ICC Carers

Inchie Today: Monday 16th March 2026

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0630hrs: I removed the nocturnal Catheter pouch and bounded out of my bed… Well, to be more accurate, painfully slowly got my legs on the floor and did my balance exercises. This indicated care was needed in standing and hobbling about this morning. To err on the safe side, I sat down on the bed and gave it about 10 minutes before trying again. Much better.
I picked up the night bag and changed plans as the innards indicated an urgent need, which was virtually on the way, to use the services of the Porcelain Throne.
I made it in time, but only just. As I bent to connect my bottom to the plastic lid, the orange-coloured torrent began flowing. Messy again. I used that much toilet roll, the bum was sore as Hell by the time I’d cleaned things up. And the Anusol ointment tube was almost empty after use. A quick wash, teggies, olive-oiled the earholes, and hobbled off to make a brew of Glengettie tea.
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Took a shot from the kitchenette window. I dropped the milk getting it out of the fridge, a carton, so at least I didn’t have glass to clean up again. Splashes of its spurting milk, I reckon, were found on every wall, counter, and cabinet. Not to mention my dressing gown, legs, slippers and the floor. I now have a rather full laundry bag, after changing clothes and cleaning up. Noticing that I’d missed some milk between the cooker and the cabinet, I got a paper towel in and bent down a little to reach the stray milk…  I hit my lip on the corner of the cabinet top. Thus, started, and a cut lip. 

So, nothing unusual was happening here, yet. 

I took a snap of the end of the car park from the balcony. However, I feel I’d taken this earlier and already posted it? Hum?

A new Carer, Rashid, arrived. Helped with foot medicating and cleaning. Offered to make breakfast and a cuppa, but I’d had a cuppa and would not eat breakfast. Though I may have some bikkie dunking in Glengettie or Co-op 99 tea sessions.
I tried to get Rashid to call the Falls Team for me, but it toook a while. I thanked them for coming and agreed to their chosen day and time. Asked him to arrange for some more Anusol.

Two Nurses came in. They were going to remove the old and put in a new Catheter contraption for me.
See silly Ode. We had a laugh and a natter as they did it. It didn’t take them long this time. They walloped me on the bed and set about me. (Nice!) They got the tube back on the first try. Nice ladies.

A very interesting few lines on the memory pad here. As best I can read or guess my own handwriting & version of shorthand. Email frugle dank jen away. Purt cal on LL. Cado ord made. Must ring HRP. Nost. 1620 Ejaz bak, in trup cold happy.

Ejaz arrived as I was taking these two snaps of the late-day skies from the kitchen windows. Medications issued, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley and Back-Pain-Breanda were both  Phorpain-gelled. Before leaving, Ejaz helped me get the nosh prepared, and as he went, the lad reminded me not to leave the stove on or the tap running. 
The chips were slightly undercooked, and the chicken sausages were soft and served with garden peas. This appeased a little. Then, as I left the things in the sink to soak overnight, I took a quick point-and-snap of the offer view. It was not until Tuesday that I got around to dealing with this blog, and I realised how it had come out… Artistic?
I swear there were no greens, light blues or yellows when I took the shot. Admittedly, I did it quickly without lining up as I usually would. I don’t think the moon was out either; then again, the moon doesn’t shine like that, does it?
Ah, I see repetitive sorts of lighting shapes. By Jiminne, I think I’ve worked it out, and who to thank for the artisticness . Or, with a possibility of playing a part. But the last two come under the umbrella and lack of control of  so I needn’t have said all that.

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The Nurses’ Input Helped!
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Overall, a better day… but I’m not
getting Smug, for I now know…
What will happen to me on
Monday… Much loss of blood, via
three separate Accifauxs. 
Yes, back to usual tomorrow!
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🌸 TTFNski each 🌸
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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.

/ Inchie / 11 Comments

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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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Inchy Today: Monday 17th March 2025

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Too much, too little, is there anymore?
Front, side, bedroom, or living room door?
Rich, impecunious, oligarch or poor?
Balerina, Waltzer, or mayhap a bebopper?
Loyal, lover, husband, wife or bedhopper?
Alcho, wino, smoker or a teetotaller?
Perishable, eternal, dead or maternal?
Colchester, Uttoxeter, or Westminster?
Mistake-maker, MP or a grammaticaster?
Veggieburger, beefburger, or Gothenburger?
Mechanical, agricultural, or an inventor?
Alfred, Timothy, Paul, Doug or St. Peter?
Tested, tried, angsted, depressional or infernal?
Jailer, janitor, justificator or justifier?
Undaunted, heroic, rock-solid or a dodderer?
Decisive, determined, a deluder or kowtowerer?
Executioner, killer, butcher or a lecher?
Rolls Royce, BMW, Robin Reliant or lawnmower?
Massive, mountainous, mightier, or miniature?
A mover, manoeuvre, monster or misnomer?
Negotiator, nominator, narrator or negator?
An optimiser, organiser, observer or objecter?
Procrastinator, profiter or prognosticator?
Take a sweetener, gratuity, or a backhander?
An aberration, dementia, or cacodemonomania?
Presumpter, hypothesiser, or outright liar?
Most choices would suit Herr Starmer!
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I had another night of waking-ups. Danged if I know what was causing the jerking awakes. As far as I know, there were no Eric’s electric shocks up the leg. Anne Gyna didn’t wake me. No Shuddering Shoulder Shirley or PN leg shakes. Can’t remember any movements from Twitching-Neck Nigel, either. It may have been Thought-Storming Steve, but I’d usually remember after he calls on me. Just another of the Mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, spirits, or the Fata Morganas that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind, which is causing me to lose my marbles? I’m just crumbling physically & mentally!
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I surrendered my thoughts of getting any sleep – yet again, as the worries and concerns of my current position took hold of my brain cells. The needs of the day were pondered over. The Iceland delivery. Ringing the Social Lady about the lack of a laundry service, financial assistance, domestic assistance, and the Prescription routine that I can’t grasp, leaving me short of tablets. I had been hoping to get these services from the new carers. Lovely carers; I would have run out of Warfarin had Akmar not called on his way home at the chemist, who rang the Doctor and issued some, which he brought to me. Thanks, mate! Now, the daunting task of mopping the wet room, washing, and hanging some nightshirts and socks is not easy with Metal Mickey, the four-pronged walking stick, being used simultaneously. It was a blessing & treat that at least was not in attendance. So, I decided to wash some socks and shirts. The dressing gowns are too heavy for me to handle, and despite having about six gowns, five of them are still in the laundry bag, waiting to be taken to the laundry. What I’m going to do, I don’t know! Ringing the chemist and Social Services to plead for help is my only option. Finally, I forced myself out of bed and emptied the nocturnal pouch.
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I sorted the laundry bag contents. I took out the socks and long nightshirts, aiming to handwash them and hang them on coat hangers to drip dry. The socks were above the kitchen sink, and the shirts were in the wet room and hung on the shower rail. Three Kagoules on the shower rail, and then I went back to the kitchenette to get the socks done and hung, in the kitchen sing. On my way back, the left hand started with ‘cramps’, with Arthur Itis joining in when I returned to the kitchen. It was so painful, and it looked well-gnarled to me. I took a photograph of the hand. I’m not used to so much hand-wringing. I think that was probably the cause of the bother. Next, I had the pleasure of struggling with the Yoahoules and ended up with cramps and Arthritis in my left hand from all the wringing out. I got all three finished. I might add that it was, putting it lightly, painful. Hehe!
I got them hung up in the wet room on the shower rails. I don’t think I can cope with this handwashing. Well, I can, I suppose, but it’s not the easiest of jobs. At one stage, I had a mini seizure and got water over the sink, floor, and me! In three days, they will have to be done again. Using the immersion heater to dry the clothes must be costing me a fortune. Humph!
at the very thought of it. I rang the NCC Social to point out what I’m struggling with. I got a recorded message: This number is temporarily out of order.
Fancy that, me being unlucky! Humph!
Then, I had to clean up the mess from the spilt water, during which I splashed a little more, and the Water Alarm activated. I didn’t get a call from NCC Control, so I assumed it was because their phones were out of action. I just have to keep smiling and have a glimmer of hope in my heart! Grottleburgers & Huh!

I’m EPO now. Extremely Pissed Off!
I made a brew of Glengetti and dunked a large cookie while looking out the window and feeling sorry for myself. I’m doing a lot of that lately. And has still not visited me yet, today. Just an extended spell of several hours of . Grumph!

A house below in the view was pumping out steam or smoke. It didn’t last long, though. Steam, I think, cause it evaporated quickly, as it shows in the picture. I thought I’d taken another shot of the been-done-up house.
But can I find it? No!

ICELAND FOOD ARRIVED.
Many items are not available, but it is a Monday.
The driver took the bags into the kitchen for me.
Cleaning paraphernalia.
Another insane Inchy glitch!
The cakes were part of a special of 5 for £5.
I thought I’d ordered only one and four other items.
Another Inchy Whoopsiedangleplop there!
The six bags of Cheez-Its were stored away.

Great news. The clock calendar has got to cyber-friend Tim in Albuquerque. He sent this photo via email. I’m so glad he liked it. About time I could do something for him. Instead of the other way.

I repeatedly tried to reach NCC Social Care in the afternoon, but the phones were still down.
So I called the prisons… I mean, the flats ILC (Independent Living Coordinator), Oberstgrüppenfuhreress Warden and Primo Ballerina, Deana. , who kindly told me to ring back later if I couldn’t get through. I couldn’t get through two more times, so I rang her back. After explaining my concerns, she kindly said she would try another line and rang me back an hour later.
But I got it wrong somewhere along the line, and it was the Carer Company that she rang. So I still need to let the Social lady know tomorrow.
The lady told Deana that the laundry, domestic, and Financial assistance are all known to the caregivers, and the ones today knew nothing about them.
So, I’ve got to carry on hand washing until someone tells the carers. Still, these things must happen when they are hastily called to take me on. I’m not sure how they will manage them during the duration of their ten-minute calls. No doubt things will get sorted eventually. I’m just getting more profoundly in the poo with the bank and tax letters, the laundry, and the medications routine I need to do. No, the Carer’s boss said they are to do the medications; again, they (the Caregivers) know nothing about this. It may come out alright eventually or drive me to suicide… you decide. Hehehe! Only joking! If anyone wants to buy five dirty dressing gowns and a laundry bag, I can supply them with softener and laundry capsules at a fair price. Haha!.

I really must get something to eat now.
As Arnie said, “I’ll be back!” Har-har!

I snapped the meal, but it was not on the card or Camera Tim 2. It seemed to have somehow ended up in the ether again.

Photo from earlier.
Can you see the octopus?

I spoke with Carer Ahmed about the problem with the tasks I’m paying for not being done. We agreed that the medications I did last Monday would be taken over by him, and the chemist would be contacted each Monday starting next Monday. I will ask him if he can call the chemist if he calls while they are open so I can clarify what exactly needs to be done datewise, etc., and the timings.
I think we might be getting somewhere here.

It was very late by the time I got my head down for yet another ever-waking-up night’s lack of sleep. 

I’d not had a shower or shave, and this blog has much left to do. Tomorrow, it will be another late finishing time, likely in the afternoon. But no blame is being passed to anyone. The two carers who said they did not know of the Financial, domestic, or laundry requirements seem decent chaps. They are time-constrained. Is that the right word? 

Once things are clarified, I expect the Carers to start running more smoothly when we all know what’s what and arrange things so they have the time to get things done. I pray! Fingers crossed.

Tomorrow will be even busier, so less will be done on Tuesday’s blog.
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TTFNski!
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