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SATURDAY 4th JULY 2026
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LAST NIGHT’S WONDERFUL SUPPER
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Maybe more of a verbal ramble,
  My thoughts were not refereeable,
Many errors, mistakes, regrettable,
Faults flowed, most non-reminisable,
My WC visits, all reminiscentable,
Many problems… none resolvable,
Two new ones, financial & rectal,
My mobile is no longer rechargeable,
I found one Accifauxpa, reprehensible,
Left my fungal lesion looking rhizoidal,
The new Catheter got in a tangle,
Hope you don’t find this too recremental!
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Just thought I’d use this old photo from 2018.
To warn anyone from using this crap company.
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FRIDAY 3rd JULY 2026
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Yet another bad night for sleep, well, for staying asleep. Always waking up.
I needed the Porcelain Throne, and almost went over getting there. My balance was bad, and the swollen toes, feet, and legs made things feel worse. Constipation is in charge on this first visit. But it was the only one that way, and I took the four more visits in two hours. Each one is getting a degree even sloppier, wetter, splashier and stinkier. They stopped quite sharply. Hope that the trots don’t start again later, if I can encourage, bribe, or beg the Carer to take me to Sherwood for bread, tomatoes, lemon wafers, and, most vital, get some cash to pay the window cleaners, toenail cutter, etc., who won’t take the card.
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8: 10hrs, Carer Mizra arrived. He noticed the things I’d knocked over and dropped earlier, while I was making up the bottles of mineral water mixed with soda water, on the floor. Cleaned, picked them up without my having to ask. He’s a good help. Medications given, shoulder Phorpained, my privates barrier creamed. Catheter emptied and colour & amount recorded. I asked Carer Mirza to turn on the booster button on the metre in the outer hallway on his way out.
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Throne visit number seven, the last of the day, was just water with bits in it. Oh, the stink – Cor!
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Midday Carer arrived. I asked how long he was doing this visit, in case it was being done as catch-up for an hour & a half, but that didn’t come again. One hour, he said, after consulting his beloved, nearly always in use, mobile. I launched a forceful appeal for him to escort me into Sherwood for food and cash. He went on his mobile and then asked if we would have time to get it done. 
I said, if we rush, you can help me dress; we’ve 20 minutes before the bus is due. 
I could not find my pair of trousers! But realised we did not have time to look for them, and wore a khagoule with a coat over it. Getting the shoes onto my swollen toes and feet was agony! But he got them on okay. Then we went as quickly as I could walk with the walker, through the other two complexes to the bus stop. He was well ahead of me; just as well I didn’t have a seizure or take a tumble.
I just told him the bus would be here in ten minutes, and he got up, muttered something, and started walking back to the flats. I shouted out ‘No!’ and he turned, saying he had left his bag in the flat and was going to collect it. I pointed out that it was not a good idea to go into the flat while I was not there, and walked all the way back with him. He got his bag, and we returned to the bus stop as the bus was arriving. You know why I did this. We got on the bus, a close call.
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Down to the bottom of Winchester Hill, I told him when to press the stop button. Got off the bus, good job he was there, else I’d have taken a tumble getting off the bus.
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We walked up to the Ozan store to use their ATM outside. I pointed out that while he’s chasing ahead, would he know if I’d had a tumble or. Like on an earlier visit, I had a seizure and walked into the road, making a bus jam its brakes on and panicking the people around me. As Ejaz explained when I recovered from the seizure. He was not yards ahead of me and physically pulled me back. 
Thanks, Ejaz. It did nothing, he carried on walking too fast for me to catch up. Outside the store, after we realised the ATM was not there, I asked him again not to
rush ahead. After this, he stayed closer to me. 
We plodded on to the JS shop and used their ATM. Then walked back to the Ozan Continental Store, and did a bit of shopping. He was rushing me a little. I think he was nervous that we’d take too long. Understandable.
I purchased some lemon wafers, Brown tomatoes, two bread rolls, and a red onion, then went to the delicatessen and got a pack of sliced Kielbasa and Krakowska. Then, at the serving counter, four thick-cut slices of Boczek. With all the hurrying, it took away the rare pleasure of browsing of the shelves to compare and make choices.
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We hobbled back to Winchester Street, and there were so many police emergency vehicle horns and klaxons heard. The Carer said eight at least. At the bus stop, the sign said the 40 bus would arrive in ten minutes. The Carer sat on the fag-ends, leaves, twigs & food waste covered filthy pavement and took out his mobile.
The bus arrived 15 minutes late; obviously, to me, the police incident must have taken place somewhere on the bus’s route, I assumed. We got back to the flat, Carer in a bit of a state at being late, sorry about that. I asked him to get my shoes off, nothing else, so he could get the bus to his next client. 
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All the hobbling seems to have affected the legs and feet; all were far less swollen than when I started out on the little trip. Yet they hurt far more than before. A lot more.
I was so hungry that I put the food away, all but what was needed for my snack. Cut the two bread rolls in half. The finger didn’t bleed too much.
Loaded both sides with my favourite No-Butter-Butter. Two slices of meat, sliced tomatoes added, and salted the tomatoes a little. I just knew I was going to like these! The smell! 😋 
Let the tomatoes sink in while I had a quick wash, put them in the baking tin, and devoured them slowly, appreciatingly; lip-smacking-tasty!
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I put the tray down and fell into a deep sleep.
Woken first, by a telephone call from Sister Jane. I must remember to send her an email on Saturday.
I couldn’t believe how tired that little trip had made me.
Also, getting out of the recliner to answer the phone, the dropsies returned. I dropped and trod on, crushing a biscuit, making a mess on the carpet. Knocked the toothpaste-tincture off of the counter. Call-over, I dropped my walking stick, knocking the open tub of biscuits, to join the single crushed one. 
Cleaned the mess up; finding out that the back, shoulder, neck, toothache, feet, leg and left knee pains had all returned with a vengeance. After finishing the cleaning, I took an Oxicodone & Codeine.  
Back into the bed this time. I could do nothing else, the computer was not opened until late Saturday morning.
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I was woken up by the man door chime, quickly followed by the landline chirping. I struggled out of bed, limping, and even more painfully, to the front door, but nobody was there. The phone stopped ringing.
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The doorvhime burst into life again. I was not in any condition mentally or physically to communicate with the ICC lady & Carer, and then my Carer came in. Confusion: I think they brought some medications and took some away. They could not have timed it better; that’s all I can remember of the visit, and I am not certain I got this right. Drained and in pain.
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This time I got down 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. Dropped of quickly.
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Carer Mizra woke me up. I vaguely recall talking to him, but I don’t recall any other details. 
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Nodded off again, for 7 hours! Good for me.
Waking up at 06:0hrs Saturday…
Cruelly, in absolute agony!
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Tuesday 30th June 2026
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I had a chat about my telangiectasias veins, which were showing up on the tops of my feet. Of course, with my mouth being at the other end of my overweight, elephantine body, I could not hear what the spider-veins were saying back to me… if, indeed, they were replying. It gave me a wee feeling of being wanted. Timothy’s Telangiectasias have not visited me for months and months. I reckon they heard from either Neuropathy Pete or TBI about how much things went right today for two hours, then I discovered poor Little Inchie embedded in the deep red growth from the fungal lesions’ waste, which was almost as hard, maybe as hard as a diamond. They knew my fear of going back to the hospital to have things looked at. 
I can stay in the flat to be ignored, put down, bullied, and depressed, without paying £15 either way for a taxi. Come to think of it, I haven’t got enough cash anyway. No long-call Carer came today. (Nothing new about that) They missed one or two last week as well. So that was another chance to get down to the shops and use the ATM lost. If only some of them could understand my problems. I’d have more chance of climbing Mount Everest backwards using only one leg and arm than getting that. Tsk!
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But that’s enough of this good news…
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Nae, I joke, here is really good news!
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I’m afraid my scribblings have been rather poorish, well, terrible really. Do my bestest.
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Up at 0600hrs. Pouch off and emptied, very, very carefully.
Hoovered, and off to the Porcelain Throne. Bit of a bloodied Constipation Conrad battle.
At least cleaning things up was much easier than of late.
Then I stripped off, had a shave, did the teggies, and saw the state of poor Little Inchy. It looked like a live growth around Little Incy’s lesions and the tube entry point. I put some Dettol in the warm flannel and tried to gently ease of the growth. But, no! I was unbelievably solid and rock hard. I managed to get a tiny bit off, but it hurt like Hell.
I examined it with the reading glasses on… on me, not the growth. Hehe! I concluded that it must have been a mixture of blood, urine, and barrier cream. This was heartbreaking in a way at the time. Because Carer Mirza had arranged an assisted shower for me this morning. The first one in many weeks. I decided that, with the tube-array gripper now completely off, I would be taking too much of a risk by showering.

Along with the mass of whatever it was hanging loose and liable to block things, I’m a little nervous. Seeing the Doctor next week. Making up a list of my problems.
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Mirza took photos of the Catheter problems.
He took one for the Doctor of Little Inchies crusted, like cement, blood & urine mess found this morning.😡
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The bottom (Do not remove without using Alcohol) sticky tube array holder that was stuck on my thigh has now fallen off, leaving an unreadable rectangular bit that was on top of the lost securing disc.
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Not up to much, now.
A full page, the last page of notes, that I was trying to decipher, beat me. Tiredness, frustrations, and worry had got to me. I cannot believe how bad my writing was.
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Photo of something I dropped in 2018. I popped this in again, not being able to take photos and get them on the new computer, due to CorelDraw not working on the new computer, and both cameras being kaputt anyway. I used this as it is the same fork that I dropped today.
I kept a count of items I’d dropped today.
As a bit of a fun quiz, to see if you can guess how many things I lost grip of, this Thursday?
A: 5 – B: 15 – C: 20 or D: 34.
Not that there is any prize, but it may be a surprise.
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THURSDAY 25th JUNE 2026
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MANY CHANGES TODAY
Both legs are playing up today; the right one is higher up, and the left might be from the fractures, ’cause I clouted it last night, when it gave way, on the cabinet corner.
No moans today. Yes, there are plenty to pick from, but I’m getting sick of listing them. Which may change later, naturally. Arranging the lists and getting Carer cover to go with me to the hospital and Doctors is not working well. 
Lack of communication and feedback. As with the worrying case of the Catheter.
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I’ll not mention the Glaucoma operation being delayed,  and I have to phone them to make another assessment for the surgery session.
Oh…
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90-6-6  7
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Inchie played in goal… once
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THE PIPISTRELLE & PIMPERNEL  
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Erm… Er… but, What? – A Philosophical Cartoon?
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Mayhaps, I’d just got to a new stage in my
depressioning? Just had enough? Hehe!
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SUNDAY 28 JUNE 2026
A mix of mellowness and anger,
A twinge of hope? At least an aura,
A moment of acceptable aprosexia,
Questions asked, hoping for an answer,  
Made with no guide or adjudicator,
I became a temporary faux procrastinator,
An email of complaint, anger was on amber…
Sent to the NHS, about the Catheter,
Mentioning the cataract & Glaucoma,
I’ve never felt angrier or absoluter,
I’ve never been a greedy acquirer,
Today, I could not have felt shyer,
High-Mood-Horis’ presence felt higher,
Then Depression Darius sank me lower,
Darius or Horis, which was my alienator?
Then, I’d be the apologiser, then appeaser,
Guilt, shame, embarrassment, then felt annoyder,
Recalled the dentist giving me acroanaesthesia,
Or would that have been acroparesthesia?
Either way, it left me with ataxia & aparaprosexia,
Tonight I became even more ambisinister…
With periods of drop-it-no-choice, apraxia,
Still some items on the floor, I used the picker-upper,
My knee gave way; the tendon was very tender,
Went down, hit my head on a cabinet corner,
Cry? Me? I wailed like a yodeller!
My luck stays the same, bad, whatever!
But mentally, I’m whithersoever…
Here, there, gone, coming, whichever, 
Weirdly wearier, weedier, woozier,
I’m turning into a whimperer…
If only life could be easier…
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I blamed Starmer. Still do.
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WEDNESDAY 24th JUNE 2026
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A Daft Witty Ode
I once went out with a female girl,
And romance began to unfurl,
In the excitement, I got an injury
I went and cracked my knee,
I got entangled in her girdle!
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INCHIES TUESDAY ODE
THOUGHTS ON EL PRESIDENTE TRUMP
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A hypothetical ‘Greater United States of America’ (in red). including Canada, Greenland and the former Panama Canal Zone, made by Donald Trump, Venezuela (in orange) under U.S. influence after the intervention and ongoing U.S. threats on Cuba (in yellow) in early 2026.
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I got the notepad to read my day’s memory notes, scribblings. They were terrible!
I wish the camera hadn’t died; otherwise, I would have taken a photo (if the computer would let me import it) to show you what a mess I made of them.
My eyes are getting seriously bad now. When I nod off and wake again, all I see is what I was seeing before, warped and leaning to my left. Cataract or Glaucoma, one or both, could be the reason for this, maybe?
The lousy luck in my having a seizure as they were prepping me for the Cataract pre-operation procedure, and the lady thinking I was having a stroke as I came out-of-it clutching my chest (always get an acidic taste reflux after a seizure), called the CAT team. I spent the night in the Cardiac ward. Then, months later, I got a text or an email, but I couldn’t find it because I had accidentally deleted everything from my email & mobile memory. It told me I had to make another appointment, and this time to make sure I bring a Carer along with me. Same for the Doctor’s appointment… Yes, I got one! Had to wait 5 weeks to get the earliest available one. 
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I was going to send this to the District Nurses to explain my concerns over the new Catheter.
I also meant to ask how often I have to arrange for it to be changed, but I missed that off. Tsk!
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I’m Not Coping very well
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On my last visit to the Highbury Hospital
That was in about 2012; now I’ve got a second one.
Which I’m pleased about. Snags? Plenty!
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