Tag: FND symptoms

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Things went All-Apeshit on Thursday Morning.
Not that they were much better on Wednesday, just horribly, even worse on Thursday.
With the fear of sorting things out for Friday, the visit to the Audio Clinic, and worries about whether a Carer had been arranged to go with me as required, and with transport not yet confirmed, I am in a bit of mental turmoil. Having no calls for days from the Carers who Care, Mizra & Ejaz, I am getting no information about these things. I only found out late today that the 1-hour extra call that didn’t happen Monday had been moved to Friday, for the escort to the Clinic, thanks to Mizra. 
I only started this blog late Thursday morning.
After sorting out the Double-Whammy of Whoopsiedangleplops, I suffered. I’ll explain these now to avoid having to repeat them later and to save time.
Also, the two blogs will not be formatted as usual and will undoubtedly be error-ridden due to my rush to complete them. To add to the problems, on Wednesday afternoon, Trotsky Terence got hyperactive. Anne Gyna seems to have settled back into one of her painful, nasty periods.
Thursday’s Nightmare, while it’s fresh in my mind.
This sort of thing is happening far too often.
Anne Gyna guaranteed a terrible, ever-waking night’s rest. My tierdness could do with a more precise name. 
I felt lethargic, bone-weary, drained, knackered, fatigued, and weak, each and every time that the stabbing Anne Gyna woke me up. Taking longer to get back to sleep each time, thanks to incoming houndings from ,bringing up the past and a selection of my mistakes I’ve made. At about 04:30hrs, I woke without any Anne Gyna pains and felt the urgent need of the .
I’d not made it into the bed, and had fallen asleep in the fifth-hand Charity shop bought £300, broken down, Catheter tube crunching, dried blood-covered, grotty, dirty, and creaking recliner. The necessity of speed was hampered by Kagoule, a long dressing gown, and I wrapped myself up in a large throw. Had to free myself from those, then grab the extra long night Catheter bag tube, and without time or thought of doing any balance exercises, no time to, I fumbled my way with the walking stick and Catheter pouch to the wet room…
I think you can guess what was coming. 
The evacuation started well before I reached the Porcelain Throne. I tore off the Dressing gown and pulled up the long Kaghoule, sat and threw the night bag full of urine away on the floor, to concentrate on Trotsky Terence Torrent that flowed. 
As I sat there while the innards spurted out tiny soft blotches of wet excrement into the bowl…
This is when I noticed several tiny soft blotches of wet excrement on the floor. My first concern was when they had escaped and had fouled the Kaghoule and my legs. The answer to both thoughts was yes! Not that it was funny at the time, but I think I said out loud, “Oh, Shit!” The thought of cleaning up, with all the associated pain of bending down, went through my mind… But then things got even messier and worse!
As I stood up to check my clothing and body, I espied that the night pouch was leaking its urine, and slowly filling the wet room floor.
There I was, with the floor covered in two rolls of kitchen paper to help drain the fluid, and as it did, about 8 of the tiny brown boblets that had escaped earlier showed through. I tore the long, partly soiled khagoule off and fetched the needed toilet rolls and kitchen towels from the hallway.  
I was too angry at myself to cry.
After getting the used towels up with the long picker-upper and spraying the floor with disinfectant, I applied another load of towels, then turned my attention to cleaning up my body.
The towels were left, the WC needed cleaning, and I somehow decided to get a stand-up wash and shave. 
Got the teeth cleaned, then had a good body scrub and shave. All in a hurry, as I wanted to get the medications that the Carer would normally do. (Well, Ezaz & Mizra would automatically), done and to sort out the floor.
The shave proved to be one of my worst-ever; I hurried so quickly. Later, I realised I may as well not have bothered. Growth on the chin and neck seemed untouched by my panicky effort to cut them.
I had to have a shave later to make things right. I did this because the Clinic appointment is at 10:00 hours in the morning, and the lift has not yet been confirmed; a taxi may need to be ordered. Time will be at a premium. My head was getting confused, and I got on with the body, man breasts, underarms barrier creaming, testicle ointmenting, then I got Germoloided.
Leaving the “Painful One”, cowardly until last. 

Tackled the rest of the floor and WC cleaning. A painful job, and Anne Gyna was not happy at all.
As I was tidying up, the intercom chimed. It was the Carer, Rashid, coming. I put the kettle on as he arrived. 
A bad listener by nature, Rashid is. But I had to tell someone of my morning disasters.
He issued the medications, and I started blurting out my Yale of Woe. As I chuntered of, I noticed he was head down on his mobile again. I asked him if I was boring him. I restarted from the beginning of the tale, after asking him to listen, and he will learn some of my problems… not that you would be interested, of course. No reply. When I got to the medicationing I’d done, I told him he only had the stomach folds to barrier cream this morning. Carrying on, I glanced at him, back on his mobile, so I gave up.
He asked if I needed any Peptac. I said no thanks, and he gave me a dose of Peptac.
Then he came over with the barrier cream. I’d just told him what I’d done already, reminding him that only the tummy folds needed doing, and he put the barrier cream away. No body-checks done. No Phorpaining anywhere. No breakfast offered. No tea making offered… mind you, I was pleased about that. The last time He made one, I had to clean up spilt tea on the counter, down the cupboard below and on the floor. And the tea he made was horrible. Hahaha!
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Delivered today, my long-awaited long brush and dustpan wet. To replace the broken one from Amazon. Crap again, my fault, I expected and thought I was buying a long handled dustpan, but as you can see in these snaps I took, it has to be held with your foot. Meaning having to bend down to empty it. Bending is the reason I ordered it in the first place. I just can’t win, can I?
Ocado: Gorgeous, tasty food.
Isle of Man tomatoes
Treats for Jen & Frank, Nurses & Carers
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Rainy morning
Brightened up a bit
Darkened, but no rain
Started feeling unwell, and
made an early meal
Last photo, rain back

I settled into the £300 second-hand shop-bought, c1966, moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not-working recliner to watch an episode of my favourite, ‘Heartbeat’, on the TV and eat the meal.
And fell asleep, but not for long, the return of Anne Gyna season started. Humph!
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THURSDAY 14th MAY 2066
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MISTAKES FOUND ON THE URINE COUNT, I’ll correct them later
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Hard work catching up. The waking-up farce from today I’ve already written, but not forgotten.

Let’s see, Number One: Premature involuntary escape from the rear end – dealt with and reported earlier.
Number two: Trotsky Terence Torrent messed me up even further, and the floor.
Number Three: The night pouch spit and covered the wetroom floor, already with bloblets of evacuated product on it from escapage
Number Four: Later, I emptied the day bag with the butterfly control valve. I’m not sure whether I didn’t close it or caught it later, causing it to release urine. I noticed this two hours later.
Now I urinated on both legs and feet, and my socks.
Number Five: Getting my docks of triggered Back-Pain Brenda and Fractured Knee Frank into action.
Number Five: Then I had to hand-wash the kaghoule and socks. Or I’d have no clean ones left to use. While emptying the bowl of soapy water, I spilt most of it onto the kitchenette floor.
Number Six: I could not find the camera to take photos for the record. I used the old one, which may or may not work for me.
Number Six: 
Got a text from the bank; £1040 had gone out of the debits. I need help on this one.
I told the Carer of my problems. No comment made.
Carer Ejaz did one call, which was annoying, cause when I told the other chap about the cash, he didn’t comment or even look at the text. Taking away Ejaz and Mizra to be replaced with a non-caring Carer brings the idea of going into a home a little more acceptable. Then I would not have to wait 6 or more days to get help with banking (8 days since any). I am not prepared to let a Carer who helps himself to food from the freezer check my banking. Shopping (11 days since any), and arranging lifts to clinics, Doctors, Dentists, chemists, and opticians, which would either be unnecessary or so much easier. As with the problems today… Mind you, if they knew about these problems I’m having, I would not be popular or possibly accepted as a patient.

A FEW PHOTOS.  
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Kaghouls and socks to wash, de-urinate!
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Sorry, but I must stop now,
Lots to prepare for and do.
I’m not really up to going out tomorrow, but my need of hearing aids, whatever they cost me, is crucial.
I may have to wait a couple of weeks for them as well.
Today has left me so depressed.
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I’ve not felt as bad for a long time,
Mentally & physically out of tune,
So many things going apeshit…
I don’t like confusion, not one bit,
Lifts have not been arranged for the Clinic yet
Things to take: Do I need a bus ticket?
Which Carer is due? Ah, I think Mizra,
If owt else goes wrong, I’ll be all aquiver,
Something’ll happen; My mental barometer,
At rear-end escapages? I shudder,
Or leakages from the Catheter?
Some say bad luck is bilgewater…
I prayed life may improve, at least easier,
It got worse, not better…
I blame Starmer!
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I rose singing out loud at 0325hrs. Took off the nocturnal Catheter pouch, got up and ran with it to the wet room, emptied it and returned for my morning exercises. Stripped off the nightwear and naked, I went onto the balcony, where I keep my weights. Grabbed a 240lb barbell and did a hundred waist-lifts. Got on the sit-up machine for 600 tugs, touched my toes 200 times, dived down for 400 press-ups. Then 250 squats, 300 planks & lunges. Opened the windows and yodelled out my greetings to the world, followed by a Tarzan Talk with the crows. A robust “Aah-eeh-ah-eeh-aaaaaah!” Jogging in place, jumping jacks, high knees, splits, then launched into ten minutes of shadow-boxing, with some neat left undercuts thrown in. Knee raises, one-leg stands, and leg extensions.
15-Min Beginner Cardio Circuits, including chair squats and 15 downward squats. Abdominal crunches, bent-over-rows, then nipped out and down in the lift and ran back up the fire-escape stairs, eleven double floors.
Back in the flat, drank a gallon of carrot juice and made a banana-and-garlic puree.  
Well, alright, I only did 300 press-ups.
I’ll start again…
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I jumped awake at 0325hrs, this was thanks to who had been having a go at me about so many things I’d done, failed to do, lost, done wrong, forgotten about, or misunderstood. I usually cope alright with these attacks, but today was critically different. He was digging up memories not from years ago, as he usually does, but having a go at me about fresh stuff! The Git! 
But as it kicked in, of took away my concentration; heavenly, I nodded off back to the land of nod. Annie was having none of that, and she kept giving me a good twinge of pain to wake me regularly.
At around 0500hrs, I moved to a different position and banged the ingrowing toenail on the bedpost.
Swore and cursed and joined me. I don’t think I did anything for a long time, just lay there, sadly feeling sorry for myself.
Slowly, I came to appreciate that the Catheter Flow back was pain-free, and I almost cheered up. 
Freed the night bag, and as I did so, an involuntary escapage of wind from the rear end infused the flat, and probably others as well. It was putrid!
My timing in getting sat on the porcelain this morning was perfect.
Just before I got seated, the evacuation started of its own accord, and kept coming for a good while.
I think I coughed as the aroma filled the wet room. And it did, too. However, I’m a little confused about what happened, for I had a seated seizure mid-flow. When I came out-of-it, the usual acidicness upflowed into the throat and mouth, yet the disorientation seemed so mild compared to normal.
As I rose and started to wipe and wash the rear end, I realised I could no longer smell the pong that had permeated everywhere; it seemed to me to have been there a couple of minutes earlier. 
Cleaning up, I knocked the battery clock off of the shelf. It showed 0635hrs? Impossible, I must have caught something when I used the picker-upperer to retrieve the AAA battery clock. Finished cleaning, grabbed 4-legged Wally, the walking stick, and casually made my way to the kitchen to get the kettle and make a brew of Glengettie tea. Spotting the clock on the window ledge, telling me it was 0650hrs. Where did nearly 2 hours in the wetroom disappear to? I had to check I was not going bonkers… well, no more than is usual, and got the mobile phone to check the right time. It was indeed 0655hrs. I think I’d had a second seizure, because there was no acidic taste in my chest, mouth or throat. I returned to the kitchenette and found I had not switched the kettle on. No big issue in itself. But I felt certain, positive that I had done so. Is it going to be another one of those days? My EQ has not mentioned what to expect or given me any warnings.

I made the brew, let it mash for a while, and went to the fridge to get the milk. Flippin’ eck! The fridge had a load of water slopping about at the bottom! Had to take out or move about the stuff and used a whole new roll of kitchen roll to dry it up. I checked the cans and bottles for leaks, but found none. Then found I had a few items out of date. Cheese and yoghourts. Of course, with my eyesight problems, I may well have missed some. Like last week, when I checked a jar of pickled mushrooms, thinking I must eat this soon. I thought it said Use by May 28… well, it did. But when Mizra checked it on Saturday, May 28, it was confirmed, but the year? Well, that was verified as 2025!
The mysteries of Woodthorpe Courts hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, grotesque succubae, ectoplasms, Whoopsiedangleplops, ailments, extraterrestrials,  spirits, Accifauxpas, and the Fata Morganas strike again!
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I got the computer going on the second try and started updating the blog… then the Carer arrived. Hard Work. He cleaned the testicle area, but not as the nurse told him to. Disconcerting.

By the time midday arrived, I’d been to the toilet for a rear-end job four times. Each one was of the same or a similar type. Phooey, yellow and soft, but not liquid. 

The extra-Carer call for 1330 > 1430hrs (cleaning) did not happen. No one has contacted me. Which is disappointing to say the least. When I did mention this to Carer Rachid, he offered no advice, help, or even a response, as far as I can tell. No apology (not that it is his fault), no support. No help with letters or emails.
Maybe they want to lose me from their books? They have taken E and M off of my daily rota, which is heartbreaking. The two best, I lose. Two hard-to-work-with replacements. There may be something in the air with this action. That I will not like, just a message from EQ. Could be an ulterior motive, surreptitiousness, clandestine, perhaps.
Or it would just be my usual bad luck.

bleeding & sore. We’ve run out of Anusol Cream yet again. Carer informed, no reply, or signs of interest given. Asked him to order some. No response received.

The INR blood girl called in and out in six minutes.
Oh, yes, she’s quick on her feet. Hehehe!

THE FEW PHOTOS:

The filthy gap between the now non-working cooker and the corner counter. I tried to clean it a bit.
Did my best. When no Cleaner-Carer arrived today.
Beautiful sky
But it wasn’t very warm
The Tree Copse
Closer,
A bit of blood from the piles late on Ran out of Haemorrhoid cream. No idea whether any Anusol has been ordered. Carer E used to handle all prescription ordering, but he no longer comes in during the week. A heartbreaking loss, and no idea, because no communication is coming from the new guys. I don’t even get any information or contacted when a Carer fails to turn up. I know these things happen, sometimes out of the company’s control.

Wobbly night shot
Sad meal.
Worra Day!

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HORRIBLE DAY
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Not feeling up to much, Sorry.
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I stirred at 0300hrs, passed a trumpet-worth blast of wind that hurt the haemorrhoids, and fell back into a deep sleep. Returning to semi-life again at 0645hrs. I lay there, awaiting the brain’s activation. It obligingly did so within around ten minutes. I was sorry it did. For fears and worries about what the day would bring, greedily controlled my immediate thoughts on the prospects that theoretically lay ahead for me.
Would the nurse arrive to check the hand? (No)
Would things work out right with the double laundry we have to get done? (No – but help from Jenny, my Angel🤎, made it work), this time.
Must try to make my memory notes bigger. Failed!
Ask Ejaz to send an order for Catheter equipment using the Vyne email. Forgot to!
It was a Thursday with a difference because we had to do Wednesday’s laundry, cleaning, etc., as no Carer arrived yesterday. No information received as to why. Not that it mattered, really.
Onwards: Many things will be missed, and some out of chronological order. It was a confusing and hectic day. I didn’t get around to starting this blog until Friday morning. Meaning my Friday blog is already way behind before Friday arrived. Deep Depressing Darius ruled the day. High-Mood-Horis was cheering me up a smidgeon now and then, such as when Jenny saved situations with her usual polite aplomb. And the tumble I took was eventually eased when Ejaz returned to get me up.
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I removed the nocturnal Catheter pouch and made my way speedily, well hobbling steadily, to the wet room to utilise the Porcelain Throne before the enthusiastic buildup in the innards saw daylight.
The soggy, yet lumpy H-bomb shapes that were evacuated consisted of four bombs, each one breaking up on contact with the water. I don’t suppose you needed to know that. But with me having a regular, almost daily, different class of evacuation material, it is a curiosity to me. The Doctor is interested in this. She’s not concerned about my Peripheral Neuropathy, Pete, Sandra’s Seizures, Fractured-Knee-Frank, Lymphorrea- Leslie, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley, Back-Pain-Brenda, Cararact-Katie, Mechanical-Aorta-Alfred, Little-Inchys- Fungal Lesion, Harolds-Haemorrhoids-Bleeding, Memory-Mangling-Malcolm, Diabetes-David, Cartilage- Chloe, Colin-Cramps, Glaucoma-Gladys, or about Ingrowing toenail Unguis-Incarnate-Iris. 

I took some kitchenette window snaps. The first one to the right, where tha rising sunshine from the back of the flats had not reached yet.
Then a photo to the left.
Or was that the other way around? Either way, they show a contrast of the views on offer.
Friday, doing this blog
Suddenly, I could not write anything on this blog. Then I got the Task Manager thingy come up. I couldn’t even write in Google to ask it for help. Panic-Mode was on the way. I knew this as my lips twitched when about to go into a seizure or panic. So the Carer said.
I turned everything off, losing work in Excel, CorelDraw and WordPress. Spirits dwindled. Especially as I thought I was doing alright.
Back to the usual cross-my-fingers, turn off the computer, give it ten minutes, and reboot.
Gotten Himmel, working again. Phew!
I immediately went on Google to search for help on this problem, copied them into CorelDraw and saved them for the next time this problem arises, in case one of them does not work.
You can tell with my mental problems, I pray I’ll never need to try these. Some look easy, but most of them leave a brain haze & fog in an instant.

Overjoyed, I opened the programs and started catching up by redoing the work I hadn’t been able to save.

Half an hour later, it started again, no writing, no saving work I nearly got caught up on… Shit!
I instinctively closed it down again, too nervous to try any of the advice from confusing Google. Not their fault, it’s me who panics with guidelines and instructions. When I do not know the meanings of the terms. This time, I had a job, or did something wrong, cause choosing ‘Power’ got an unfathomable load of, I think, code waffle. Panic increased; had I ruined everything? Had I pressed the wrong key option?
Had I had to unplug it to turn it off, surely this would have harmed the computer? Not as much as the computer has harmed me. Hehehe! 
Why did I write that laugh? 
Wunderbar! It came back on,
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Now I have to miss off loads of things, ’cause I’m sure it’s going to do it again. This blog is my lifeline to the herd of my followers. Both of them!
It gives me freedom of a sort.

Morning car park shot

More space in the balcony now that Jenny
has made use of the wheelchair.

Work was lost when the computer went down. Sob!

Ejaz came to do the belated Laundry & cleaning visit.
Jenny helped by asking us to ring her when the laundry went in, and saying she would move it into the dryer and gather it. Ejaz can collect it, or she will bring it up to the flat for me. Bless her, she’s so kind to me.
I thought that when Ejaz went down, I’d crack on with the computer. I was concentrating on this, and realised that Ejaz was not here. He was back from putting the laundry, and had been mopping the kitchen floor. I thought he was in the wetroom, and went to check…

I’ve no idea how or why, one minute I was between the bed and the non-working recliner on my way to the door… then found myself face down on the floor. I’m certain I felt hitting the bed, then the chair, then the floor. So it was not a seizure; otherwise, I would not have remembered it. I could not manoeuvre myself out to get to the recliner to drag myself up. I felt something in my pocket as I fumbled about trying to move; it was my mobile. So I rang Ejaz, but there was no answer. 
Then rang Jenny, no answer. But didn’t worry cause wherever Ejaz was, he’d be back soon. And he was.
He hauled me up on my feet, which was no mean feat.
Injuries? Very slight. I’d cracked the scab on the hand injury and scratched the leathery lymphorrhea skin on the right leg. I think the ideal place to take a tumble was between the bed and the chair!

Biscoff bickies, hard, but I can manage them when they have been dunked in a mug of strong Glengettie or Cooperative 99 tea. Soft mini-roll cakes, Polish chicken sausages. Cheesey nibbles, Ketchup, & potato soup. Mouthwash, hot dogs, grapefruit drink, seaweed crispies, no-butter butter, and soft goats cheese.

Teatime photo

A poor photo of the potato & onion soup.
I added some liquid smoke and vegetable crispies, which were nice and soft after being warmed up.

It took me three attempts to get a decent photo in the very windy, rainy conditions outside.

The first two still looked a little artistic.

TTFN 

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Today was bad enough, gut-wrenching, piteous, and wretched. By the time I got around to starting this blog on Saturday morning, up until about 03:00hrs, hope had returned, and it seemed I was at last going to make some progress with it. But No!
CorelDraw, MS Word, and the computer’s shortage of memory ensured that Monday was going to be the worst day of the month. Sunday was bad enough. So, I’m putting both days of the same blog in hopes of getting at least some catching up done. Sunday’s memories faded as I tackled Monday’s surge of dingbats, computer cock-ups, Seizures, insanity and failures. Sunday’s tales are going to be in short-form, detail-wise. Monday’s events took over my poor, demented brain. 
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Finally got to bed.

Waking up views…
A little misty out there.

Ejaz found the ‘missing’, much-searched-for Cancer Phoo Test thing I’d lost.

Did a body check, foamed the feet, and changed the socks… well, no, he didn’t come thinkl if it… or was that on Sunday. Confused again. It would help a lot if I could read my own writing on the memory pad. Then, as I was telling Ejaz about me losing the kit, he smiled a sarcastic, sympathetic smile, shook his head, and picked it up from between the pillow and cover. I felt such a fool!
My balance seemed a lot better today, despite my lack of sleep. And as Ejaz left, I found myself singing to myself. Cliff Richards’ The Young Ones’,  humming to the Shadows’ Stars Fell on Stockton’, and moved on to a quick Yodelling song, Frank Ifields’ She Taught Me To Yodel’.
Then I grabbed the phoo-test equipment and off to the Porcelain Throne to catch a torpeo in the bucket for sample taking? But could I get anything to flow? No! I waited and waited, hoped and prayed.
Nothing, not a sausage! I crossed my fingers I would remember where I left the taking- kit. On top of the toilet roll.

I hadn’t felt this good for ages; I was almost perky! I got on the computer and made great progress on Friday’s blog. I reckon I started singing again, as I opened Excel to make the graph. To add a column for the weight of the passed urine to be recorded in.  
I didn’t, and still don’t know what I did wrong!
But after two hours altering things, Excel froze!
I contained mt self-anger well if I recall rightly. I just closed it and left it for a while. Then reopened it.
I’ve never seen many messages come up on the screen one after the other! I checked on Google, asking their robot what I need to do.
That just confused me more. So, I did the usual and turned everything off, then started again…
Stupidly not saving the CorelDraw and WP work I’d just done, in my desire to get the Excel book back.

Booted up, pressed the Excel start button, and it did so. I chose the file to open, and it opened… but it was the same as when I first started it, hours earlier. I’d lost all that work! It was a struggle to sort it out because relearning how to use and manipulate the programme was so difficult to remember, and I thought I’d done a good job… but not now.
Another hour lost, then I had to start over.
Gasps of frustration!

Ejaz rushed to clean, dry, and medicate my feet and ankles. There was no body check this time.
He was so busy.

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Who is it? Does it matter?
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No doubt about it, no question.
This must be the worst snap
than I’ve ever taken.
The envelope for the phoo sample.

End car park, it looks a
little different to me?

Sheer frustration made me take this shot.
Three wheelchairs bought, and I can’t
use a single one of them! Humph!

I turned on the TV to watch some Heartbeat.

A new world record… for me anyway.
I felt like I’d blinked, and nearly nodded of and shot awake instead. Carer came in… I then felt the upsurge of acidity into the mouth, nose, and throat, so there was no guesswork needed.
This, I believe, was my longest ever seizure. 
I turned on the TV minutes after he left on his previous visit. Seems that I’d been off into cuckoo-land for around three hours or more. With the recovery taking very little time, it adds value to my estimate. In the past, all short mini seizures had taken much longer to come out of. The longer ones seem so much easier. There’s a reason for this, but nobody told me what it was.

A snap here, of my right leg.
Pretty little thing, innit?
Hahehe! Seriously, though, it is far better today, clearing up nicely, now; thank you very muchly.
A bit dodgy when taking the bowl back to the kitchen sink. Can’t carry that and a walking stick, but my balance has much improved over the last two days. I’d like to say the same about Back-Pain-Brenda and Right-Shoulder-Sharia. But you can’t win them all. The odd one would be nice.

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Fings ain’t wot they used to be,
That no longer bovvers me,
I don’t say it antagonistically,
I ain’t talkin aggravatedly,
So good luck is an absentee,
I’ve got peripheral neuropathy,
Can’t see, cataract, you see,
TBI, and a fractured knee,
Catheter. no manual pee,
Bad back, deaf, Tothache Tiffany,
So many worse of than Inchie…
Arithmophobia, littlest ever willy,
But I get understanding from Jenny, 
How did I get into this state? A mystery…
Please accept my apology.
Hehehe!
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All The Best, TTFNski!