FND symptoms

Inchie: Saturday 6th December 2025L Two Accifauxpas!

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I regret this is going to have to be a quickie.
Due partly to the very short but frequent visits from . He certainly left his trademark of uncaring emotions with me. ‘Sod-Em-All’ style. For I decided to have another go at replacing some more choice words for use in the Ode. I spent a good four hours on them, not making much progress, cause, as per usual, I kept doing something else and left the tap running again. (Unbelievable!) However, at the time, I was just not bothered in the slightest!
No scribble on the memory notepad at all, well, the date and time I got up, that was all on it this morning (Sunday). Also, this Sunday will be known forthwith as the Words-Escaping-the-Brain Sunday!
Now, I know the words, but you would not believe the word I wanted to say or write that were off on the ether. Some, I grasped, reclaimed within seconds. Others I had to look up – Like the names of the tablets that the Carer asked me if I needed. Codeine came to me straight away, then I struggled to get Paracetamol, Peptac, Anusol, and Ramipril. I had the feeling that he thought I was joking with him. It felt so weird.
AS the day went on, although the wonderful paid extremely short visits, they were frequent. (Same as this but worse on Sunday morning!) I’m a smidgen worried about this.

So just a few photos again to help me remember anything. Oh dearie me. Grammarly is working overtime this morning… no, afternoon, already!

This one U can recall, first of the day, from the kitchen window. First cloud-free morning for ages. I hae a feeling that I got up and took this one earlier.

The Deja Vu, I found myself back at the window taking this shot, what must have been hours later.

The replacement day catheters arrived, with a different calve contraption for me to try. The Carer re[placed the old one, we’ll see how we go.Think I took this one next.

Then later, this is one of the almost-barren cars parked at the end of the road car park.

I think I started on the word lists about eleven.

Did the second HC checks in the afternoon.
This Sunday, my memory and concentration are in a bad state; why didn’t I make my usual notes?

Ah, mayhap I’d overdosed on ?

The tree copse was gloomy to see, and winter approaches; the trees change colour, lose their leaves, and look so sad, as if they were depressed.
A little like the voters who elected Starmer into office as Prime Minister! Hehehe!

The last few minutes of attention. The flat hats and Bombay Potatoes failed to arrive yesterday, and arrived at teatime. I showed one off, and it looked like I was in a good frame of mind.

Nosh.

At the time of writing this, I checked the catheter bag to see if it needed emptying… both feet squelched in the urine as I moved. Socks, legs, carpet and slippers soaked again. Got the slippers, shirt, dressing gown and socks off and washed the socks. Got the bowl with Dettol in it to clean my feet and legs, dried off with paper towels. Painful. Taking the
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Then, as I gingerly took the bowl back to the kitchen, I slipped on some water, clouted my left arm and right leg. The arm was well scuffed, on the leg, it tore open the leathery skin, and now I’ve got a tenderly painful arm, and , leaking fluid down the right leg – but not into the slipper; As both pairs are in the laundry bag. It’s the second time this week I’ve had a catheter leak! 
Depressed? Me? YES!
I may have to call for an ambulance if the leg does not stop leaking, so if no blog, you’ll know why.
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TTFN

Inchie: Fri 5 Dec 25. Went on a right downer today. Betterer now, though.

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Welcome to Inchie Today. As per, I’ve suffered so many mistakes and faux pas today, I don’t think I can recall them all, and don’t even feel up to it. Endless problems unsolved, and I can’t envisage them ever being solved or sorted. Depression like never before. Amazon tell me they have delivered my order – they did. But instead of getting two flat hats and six packets of Bombay sauce, I got two bottles of carpet shake and freshen thingies with some sort of implement wrapped between them. There was no name or address on the box or the clear plastic wrapping on the carpet reshener. Huh! Now I have to find someone to help show me how to inform Amazon. Like most Oligarchs, they make it hard to complain about anything to them. 
My heart is not in it today, for the first time ever. I thought surely today I could have a rest from the constant flow of problems. No!

The day started with the same ailments and confusion that the last six days have, and Dark Darius came on after I’d taken these two, not-so-bad shots of the moon this morning. This quality would usually have cheered me up, but the feeling of hopelessness, frustration, and, as I said, Depression clung like glue as one failure, mistake, or accusation after another harassed me. I fear feeling like this has brought on a new aspect; I’m thinking of how to express it. Well, I suppose I’ve just given up. Now, shave, shower or wash, and cannot be bothered. I don’t want food; a dejection lingered all day, but late on, when the Amazon incident happened, I reached a new depth of hopelessness. I pray things change soon, attitude-wise. I’m a little like a zombie. I’ll keep trying. But genuinely fear the way I am unbelievably low, at this moment.

Too many things are going wrong with no help or hope of anything changing; well, they might get worse, but not any easier to cope with. Medically, all those promises of help given to me in the hospital came to zilch. Thinking back to this week’s cock-ups made me feel even worse. Two failures to get to the wet room on time. I’ve still not got that cleaned up after them. The Carers’ one extended visit a week has been used up with one helping me get to the dentist, next week the opticians. The laundry has been done, but it came back wet. Further shame: the times I’ve not closed the catheter tap properly… or may have caught it on something, I don’t know. They think, and say it is simple, closing a loose valve, and just say “Just make sure it’s closed properly”. Which sounds smug to me. 

This week has seen me leave the hot water tap running and the water getting cold, on 5 or six days. Twice on Tuesday. So, I have an excuse not to have a shave and shower? And my BO must be bad now. It’s not like a High Horis event, when I get the ‘Sod-em-all’ attitude at all. It’s more severe, worse. I know what I’m doing and just can’t muster the interest to do owt – never been like this before in my life. All I create is self-hatred and loathing for being so pathetic. It’s like I’m sinking.

It’s like when I can’t find something or recall names and dates. But not when you have Peripheral Neuropathy. I lose the sense of touch quite often, particularly this week gone by. I’ve dropped countless items; the ones I remember that caused me even more bother were dropping the slow cooker bowl when taking it to the kitchen sink to clean. Not only did it land on my ingrowing toenail, but the leftover food spilt down my legs, one leg strapping, undersocks and into my slipper.
Tuesday, I think it was, I could not let go of a mug of tea with my right hand; it’s usually that one. And while going to stand over the sink, kicked off. I knocked some things off of the draining board and hit  the under-the-sink cupboard door that I’d left open.
Then, of course, there was this week’s tumble. That may have been my fault as I got up too quickly, and went down, gratefully via 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.
An ambulance was called, and a delivery driver helped me back onto my feet. The ambulance was cancelled.
Call from the nurses, the ambulance is back on, but it will take about 4 hours to get here.
So, I got things ready, the trolley out of the balcony, filled the box with nibbles and NHS paperwork, dressed and waited. A cardiac nurse phoned for a Q&A session. Ambulance cancelled. Two hours later, an ambulance arrived. Argh!
Did all the tests, and left a report, and let me stay at home. And now, days later, I’ve still got stuck in the wet room.
Indeed, when we could not find the INR dosage sheet, and three of us searched all over, a Carer yesterday remembered that I put it in the walker box in the medical folder when we went to the opticians, and he retrieved it. Yahoo! Blaming me for forgetting where it was. Blamed me! Hahaha!

Then there have been two loose valve catheter leakages. Today’s leak soaked one foot, night shirt, socks, leg straps and slippers. And the bloody carpet again. Luckily, a Carer came as I’d gingerly got a bowl with hot water and Dettol to wash my feet. Thanks, mate. Now I’ve got all the extra laundry to do. Slippers and khagoule socks to be handwashed and air-dried. I’ll never get caught up. Bending and stretching bring on the dizzies and loss of balance.
I pray someone in the medical world reads this blog. Then again, I’m not interested, just guilty of giving up. But I’ve taken some photos, so I’m going to put them on, and they might prompt the old battered memory box. I can’t believe I’m writing this pathetic, mardiness-ridden rubbish. I might be unknowingly inspiring myself by reading it back and pulling my socks up. That’s another problem: I can’t get my own socks on. I can get the socks off sometimes, but usually end up tearing them with the picker-upperer.

A Carer arrived as I was typing this, the last call of the day. And I felt a little better in myself. I got this updated on Saturday morning.

Second view photo.

Third view photo.

Fourth view photo.
The rain started.

4-Wheeled Walker Walker,
still in the wetroom.

Multi-Tasking.
Computer & TV.

Handwashed the wee-wee’d on
Gown and socks, slippers
went in the laundry basket…
AGAIN!

End car park.

Teatime sky, lovely!

Tasty Nosh!

At the end of the day.
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Down, but not out!
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What don’t I worry about?
Well, basically, nowt…
Starmer? Well, there’s a doubt,
Death? Prepared to rinthereout,
My successes? Add up to nought,
I have a metaphorical walkabout…
When ailments let me get out,
Help & sanity? I keep a lookout…
Locally, visually hereabout,
My brain gets the odd brownout,
Seizures; limbs go on a gadabout,
After-effects? An acrid gaseous eruct,
I’m used to them now, so no freakout!
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TTFNski!

Inchie: Thursday 4th December 2025

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0515hrs: I burst into life, bounded of off the bed and did a double somersault, catching the night bag as I landed on the floor and did fifty swift press-ups. Then ran yodelling away into the wet room and removed the night pouch. A bit of shadow boxing then…
Well, alright then...
0515hrs: I woke up 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.
I had to force myself t stay awake long enough to get up and fight against Dizzy Dennis and Lost-Balance-Belinda, as I painfully got the nocturnal bag freed and emptied. I was not in good condition, mentally of physically, this morning. Confusion Konrad had a grip on me. However, despite these things, I started the day and within 10 minutes of using the Porcelain Throne, guess who visited me? Yes, it was good old, much missed, and very welcome !
Trotsky Terence was in charge of the evacuation. Messy, very messy!

Four-Wheeled-Walker-Wally was still in there, from my returning from the opticians. I made a mental note to empty the pod, collapse Wally, and move it back into the balcony later. It was a big job for me, and it’s complicated because I have to move things around to make space to get to the balcony. (I didn’t)

Off to get the kettle on for a brew of Typhoo. I took a snap from the kitchen. Is that the moon or a light at the back? I’ll try to get another tomorrow.

The Carer Who calls me “Bapu” arrived. She pointed out that the Warfarin Dosage note was still not there. We had another quick search, but others and I had already made them for the sheets without finding them. I said I’d ring the Warfarin-DVT Clinic later to confirm the dosages. No problem in the morning, cause Warfarin is taken at teatime or in the evening. Nice that my   “Baby-Princess” Carer had recognised it was missing. Medications were given, and she applied Phorpain gel to my knees. Oh, and my lower back.

I decided not to start the blog yet. I searched my Excel Medical file to get telephone numbers for my Doctors and the QMC Warfarin Anticoagulation-DVT Clinic. But the DVT number was not in the file. So I Googled to find it and added it to the Excel file, ready for when I can call. Then found that the number given was the same as the one for the QMC switchboard, so I amended the ones I’d put in the file.
I felt sneaking up on me. This, I assumed, was because I’d done, well, I thought I had done a decent job in getting the contact number… but still double-checked the numbers, just in case Arithmophobia Arron had made me get it wrong.

I tried the Doctor’s surgery first. This first call was answered by a Robot-AI. Telling me I was being transferred to “Our Customer Navigator. Beep-beep. Then I was connected to another Robot-AI. Telling me I had to pick a number to press; Press 1: If you are bleeding heavily or have chest pains, ring off and dial 999. Press 2: If your call is about prescriptions. Press Three; I couldn’t make out what the AI said on this one. But as I needed to know my current Warfarin doses, surely linked to prescriptions? I pressed 2 and got through to a third Robot-AI. “We do not accept prescription requests by telephone, Email, and started to tell me the most convoluted email address I’ve ever heard. Obviously, I could not keep up with what the electroid was blurting out at a rapid pace – so I rang off, pissed-off!
I think it would be easier to get through to MI5 & MI6 than to get to my Doctor!
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I tried ringing 111 to see if they could advise me on how to avoid being ignored, and maybe even who and how to contact for my Warfarin dosages. Or, not.

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A Robot-AI kicked in. Apparently, I was 23rd in the queue.
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Then I rang the Queen’s Medical Centre Switchboard. Well, I was going to, when a Carer arrived. I told him of my difficulties, and we both had another search for the Warfarin-DVT Anticoagulation doses sheet. He couldn’t spend too long, but he did his best for me. A total failure, of course, par for the course. Only a ten-minute call at midday. I also mentioned all the photographs that I’d lost from yesterday’s visit to the opticians. Crying in front of the Carer was not an option, even though I felt like doing so. Hahaha!
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Back to phoning the QMC switchboard.
The phone was answered almost straight away. For the first time, I was greeted by a human. Not a Robot-AI. I asked to be put through to the DVT Warfarin Anticoagulation Department, and within seconds, the call was transferred. Was my luck changing? No! It was getting worse, and it was answered by a Robot-AI! The electronic-faux-human rattled on, telling me the times they are open. I estimate exactly what he said, as best as I can. It may contain errors, or hopefully not. We are open on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays between 1100hrs & 1600hrs; and open on Fridays from 1100hrs to 1500hrs. We are closed on Thursdays and weekends. You can contact your Doctor by phone or email, or 111 at any time… Hahaha! Just what I’d failed to do! You couldn’t make this rubbish up as fiction. No one would believe it. Farcicalness & the NHS go together like cheese & onion nowadays.
It’s the young ones I fear for, well, not the Oligarchs or Eton attending youngsters. More of the proletariat ones. The NHS is not fit for purpose.
Unfortunately, the only party I see that wants to cure the faults in the NHS is the ‘Your Party’. But they cannot win an election because they don’t have enough candidates to stand for Parliament.
A sad state of affairs, politically.

Today was a feast of embarrassment, frustration and confusion. All normal here then!

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The end is nigh. No need to say why!
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Inchie: Wednesday 3rd December 2025

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Sorry, no Ode-No Time
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Mayhem Day Again!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –My brain and body had so much to cope with.
But not getting help, to a degree, is understandable.
A good deed rarely goes unpunished? 
12th Century saying: The earliest known form comes from Walter Map’s 12th-century text De nugis curialium (Courtiers’ Trifles), where a character named Eudo “Left no good deed unpunished, no bad one unrewarded”. History validates this fact.

I’m fed up with failing, things going wrong. Even I find it hard to believe the things that can go wrong… every day without fail. I must sound like a right whimp and moaner… which I suppose I am really.
No time to get an Ode done today, with the same prospect for tomorrow, I’m so far behind with everything. And getting more so each day. 
I’m so confused with all the things happening.

A FEW OF TODAY’S ACTIVITIES, ERRORS, FRUSTRATIONS, AND FAILURES, THAT STYMIED INCHIE & ACTIVATED CONFUSION KONRAD 
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The catheter valve leaked again!
Hours lost in cleaning up and changing socks, and both pairs of slippers are now in the laundry bag!
The might bag valve took off the day bag plastic gripper, I had to change the day bag – No, be fair, a Carer changed that for me as she made the early call… not at 0800hrs, she arrived before 0700hrs, seems the timings have changed as with the Carers who call.

I’ve lost 15 calls a week from the best ones. This morning’s Carer, who I’m not allowed to mention on my blog, is a help, but of course, has not got the time to do all she wants to. But managed to get the day bag changed. Bless her, saved the day there.

I got Four-wheeled-Walker-Wally out of the balcony. Not an easy job for one in my conditions. Painful and I damaged the door getting it into the wet room, and got the things needed into the box.

I received a phone call from a lady, and an hour-long Q&A session took place. Concerning the catheter situation. She will arrange for a different style to be sent to see if I can cope better with them, but she fears they will be more complicated to operate. Thanked her, but forgot to mention that they must be short tubed – Oh, I can’t keep everything in my watered brain!

I rang the Carer to make sure he would arrive on time this week. He said he’d be here in 10 minutes. So, I went down to the lobby to meet him and save some time. I got down to the doors, and he arrived a couple of minutes later… But he needed to go up to the flat to log in at the checkpoint there. Another wasted effort… 
A good deed rarely goes unpunished?
We got to the bus stop, and Carer E took a photo with Kodak Tim 2. During the trip out, he took about twelve pictures and gave me the camera back when we got home to the cell… no, flat I mean. 
In the morning, when I got around to putting the photos in CorelDraw, I lost them into the ether! I thought I might have deleted them, so I checked the Trash Bin, but it was empty! All that effort the lad did, for nothing! Sorry mate.
I’ve no idea how I lost them! SPIT!
A good deed rarely goes unpunished?

We went up in the lift, then down in the lift, and with 
in tag, and The Carer who cannot be named took a photo of me sitting on my . And off down to Shgerwood. This bus, as usual, soon filled up with no less than six people, including me, with walkers. The Carer kindly gave up his seat to a lady who was struggling to get her walker to fit in, and she came over to take the side seat. She lost her balance and fell against my walker, and I now have a pretty new bruise on my fractured knee. Hehe! No fault anywhere, but it proves my motto of the day is still applicable… 
A good deed rarely goes unpunished?

As we got off of the bus, we realised we had time to nip into a shop that usually sells sourdough bread, but the bread shelves were empty. No doubt awaiting a delivery. We exited and crossed over the road via the pelican lights. In the morning, (now), I looked up why they call these crossing Pelican. I discovered that it comes from the acronym PELICON, which stands for PEdestrian LIght CONtrolled, crossing.
Well, I never knew that! Just another fact or figure for me to lose in the haze of confusion, frustration and depression that has taken over my brain. Haha!

We got into the opticians, and I sat down on . The receptionist came over a minute after she’d taken the details from my friendly Carer, and asked if I wanted to look at the frames. I explained that I’d like them with bigger frames… adding, with a cheeky smile (she said later), that it would be at a smaller price. She did larf!
The first frames I selected were a great size, and as I was being careful in picking them off the hooks in case I got the PN shakes, she came over and said, “Let me get them for you”. They were £240! This removed my interest in them, and I selected another pair, £40, ah, that’s more my barrow, I said. “What about this pair?” she said, choosing a pair a little smaller. £30! They’ll do for me, thank you. And she put them aside for me. The Carer asked why I selected those plain Jane frames? I told him they were the cheapest they had. He replied, with a cheeky smile on his face, “I’m not surprised; they’ve probably had them in stock for years. Nobody under 80 would pick them.” I bet you wore them like that in the 1950s! We both laughed, and the lady behind the counter had a titter as she’d heard us talking. That was a highlight of the day. We made four people laugh! Great! For a while, this prompted a short visit from . Which lasted the whole time I was having my eyes tested in the tiny room we had a lot of trouble getting my into. The optromatist wasn’t too taken with that. But, being as Horis was with me, I soon changed her views with a few witty answers to her questions. Even she smiled a few times. Especially after the eye test, and she told me I hadn’t got Glaucoma, it’s a sheer covering cataract behind something or other that I can’t remember what she said it was. I blurted out just what I felt. “Well, what a pillock I am! All these years, I’d believed that when I had my right eye cataract lasered, he told me I’d got Glaucoma coming in the left eye, and they would call me back in when I’d recovered from the lasering I’d just had. I remember telling them in the City Hospital stroke ward the following week, then at the Mary Potter Centre when they were diagnosing me with Peripheral Neuropathy, just before I got shot at work…”  
I thought she was going to cry with laughter!

Aha, I’ve got CorelDraw going again, but don’t ask me how I did it, I know notteth!
I’ll catch up on the missed photographs.
Carer helped with the Health Checks
Early morning shot from the kitchen.
Carers & nurses table.
The catheter leak marks.
Erm… er… erm…
Dropped the toothpaste, bent down & clouted my head on the sink.

Back on the bus up to the flat, walked through Winwood Court and Winwood Heights to Woodthorpe Court (my prison block) and up in the lift to the flat.

Shame about me losing all the photographs taken in Sherwood, but I had a few more minutes, so the disaster did not hit me too hard. When the Carer left, the phone calls started coming, and then, rather unfortunately for me, took over, and High-Mood-Horis hopped it.

Another Carer came, and, like yesterday, gave me only one Warfarin tablet. We could not find the paper on the DVT Warfarin result & dosages. I thought this week’s each night was either 1½ or 2? Of course, I may be wrong. I’ll phone the DVT Warfarin Clinic in the morning to ask them. Too late now. It’s a mystery what happened to the prescribed dosage slip. I’m still hoping I’ll remember something.

I tried to make a start on this blog, but the tiredness and weariness brought on by all the hassles that had got to me like never before. But, there were a lot of them, and with me fretting over getting ready to go out, the hobbling, etc… Although for part of the trip, good old granted me a visit, and I was leg-pulling, teasing and being teased, and dare I say it? I really think on that trip out, I was happy, contented, in a different world!
But not now.

I started thinking of making something to eat, and the landline chirruped up.
The line’s connection was not good; a lady spoke about catheter problems with a leaking valve. The poor lady did more listening than talking, however. I felt so low, I just waffled on about all my problems. Not knowing why, but knowing that she could not help in any way, bless her. 
I waffled on about all the help promised not coming, the financial help not coming. The wheelchair problems, the neuropathy results, the short hours of the Carers, and not being able to afford extra, thus I’m living in a fleapit and incapable of bending without a risk of a tumble, Dizzy Dennis or Lost-Balance-Belinda episode, to move or clean anything. 
Eventually, I got around to letting the lady speak about the catheters, after apologising for gabbing on.
She asked about the actual problem. I explained about the PN and stooping to reach the valve to open or close it. With me now being one-eyed, I tend to rely on the clunk when it shuts or opens to let me know. This affects me in many ways, badly sometimes, when I have to genuflect or bend. I think I mentioned my problem with the dying neurotransmitter, a part of the PN, and either cannot pick anything up, or even at times let go of things. This may be a cause of the problem, and I can’t see or recognise when the valve has not been closed. The very kind and patient lady suggested we might try a different type of catheter and valve. If I heard and remember rightly, these have butterfly valves, and she thinks I may have more difficulty with these. But she will try to get some for me to try. Bless her cotton socks. Ignorantly, I’ve also forgotten her name and where she was from. I keep doing this. I’m rather skilled at it now. Huh!
The silliest thing I forgot was to ask for short-tubed ones; the normal or long ones really do make me off balance and dizzy, having to reach down so far to operate, take on or off, or remove the catheter. But I’d talked that much, I think I confused myself.
If she is reading this, I’m so sorry.

The night Carer arrived and again offered me just one Warfarin tablet, I’ll tell you about another farce I had over the missing Warfarin Record Card tomorrow. I kept searching for places I hadn’t looked for the Warfarin DVT dosage card. I even got up when I woke up early in the morning… honestly, I think I looked in the fridge? Strewth, I’m losing it!

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COMING TOMORROW…
Revealing the whereabouts…
of the Warfarin-INR-Dosages!
Dang, Dang,Dang, DANG!

I await my coming ventriculostomy,
Dream of becoming once again healthy,
But the chances of that are weeshy,
Today’s Ode is not at all a threnody
Not critical, mocking or snotty,
Despite my brain being slommacky,
I lived another day, and wrote this palinody
With nothing in it that is kvetchy!

Cheers & Thanks, Each
💟 Keep Safe & Well! 💟

Inchie: Tuesday 2nd December 2025

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A Hellious Day. Nothing has been done on this blog until Wednesday morning.
Up late, Carer Bitu.
Kettle on,
Snap of the view.
Computer, CorelDraw to make the graphics… After an hour or so of struggling with the temperamental programme and getting nowhere, ARRRGH!
The valve on the day catheter bag had come open!
Left leg strapping, sock, leg, slippers and carpet coated in urine! Not sure how I managed it, well, I do, I worked it painfully, but I got both strappings and undersocks off. Naturally, all the bending brought on Dizzy Dennis and Back Pain Brenda. I carried a bowl of water and Dettol into the computer room and washed the feet as best I could.
Getting feet out of the bowl and onto a towel…
Clunk, thud, down on the floor!
I bounced off of the recliner, thus lessening the pain of hitting the floor… then pressed my alarm wristlet. The controller said he’s calling an ambulance. I explained that all I wanted was someone to help me get upright again. But he insisted. He said later he’s called them, but it will be a long time before it arrives, as the hospital (QMC) A&E currently has 11 ambulances waiting to unload patients collected. 
I tried to make myself as comfy as possible, but it seemed only my lower back really hurt.
Something like an hour later, the door chime sounded. I could not get up, of course, I assumed it was the ambulance people. I saw the light come on in the hallway and saw it was a delivery driver with the food order. He soon got me back up. I pressed the alarm again to tell the controller that I was back up on my legs and feet and only a moderate pain in my back. I noticed later that there were some bruises on the left arm. But they would have been made, I imagine, when I hit the recliner on the way down, so no indication of Warfarin problems at least. The ambulance would not be cancelled and would still arrive within the next four hours. The driver put the food into the kitchen for me. I thanked him profusely and started sorting the food delivered into the cupboards and the fridge. No Butter Butter, Polish Sokalow sausages, Extra Strong blue Stilton cheese (Can’t recall ordering this). And some Coffee for the nurses. 
Close up of the sausages that I’ve taken a fancy to. It used to be women, but old age dictates fancies now. I rushed this job, because the mess made and bowl, etc, needed cleaning and freshening post haste.
Christmas bikkies, the Lu for Jenny & Frank, the others for nurses and carers to indulge in.
The back did get a bit worse after all the bending needed to clean up the spillage and freshen the pong from the leaking Catheter Pouch.
I checked all of the stock of catheters, four boxes, and three boxes of them had the same dodgy, loose valve connector on them. I’ll ask a Carer to change the leaky valve one now, later.

Oberstgrüppenführeress Warden und Primo Ballerina, Warden Deana.
ILC (Independent Living Coordinator) called to see what was what. I explained and showed her the different valves, and she rang Matron, I think it was. But I can’t recall the outcome at present, so much had happened and was to happen yet today, Confusion Konrad had a heyday!
Then, I had to get washed and changed into day clothes, ready for the still-incoming ambulance to arrive. I moved the four-wheeled walker off the balcony and into the wet room. Put the mobile phone, some snacks and NHS paperwork in the basket. Then, I struggled into the day’s clothes to wait for the emergency services to arrive.

I got a message, a text came in from the Doctor’s surgery, but they had left a voicemail, and I didn’t know if I would be able to hear it, even if I learned how to access it! I’ll ask the next Carer.

Sister Jane rang to see if I was alright. As we were speaking, I heard a noise from the hallway, and assumed it might be the ambulance people coming in. I felt guilty, but had to ring off. Sorry, Jane! 💟

A Carer Arrived, and he rang the voicemail for me. Ashamedly, I can’t remember what it was about now. Had it been important, surely I would have?

In the afternoon, no ambulance had been called yet. Someone called me and asked so many questions about my condition; the call took an hour or so. No idea where she was from, but I caught her name (I think): Gloria. She said she would cancel the ambulance.
Bear in mind, I may have got things a little mixed up chronologically across all the calls, but I reckon this may be a valid account of the order. I should have known better than to say that!

The Doctor’s surgery rang up. To tell me the next INR blood test would be on Monday, Tuesday or it might have been Thursday. Yes, I forgot again.
So, I emptied the four-wheeled trolley basket of paperwork, nibbles, etc., and folded the trolley back into the balcony storage area.

I got the kettle on and was about to start the computer again, and another call came in from someone. More questions, and now they have decided an ambulance will be calling tonight. Oh, dearie me.

Almost went over again as I got the four-wheeled trolley back out from the balcony. Refilled it with nibbles, NHS paperwork, etc. and got it back in the wetroom for when they call for me.
Worranother Messy Day!

Another call with a load more questions came in. Whoever it was said they will not be collecting you. Unless they think it is necessary after testing your vitals and condition.

They arrived and did a load of checks, body, vitals and asked questions. They were here for a good while, leaving after telling me they thought I was fine. The ablulance men left this note on the left. For me this note, report, in advice. The usual stuff:

Call Lifeline or 111 if you fall, collapse and cannot get up: Any injuries, especially to your head. Chest pains or difficulty breathing. Bleeding or severe pain – If you suspect a stroke, heart attack or any of the following: Loss of consciousness –  Fits or seizures that are not stopping – Acute confusion – Breathing difficulties –
Severe bleeding – Severe burns/scalds –
Severe allergic reactions – Call 999.
There are a few in there that are almost regular with me, Severe confusion that comes and goes when ot wants is part of my life now.

I got a meal made. I was hungry by now, had settled in to eat it, and the Carer came in. I told him I didn’t need any medications and about the ambulance visit.
A shame it was cold chips for me by the time I got back to eating them, but it was tasty even then. 8.2/10.
I fell asleep with the empty tray and things on my knee. Woke up later, the tray and plate were on the floor. The cutlery and empty dessert pot were entangled in my dressing gown. I found two empty Teryaki-flavoured crisp packets in the waste bin, and a biscuit-and-nibble jar on the floor to my right. I may have had a seizure while asleep and knocked these over.

I took this sad effort of a photograph while doing the washing and cleaning up. Then, as I turned back to get my four-pronged Fifi walking stick, I lost my balance and went full tilt to my right – thank heavens it was to the right; the wall was there and saved me from another tumble. Phhhew!

I’d but the not safe to use cather bags, and bags of nappies, no, I mean protection pants on the bed, and had to take the four-wheeled walker out of the wet room to get a wash, and put that next to the bed – so could not get in it! I settled into the c1968, tatty, scruffy, unkempt, uncomfortable, virus, microorganism, bug, bacterium, bacillus, germ, parasite producing, eyesore-horrendously grungy, disease-fermenting second-hand, beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, moth-eaten, non-working, itch-encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, catheter tube yanking, recliner. No place like home!

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So, it’s no surprise the High-Mood-Horis does not call very often. I think I’ve caught my depression!
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I’m beginning to think that moving into a home is a good idea, now. The flat is a right mess, and a danger in itself to me getting around. I’ve got and still am in a pickle with ordering unwanted food.
The Carers’ time cannot be increased, so they can’t do any cleaning, help with finances, or handle mail & emails. I’ve a stack of unopened mail that, when the Carers started, was dealt with weekly for me. 
No flat cleaning has been done for weeks now.
No date-checks on the food being done, unless I remember to ask them… Hahaha!
The Catheter is not changed unless I remember to ask. They just do not have the time. We thought it was a good idea to buy a wheelchair, so I did. Then they could get me out once a week. But no… they didn’t have time to help me order one, so I did. The wrong one. That’s still on the balcony with the next one I bought. 
A Carer, well, two Carers did try to help with the magically difficult-to-fit leg plates, but they are still not fitted and are next to the old 3-wheeler and four-wheeler walkers on the balcony. I explained this to someone when I was last in the hospital. I was told they could help me with this when I am released. They will call me to set it up. Also, help with the finances… but I’ve heard nothing from anyone.

As I was taking this picture of the evening view, I had a terrible premonition… a feeling of certainty that tomorrow would have moments as bad as today!
And it did!

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TTFN
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Inchie Today: Sunday 30th November 2025

/ Inchie / 11 Comments

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My plans for today were well scuppered, delayed, and, at one point, deactivated. Why? Good question, which’ll be answered.
I stirred very late. Carer was at the gate. I was all over the place, out of it and feeling like I’d had no sleep. Dizzy, unbalanced. No idea about the visit, but do recall the Carer leaving, suggesting I try to get back to sleep. Which I did as soon as he went. Ah, I remembered and changed this nine hours later: The Carer changed the day bag today. Or, was that yesterday? 

I’m struggling here.

Waking up three hours later, with the acid upsurge from the innards. So I was aware that I had at least one sleeping seizure. A few more came over the day, bringing confusion and throwing logic out the window.
After each seizure, I felt incapacitated; well, I was supposed to; they didn’t stop until about 17:00hrs. Then I started getting on with the as-yet unfinished Ode. Well behind with everything again, Hymph!
However, I did feel a smidgen better for the extra kip I’d had. A lot better than earlier. Had the mini-seizures left me alone, it could have been a good day. Don’t know why I said that.
I’m not sure if I woke up earlier and went into the kitchen, but when I went in to get the kettle on, the hot water tap (faucet) was running, and the water was frigid. Made a brew and got the computer on to check the calendar and change it. And found snaps dated 30.11.25, so must have taken them. They were not very good. I also noticed some fresh-looking spillage on the floor near the fridge.
What’s going on?
I also spotted that I had already changed the date on the battery calendar clock.
What’s going on? After drinking the tea, I limped to the wet room of get the ablutions done. Forgetting there was no hot water, I started to strip, and it was so cold I thought I’d turn on the wall immersion heater. It didn’t work. Yet, I had so much confusion in my head, I don’t think it bothered me much, as I recall.
I got the computer on to check the Google Calendar and see if any critical emails had arrived. I went to take photos of the view.
The first one, I may have taken last night with Kodak Tim 2. I was struggling to get it together again. View from the kitchenette window on the right. At least I think it was.
On the left, a shot from the balcony of the end car park, through the window. Where have all the vehicles gone? Mystery!

I came back in the cell… no, flat, and for some reason, without logic, I’m sure, I set about working on the replacement word list again. I was still on it when the Carer arrived. Medications issued, Phorpain Gel and Barrier cream used.

Then the series of concentrated hits hit me. About gout in an hour, I reckon, I only realised due to the acid upset from the innards and confusing dizziness that followed each one. (I am feeling much better now, the seizures have departed (20:00hrs).
Initially, late this afternoon, I kept changing tasks, leaving each one unfinished and starting another, which I never completed. I hope the Neurologist received the video a Carer recorded; we sent it to him via email. I need help with this problem now, it seems to be getting a little more frequent. He did say he could, but he doesn’t want to give any treatment until he’s seen what happens when I’m having one. To avoid making an incorrect diagnosis. So, I was happy I had a mini-one while the Carer was here… about two weeks ago, I think. But I’ve heard nothing back.
Frustration is growing, and of all ailments to get nasty, I hadn’t expected it to be …fair enough, with I’d been eating some undunked cookies earlier.

The bickie barrels were refilled.

Cookies on the right, and caramelised savouries on the left.
Kitchen window shot. Catching the sun popping out after the rain clausa dissipated. I just missed getting a seagull in this snap. So I waited around for them to fly past again.
I felt sure I’d caught a few of them, but I see none in this photograph. Dang quick, nasty things these seagulls!

A little later, when I was taking this shot,
rang out, and I went to the door to find a box outside. I took a photo of it, or, to be more accurate, I thought I took a photo of it. But off went from the SD card into the ether… again.
Here is what the box contained. Bombay potatoes! That’ll do me for tomorrow’s nosh. Beet stew & chips for tonight. I’ll need to ask Carer for help in reading the instructions on these Bombay potatoes.

NOSH TIME
Vegetable curry with added mixed pickle.
Harry Ramsden Chip Shop-Style Chips, lots of sea salt & vinegar added. Two cheesy-topped bread rolls. With two child-sized strawberry desserts. Nice!
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Sadly, once again…
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TTFNski!

Inchie Today: Friday 28th November 2025

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

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Another day of gaffes, mishaps, & Accifauxpas. I suppose that these were the cause, reason, for the non-appearance of my beloved and much missed . And the, dragging-me-down surfeit of .
Assisted by Dastardly Dementia Doreen, letting me down so often, and causing irritations, frustrations, making the day seem to go as fast as a month would. One thing after another.
Only increased the mental mayhem.

05:10hrs: I jerked awake,   I took the catheter bag off and, seeing the state of the day bag on the leg, made a mental note to ask a Carer why it had not been changed for three weeks; it should be, and was at one time, done weekly as the nurses instructed. This seems to have been forgotten about lately. My fault as much as the Carers’, I keep forgetting to ask them if they can do it. But with the times cut back, they would not get the other jobs done if they changed the bag as well. Frustrations of the day started here.

I hobbled into the kitchen to check on the taps, cupboards and fridge doors, nothing amiss. (Honestly) 

I took a couple of snaps of the view on offer from the kitchen windows. As you see, they didn’t exactly come out very well. In fact, they were atrocious. Off to the wetroom to make an early start on the . These did not go very well this morning. Starting with the first job on the Porcelain Throne. Trotsky Terence burst forth a dollop of watery, smelly, yellowish mush! I cleaned up and went to get the toothpaste, toothbrush and mouthwash ready to use – I didn’t make it; I rushed back to the porcelain and only just in time, as another near liquid burst forth into the WC bowl. This time, I remained seated, and sure enough, two minutes later, a third evacuation of the same ilk squirted out. Cleaned up again and back to get the teeth-cleaning pot… dropped it on the floor as I felt the rear-end evacuation on its way… Again! Same routine, and back to the teeth cleaning. I was a little miffed with the diarhorrea back once more, and was a little overkeen with the toothbrush. The gums hurt, but they did not bleed too much. I was putting the stuff back in the pot, and after yet another sitting down, a messy session on the Porcelain Throne – Even I find this could not be happening! But, it was!
Started shaving. By the time I’d finished, I began to struggle to stop the three teeny-weeny cuts from bleeding. I had to put a plaster on my chin, but it stopped leaking later. As did the evacuations… eventually. Just as I was squeezing the Germaloid tube onto some gauze,
 burst forth with a short, sharp, costly hand and finger shaking session. I couldn’t release my grip on the just-opened tube of Germalloid Ointment, and it shot out about 95% onto the floor and the wall. Poor old paid the price in pain.
Then, as I was getting the new protection pants on, I lost my balance, and with some quick but stupid reaction to avoid a tumble, I hastily plopped my overweight bum on the toilet seat – which worked. Realising as I gingerly got back up on my feet, I could feel the blood running down the back of my leg. 
What a bleed it was from Harold’s Haemorrhoids!
I ripped off the pants at the tear-points, and got the blood cleaned up from the floor, my leg and foot.

Frustrations of the day continue…

Then had to battle against my nervousness to get another pair of PPs on! 
I got the Health Checks done and recorded on the board, then made a brew of Typhoo Extra Strong tea. Updated the calendar.

I was washing the mug, and Carer Manprett arrived. She thought I’d just had a seizure, but didn’t say why she felt that. Gave me a body check. Barrier cream, Phorpain Gelled the lower back and both knees. Medications issued. And said she wanted to call me ‘Bapu’. That is “Dad” or “Grandad” in Pakistani-English; I looked it up later. Bless her. She also checked that the HC figures were written correctly – I’d made one cock-up with the temperature. Tsk!

Frustrations of the day continue…

I spent three hours on the replacement word listings! No blog work done at all yet. Humph! 
Carer Mirza arrived. He took the replacement TV remote out of the bag, and as I was telling him not to press the red button, he did before I asked. Well, that seemed to be the end of any hope of getting Virgin TV back on. The lad did not have time to fuss with it. Mirza said for me to ask Ejaz on Wednesday. He had to rush off. Can’t be helped. But I got the feeling they had no time to do anything. And with the day catheter pouch not being replaced for weeks… a little disappointed, and shamefully sorry for missen!

Frustrations of the day continue…

I managed to finish yesterday’s blog and send it off. Decided to celebrate with another mug of tea.

Started again, the ndanged short-as-a-flash ones that leave me of sync & balance. Spent a lot more time recovering than having seizures.

Frustrations of the day continue…

When I did finally get to the kitchenette, I found I’d left the hot faucet running again! Kicked in, not had much bother from her for a week or so; still, she has as much right as any other ailment.

Noticing how heavy it was raining, after making the brew, I went out onto the balcony to take some shots through the glass… the rain was pouring in through the front windows. The wheeled walkers and two wheelchairs were soaked… I got a bit wet taking the photographs. (Haha!) I had to take off the dressing gown & kaghoule & put them on the airers to dry.
Back on the balcony to take some more photographs of the rain.
This one came out a little better than the others, so I tried to get some to the left side of the balcony.
Pointing down at the car park opposite Winwood Heights block of flats.
This one was taken straight ahead to the left of the balcony. Back on the computer, and I got a call on the landline phone, it was from the Doctor’s surgery. Informing me that the hospital had changed the Ramipril Capsules from 15g to 10g, I think he said. Two years ago, I was on 30g. They did the same with the Phorpain Gel: started at 30%, then 15%, and now 10%.

Along with saving the NHS money on them, as they did in cancelling my Glaucoma operation, and I’m now virtually blind in my left eye, not one of the five promised offers of help when I was in hospital has arrived. The neurologist who saw me about the seizures wanted a photo of me in one… it took two weeks, but much-missed Carer Nimra took a video, and Carer Ejaz helped sort out how to send it via email to the Doctor, who has not been in touch at all. Adding Herr Goldenballs Starmer’s robbing us pensioners of the winter fuel allowance, I reckon they’ve made a profit out of me, and pissed me off!

Frustrations of the day continue…

At long last, I got around to starting this blog. I was interrupted by the last visit of the day to the
!

After the last evacuation of the day (this is a bit misleading, cause I was up until gome 03:00hrs doing this blog, and had to pay another early morning visit), I had to get the mop and bucket out to clean and freshen the floor of blood and a few splashes from Trotsky Terence’s activities. As I tugged at the mop, which had got caught in the wheel of the trolley, it shot up. I hit myself in the face with it!

Frustrations of the day continue…

The result was agony from .
I often write these quips about my luck, just for a bit of humour, tongue in cheek, getting into the proceedings.

The mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, grotesque succubae, Whoopsiedangleplops, ailments, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, spirits, Accifauxpas, rent increases, food price hikes, and the Fata Morganas, that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind? I’m thinking after this week’s, especially today’s cock-ups & go wrongs, they all might be true! Hehehe!

I started cooking the meal of the day. Oven chips, Polish kielbasa, and beetroot. I got the oven on and set the mobile phone alarm for 25 minutes, when the chips should be cooked. Then a fatal decision was taken… I thought I’d do a little word list updating.
An hour into it, and I smelt the burning chips! No idea why I didn’t hear the mobile alarm go off… (I likely set it wrong, it’s the first time I’ve tried to use it… and the last time, too!) I salvaged most of the chips, another bad decision that was… they were so hard I had to soak them with vinegar to eat them, and started the gums bleeding. I got them eaten, well, no, not all of them.
Suddenly, as I was standing up to take and wash the dishes…

Frustrations of the day continue…

Carer Dilan arrived. I mentioned that no one had been changing my day bag for three weeks, and he laughed. I don’t think he was being rude at all, just didn’t understand what I was saying. Which is fair enough, I couldn’t understand what he was saying later. I said my farewells, then went to clean out and antiseptise my mouth from the bleeding gums.

I stopped for a few minutes of quietism: another mistake! All I achieved from it was feeling more deeply depressed at how life is going. The best Carers have had their calls on me reduced; one does not call at all nowadays. Can anyone tell me if CDB helps with depression?
I’ll look it up… Nope!

Well, well, well, (and I’m not well, Haha!) early hours of the morning now, and believe it or not, I’ve just found bleeding from Little Inchy. Best I can guess, it’s coming from either the tube or the fungal lesion. Going to need help with this one. How embarrassing! 
Always the weekend when summat needs attention!

Frustrations of the day continue…

Not a lot worse than many other days lately.
But everything has got to me more today.
I’ve ordered some St John’s Wort capsules.
Once a day, read all the reviews; it might work.
Then I checked on Google…
Too dangerous to take with Warfarin!
I’ve tried to cancel it. They say they will try, but it may be too late! (I only ordered it ten minutes ago!) Hope they do/can stop it.

Frustrations of the day continue…

So tired, and it’s 04:00hrs now. But I want to look at the WP Reader, and I did. 
KITTY OF THE DAY – ANDY

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What a day!

Inchie Today: Thursday 27th November 2025

/ Inchie / 10 Comments

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I do try to be amenable and amiable,
I do my best not to be annoyable…
Though I admit to being easily antagonisable,
Failure errors make me a little alarmable,
Help, solutions to problems are not acquirable.
So many difficulties, they’re incomprehensible,
The seizures & I are simply inseparable,
The promised financial help is indiscernible…
The disabled help turned out to be incorporeal.
My plea for extra Carer hours – Immitigable!
Had we a Goverment that was incorruptible…
My pleas that were considered as infeasible,
No help arriving, no rejections, it’s incomprehensible,
Worsening eyesight is thought to be irreparable,
This Government and I are incompatible…
They act more Tory than Labour,
Led by backhander-taker Herr Starmer,
Which Party can be our Saviour?
Your Party, led by Corbyn & Sultana?
With only one MP, that is Zarah Sultana,
They’ll need a miracle, something spectacular…
Your Party’s chances of winning? Less than slender!
Starmer, being an oligarchal ex-barrister…
He’s learned how to be a liar and be slier,
A shame that we can’t help him go higher,
To Heaven, to meet his Mother & Father?
Pensioners & farmers think Hell would be better!
Well, it’s time for me to scamper,
Not that I’m planning to scarper…
Just to have a shower, so as not to get smellier,
Before the arrival of Ejaz, my Carer,
And my brain gets any scattier,
Take Codeine; Fractured-Knee-Frank gets painfuller,

I wish I’d just stood up carefuller…
I tripped over a slipper!
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Morosely, reluctantly, wearily, and cantankerously, I forced myself to get out of bed. As I took off the catheter night pouch, I saw the calendar clock. Telling me it was 07:00hrs. I knew I’d got to bed late, I think about 01:00hrs; this meant I’d had a sleep, not interrupted by any of the ailments that I could recall, so I’d got in six hours of kip! Grrreat! I made for the Porcelain Throne after a few balance exercises. But, my innards felt solid, yet informed me that I needed an expected Trotsky Terence evacuation. They lied! Nothing! Not a sausage!

Carer Manpreet arrived and helped sort the BP Check readings. I had a wobble while she was here, and she made me a mug of tea, bless her. No body checks needed, so she had time within the rota. The BP was down a smidge today. Good Stuff at last. I won’t get excited until I see that Fridays are lower as well.

After Carer Manpreet left, I realised that the catheter had not been changed again! Two or three weeks since a change now, I think. The tube and straps are getting painful now, too. I mentioned this to Carer Mirza during his lunchtime call. He said he’ll add the pouch changes to the mobile phone instructions.

I took this snap through the glass on the balcony, with rain leaking in through the gaps in the window. Do you notice any changes in parking habits?
As I was taking this view of the uphill gravel path… Oh, no! It’s the newly tarmacked path now, isn’t it?
As I was taking a picture of the newly tarmacked path up to Woodthorpe Grange Park, I passed wind involuntarily and hobbled hastily off to the Porcelain Throne. Where yet again, there was no motion or signs of an evacuation forthcoming. Hey-ho!

I updated the three-day post and sent it off to WordPress. Then I had a blast on the never-ending job of replacing the word lists from scratch that were lost in the ether, the clutches of the internet.

SHORT BUT LONG RECOVERIES. 
Then, they took great pleasure in repeatedly throwing me into a haze of confusion and imbalance after each recovery period, which took me so much longer.
Not just the odd one today… Oh, no. I lost count of the little buggers. Nothing got done for hours, until, to my surprise, they stopped as suddenly as they started.

The retired but still-working nurse who is tending to my legs arrived.
I love her no-nonsense ways. 🤎

Carer Mizra did the early afternoon call. A grand lad, I had a bit of a whoopsie-Accifauxpas as he was leaving. I leaned on the end of the bed to pick up a dressing gown that had slipped off the wardrobe hanger, and Shajing Shaun gave me a short but violent right-sided shaking session. And I caught my hand against the door’s spring clip. No bother for a man of my calibre, heroism, guts and a fibber. Haha!

Aha, got the TV going! A positive Smug-Mode was adopted. Then, when I took the SD card out to put this one on WordPress, I found another one that is a complete mystery to me. A lot of things are, mind you. 
I racked my brain to see if I could tell what it was of, when I might have taken it, and why? Nothing!

Carer Dilan did the last call. No medications needed or bag changes, I’ll take the medicines myself and put the nocturnal pouch on later after eating.

Nice!

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TTFNski EACH!
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Inchie. Mon/Tue/Wed 24/25/26th Nov 25

/ Inchie / 16 Comments

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I had a theme for my Ode to relate,
My body needs my brain to cooperate,
It talks to itself – rubbish, bletherskate,
My dream? In a cave, the walls began to corruscate,
I was with someone, a Carer, lover and old mate?
As he/she started on me, to lambaste & berate…
Its body faded, it began to loudly cachinate…  
Folks from my past appeared, as a conglomerate,
Hands in hands, they issued me looks of hate,
Then howled out loud, they did not abate…
I cooked roast potatoes, one on each plate,
I wanted to talk, welcome them, hospitate…
The howling temporarily stopped, as they ate,
Telling me I was a terrible ingrate?
Dark Dank Depressing Darius began to inumbrate,
The cave grew cold, and I began to sudate,
Saying out loud, “What the Hell’s going on, mate?”
Dead relatives came, their intentions vulnerate,
They came towards me, starting to ululate,
I tried to stroke, touch them, to vellicate…
I think they may have escaped via St Peter’s gate,
Their bodies began to rapidly deteriorate…
They started to dissolve, one by one, demoniacal! 
Is this real, happening, or maybe notional?
One went ashen, pasty, anaemic, demonical…
One shrank to nothing, all absorbable,
One cursed & swore at me, all abuseable!
Then exploded. Like a bursting bubble,
One blew me a kiss and said I was adorable.
I tried to hug her, but she was not touchable…
A ghostess, how can she be damageable?
She burst into flames, so she was destructible,
One turned to glass,  she was vitrifiable…
Then found out she was also smashable,
An eerie hum all around started to bominate,
Then the nightmare… morningmare did vacate…
07:00hrs, by gum, I did sleep in late,
Fell off the bed, what’s next to tribulate?
The dream ending might compensate.
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But and however…
This blog was not started until Thursday evening. Wednesday & Thursday were not good for me, but Monday was not too bad at all.
Tuesday was troubled with many mini-seizures, each one with not good after-effects, which took a lot out of me, I’m afraid. Concentration was just not there, many accifauxpas, and
Dawned that regularly, each one seemed deeper than it really was. Tuesday is best forgotten anyway, so the lack of photos or memories of what happened explains the lack of detail in the scrawny Tuesday section. 
Wednesday’s cock-ups ensured me that , bless him, he was again a frequent visitor. Many things will be out of sync and order, sorry. Last night’s lack of sleep, due to
And his ranting, perpetual criticisms of yours truly, made any proper sleep an impossibility. At least the seizures, only two, were lengthy. I judge from the ease and the incredibly short time it took me to recover each time.
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I gave up trying to sleep. Assuming it was about 04:00hrs, but soon found out, after taking of the night bag and going to the wet room to tackle the morning ablutionalisationings… as Carer Manpreet came in it to the flat, that it was actually gone 07:00hrs! WE got the Health Checks done & recorded, and the medications were issued.

Calendar changed, tea brewed.

Morrison order.
Moved them into the kitchen.
Treats!
Favourites.
Fridge loaded.

Afternoon seizures.

Evening shot.


Memory, Jet Black Blank
Seizures were having a heyday.

Morning shot, I think.

Evening shot, I think.

Just a guess at this rating.

Another stormy night’s sleep. If it wasn’t for my taking a bashing from , I may well have still been in bed when the Carer came again.
I decided to force my reluctant body from the bed, primarily, to get a painkiller, to counter the pain from Shirley’s worst-ever night-attack. 
I didn’t make it. I’m not sure how long it lasted, but it wasn’t long. I could tell after it was all over by the acid reflux coming up in my chest, throat, mouth, and nose, and it was taking so long for me to recover fully. Although, to be honest, I don’t think I did get back to normal, if anything about me can be called normal, (Hehe!) Until 17:00hrs, or so.
My plan, formulated this morning, was to get things ready for when Ejaz arrives, go with me to the opticians, and then do as much as I could in the time left, working on the replacement word list.

Carer Manpreet arrived, and she checked that the HC return figures had been recorded correctly. Medications were given. A gaping blank spot in my memory. I assume I’d had a seizure, but Manpreet didn’t tell me… or I didn’t hear or remember her saying. The state I was in after each one today is no surprise. I got on with the word listings for an hour or two. To my utter amazement, an Asda delivery arrived. What? Another food delivery? Beats and worried me.
Cheesey cobs. cheesey wriggles, and some iced bread rolls. I tried to gain access to my vacant memory void, to work out when and why.
Come to think of it, I may have got the delivery days wrong, sort of back to way, on the wrong days. They may have been the other way around. Or, not.
Topped up with waters of various types. It’s costly having to keep swigging a minimum of three litres every day to keep the bladder working.
Meat pies with shortcrust and puff pastry tops. Polish cooked smoked ham, Nurses drinkies, and some bacon bits, erm… lardons they are called.
Blimus, I’ve got the fridge and freezer crammed full again. But of course, the social lady promised me help with this problem. Also, with the finances, when I get home from the hospital. Assured me of help with the ‘spent a fortune’ on wheelchairs… getting them appropriately fitted and safe to use. 
Age Concern said… Oh, forget them. I’ve not heard anything from any of them! I’m disappointed and feeling a smidge uncared about, to say the least.

Carer Mizra, then Carer Ejaz, arrived. Mizra departed after medicating me and seeing that things were alright. Ejaz and I got down to the Opticians only to find that we had arrived too late and they could not test my eyes. Ejaz dealt with the receptionist, and they made another appointment for next Wednesday. How we got the wrong time beats me. Ejaz has always taken care of them for me. Sadly, my eyes are getting worse, and later I checked on the HHS site – bad news. It said that if you do not catch it in time, it cannot be repaired. Great! Now it will be another week before the test, and the optician can refer me to the EENT! 
The eye is getting worse each day, and I’m struggling at times. Nothing new there then.
Ejaz and I returned to the flat, and he put the laundry in the washer. Mopped the kitchen for me, and went to get the laundry into the dryer, and realised it had not finished washing. So left it until his subsequent call to collect it for me. Off he went; he’d done the best he could on my behalf.

I pressed on with the word listings, and Ejaz returned to fetch the laundry for me, and he hung it up on hangers. Night medications given.

I started making a template up for this 3-day blog… and realised it was gone 23:00hrs! 

Better get something to eat.

🤎 TTFNski! 🤎

Inchie Today: Sunday 23nd November 2025

/ Inchie / 9 Comments

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May peace appear and adhere,
Today and for your future,
Ailments wane, for even longer…
Joy to each peacekeeper & peace lover,
Help from an evil-abrocator?
May humankind find benignity?
Can we all live again, less bleak & darker?
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03:30hrs: I bounded out of the hospital bed and somersaulted over the recliner, hit the deck and did a nifty 200 press-ups, followed by another 200 toe-touches. Nipped onto the snow and ice-covered balcony, and did fifteen minutes of shadow boxing. Opened a window and yodelled a good morning to all the wonderful people nearby. Then, I hopscotched to the wet room. Taking off my night cather pouch as I  hopped along. Well… that may be a bit of a slight exaggeration? Hahaha! Here’s the reality. 05:30hrs, I reluctantly stirred and tried to will and urge the clock to go backwards. It didn’t work, of course. So, I moved to the edge of the bed and freed the nocturnal catheter from the day bag. Dizzy Dennis was prompted into action as I had to bend down. Although I did not do the balance exercises, as I made my way into the kitchen to check if I’d left taps on, cookers on or fridge doors open, I was coping well, with very few wobbles from the catheters either.
All being in order in the kitchen, I visited the Porcelan Throne. I was a few inches off getting seated on the toilet lid, and a torrent of Trotsky Terence proportions fell, no, squirted, no, thundered into the porcelain, with a splash, and it was all finished! It honestly looked as if I’d decorated the bowl with brown emulsion eggshell paint. And had applied multiple coats too! Tsk!

I finally got out of the wetroom after an awful lot of cleaning up was carried out, Haha! Then I took these shots of the view, such as it was, from the kitchen.
Not very good, I’m afraid. I’ve been struggling lately to take any worthwhile morning shots. I could hear the police helicopter flying, but not see it.

I made a brew of tea and got the morning HC checks done next. Then had a think about how I could work things out, to get a shower with my ablutions.
I decided to get the straps off of the legs and ask Ejaz to take the socks off for me. Ejaz arrived at this point. As I chose not to have a shower after all. (Why, I can’t really recall at this moment) Ejaz got the socks off, then helped wash and dry my feet. Bless him. Issued the medications. No point in any creaming, foaming, or body checks until after I’d finished my ablutions.
He did a quick hoover around, bless him again.

I took this shot from the kitchenette window as the morning brightened up a little. But the rain started to come down. Another bad photo. I managed to capture, top left, a patch of turquoise sky that was not visible to the naked eye when I snapped it.

Back into the wetroom, and started the overdue body, teggie, cleaning. Before shaving, I felt the blood coming from . I got things cleaned up, dried and ointmentated various areas of my magnificent, noned, staut, healthy body, where it was required.
There were quite a few in need, but things like the Cartilages, Atkritis, Fractured-Knee-Frankie, Lymphorrea Leslie and Ingrowing Toenail Terry were unreachable. Well, I could have reached them, I suppose, but the pain and or dizziness I get bending made me shy away from even trying to medicate them. Chicken!
Getting the PPs on went amazingly well today! In fact, it was the easiest ever. 
And… Little Inchies’ Fungal Lesion did not bleed! 
Not only that, I’m not kidding… but I had no cuts shaving, and did not walk into any door or wall, all day long!

As I hung the towel to dry on the clothes airer in the hallway, I came as close to tripping over the electric cable without falling as I ever had; it was a miracle. This actually brought on my old, much-missed saviour and friend .
I pushed myself on the wall to prevent getting tangled in the heater and wire, and I hit the back of the other wall, which was where I’d left the walking stick, a bit of good luck there! I grabbed it and used the other wall to regain my balance. A definite and wonderful welcome !

Then, the Khagoule needed handwashing, quickly, before the hot water tank refilled and while it was still hot enough. Isn’t life awkward at times? Haha!

I got the dressing gown washed, and got soaked while wringing the Khagoule out after washing it, but it didn’t bother me, for was with me. Which meant I didn’t give a damn about me getting wet, and the kitchen floor would need cleaning or mopping!
Puft! Sod ’em all & everything! I hung up the shirt in the wet room to dry.

However, while mopping the floor, I slipped a little and twisted , but it wasn’t the pain it caused. I think it was the disappointment of me having a little run of good luck, for about 15 minutes, then things falling back into my usual feeling of defeatism. Self-pity and self-lambasting started!
. I felt so hard done by for some reason. Life is like this for me every single day, so why should it get to me so much more on this occasion? I think I just explained that?

I got on with the blogging at long last, and Carer Mizra arrived. A grand lad. He had to rush, but still got the socks and straps back on the legs for me and kept within his time quota. Thanks to Ejaz, Misra & Ahram for their understanding today.

The rain, although heavy at times, was start-stop at the same time. Does that make sense? I nipped into the balcony to take a snap of the end car park.

Later, I took snaps of the view from the kitchen again, hoping to get a decent one for once. The first one, to the left, was not too bad.
The second one was taken to the right of the window.
Not too good again.
I was determined to get a reasonably decent snap for the third one, Hahaha!
Oh, Flipping ‘eck!
I might give up trying to take night shops in the future… shops? Now I can’t even type right, or take might photos!

Carer Ahram arrived, and he issued the medications. Emptied the catheter jug for me. He checked that the last HC figures were recorded correctly. Thanks, mate.
Blogging, time to start the Ode, methinks.

Sunday morning catch-up.

Something people don’t eat often nowadays. Faggots in gravy with mashed potatoes. A ready-made microwave meal from Parsley Box. I made extra pork gravy, added it to the mix, and dunked two large cheesy-topped bread rolls in it. Do folks do this now? Well, I love them. Especially the faggots, they taste good to me, and no bother about what few rotting, hurting teeth I have left.
An old-fashioned meal?
Well, yes, but so am I. Hehehe!

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I.C.C. Carers’ Manpreet, Mizra, Abdul, and the last one, whose name I forgot to ask. Ejaz did not make any calls again today. Shame!

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🤎 MAY PEACE & JOY INVADE YOU 🤎
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