher at the cremation oven that my kidney and bladder may possibly explode in the heat and splatter them with my kidney germs. bacteria, viruses, and parasites. My poor battered bladder’s 
bacterial Escherichia coli.

I’d also appreciate it if someone could give my once-visited Neurologist a message for me, as sarcastically as they can, please: Give him my NHS Number, and say;
Inchie felt he just had to leave his thanks and appreciation for all the help, compassion, and concern you had not shown him during the one visit he made. You remember when he got lost on the way up in the lift? No? He’s not surprised. When you told him to send him a video of him having a seizure, so you could ascertain what type it was, before prescribing any medication. He agreed. This was in November 2025. You failed to give him your email address. He had several Carers ringing the QMC to find the right address. Finally, his Carer, Ejaz, got through, and a Carer took a video of the old, unwanted git in a seizure, and he emailed it to you. November 2025. In no time at all (April 2026), he got a letter from the committee that had seen and analysed the video. Telling him it was not an Epileptic seizure, as he told you at the 7-minute meeting he had with you, do you remember?
No, of course not. A busy, efficient young man like you must be in great demand.
He’d like to remind you, from wherever he’s gone, to be a burden to someone else; Do you recall me (Inchie) saying they were not epileptic fits, cause I was in the same position as I was before going into one?
Bless your compassion, patient care and dedication.
If possible, he will return with a 24-hour pass from St Peter so he can further explain, express how he feels about his treatment, and make some more suggestions.
A druid’s curse, or glam dichenn, was an ancient Celtic malediction. Druids were historically known to stand on one foot, place one hand on their head, and close one eye while chanting vengeance. Just mentioning this.
I’d appreciate that, thanks.
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Today was even more hectic.
Horrible, horrendous & for all the regular reasons.
The Computer… Corel Draw… causing the worst Depression I’ve ever had. Leaving taps running, dropping things. The wobbles and another tumble!
Within four minutes of getting up…
Stayed with me throughout the day, as more problems arose, with a mass of outstanding ones not yet sorted!
Two problems with the Bank – Showerless for two weeks.
The increase in Carer Charges per month is nearly £300.
Nothing sorted about the running out of Oxycodone medications. Or if I can still get them.
Computer man, away on holiday.
Can’t get to order food from 4 supermarkets, or Amazon.
The computer is losing signal on and off all day! Shutting itself down five times. When I open Google, I either get a different layout, giant patches, or… Yahoo open!
CorelDraw froze six times. When using CorelDraw, if I touch one of the other open icons below, CorelDraw just goes off…
Four Times it did this, and I lost the work I’d done, and had to start over again! The last time it did it, I’d just managed to save it first… Then it froze again!
A lousy day again!
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I got up at 04:00hrs, emptied the sparsely filled night pouch, and wobbled to the wet room for the first visit of the day to the Porcelain Throne. It needed an entire roll of wallpaper… No, toilet tissues, on the first and second visits, within five minutes of each other. I had three more trips to the Porcelain Throne in the afternoon. Not only can I not afford any tissues, but I also don’t know how to get them. Darned good job that I stocked up when I had the cash (before paying for the crap computer, and the Carer Fees nearly doubling), and when I could order food online with the old, but ‘Must-be-placed’ computer. I bet they are laughing at sucker me. Gullible? Yes, that’s the word.
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It is now 23:20hrs. And I’m getting painful flowback from the  Catheter and kidneys. Guzzling so much water, I feel intoxicated. No urine has got into the pouch for an hour ot more. Mu’s lower stomach is extended. I have no painkillers to take. I’ve been trying to beg the Carers to help. The first step is to email the Doctor. I did five days ago, and did not get a reply. I am struggling with the pain badly now, as it builds up the more water I drink in the hope of getting it flowing again. I’ll try to keep doing the blog, though. But it will not be good from here on. If I publish it unfinished, it’s because it might be my last one. Just been told by my EQ. No time to check it properly, just accepting Grammarly suggestions ot save time.

Good heavens, Grammarly has 28 errors to tell me of; I’ll just accept them. Such pain is building up. No urine in the pouch yet, oh, dear. Flipping ‘eck, 7 errors on the above two lines. I’ll get the photos on, and what I can from what I’d planned, but will end up calling 111, who are bound to send a nonexistent ambulance for me. Oh, the memories of my last visits are coming back to me. Please flow urine. I keep taking gulps of water, but no urine is being produced. Feeling drunk now. I’ll press on.
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Out of painkillers, just when I need them most.
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Morning sunshine
Now, on the computer, I cringed when I typed that!
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Internet down
More trouble.
Huh!
Froze for the umpteenth time!
,

Now I am suffering too much.
Still no urine passing.
Experiencing increasing pain,
I may have to ring 111,
First, I’ll try the District Nurses’ number.

TTFN