Harold Haemorrhoids Bleeding – Page 5

Inadequate Inchy: Tuesday 3rd December 2024

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Would you know if someone gave you a zeitgeber?
Does that serve as a signal, hint, or option?
If you don’t know it matters not soever,
The question was an aberration…
There rumbling again in my viscera,
Yesterday, a seizure went on for an aeon,
It’s expected for folks of my generation,
And have you seen the state of the Nation?
From violater Starmer’s promised denigration,
I’m daily going from the Trots to constipation,
Finding time for some contemplation…
I’m not educated; I’m a bit of a wiseacre,
My decisions drop to a state of abstention,
This bothers me much, but I can’t remember…
My original aim, thought, or intention…
Of my Ode subject with lucubration,
The grey-cells messages are labyrinthian,
I live without laudation or admiration,
Bad luck and doom seem to be my obsession,
Hence, this ode & my typomania…
Mind-Mangling-Malcolm, in short, MMM…
Often gets me feeling angrier,
Wanting to reach out again for my Sangria!
In my head is a juxtaposition, a contiguity,
Rich & poor, the rich wanting, getting more,
Darkness vs light, good vs. Bad, ever contrary,
My thoughts argue accusatively, acerbically,
My brain invaders occupiers disagree,
They question my very corporeality,
Where I question the same, well, mostly me,
The election result, Bye-bye Tory story,
Herr Starmer’s Labour winning,
Pensioners & Farmers losing…
Still, I suppose it stops them boozing?
Much too much violence and killing,
Parole Board; murders, they let them free,
So, they can and do kill again, you see,
This is wrong, says the bible and me!
The Quran (60:8) seems to agree…
Yet wars continue on earth daily,
HMG rules not affectionately or effectively,
They concentrate on being self-beneficiary,
No help from any God, Alien or banshee…
The world will soon be human-free,
When I discover the date, most certainly…
I lose my worries over not being able to pee,
I’ll await the end seemingly, patiently,
Laughing and drinking Glengettie tea!
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Partner failed to call for help as his bed-bound partner died as she lay on the floor for 11 days!

A bed-bound Nottinghamshire woman died after her partner left her on the floor for 11 days when she fell out of bed. Nottingham Crown Court heard how, for all the time, Caron Kinsey had been helplessly lying there, and Christopher Tansley had failed to summon any help. While the 63-year-old victim was on the carpet, he would light cigarettes for her and bring her soft drinks. But when he finally did call the emergency services, paramedics found her covered in urine and faeces and, with pressure sores all down the left side of her body, under a urine and an excrement-covered blanket.

Jailing 63-year-old Tansley for two years and three months, the Honourable (Haha!) Mrs Justice Tipples KC said:

“The circumstances of her death are sad and tragic. Caron was curled up on the floor in the fetal position on her left-hand side. She was covered in several urine & fetal-soaked blankets. She had pressure sores on almost the entirety of her left-hand side. “This was a terrible and distressing scene, and it was plain that Caron required urgent help, but you failed to get any. Morphine was given, and she was taken to hospital and died just after 11pm that night.

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It took another long time to get to sleep again this morning. But I did manage around three hours in the land of Nod. I think I had a dream, but only fragments can be recollected. I may have been in outer space and using a hand-held RT to talk to some aliens in a glass-topped flying saucer. Can’t remember owt else about that section of the dream. But I found myself having some pleasant nookie with a woman and worried about how who she was and why?
I woke up disappointed that the lady and I were no longer physically entangled. Which, of course, we were not in the first place. Indeed, it must be impossible to miss something that never was or could have been? I’m sure I knew it was surreal and fantasy as the dream progressed. Well, I can now tell you it is possible to miss something that never happened or could never been. I think, anyway!

04:45hrs; I scribbled some notes on the pad and removed the nocturnal catheter pouch from the day bag. I got a little mixed up later when the computer played it nasty and just let some and not others be saved. There is a possibility I’ve put the wrong photo on above. Later on, the computer let me save the right one, here on the right, showing the deeper hue. I went to empty the nocturnal pouch and meandered into the kitchenette. The night view was worthy of me taking a few shots of it, with the green hue of the clouds out there.
The houses and land did not turn out well during the second two efforts, as a cold breeze blew through the window.
There was a fourth taken, but it came out just pure black, with no shadows of any clouds. I got something wrong again. Tsk!

Then, off I limped to the wet room.
To put it mildly, it was a long, painful, patience-needing Constipation Conrad controlled session. I hope they never install a microphone in that wet room! The verbal Arghs, aye, aye-ayes, foul language that flowed for about twenty minutes, the twenty minutes of agony as the multi-coloured, Poisidon-sized concrete torpedo was half in-half out. Encouraging the motion to flow took it out of me; it just about wore me out! I had to remain seated for a few minutes to help me recover from the monumental effort required! Two extra tasks this morning. I had to get the bamboo canes to break up the torpedo, as the WC was not coping with the two-tone red and black evacuated product. I wasn’t surprised either; I was just glad I’d gotten rid of it. Then attention was needed to the bloody mess of blood that’d flowed from poor old .
Then, after I had a wash, but I forgot to shave, the medicationing off . As I moved the catheter tube a little to help the cream go intoLittle Inchie, when it did, my language even amazed me! Again, I was glad there were no microphones in use!

On the computer, belatedly. I had a lot of trouble getting the photos saved for use on WordPress. Hours later, it got pally and let me get at least some of them on. But it was complicated & time-consuming!
I remembered that the JS order was due today, so I moved some boxes to the front door to prepare for the delivery.
Carer Chloe arrived at 08:45hrs. As I was restarting doing the blog catch-up. A darned good job, too! She checked the timing for today’s delivery on the JS website… and discovered I had not sent off or checked out the order yet! So, we changed the timing to tomorrow, for delivery between 11:00 to 15:00hrs and checked it out. Saving another cock-up with an order! ♥

She (Chloe) returned later to do some domestics for me. She mopped the kitchen and wet room floors.

Back to the computer: When I’d forgotten where I was with things and struggled to regain control, mistakes flowed; they do that to me naturally, you know!

I’d been working on Tuesday’s blog; it was cruelly slow going with a mind that kept wandering off each time I got interrupted, had a Seizure, and a few shocks thrown in the mix, and I was off to Loola-land. I decided I could manage a mug of Glengettie or 99 tea. As I grabbed , it dawned that I had not yet finished the Monday blog! So, I did!
Well, I was going to…

Embarrassment!
SELF HATRED!

It suddenly dawned on me that both my feet felt wet. I did not panic at first cause I’ve been getting sensations of areas of the body getting Icey-cold-Wet sensations, and I thought I must be getting a double this time… But, No!
As I decided to get the slippers and socks off and wash my feet, as I stood up;

I slipped on the wet and took a tumble. Nothing new there! What wet, you ask? I hope! The urine that had flowed out of the ! The valve was in the fully open position! How it got in that position remains a mystery of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, grotesque succubae, , ectoplasms, extraterrestrials, spirits, , Mind-Mangling-Malcolm, rent increases, food price hikes, and the Fata Morganas. Along with Hell-sent demons that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind?

It was a struggle again, but I managed to fetch a bowl of water without any more into the main junk room. Then, something I hadn’t thought of arose – how do I get the socks off? I can now tell you. Hehe! I don’t know why I laughed then? I ended up cutting them off from the top to loosen them. Then, I trapped the toe end with my other heel and painfully, especially with Cartilage Chloe, tried to lift the leg to pull them off. It must have taken me half an hour to get them off and thrown away. I then used three rolls of thick kitchen Towels to help soak the urine. The plan is to change them regularly and spray the carpet between applications. As I write this, the next roll will be the ninth, with none left to use!

I stripped off and put the shirt, dressing gown, and stinky slippers in the laundry bag; the slippers would have company in there, as well as another pair of slippers I’d wee’d into two days ago. There must be a better word, but embarrassment is precisely what I was and am going through! That

and a degree of shame and more shame, labefaction. Twice in three days! But this wasn’t a leak; this one was much more of a catching-you-out torrent! Gragknangles!
Off to the wet room for a stand-up wash and medicationings. Why not have a shower, you may ask? Cause when I put the rag used at first to soak in the kitchen sink bowl… I can’t believe this myself… I left the hot tap running to go cold!
I can see I will end up at home if I can’t reign in my .

Once in the wet room, I washed the delicate areas first, then applied the medications and creams. Excuse me… ARRGH!

I was unsure which creams to use on the unidentified blotches on both lower arms.
I ended up dabbing them with the weaker Lavender & orange Dettol disinfectant.
After a few minutes of applying the Dettol, the arms seemed to feel a little easier and appeared less inflamed. Maybe I had made a rare right choice for once. If I recall correctly, I made the right choice in November 1953.
You’ve got to laugh; it’s such a pathetic state to end up in!
Old age… Sod-it!

Getting the fresh Depends on is usually a bit of a battle, but for some reason, it went almost smoothly this time. I even considered going into a .
♬Oh, Susan♬ rang out from the door chime, and Carer Christopher tapped on the wet room door. As I opened the door, forgetting I was in just the new protection pants, the lad laughed harder than I had ever heard him before. I thought it might be the sight of my grotesque body, but he asked if I’d just had a shave? I replied positively, and he laughed again, even louder! It seemed I’d missed a lot of the bristles on my neck. He was time-limited but hastily got the razor and corrected my mistake as he shaved my missed bits. The blood loss was not too severe. Ha-ha! Chris got the medications sorted, given and shot off on his rounds. A special thanks to the lad! I appreciated his help!

Feeling a little cared about, I cheered and started writing this blog. Then I realised I hadn’t posted yesterday’s blog yet. So I did! What a day!

Tired & weary now. Better get some nosh made.
I’ve got potatoes that have accidentally been cooking in the slow cooker for nine hours now. If they have not crumbled to liquid yet, I’ve some beetroots, mushrooms, fresh Kenyan garden peas and sausages to make a meal.
Ah, well, I’ll get it sorted back in the morning.
Well, I hope so. TTFN.
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GOOD MORNING!
Well, making the meal was another bit of semi-farce. In keeping with today’s series of the damned things!
I dropped the sausages on the floor, rescued most of them, and then burned them all in the microwave. When I got them out, they were rock-hard. Tsk!
Sausages (well cooked, Haha!).
Fresh garden peas, over-boiled potatoes, sliced & salted tomatoes with some Polish pickled mushrooms and cut-up pickled beetroots. A tub of mandarins in jelly followed.
Had I not made a mess of… I’ve just realised how often I type those words; ‘I made a mess of!’ Where was I? Had I not made a mess of heating the sausages, this meal’s rating would have been in the high nines!

I washed the cooking and eating things and struggled into the hospital bed. With relative ease, I attached the nocturnal catheter pouch to the day pouch. That should have been changed last Friday. I had not ensured that I kept forgetting to ask the caregivers to do it. I remember mentioning it several times early during the visit, but after the Caregiver had gone, I realised it hadn’t been done yet again. Tsk!

Then, for once, Sweet Morpheus enveloped me in rest and peace. No dreams, or , as far as I recall. I felt gifted… and feared for what Wednesday would have in store for me… Hehehe!
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TTFNski!
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Imperfectus Inchy: Monday 2nd December 2024

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But Maybe?
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I fancied becoming an auger, avenger, even an astrologer…
But which one? I pondered longer and longer…
I settled for being a gas lamp lighter & snuffer,
But doing this first job made me feel happier…
Back then, things were far less angstier.

A split shift daily, the pay was lousy,
But the jobs 13 bob pay was daily,
There was less anger, violence and hostility,
I walked with my pole & cap, my snuffer outer,
I took back-handers, but not like Starmer!

Shift workers? A tap on their window with my Reacher,
Morn or night, each time I’d make an extra (6d) tanner,
Sometimes, there’d be summat extra-curricular,
I’d nip in for a visit with Grizelda,
It took some cunning but was worth the bovver!

A rare moment of me needing exoneration, absolution,
But indeed, a moment of joy and satisfaction,
I’ll never forget my muscular, fair maiden,
She’d throw me on the bed, then start the action,
Afterwards, bliss was my primary reaction!
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ANOTHER CUT-DOWN-A-BIT ODE.
Not a lot?.

In the morning shot of Venus, I have no idea what the green spots were; they were reflections from the flash, maybe?

Ocado’s order arrived between calls from Carer Chloe & Sam.
Fresh food to fill up the fridge
Flora no-butter-butter, smoked sausages, cheesy rolls, fresh Kenyan garden peas, Surami, Franks, bacon and some Notoori Black Tomatoes; they were overripe already, so brown on the outside and red inside, and delicious!

Cupboard foods
Chestnuts, orange dessert pots, pickled mushrooms and Black Bean Sauces.

The fridge filled up!

For the next five hours, it was mental mayhem. No idea which Carer called. What I got done on the blog was hardly worth bothering with, and what bit I did find after the Marathon Seizure was all wrong, grammatically, timewise & didn’t make a lot of sense. So I had to start again in the morning. Correcting and adding bits and the photos.
A blurr otherwise.

I gave up computing. I was here, there, nowhere, puzzled and suddenly tired, drained mentally.
Got the meal sorted, of sorts. Sourdough bread: It worked out at 56p a bite just for the bread. With the beautiful tomatoes, £120 a bite. They are so expensive!
No butter-buttered the sourdough bread, sliced tomato and salted them to make two sourdough sarnies.
Got the meal made and digested.

Carer Promise, I think, did the last call.

I’m sorry, but it’s a bit bare. My seizure notes were unreadable even to me. Who must have written them?

Sleep was slow in coming despite my feeling so drained.
But when it finally arrived, I slept for three unbroken hours!
That was welcome!

An already used Starmer-The-Stealer cartoon here. To fill up this terribly short blog. I liked this one!

I can’t help thinking that so much more happened today.
But it’s obviously been dispatched into the ether if anything happened by .

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TTFNski!

Poxy Inchy: Sunday 1st December 2024

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Is Starmer running HMG veneficiously?
I’ll check it out in my dictionary,
He’s not doing it very efficiently,
Pensioners are forced to eat or heat, you see…
Farmers are to pay 48% more tax, say HMRC,
Even worse, my favourite-tasting tea…
Typhoo made it a weaker Glengettie!
Dizzy Dennis & Shaking Shoulder Shirley,
Life is enveloped in ambiguosity,
Self nitpicking batrachomyomachy,
Glaucoma Gladys awaits her trabeculectomy,
My computer is more like a whigmaleerie!
3 times, I left the hot water tap running,
Harold’s Haemorrhoids have been bleeding,
The min-seizures have been increasing,
Many other things are worthy of me groaning,
But I’m sick of hearing me moaning,
Constipation Conrad ever consolidating,
My cerebrum is ever circumstancing…
Retetion-loss, theories, contriving…
A devil of a job, in concentrating,
Leaving me worrying, contemplating,
Is logicality worth conserving?
My sanity or insanity certifying?
I can remember my days of billing & cooing…
The girl’s responses? Laughing or Booing!
I’ve not been good at anything I was doing,
Yet I still enjoy a poem, a bit of odeing,
What I miss a lot is communicating,
Talking to myself too much, alone isolating…
I can no longer do it, but I miss canoodling!
Thus, every day, I find life frustrating!
Can’t say some thoughts I’ve been harbouring!
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It took me ages to get to sleep. When I managed to drift off, I woke with a jerk & jump 2 hours later, realising that I’d made a few Fauxpas again! The same is true for the last three days! The nocturnal catheter pouch had not been put on. Also, the Diabetic socks had not been taken off last night. I needed to get my feet cleaned and deodorised urgently. The socks should be worn in the morning and taken off at night. I was in such a state mentally over the last few days I forgot to ask the Carer to do it, and they didn’t think about it. This meant I’d got an uncomfortable flow-back from the smaller day pouch; I’m pleased it hadn’t burst and leaked all over the place and me!
When I stirred, I was confused; now, I was baffled, and Dizzy Dennis kicked off. Some of Sandra’s Mini-Seizures set in and stayed with me, which didn’t help much.

The Carer arrived, and I asked her to take off the socks. But we both forgot about them. Carer Maryham or Kimberley did the dinner slot and took off the socks later.

I took some snaps of the rain inside the balcony through the windows.

Then, had to visit the Porcelain Throne. A marathon visit it was too, I can tell yers!
I spent a long time on the crossword book as I waited for ages for the motion to begin.
It came agonisingly slowly, with two cube-shaped briquettes causing much bleeding and, as I said, agony! Poor old Harold’s Haemorrhoids were tortured and needed a lot of cleaning up and dollops of Germoloid Ointment to calm down their hurting, stinging pains that lasted for yonks. I was walking oddly, unusually, as I left the wet room. Haha!

The Low-Cost Food delivery arrived. l sorted it out and refilled the carer’s & Nurse’s Nibble Bowl. There was another box of Cadbury mini Flakes. I assumed it would be like the last one, which was very popular, individually wrapped – But No! They were Catering packs, with 144 Flakes, loose in trays. Some of them were not broken… but not many. So I wrapped some bags of them up and put them in the fridge to hand out later in the week.
Shame! I hope they keep fresh.

Finally, I got around to updating yesterday’s blog. The seizures were so frequent I gave up until they had passed.

The weary tiredness returned, and I considered getting my head down again. By the time I’d made my mind up to do this, my energy lifted along with my morale? So, I took advantage of the lift and finished and posted the blog. The feeling of going up and down again continued for the rest of the day. An unsettling situation.

Yesterday and earlier this morning, I tried to snap the strange meal several times, but it would not save to file, like many others. I tried again, and wallah! It saved and went onto WordPress for me! I recall eating it while on the computer. Now I’m not sure if it was yesterday’s or from another day that wouldn’t save. I think it was. It was a bread roll with Marmite and no-butter butter, chicken mini sausages, Stilton cheese, and some Aunt Bessie baked potatoes done in the Air Fryer. They were terrible! The flesh was dry and didn’t crisp up much at all.
Oh, I’d love to be able to afford a new cooker! Tsk!
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Colour 50 – 18 – 0.
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Idiotic Inchy: Saturday 30th November 2024

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OF STARMERS NEW TORY, LABOUR HMG!
Double-dealing, Lies, and Hocuspocus!
No regrets about taking backhanders,
Or bankrupting for food producing farmers,
And killing off private-pensioned pensioners,
And this from the party that created the NHS?
I imagine OAPS voted Labour, I guess?
New ministers that are the schmooziest,
Starmer could make the UK problems terminal,
Earths end may go galactically, universally viral,
Would Earth’s survival be acceptable or tenable?
Watching aliens must think humankind terrible,
Out Oligarchs, politicians so ungainsayable,
Earth’s innocents are so slaughterable…
This is just part of our trouble,
It’s time for our rulers to burst their bubble…
Our future is, of course, underivable,
Earth’s poor are all unconsequential,
I pray to see the first promised Angel…
Who just may be sent to us from Hell…
I hope he brings a freebie for Starmer as well!
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Definitely a better kip last night. Although it took me so long to get to sleep, I reckon I was in bed for about eight hours, two of which were sleeping. But this is an improvement. I rose at about 04:20hrs, passed some wind, and the nocturnal catheter pouch was removed from the day pouch. A decent colour this time. Which, incidentally, should have been changed last Friday according to the date written on it, but things kept ensuring that I forgot to remind the carer about it. Sleep problems, seizures, Little Inchies Fungal lesion, Harold’s Haemorrhoids, the nose and Toothache Tiffany bleeding away. Yet somehow, I didn’t get caught up with the blog; the computer was dead set against me saving photos, and I had no heart to take many.

My BP was decent this morning after yesterday’s 2nd Hyper of the week. I amassed things needed to complete the ablutions and hibernated in the wet room to get on with the task. Again, the diabetic socks were not taken off last night. So again, I had no chance of taking a shower; I had a strip wash and couldn’t even clean my feet in the bowl as I shaved due to my inability, just like a three-year-old, to take off my socks. In times like this, depression and frustration can overtake me. But surprisingly, I kept my imitation pucker-up pretty well. The shave went wellish. Just one minuscule nick. A bit worried about not needing the Porcelain Throne again.
With no showering and no shi… Porcelain Throne activity, I was done and out within 1½hrs. Stupidly, I adopted a mild Smug Mode. When will I ever learn? I went into the main junk/recliner/computer/bedroom and tried to get my socks pulled off. I should have known better!
Dizzy Dennis, Loss-Balance-Barbara, and a little help from a short had me over! Inchy took another tumble! However, he redirected his route to the floor and lunched onto the bed! I pulled the quilts and dressing gown off the bed. But pleased he’d avoided any injuries… That’s not strictly correct. Harold’s Haemorrhoids, which had just been cleaned and ointmentated, started bleeding. Which stained the fresh Protection pants he’d just struggled to get on. He now struggled to get off and replace them with another fresh pair after cleaning and creaming again! Noticing that the urine was now bloodied in the tube. Then I got the long picker-upperer to get the things from the floor and tidied up a little, not a lot! Hence, I had to frequently wash dry and Germoloid Little Inchies Haemorrhoids throughout the rest of the day.
At long last, I got on the computer to check and finish the templates. It should have taken me fifteen minutes, but three hours later, I had completed them. Now, the depression and frustrations began to sink in. I then discovered that the few pictures I’d taken in the evening (currently 01:45 hrs Sunday) were taken with the SD card on the computer.

My spirit is destroyed. The only semi-highlight was the computer: it let me save a photo of the snack I had taken earlier and a shot that had just been taken.

Not a lot, but nice. This may be the wrong photo?Early Morning View.

Feeling really low now.

WHEREVER DID THE DAY GO?
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I found out on Monday that I had made an error in the meal photo. Fortunately, I also found out I had not yet (forgotten!) to post this blog. So I can rectify my singularly rare, not often-made mistake. (I’m lying well, aren’t I?)
Belatedly, my memory springs into action…
I enjoyed this one.

I wish that did not toy with and tease me so often, but with the previously classed as now becoming , there is plenty of scope for me to make even more mistakes in future comments. Oh, I haven’t mentioned the NHS letter yet! They are altering the Diabetic Course to a different Training course, which is being arranged for me. The Diabetes Type Two training is being changed to a Diabetic Dementia & Cognitive Decline course.
This could (I think) mean that I may have the possibility of if I read it right, Hippocampal Doreen Dementia, Diabetic Doreen Dementia, vascular Doreen Dementia, Alzheimer’s Disease Dementia, Lewy Body Dementia, Frontotemporal Dementia, Mixed Dementia, Traumatic Encephalopathy Dementia, Posterior Cortical Atrophy Dementia, or Primary Progressive Aphasia Dementia (Semantic or Logoepenic).

Telling me: “There’s a strong correlation between Alzheimer’s disease and high blood sugar levels. One study found that people with high blood sugar levels, such as those linked with Type 2 diabetes, “had a dramatic increase in beta-amyloid protein, one of the hallmark brain proteins of Alzheimer’s disease.” People in the early stages of Type 2 diabetes (Me) have signs of brain dysfunction. In fact, one study’s participants showed high levels of insulin resistance in the brain and a reduced ability to use glucose to fuel normal brain function. Individuals with Type 2 diabetes show accelerated cognitive decline, specifically in executive function and information-processing speed. The early effects of diabetes on the brain were related to levels of a blood protein called haemoglobin A1C (HbA1C). Researchers found that even people with diabetes for less than 10 years had deficits in memory function typically associated with a brain region called the hippocampus. They found that people with diabetes had smaller hippocampal sizes than people without diabetes. They also discovered the decreases in hippocampal size correlated to HbA1C blood levels, suggesting that HbA1C could indicate hippocampal-type function and/or the onset of memory loss. The gene for amyloid precursor protein (or APP, the “parent molecule of beta-amyloid) is known to be involved in some cases of Alzheimer’s. This gene also affects any insulin pathway. Disruption of the insulin pathway is a hallmark of
diabetes and research on the APP gene could lead to a therapeutic target for both diseases.

What to expect in early-stage Vascular Dementia. In early-stage vascular dementia, damage to the blood vessels or disruption of blood flow to the brain may already have occurred, yet symptoms may be relatively mild. ..
While memory loss is a common first sign of cognitive decline in those who are developing dementia, memory issues are often not the first sign of vascular dementia. Instead, those developing vascular dementia may experience confusion more often, issues with communication, and trouble making decisions, planning, or problem-solving.
Now they tell me! Hehe!
If, by any chance, a patient reading this was not too confused, they damn well are now after reading it! Haha!
So, back to school for me in the New Year!
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TTFN
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Ivanhoe Inchy: Fri 29th Nov 2024

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Have we oldies been accessorised?
Is this something to do with Starmer’s lies?
Should politicians be backhanders or exemplifiers?
I ask these things cause I’m not very wise,
Are Oligarchs crooked financiers?
Ought our PM’s be gonfalonieres?
I think they show their audacities, & artificialities,
Their answers seem to decontextualise…
Questions answered seem to extemporise…
Explanations, hypothesise or theories,
No guilt is shown; suspicion then intensifies,
Reasons for the oldies mental malaise…
Deafness, Dementia we can’t always ostracise,
Maybe paralysis, prosthesis, or psychosis?
Voting for who? The least bloodthirsty?
Some seek self-profit, adversely…
Some act cunningly, some with ambiguity,
If I was PM, I’d lead anacreontically,
Towards the aged, I’d act adminicularly…
Starmer is more a dictator than an abecedary,
So he can’t bring or supply equanimity.
His nature & outlook are not very veritable,
I think their future is looking terrible…
Some looked to me like just fixed addicts,
One appeared to be doing mind acrobatics,
Many seemed to be on antibiotics…
One was ever-scratching at her bedticks,
The chancellor looked like a Wiccanist,
The chap next to her, like a voodooist?
Gurning Starmer looked the wealthiest,
His cabinet lot looked the weirdest…
Backbenchers suffered from wanderlust,
Sturmer got a few scolding looks,
They were from the wannabes,
Rachel Reeves started to apothegmatise…
Using axiomatics to hide her lies,
It was matter-of-fact, nowt to energise…
To give false hope would not be wise,
No hope giver Starmer, but an annihilationist,
A farmer-hating Starmer and gerontophilias,
Who leads his turncoat MPs, the nudnicks…
Policy changed from Socialist to psychosis,
The sceptics changed their semantics,
From romantics to political bandits,
From scholastics to schizophrenics,
Humane to back-hander-holics!
From honourable to Oligarchal!
Labour’s already as rusty as my belt buckle!
Their honour dies, leaving no sparkle…
I wouldn’t mind if Starmer gets suicidal!
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This blog was not started until 14:00hrs on Saturday.
Between Mini-Seizures, Dizzy Dennis, and Memory-Mangling-Malcolm—backed up with Glaucoma Gladys—and the computer failing to save again, it’s been a long, unsuccessful, lousy day for me. (18:10 hrs).
I suppose I made a decent start, though. I did complete December’s templates. However, I even got the dates wrong on many of them, so I had to change each one to regain the required sequence of dates. Also, a few photos were saved, but not many were taken.
If it was go-wrongable, it did!
Little Inchies Fungal Lesion Bleeding.
Toothache Tiffany. Mini-Seizures. Dozzy Dennis.
Harold’s Haemorrhoids were debilitating still now!
I did manage to get some sleep in though.
Up at 04:15hrs. Sleep was a little better, but nowt to shout about, I’ve still not caught up with all the days lost.
Urine is a better colour!

Sorry, but it’s so late. I’ll just put the few photos I’ve got on… if the computer lets me.
Morning views.

Ablutions, I couldn’t use the shower cause the diabetic socks were not taken off last night. Stand-up wash shave, teggies, medicationalisationed, scented things. Haha!
It still took me two hours without showering..
Carer Chris
Started the templates.
Carer Joanne.
Finished the templates.
Seizures and Dizzies were bad.
Made a food order for the following Monday.

Suddenly drained after a good start as well.
Fell asleep in the computer chair…
Woke up when I fell off of the computer chair.
Slipped, hauling my massive body up from the floor.
Hit head on the itch-creating, bruise-giving, catheter-tube-tugging, crumb-decorated from my nocturnal nibbling, God-awfully uncomfortable, cringingly grotty, no longer working, dirty beige, anti-sleep designed, c1966, second-hand bought for £300 ten years ago from the charity shop, recliner. Nose & teeth bleeding. (They soon stopped; the headache lasted a little longer, though)
Carer Chris came; he wanted a can of cider… well, he took the last two of them. He didn’t, but he put them in the fridge to cool them and will collect them on his next visit.
Not a lot, but I wasn’t hungry.

Acne & Ezcema is back again!

Sorry, it’s so short.
Time won today. I’m too tired to start today’s blog, and it’s too late anyway. So, I expect it will be another battle to get things done for tomorrow’s blog. I think!

TTFNski – Have a Great Day!

Inuring Inchy: Thursday 28th November 2024

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A change in style for Ode of the day today,
Sarcasm I tried to avoid, store away…
Add intelligence, albeit adumbratively,
I tried to create an eclectic array…
Thoughts, & memories a personal breviary,
Steer clear of any lachrymosity…
Not to overdo my loquacity,
Or even mention Starmer’s lubricity!
Mix reality with dreams & veridicality,
To blend farce with pretend-unctuosity,
I was hoping for some theopneusty,
I failed in all; I just created self-anxiety…
My earlier ideas mentally acted evasively…
Doreen Dementia with great audacity…
Stopped me from accessing, acted evasively…
Dealing with my thoughts circuitously,
My grey cells, infested with a new proclivity,
My intended hopes fell into jejunity!
I’m sad now I’ve missed the opportunity…
I’ve lost my thoughts, plans & fecundity,
Fading intelligence & mental acuity,
Next week, I’ll be back again in Ward 23,
The nurse said for electroencephalography,
It records brainwaves, electroencephalographically
I wish I could have done this ode betterly…
It started so well as well… Pity!
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Yet another sleepless night! I went through the same routine. Last night I watched the TV 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 to watch an episode of my favourite, ‘Heartbeat’, on the TV and eat the meal.
But Sweet Morpheus refused to arrive. Once more, I moved into the hospital bed. But the piles were so painful, I moved back to the c1966, £300 charity shop bought second-hand, wincingly grotty, beige coloured, not working, crumb-covered from the nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, recliner. I stayed there with the TV on and nothing to watch, but as a general rule, this often sends me into the bliss of sleep when the adverts come on. Not tonight, Oh, no such luck!
I was still there at 06:00hrs and decided to rise from the depths of the uncomfortable recliner. The first job was to remove the , and then get a wash and medicate poor Harold’s Haemorrhoids, which were as bad as yesterday morning. It’s not anywhere near so bloodied this time, though.
I made a halfhearted attempt at straightening the hospital bed covers, giving myself a decent .
For the first hour or so, I had no s, and as far as I could tell, no seizures either. When the shocks came on, the seizures came on simultaneously. I managed a nifty bit of balance manoeuvring that prevented any tumbles.
. I was taking a photo of the dark morning sky, with Venus as the only thing on view in the sky.
I considered adopting another Smug Mode when I saw how well it came out. And took a lower-down view of the hidden houses. As I closed the window, the Kodak dropped from my limp grip. ! I automatically grabbed the camera as I bent down and actually caught it! Unfortunately I had a and banged my against the floor radiator. It made such a mess that I got a new set-up from the main junk room and retired to the wet room to get the bag changed and things cleaned up, putting on some fresh PPs afterwards. At least I felt a little freshened up and cleaner. It took me ages to replace it, and the bending down so much bothered Dizzy Dennis, who told me about it. I sat down on the Porcelain Throne to let things calm down. Soon, however, I found myself in need of the Porcelain Throne mentioned above.
It was all over in about a minute. I passed so many soft chunky lumps, along with what looked like a good dose of gravy, that followed immediately after the approximately twenty cubes of poo had escaped! It’s a blessing in a way; the differences in colour, pong, and contents in my daily visits to the wet room’s Porcelain Throne.
Never ever the same twice on the trot!

As I belatedly got on the computer, Carer Alia arrived. Medications sorted and given.

I did well with the photo saving after using the cCleaner this morning. Only a couple were rejected.
I pressed on and finished the Wednesday blog. It took me a while, as I had a prolonged Seizure when checking the blog for errors. I do recall starting the Grammarly check. Their new confusing side strip indicators (they’ve just come on again, and with my eyesight, they often confuse me) annoy me with all these unwanted changes, and that was my last memory for an hour or so. I very nearly just clicked the ‘Publish’ tag. But I managed to see what an absolute mess I’d made with so many errors and mistakes, and I had to spend another hour reviewing them and correcting them. Grumph!

EERIE PHOTO
I snapped a picture of the horizon. The mists in the background and the sun rising from the left behind the block of flats looked beautiful, almost surreal.

The cannabis-growing dwellings showed up, with the ground and roof frost melting more on the top of some houses than others. Yes, I was wearing my Sherlock Holmesian hat this morning. Hehehe!

Gave me a few tugs, but she soon settled down. He was enjoying himself for a few hours. He was on and off for most of Carer Sam’s midday visit. Not sure what she thought was going on. But was kind enough not to mention it. I explained to her that the nurse had ordered me some cream and lotions after she had checked my magnificent (Ahem!) bodily orifices. The acne and eczema, Little Inchies fungal lesion, the Catheter strap area, and piles will benefit from these. But, I’ve forgotten what she told me, that each one was for now. Tsk!

I made an Asda order for late next week. I shall make sure I get it right this time! No, I didn’t, after all.
“Sorry, something went wrong. Please try again later”
Well, I did several times. But no, go!

: I spotted on the web that the new Heron Food Store in Sherwood had opened. I decided to pay it a late visit. Which meant having to get washed, unclothed, and reclothed, as well as struggling to get the trousers on after rejigging the new catheter set up so it didn’t pull too much with the trews on. Then, I had a battle to get the shoes on. I set up the three-wheeled trolley and hoped I’d got the bus times right. I set out…
I left the front door with the walker and turned to lock the door, but I didn’t have the keys! I was sure I had them in the coat pocket. Now I must find and collect them and get to the bus stop on time. A mini-panic overcame me. Back in the flat, it took me a few minutes to find the keys, then I checked that I’d got the bus pass on me. I departed again in something nearing a poor imitation of a rush.
I went to the lift, down in it, out of it, along the connecting corridor, through the main foyer, and out onto the street. I noticed no bus at the stop. Maybe I was early. I hobbled hastily to the bus stop.
How terribly disappointing! The sign read something like, “This bus stop is closed due to road repair workings!” Shitski!
All that effort and pain to get ready as well!
I walked back to Winwood Court foyer and let some nurses in as I entered the building.
Along the dark, dank corridor, then through the connecting swipe door into Woodthorpe Court, limped to the lifts, up in the lift, out of the lift, into the flat’s foyer, and finally back home to the flat. I think I sulked a little! I got iI got inside, feeling that my decision to go shopping was not a good idea. It took me yonks to save the two photos on file for use.
I had to use the cCleaner twice for some reason?

Better make my evening sarnies then.

The photographs on the left were taken by cheeky chappie Carer Christopher!

The little scallywag took them while I was eating my meal & watching something on YouTube.

I had no idea he’d done so until he handed me my camera. Hehehe! You can see how I was enjoying, despite the painful teggies, as the last few teeth battled to chew through the mini feast. And there’s no doubt about it, it was one of the most enjoyed ones I’d had in a long time. Good job that I’ve got the Tooth Pain Killer spray at hand! It was well used.

The Meal: It was nothing fancy. Two large defrosted cheesy topped rolls, none-butter-buttered, with a smidge of Marmite added. Chopped onions, a big dollop of pickled beetroots, sliced-up a sea-salted Dutch tomato, and a stick of Marmite-infused cheddar cheese! I made up four cobs, wrapped up two and put them in the fridge for the morning. (I’ve just taken them out of the refrigerator now, Thursday midday) I must have been concentrating on the programme on the computer or eating the meal (most likely).

Cause I don’t know how I didn’t realise that Chris was snapping away with the Kodak. Hehe!

SADLY… Sleep was resisting again!
I didn’t even bother trying to get into the bed after last night’s ‘Oh, so painful’ effort at sleeping was, for poor old Harold’s Haemorrhoids. I returned to the £300 second-hand shop purchased in 1966, which was a welt-causing, uncomfortable, not working, itch-inspirational, and crumb-containing recliner.
Initially, I had some success and nodded off for around about an hour & a half.
Then, the first visit for several days came from the nasty . That was the end of my night’s repast. I forced myself up at 06:30hrs… and commenced a battle with the to get it detached from the day bag.

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TTFN & Taketh Care, each!
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Insular Inchy: Wednesday 27th November 2024

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06:00hrs: My body shook, and the sharp, tacky pains emitted from the blood-congealed, horribly painful rear rump, which contained .
I edged my bottie as carefully as I could manage; I could feel the cracking dried blood as I lifted my elephantine bellied body from the second-hand, c1968, eyesorely-horrendously grungy beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, microorganism-microbe producing, gungy, moth-eaten, beige-coloured, non-working, bacillus encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, c1968 recliner.

As I rose up on my wobbly legs, I trod on the tube and nearly fell back down onto the bum! Thank heavens I didn’t – I’d probably still be crying now if I did. The Haemorhhoids were so hurtful at their most painful today.
Last night, I forgot to ask the Carer to remove the Diabetic socks from me. Then, as I was removing the night pouch from the day pouch connection, I noticed that the urine colour was far too red! I recall thinking, “What next?” It didn’t take me long to find out…I’d left the tray with the dirty plate & cutlery (but no food on it; Hehehe!) on the Carer’s table from last night’s meal. I took the things into the kitchen, the pouch plates and trays, etc., to get them all washed, emptied and sorted. To find:
The water was so cold. Then again, being left running for about 12 hours, hot water taps tend to do that. I notice these things! This was about the 4th time this week! A little gnashing and s+wearing in a self-defamatory well followed. Then, I felt the blood trickling down my inner legs as Harold’s Haemmorrids flowed freely. By the time I’d cleaned the plates and sorted the catheter pouch out, there was a blood-red puddle on the kitchenette floor, via the rear end piles, down the legs and feet, and had got into the slippers. Finding the words to describe how I felt gives me vent to using naughty language… but I’ll not do so.
I painfully manoeuvred my way to the wet room, now requiring the use of the .
After a near standard other than its great weight, first Constipation Conrad torpedo evacuation – Trotsky Terence followed up immediately after, with two spurts of mushy-spraying-all-over & making a right mess to clean up. But the thing was, another first… well, second really; The torpedo was dark brown, the first wet-mode burst was almost red, and the second splattering was Karki coloured! I was tempted to take a snap to show the Doctor. I started to strip off to get the Heammorrhoids cleaned and creamed and realised that no hot water was available. After another short burst of frustrating language and self-berating, still in pain, I went to the kitchen, thinking I could put on some saucepans of water to heat up and use…
!!! I remembered that the cooker had broken and could not be used to heat anything! The curses I used grew a little nastier now! So, I used the kettle and the slow cooker to get some hot water to clean up and carry out the needed medicalisationings.
I began to try to sort out the haemorrhoid problem for cleaning as the PPs were removed…
Joined in with Harold, spouting blood. This cannot be happening, surely?
Every single day – disasters, failures, errors!
And it wasn’t over yet…
I pride myself on being more pain-tolerant than most, having been thrown in the Canal as a youngster, being shot twice, a heart attack, and having had Peripheral Neuropathy. A duodenal ulcer, & been mugged. On the same day in 1966, I suffered a DC and then, an hour later, an AC electric shock. Then, I had a stroke. So, all these things helped me learn to cope a little easier. But today, Harold’s Haemorrhoids and Little Inchies Fungal Lesion bleeding at the same time, then Toothache Tiffany kicked off – combined with so many out-and-out , Accifauxpas, cock-ups, mistakes and a belated appearance from , I felt that I struggled to cope as well as usual.
But it wasn’t over yet!

I did suffer with fetching hot water to and from the kitchen, but at least I avoided an Accifauxpa of dropping any.
Smug-Mode, almost Adopted – but I thought it best not to!

Carer Richard arrived as I made a brew of Glengettie tea, which was when my first of the day arrived. I think I did a lot of waffling, but I am unsure. I forgot to ask Richard to take off my socks for me. Minutes later, a carer and the NHS district nurse arrived. Nice!

The Carer departed to come back later and left me with the nurse. No complaints here! Embarrassingly, she checked Little Inchies fungal lesion, then Harold’s Haemorrhoids. I think I explained that I’d cleaned them up, but she was not impressed. She is going to order two new creams for me to use. She was in a rush, and I can’t remember what she told me about which cream was for which ailment now. Grumph!

I finally got on the computer. I’m miles behind again.

On the right, I took three shots this morning before finding the hot water tap in the kitchenette had run cold. But it didn’t bother me, naturally… I suppose one could say I’m such a happy-go-lucky, cheerful bundle of joy, a petite young scallywag.
On the other hand, if I have another day like today, who can say? Sob!
The rain came down a little later. Not as much as t blood did at various times today; as I was writing this, I had a monster -sneeze. Now, I’ve a bloody nose! Knowing how affectionate, supportive and jealous my selection of ailments are to each other, I was not in the least bit surprised when, an hour later, I dunked an LU cookie in a mug of tea… it took ages to stop the tooth bleeding.

I suppose I’m just lucky?

After the next Carer arrived, Carer Kara came to see me. As if to prove if I had a seizure when Richard called or not, I found the morning tablets box filed on the Carer’s desk. I could not remember if I’d taken some this morning or had missed yesterday morning’s dosage?
As I thought hours ago, what’s next?

Wholemeal rolls, Stilton cheese, red onions, pork loin, & air-fried potatoes. With loads of sweet baby pickled beetroots.

I packed up early on the darned computer. So tired and fed up with the problems it was giving me. But could I sleep? No! Not a chance in Hell! I tried the hospital bed, but the way the nurses left it after changing the positions so often to try to get the catheter tube back in Little Inchie it was just too uncomfortable. I spent over an hour adjusting it to how I got it, which was restful and took hours, the last time the nurses had been, to get semi-sleep-on-able.
No chance tonight. So I returned to the itch-creating, bruise-giving, catheter-tube-tugging, crumb-decorated from my nocturnal nibbling, God-awfully uncomfortable, cringingly grotty, no longer working, dirty beige, anti-sleep designed, c1966, second-hand bought for £300 ten years ago from the charity shop, recliner. But had acquired a new back pain from all the trying out the bed, and depression took over.
Carer Promise did the last two calls. During this, I didn’t move out of the c1966, £300 charity shop bought second-hand, wincingly grotty, beige coloured, not working, crumb-covered from the nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, recliner.
Just laid there feeling as if I’d been given a pep-pill and failing to fall asleep at all! I must have been trying to sleep for about 10 hours. Rising at 06:00hrs, feeling rather grotty, suffering worse than ever.

HUMPH!

TTFN!
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Incapable Inchy: Tuesday 26th November 2024

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My being a long-time self-medicator,
A sprayer, a creamer & ointmentater,
I’ve got tips for others to endure…
Some use bicarb & talcum powder,
Aftershave is an excellent blood-stopper,
Some tips for the use of a catheter,
You’ll have troubles… oh, yer!
The urine in your external nocturnal pouch…
Will make your Carer say, ‘Ouch!’.
When the colour is browner & redder,
You can waste your time telling a nurse or Doctor,
Who’ll always say you must drink more water!
Don’t bother telling them you feel a bit peakier,
Or that you are drinking gallons of spring water,
They’ll just think, the old git Inchy has dementia,
Don’t say you’re running a temperature,
They think you can’t read the thermometer…
With your cataract and glaucoma,
If you mention your seizure disorder,
You’re told, ‘Well, you’re getting older!’
I seeked help from the local Wicca Paganer,
She had no idea, but she was a fantastic pleasure,
Tube-out & in repeatedly pleased this pensioner,
Then the medics found I had parasitemia,
I broke the release valve on the catheter…
Started leaking more oftener,
Needing cleaning and a carpet washer,
My confidence began to falter,
But nothing did alter…
I’ve still got the same bloody catheter!
Pains, leaks by the plethora…
But I don’t complain… but I am a fibber!
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I couldn’t file any photos yesterday, yet this one of the sun dipping Monday night did. Amazing!
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Inchy Ode – Mark Two

I was partly inspired when the old me returned after enjoying a few hours of freedom from a life that, as I grew older, more disabled, and feeble, I was not really enjoying anymore. It did feel as if I was drugged, it’s true, but did I care? No! It was great! It flowed out so smoothly, not very well, but smoothly. Those few hours were free of hassle, although nothing had changed other than My appreciation and reaction to things? Maybe Seizure Sandra did have a go at me? This experience ended about three hours ago, and after reading my notes to do the ode, the old doubts came on again, tormenting me. Did I? Would I? Why? How? Not possible, surely? Etc…

Anyway, here it is, unedited, mistakes and all.

Today, I admit and say…
Was neither this or that way,
I sensed little at all today…
My mind seemed so far away,
Seizure Sandra seemed to go astray,
Most difficulties seemed to go mentally,
I was out of it almost permanently,
Yet, it didn’t seem to bother me…
For most of the day, I responded salaciously,
I believe I showed signs of almost sagacity?
At one time, I thought someone had drugged me!
I’ve never had a day go so worry-free!
I couldn’t have given a toss, actually…
I seemed to be living somewhat sacrosanctly,
This afternoon, around a quarter to three,
I reclaimed my veracity suddenly…
Worries, fears, & frustrations returned instantly,
I went from the rare uncaring back into misery,
Gloomy, dubiously, with my mental tortuosity,
Is this how it is for the drunk and druggie?
If someone did Mickey Fin me, ostensibly?
I hope they do it again cause it did seem to me…
Admittedly, it only lasted temporarily…
For a few hours, it was a different Inchy,
Self-hatred gone, I felt a smidge of pomposity!

Or did I dream it all? No, no, no, I didn’t!

Mostly guesses with the photos today.
Last night’s sunset.

Different shades of the urine bag.

Waste bag; I have no idea why.
There must have been a reason for it?

Horrible tasteless rolls

I remember this: the laundry returned damp, and some of it was still wet! Hung them on the airer.

Evening mug of Glengettie.

Sunset.
The computer let me save them!

Found some notes that I wrote last night.
Can’t read a word of the scribble.
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TTFNsk
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Ignored Inchy: Monday 25th November 2024

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ODE FROM INCHY
AWAITING THE RETURN OF LOGICALITY
Which I think will not return to me,
Another loss, just like my sanity,
Hoping for improvement shows my inanity,
I prayed pleadingly to the almighty,
I don’t think he heard Inchy, not with certainty,
Then I tried Lucifer to free me from demonry,
But I guess these pleas were more delusionary,
They were for sure rather confusionary…
Sometimes I feel near-contented, jaunty…
Usually, when Odeing, that to me is not petty,
For some reason, it is a lifegiving essentiality,
Even when the brain mangles my memory,
My computer bars graphics, & photography,
I hate violence, war and the Oligarchy,
I left the hot tap running; I did it twice today!
Suffer many bothersome mini-seizures daily,
With manifestations through my theopathy,
As one ages, words gain a new certainty…
I appreciate words, but not as easily…
Like, anonymity…obscurity, & uncertainty,
Invisibility, inscrutability, & anonymity,
Making decisions is complex, fuzzy, hazy,
Actioning finally taken often shows ethereality,
Making corrections, ridden with inner disunity,
Confusingly, words show a level of banality,
I have to treat specific memories sceptically…
Well, indeed, every memory or action doubtingly,
Look at the world, Putin, Starmer, Trumpery!
Complaining? Me? I’ve not got the temerity,
Although life can sometimes feel so tawdry,
It can be scaring, worrying, and depressingly,
Yet, at this moment, there’s a sign of glee…
I’ve beef in black bean sauce & a mug of tea!
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Reluctantly, I stirred at 02:50hrs.
Fell asleep at 0255hrs.
Unintentionally, I stirred at 03:10hrs.
Fell asleep at 03:15hrs.
Jumped awake at 03:30hrs.
Lat pondering on a dream I’d just had that was not clear enough to recall in detail, but Grizelda was in there somewhere; the pain from the so rare involuntary movement in Little Inchies locality assured me that Grizelda was the topic of the dream. I think it was a pleasant one.
Fell asleep at 0420hrs. Tried to find Grizelda in the ether again. No luck, of course.
I woke with a jump at 04:40hrs.
Fell asleep at 05:45hrs…
I woke again around 06:00hrs and realised I needed to complete the ablutions before a carer arrived.
I carefully dismounted the bed. Little Inchy’s temporary expansion had disappeared, leaving a small amount of blood coming from the catheter tube inserted.

Not for the fainthearted!
I stripped off and put the nightwear in the laundry bag. Got a fresh catheter pouch holder, the slippers, and fresh Protection Pants, etc, ready for after the shower & shave, and medicationing duties were finalised. Took them with me into the wet room.
The first thing was to get my bottom down on the WC. The evacuation was a tacky-sticky, messy one. I did the few teeth I have left, causing, I’m afraid, to kick off. Then, possibly the most farcical event of the day. Having a shave. An everyday event, but not for Inchy. A first-ever here! While shaving, I’m sure I went into a few seizures of over 20 minutes or so. As I had supposedly finished shaving and rinsing off the foam and blood, it dawned on me that I had shaved only half of the face and neck! It’s like I go on auto-pilot… but as with the computer, where I get the majority of the seizures. I keep doing things while ‘under the grip of (sometimes), and I come to semi-awareness to find I’ve made a mess of everything I’ve done. But this is the first time it has happened in the wet room. I assume, anyway. So I had to reshave again. Bringing up the total number of cuts and knicks to a count of five.
: The usual routine was carried out, but the Catheter netting bag was not attached; too much genuflecting is not suitable for and upsets Dizzy Dennis, Arthur Itis, Cartilage Chloe & Carol, Bad-Balance-Barbara, and can trigger Tumble-over- or Trip-over-Trevor.
, and . then rubbed in the Barrier Cream on Inchy’s-Bouncy-Belly, underneath the arms, on the forehead, lower arms and on the edges, and ,
and checked to make sure there were no more outbreaks of .

Then, I got the eyes and ears medicated. Next, I tackled the typically most painful medical sequences required daily. Little Inchies fungal cream applying!

This was the last job, as usual, in the wet room. Luckily, the pain does not bother me in the slightest bit. I just laugh it off and usually start singing a song or yodelling. Today, it was Frankie Vaughan’s Don’t Stop, Twist’… Argh!

was playing up again. Later, when I got on the computer, I gave the sparse teggies and gums a blast of £599.00 per 100 ml Toothache pain relief spray. Some effervescent paracetamols were added to the Bladder-demanding spring water bottles. I almost forgot to empty the nocturnal pouch. I then realised and stopped myself in time, as the Carer will need to confirm the colour with the NHS colour record chart/card. Carer Chloe arrived later and said it was a match with a classification of a seventh level. Ah, well!

SANDRA’s MINI-SEIZURES SHOWTIME STARTS!
As Carer Richard arrived, so did Sandra. I have no idea if he noticed my condition, and my recollections remain confusing. That’s how bad Sandra’s first attack was. This time, it was not so mini-either. Richard was here for a while, making his last night shift call. Thankfully, the blurriness and confusion had cleared by the time he left. But she gave me many more mini-blanks over the next four or five hours. My beloved DVT Anticoagulation Warfarin nurse, Hristina, arrived. And she could tell the difference in my responses… even if I couldn’t.
My memories are still a little vague, but I’m sure she mentioned me talking to the Doctor about the seizures. Hristina is a lovely gal♥

My other friend, Jenny, called me. After she’d read about the Milk Roll loaf not being delivered, she arrived at the flat with a loaf of bread from her freezer for me. Another Gem! ♥

I struggled with the computer (I still am now, Tuesday p.m.), but despite getting further behind, I am determined to get the photos on the blog. It’s hard work!
Aha, got some from, not many, from earlier in the day.
Unfortunately, only these two above.

SANDRA’s MINI-SEIZURES SHOWTIME RESTARTS!
Little & often. I did give up then. I sat down and tried to get some sleep, catching up. Huh!

The Carer called; I was half asleep after waking up, yet somehow knew I was coming out of another seizure.
Carer Promise took the washing down for me.

Afternoon delights in the sky

Bootiful!

Plenty of vehicles in today.

The last shot was as the sun was on its way down.
Well, it wasn’t the last, but it was the last one the computer would let me save to file today.

TTFNsk!
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Infant Inchy: Sunday 24th November 2024

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ODE from INCHY

From within the depths of a shallow hope,
Dreams may start to evoke…
Your old desires, you will possibly revoke,
Be you young, old, female or menfolk,
Chances are you’ll need a urineascope,
You can avoid them using the cystoscope,
Maybe a heart op, or colonoscope,
Or the uncomfortable gastroscope,
A bronchoscope that goes down your throat,
Perhaps (I’ve had lots of these) a cystoscope,
An oesophagoscope (I’ve only had one) no more, I hope,
Many surgical wotsits names end with scope…
Laparoscope, various forms of endoscope,
Urethroscope, proctoscope, that’s also a rectoscope,
The first cancer detector was a spinthariscope,
Which at the time helped me cope.

Labours Nye Bevan, my hero, had appeal & allure,
He saved many lives; he created the NHS for sure…
In 1948, began the NHS adventure,
Few medicals were then available for the poor,
Then, to the NHS, they did pour,
I became an ardent admirer,
Look at it now, and we’ve got Starmer…
Stealing from each pensioner and farmer,
He’s a bribes & backhanders palmer!
What made the liar want to join Labour?
Let alone become the opposition leader,
Did he come as a Labour saboteur?
Now he’s P.M., the nasty, cruel bleeder!
The politician I most hate and abhor,
Labour’s Red Rose may be due to alter…
Keir may replace it with a bloodied sabre,
He’s not going to be the UK’s saviour,
It’s personal wealth that he does savour,
I don’t mean him harm, but I’m not a well-wisher,
I’ll wish him Godspeed to his undertaker!
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Photo filing problems again.
Mini-seizures were rife throughout the day.
Dark Dank Depressions.
Immediate Dizzy Dennis Spells.
Concentration collapsed.
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Whoops! Wee-wee a bit red again.

I’m not sure what I did wrong taking this Kodak 2 photograph of the Renaurd-ridden toes and feet. They didn’t look anything like the hue the picture came out as. The bruising was where the cans of veg I dropped landed.

Made a mug of strong Glengettie tea. Slurp!

They were with me for about three hours on the trot.
I couldn’t find any work I had done while they were on, which is unusual. Usually, I’d find work done on the computer or in the kitchen that I could not remember doing. With the blog, this means I have to spend ages correcting things, but not today, as I have not done anything.

I soon found out I was wrong again!
It cost me time and money and embarrassment, which I didn’t realise until near teatime. When the front porch intercom sounded. I went to see who it was, expecting someone had rung the wrong flat number… or a resident had forgotten to take the key to get back in with them. But no, nothing so simple.
At the door on the screen, was a gentleman delivering me a Morrison’s food order?
So, I had been doing something while in the seizures. And what a mess I made of that, too!
I checked later on and sent the order off during the 3 hours of Sandra’s attendance.
The chap arrived, and I put the food away, but why I’d ordered some things and not others will remain a muddled mystery.

Why the hell I ordered roasting potatoes and frozen red onions, I do not know. I have nothing to cook potatoes on or in. I can now recall buying a bag of these months ago, and they were tasteless and had to be thrown away. Three bags of cheesy bread rolls were ordered, but no sliced Milk Roll bread was ordered. Oh, dearie me!
I ordered canned coffee, which was for the nurses and carers. I also ordered some more soft drinks, but no spring water, which I take to fill the bladder.
Cream cakes? Why? Who for on a Sunday? Also, some fresh chopped white onions had been ordered? More tomatoes, two packs of different ones!
Not the faintest memory of making the order in the first place, when I made it, or why I made it!
I soon decided to see if any Caregivers wanted the cream cakes in the morning. I dropped one box of the cakes, and they squashed and sprayed cream through the breath holes in the carton!

It took me ages to clean up the mess.

Now, depression and frustration have begun.

I’m glad I ordered these cheeses, though. Mature Blue Stilton cheese and extreme vintage cheese spread. Not knowing this order was coming, I’d defrosted some ready-sliced brown bread rolls for today’s meal.

,
I used the last of the extra-strong cheddar slices on these rolls. Had I been in the habit of eating newspapers, this is just how I expected them to taste – tasteless!

After eating or nibbling a few bits of the horrendous-tasting rolls and weak cheese with some tomatoes, I put the just-delivered cheesy-topped rolls in the freezer for later.
Then I discovered they were not cheesy-topped at all, just plain wholemeal. Presumably, they had been substituted for the cheesy rolls that I wanted. Spit!

More of the day lost than recalled. Sorry.
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TTFNski!