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I woke up, checked, and removed the nocturnal catheter pouch from the day bag. I was eager to get going with the ablutioning. I seemed to be avoiding the usual morning depression today. That’s good for me! As I pottered about getting the things ready to visit the wetroom,
wind emitted from the rear end. So, sharpishly, I traipsed into the wet room to use the Porcelain Throne. It soon became obvious that yesterday’s
Trotsky Terence affair was a one-off. I took this photo as the morning sunshine caught the General Hospital. It was captivatingly pretty, I thought.
I was smiling when I sat down. But no amount of urgings and pain would get things moving. So, I gave up, washed my hands, and decided to bet the ablutions after the first Carers visit. As I got into the kitchen, Carer Chris arrived. He got the medications sorted and my socks on. We had a short natter, not that we understand each other, accents and deafness on my behalf. Chris went on his way.
I began taking the things for showering and shaving into the wetroom, and as I opened the door…


It’s frightening how quickly one’s outlook on life can change. Depression can come on instantly and rapidly, followed by self-critical, lambasting thoughts and the desire to spit! I was so annoyed with myself for leaving the damned tap on to run cold. I felt I was physically shaking, I don’t think I was, but it certainly felt like it. I should have blamed 
They seem to enjoy their brain-battering battles to see who can make my life more rotten. I’m now trying to blame them, but I just can’t help it when something distracts me or I get two things simultaneously.
Looking back at my jobs with Tesco, the co-op, and security, I realised that many things simultaneously needed attention. Yet I seem to recall coping well with the incidents back then. In fact, I was the one other people came to for help, and I got it. The anger turned to self-pity and sadness. But I’d sooner have than than the depressions. Well, maybe not really; the guilt of whatever I do that goes wrong also gets to me. Embarrassment and shame are always lingering dangerously for my mental health in the shadows.
I’ve tried to pass at the Porcelain Thrown 3 times until now (16:15hrs), but I have had no success. Blood and pain, yes! Hehe! Luck, well, good luck is an alien to me.
Bad luck; A constant late-life disciple of Lucifer.
Carer Sham midday. In a rush, but she still emptied the catheter for me. I had filled up rather quickly, but I’d not noticed it. (Fancy that, me not noticing something, Hahaha) Thank you, Sham. ♥
I eventually got on with the blogging. And, dare I say it, I was doing well. That was a fatal thing for me to be thinking! (Worrying that was)
The keyboard stopped working while typing. The light on the keyboard was still lit up. The mouse was still working.
The depression that turned into shame came back. No self-anger this time, just pure frustration and fed-uppers with my rotten luck. Not being technically capable, I investigated the situation. What to try, so all my limited abilities turned to solving the issue.
① I changed the batteries in the keyboard. Rebooted the computer – No, that didn’t work.
② Made sure the sender in the USB port was fully in.
No, that didn’t work.
③ I gave up on the keyboard and threw it on the recliner. Keep the pain-givers together. Then, why didn’t I realise it sooner? I realised I’d got a
new keyboard I bought ages ago, so I decided to try to set it up.
④ Getting it out of the box was a work of art and must have taken me about ten minutes of struggling. Now, how do I set it up. I investigate the new keyboard further.
⑤ It was a bit of another struggle for me to get the battery hinge off. Fancy that!) Then, I saw it took AAA batteries, not the AA ones I have lots of in the flat!
⑥ Then a stroke of luck. (Worrying that was).
I found that the batteries were inside the computer!
⑦ I put the keyboard dongle in the USB port. Took out the old one. And rebooted the computer.
⑧ I bothered me that it was working. Then I got a Windows message telling me it had been successfully loaded, so I opened WordPress. And would you believe it…
HURRAH! It worked!
Of course, it had cost me two and a half hours to get it to work. But working it is! YeeHaa!
Now, to get the photos of the day on the blog.
I went to put the kettle on, and Carer Chris called.
He took some photos on the spare camera and changed the settings so that it clicked when a shot was taken.
He did it all so quickly for me, too. Bless Him!
No shower again; the hot water was not hot enough.
After putting the photos together, I found the one I thought I’d forgotten to take of yesterday’s meal: caramelised sausages, fresh peas,
tomatoes, beetroot & red onions. Early evening sky, Bootiful!
I was going to turn on the TV to watch ‘Heartbeat’ while continuing the blog.
I could not find the remote control!
I got the torch and looked underneath the dilapidated, breaking up, partially doored, second-hand bought Hopewell’s E-plan cabinet, with 7 drawers, of which two are still working, hoping to find that the remote had fallen and slid underneath it. I found pens, a pencil, and dried-rock-solid fresh peas. Along with a 1960 Scan Security Certificate of Merit, training courses passed, and two of the missing Health Alert wristbands… along with an old laptop, four AA batteries and an old pair of glasses in a case. But, no remote!
I then searched almost everywhere: the junk room, hallway, wet room, and Kitchen. I even looked on the balcony. But no remote was found.
Then I foolishly tackled moving the £300 second-hand shop bought, c1966. Moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly-beige-coloured, much-filthied, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not working recliner. I couldn’t get down to look underneath, as the last time I tried, I could not get up again.
So, hauling it around, inches at a time, in the small space it stood in was the only option.
I hoovered as I went along to reduce the mountain of dust, more rock-solid garden peas, more pens, and yet another mystery: three packets of French Fries with a sell-by date of February 2020. Ahem! This made me feel so guilty.
I nudged the chair a little more and…
Saw a corner of the remote control sticking out.
Got the bugger! But as I bent down to pull it clear, Back-Pain-Brenda and Dizzy Dennis kicked off, and with the physical jerks, I’d tangled the catheter pouch strappings that needed sorting out. I was not in good shape and left the chair all askew, and I got on the computer to make this rather sad report for my multitude of blog followers. I hope they can both see the funny side.
I could, even in such pain. Hahaha! Carer Chris is coming later, I’ll beg him to help me get the recliner back in position. It’s up against the bed at the moment. And I’ll ask him for extra Codeine. I missed one earlier, so it should be okay, I am allowed up to four a day.
Carer Chris turned up, looking a little tired. I told him of the farce with the remote-searching mess, and he quickly put the recliner back in position for me.
I was still a little ‘out of it,’ Chris picked up on this. Thanks to him, I got the nocturnal pouch fitted, the diabetic socks removed, and a Codeine given. He also took the waste bags on his way out. Thanks, Chris!
I will get something to eat now. But I’ll not cook in this tired and confused state, and dragging or carrying the nocturnal bag around is too risky! I’ve got some chicken and fresh peas in the fridge. I’ll have a pot of instant potato with them. I won’t look good or be fine dining, but I must eat, and I’ll pray that the ailments let me rest and recuperate for once. Then in the early morning, I must get a good shower and shave. Please let me wake up early!
But first, please let me get some sleep! I don’t know who I’m talking to; it’s out of desperation.
Please give me a break tonight. I have Back-Pain-Brenda, Sherida’s Electrical Shocks, Dizzy Dennis, Cartilage Chloe & Carole, Anne Gyna, & other ailments.
That should do it. Hahaha!


Confused and tired, I made the no-cooking meal. No problem with the trailing 4ft nocturnal extension tube & pouch.
After washing the pots, I took five shots of the early-morning views from the kitchen. This is the only one that came out reasonably.
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I settled in the £300 second-hand shop recliner I purchased in 1966, which caused welts, was uncomfortable, did not work, was itch-inspirational, and contained crumbs.
I was intending to watch a recorded episode of ‘Heartbeat’. Soon, I was with Sweet Morpheus for two minutes at a time, repeatedly waking up with a jolt.
I gave up the TV idea, and amazingly, or perhaps not. I slowly drifted of back into the land of nod.
I woke up five hours later, and the door chime rang out when Carer Maryham arrived.
Another day in the life of Inchy Gerald Chambers.
Living Proof that Bad Luck in later life is to be expected. Nae, in his case, is guaranteed.
Without Cogniscent Impairment Iris, Doreen Dementia and all the ailments he’s accrued, life would be so dull.
Dull sounds attractive to him.
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TTFN
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