Inchy Today: Sunday 13th April 2025

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What did we do when info was ungoogleable?
A history homework exam, no answer. Inexcusable!
The library was closed, and Father was unhelpful!
What date was the battle for Constantinople?
Must I guess? No, the answer must be veridical,
If I fail another exam, I’m in for some ridicule,
How can I avoid risking the vituperable?
Pray to a God or something Mystical?
Miss school? Go the doctor with summat mythical?
No, that would be naughty and cynical,
Maybe give someone a phone call?
We don’t have one; how do I sort out this puzzle?
Visit my doctor, give teacher some tarradiddle,
I’m not a good liar, I’d not be believable,
Use a phone box. Yes, I’ve got a testrill…
Don’t know anyone with a phone… Testicles!
Yes, I do. I could call Auntie Carol,
Off to the GPO box, rained poured down terrible!
Ah, no phone book was available!
I resigned myself to my fate; I was threnetical,
Walked home. The rain died down to a trickle,
Dad’s gone out and locked me out. I’m in a pickle!
My thinking was in three-dimensional!
To me, the problem was not trivial,
The rain poured again, now torrential,
Knocked neighbours door, for shelter and a natter,
No answer, so I went for a soaking wet toddle…
Got in the outside toilet, passed a traditional,
Dad came back; he got a bit physical…
But dry at last, I almost felt triumphal,
Dad said, 1453. Then hit me with his belt buckle!

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05:10hrs: After a night spent more waking than sleeping. I felt surprisingly alert and relatively active, lasting approximately one minute.
This was a first for me: I fell out of the hospital bed because I overreached to get at the nocturnal night bag, which, for some unknown reason (well, it was Glaucoma Gladys, really), I thought was leaking. I rushed to get it upright after it fell off the safety bar holder. I landed face down on my slippers and the waste basket, in a semicrumpled painful heap!
Then, as I recovered and grasped the bed to haul my gigantic body up, the quilts lost their grip, and there I was on the floor again, covered by the outer quilt and face down this time. I stayed there for a while to get my bearings and breath back. Then, after doing some deep breathing, I set about mountaineering my way up onto the bed. Either I had a seizure or else, inconceivably, I’d got up onto the bed and was sitting there safely, in two minutes! This couldn’t be right. How did I do that so quickly, and I may add, almost painlessly to boot? Had I just dreamt these events? No, the bent waste basket was in sight. Now, put it in the waste chute. Tsk!
Then the aches from the bruised arm, and I went into a clearly identified seizure, which I think lasted for five minutes or so. I needed a little longer doing nothing, which I did.
Incredulously, I did not feel depressed or angry with myself. I decided to get the ablutions done ASAP and apply some Phorpain gel to the cartilages, back, and neck afterwards. It sounded logical to me. .

I got sidetracked from my plans as soon as I went to check the kitchen for running taps, open doors, or left-on stoves. They were all as they should be.
This morning, the moon was much smaller and had lost its red/orange tinge. Kodak Tim 2 was used to take these snaps of the planet. They are not as good as yesterday’s, which were not as good as the day before.

Well, these went well overall! There were just two nicks shaving. The bowl of water I used to stand in to clean the feet was not tipped over. There were no tumbles in the wet room. And I seemed to get them done quickly—but did I? I was not rushing. The medicalisationing was not so successful. Because I could not reach my back to put the ointment on the bruises, Acne or eczema on my back. I’ll ask the carer, to Med Hydrhelp when he comes. As usual, the worst medicating bit was applying and rubbing in the stinging ointment . Not that it bothered me, of course. Ahem!
I got the pain gel cream on   and .

Duties.
Trotsky Terence had an even greater bearing on this morning’s evacuation. Phoo! The stink almost overpowered me. Soft yet sticky and smelly. Karki coloured. Eurgh!

Another of the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ailments, seizures, Glaucoma Gladys, Peripheral Neropathy, dying neurotransmitters, grotesque succubae, Whoopsiedangleplops, ailments, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, spirits, Accifauxpas, rent increases, food price hikes, and the Fata Morganas, that have been sent to taunt, is how I recovered so well after the two tumbles?
Feeling alright again now. The bruises and back pain are bothering me, but nothing is serious.

I made myself my first mug of Glengettie tea since last Thursday. I’ve never gone three days without a brew of tea since I’ve been here!
I noticed it was only 07:20 on the clock calendar, which matched the computer’s. 
However, how did I get everything sorted out, abluted and on the computer so quickly?

Carer Arhem arrived as I was about to hoover the hallway. (It never got done!)
The lad put on my diabetic socks, issued the prescription medications, and reminded me of the vitamin B12 tablet. We chatted for a minute or two, as best we could, and then he did an Alert Alarm Battery Check with the NCC Control. We said our “Taras,” literally. I explained what it meant a week ago, and he uses it every call now. Bless him. He’s a lovely lad.

Keeps visiting for shorter periods but more often today, uo to now anyway. , and were regular, and the were more active than ever

I took this shot through the balcony doors. 
Then, the fatigue hit me earlier in the day than ever.
It might be connected to the tumbles. I still can’t understand how I’m not in worse condition. I’m not complaining, mind you. Oh, no! I am more tired than ever. I have to just stop.

Never got back on the computer again today.
I’ll try to catch up tomorrow.
Not good this.
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All The Best, Folks!

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Inchy Today: Tuesday 25th March 2025.

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My beloved Tree Copse: free of adversity,
I used to walk through it, daily,
Stopping to talk to a bush or tree…
Or a feral rat, a being-walked doggie,
Crows, insects, I once saw a garganey,
I loved these copse-walks initially,
But now I’m not up to it, even weekly,
I can see it from the flat’s balcony,
But it wrangles me intractably,
My health I consider detestationally,
I can’t even walk up the entrance pathway,
Cartilages, Arthur itis, Peripheral Neuropathy,
Glaucoma, Anne Gina, too much you see…
I adored getting out & about, naturally,
Maybe one day? I’m thinking miraculously…
But I won’t, I’ll never have the ability,
Bad enough being incapable physically,
Reality is harder to cope with mentally,
I wonder if the plant life & animals miss me?
Bird poo, that dropped on me seemed aimingly!
Those crows knew how to poo accurately,
Trips & tumbles, bites & stings for free,
I miss my daily walks so atrociously,
I can’t manage the uphill bit unaidedly,
The downhill bit would be just as risky,
This ode has brought on a feeling of inefficacy,
I still love my Tree Copse, albeit incongruously!
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I had a slightly better kip last night. Still broken up, but at least I know why this time. The guilty ailment was chiefly . She was persistent with it. I think I may have had a few nocturnal seizures as well. So many wake-ups, but my response was different for some of them, and it took me a lot longer to get back to sleep after a few of them. There were none of the episodes and a few of the . Did you see that? I was being diagnostic, investigative, and problem-solving, on the verge of being semi-logical in my assessment of the night’s kipping difficulties?

I removed the night bag from the day bag, and bending down, I got a visit from … that was a bad one. In the late afternoon, while on the computer, he called again and was even more effective. I had a good few today.

I perked up a little, made a brew of Glengettie, and turned on the computer to finish Tuesday’s blog. It was a breeze! But it took me five hours due to basic errors a ten-year-old would be proud of.

It looked bleak outside, with a bit of drizzle.I did some hoovering and sorted the waste bins. Then, I felt guilty about the mess in the wet room that still needed to be cleaned, so I went to the wet room.
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I only mixed up with the gear I just stacked up to make room to do the mopping! I landed on the pile of the shower chair, buckets, mops, bowls and towels, knocking them over and hitting the trolley and the cosmetics, gel, disinfectant, bleach, aftershave, toothbrush, scissors, and some medications. Now I’ve a bruised rib cage.
Miraculously, I didn’t go down to the floor and stayed on top of the rubbish. So, at least I didn’t have to crawl to the junk room on all fours to drag myself back onto my feet! Phew! Thanks lads! 🙏🏼

The Caregiver arrived, Ahram, I think. Or was it Joe? It was almost definitely one or the other. After I got the medications sorted and my socks on, the door chime rang out. It was the Asda delivery. While I was taking in the groceries, I had another of those danged dangerous Whoopsies!
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My carer Ahram was assisting me to get the groceries in the door, and , gave way and I dropped the walking stick. I slid down with my back against the wall and plumped on a pack of six (approx. 5-inches high) mini-mineral spring water bottles onto my bum. With both knees doubled up, Arthur Itis and the Cartilages were agony!
For more than one reason. Both knees, the cartilages and as I found out later, the bleeding haemorrhoids where I landed on the water bottles!
Both chaps set about getting me up again. I thanked them for being there at the right time to rescue me, get me on my feet, and get me into the chair! Carer
Ahram set to putting the fodder away, so there were no photographs of the food, as there usually would be. When I recovered, I took a snap of the fridge, freezer, and the bladder-demanding water.

The fridge.
The freezer.
The waters.

I took another kitchen window shot.

The day’s original Beloved Copse shot.

To the left of the window and down a bit.
(Do you recall ‘The Golden Shot’?)

The time has flashed by with little getting done other than the blog.
The wetroom is still in a mess.
The Haemorrhoids have stopped bleeding at last.
I think I’ve gained some more bruising on the ribs and back. And for some reason, my top and bottom lips are now bleeding. Huh!

Will I ever again get a decent injury-free day?
Or a night with some unbroken sleep?

Silly questions to ask!

A ready-made beef in gravy with colcannon mashed potatoes. I added the last can of minced beef in gravy, carrots, and peas. Added some Marmite to the mixture and stirred it all up. Just four minutes in the microwave & it was ready-to-eat. It tasted superb! It was so good that I didn’t eat any of the bread.

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Constipation, Anne Gyna & Seizures,
Two tumbles, Trouble w’ catheters,
Doreen Dementia, more Accifauxpas,
Arthur Itis, Peripheral Neuropathy,
Harold’s Haemorrhoids were oozing,
Glaucoma Gladys, things hard to see,
No time to start feeling lonely,
I was never truly alone today!
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TTFNski!

Confusionableitis Reigned Tuesday 28th January 2025

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In my dream, were things terrestrial, 
Thoughts, hopes, desires, nothing bestial,
Treaties, warrants, insurances, so torchable,
Guilty, Oligarchs, politically, & legally untouchable,
Due to our lawmakers being so quickly bribable,
MPs values, honesty, reliability at best theoretical,
How have they solved the Bermuda Triangle?
The mystery seems to be uncrackable,
No-hours contracted workers, legally sackable,
Farmers, pensioners, HMG find robbable,
MPs expenses no longer seem checkable?
Proven dishonest leaders are impeachable?
Guilty murderers are so quickly freeable?
Ministers are unpalatable, unpardonable…
Them lining their pockets seems unstoppable,
Morals & standards are sacrificeable,
Decency & compassion are no longer salvageable,
Despotical bigotry, actions detestable…
Wars, violence, greed everywhere detectable,
Can we trust anything electoral?
Politicians are doubtable, dishonourable,
Do they need help, exorcistical?
They are unceasing with their flummadiddle,

They’ll always seek a way to fiddle!
They are the reason the world’s in such a pickle!

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With no Carer to loan me a camera for a week now. (Which is understandable; he’s taking photos of his new baby daughter with it, [I hope]). I’ve been fairy-minded and took a picture of each day’s meal in the hope that one may get on the Kodak. However, I’ve not been checking to see if the last six had made it to the SD card until this morning… well, it was late afternoon.
Last night, none of the others made it to the SD card, but this one did! (Or did it?). I half expected it not to go on. I spent ages trying to get the card recognised, and when I eventually got to it, this photo was there! There is a chance it may be an old one, of course. So, I took another picture straight away… that did not go on. The second, third, and fourth ones didn’t make it either.

Now I’m doubting what I actually had for the meal. 
With the others not going on, I think it is likely that I made a mistake somewhere along the line. My new excitement at thinking the camera had miraculously started working again was replaced with a new low – mostly at my stupidity in thinking this was from last night. Humph!
pillockConfusionableitis Reigned.
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Once again, the night’s rest was well-broken. However, I soon nodded off after each awakening, back into the bliss of sleep. I had several dreams, but my memories are too vague to guess at their topics. When I shot awake at 7:00 a.m. and realised it was so late, I also realised that I must have skipped at least six hours. So that was good.
Then the run started.
I removed the nocturnal catheter pouch and started standing up using . Within seconds I was clunking back down into 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. Unsure if , or hurt the most. I decided that a cautious, weary trip to the wet room for cleaning up and medicationalisationing was called for. So I went!

I cleaned up and medicated the lower regions first. Then the areas, then the rear end. Then, the Phorpaining of both Cartilage Chloe and Carole’s cartilages moved onto knees. Olive-oiled the ears, applied, and Creosoted the Ankle Ulcer. I’ve named it Creosoted because it reminds me of it when I painted it on. Haha!
Then, I decided to get the showering and shaving done. I had to get a long shirt and fresh dressing gown sorted first.  I’d run out of clean shirts! These can’t be washed in a machine, or is it dried in one? Anyway, I had one unopened new one, so I used that. This, of course, got me all confused. I ended up washing another shirt in the sink. Hanging it up to dry over the sink… but the shirt was too long. I went into Sherlockian Mode to work out what I could do? Finally, deciding to hang it on the shower rail with a bowl underneath to catch the water. I very nearly adopted a .
I went back to the wet room and hung them up. Of course, now I couldn’t get in the shower. So I pressed on with having a shave. As I’d got the foam on, I dropped the can. I held onto the seek carefully as I bent to pick it back up – naturally, the foam was on the sink, and my hand slipped! .
I hit the top of my head on the Porcelain. Carried on with the shaving and noticed a trickle of blood coming from the top of my head in the mirror. 
As I went to grab the aftershave, I knocked the long shirt off of the rail… it fell into the water below… I swore rather vociferously, as I recall. I retrieved the shirt and rehung it, all freshly rewetted. Huh!
The blood had by now left a pretty pattern down the side of my head, over my chin, and onto my man breasts & chest. I used paper towels to clean it. Using a lot of aftershave to stem the flow. Back to finishing the shaving… The shaving was completed within a minute or two. By this time, a similar pretty pattern of the leaking blood had reappeared.
Off to the medical chest to get a plaster cleaned after shaving the tiny little wound and applying a plaster.
Then I wrote on the memory pad, which enabled me to write this rubbish in detail later. 

I had to sort out the mess in the kitchen from earlier, the wet room, and the shirts. What did I do? I decided the most crucial task was to make a brew of tea, which I did! However, I didn’t get to drink it. Carer Chloe arrived at 08:50 hrs on her first visit.

She pointed out that I had blood running from my head—haha! She wiped it and put a plaster on it while I bore her with tales of my calamities of the day. She then issued the medications and put on the diabetic socks. She also took the laundry with her, including two long shirts. That was kind of her. She was due back later on a domestic call.

As she departed, the innards informed me of my urgency to get to the Porcelain Throne post haste! So I hastened!
This evacuation was the messiest ever! Well, not counting the involuntary one when I had the stroke, of course). Gooey in the extreme! An entire toilet roll standard! Stinky! .

I’m no longer as confident of events as I was earlier. Things got foggier when Carer Chloe returned. She’d kindly returned the washing all done apart from the long-shirts. They could not be used in a hot drier, and the ones in the laundry room do not have that facility. So, she hung them back up on the shower rails again. All that help is back at square one. Hehe!
How can people talk about being bored in old age?
If, as I have, one becomes accustomed to Accifauxpas, Whoopdiedangleplops & evil luck, it certainly avoids any chance of boredom setting in. Just a point, but I’d rather like time to get some being bored in! Not too much! I just want to see what it is all about. Of course, I have the benefits of Cogniscent Impairment Iris, FND, Diabetic Doreen Dementia, & Seizure Sandra’s attentions. Is having all four of these ailments probably better than having just one? I’m not confident or sure of how I worked that out now. But it seemed apparent & logical to me at the time.
Chloe checked on the dates of the food. I asked her to take some short-dated items for others to use. She washed the main kitchen windows for me and quickly wiped the floor.
Tomorrow, I think, is a finance visit. Maryham, I guess.

Carer Sam called. We had a precious laugh.

Pressed on with the blog. But such a late start. I’m miles behind with things yet.

It’s now mid-afternoon. Not a single seizure from Sandra has not reported a single seizure. However, I’m sure the mini-ones have been missed in the past.

17:20hrs: Carer Rachel did the teatime call.

I gave up on this blog and went on WP Reader & Comments.

SUGAR! is off again.

I’ll try to get summat to eat.

Carer Rachel made the last two calls.

Sleep was a long time coming tonight.

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AU REVOIR
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Inchy: Tuesday 21st January 2025

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Last night, I spent coughing very chestily,
And kept sneezing cacophonously,
Passing wind virtually continuously…
From Reflux Roger and my bottie,
Freezingly and shiveringly,

My tears ran down into my mouth; rather salty,
Little Inchie’s fungal lesion bled capriciously…
Sleep? Well, that was an impossibility,
I was dealing with these new ailments intolerantly,
But Thought Storming Steve gave no claptrappery,

I gave up trying to do things somnambulatory,
And escaped the bed to the lavatory,

Trotsky Terence came prematurely…
This was most shamefully embarrassingly!
Then, the job of doing the cleaning,
More problems when I started computing…
Gmail graphics on it, refusing!
I took Codeine and an Adrenocorticotrophin,
Got my mask on, and Carer Chloe came in,
As she sorted the medicationing…
The food delivery was arriving…
The driver took the bags through to my kitchen,
I forgot to ask Chloe to put my socks on…
Today, there was many an omission,
Chloe left, and I sank into a state of curmudgeon,
As I fought back the incoming depression,
Second Throne visit – even more humiliating,
What am I dreaming of, imagining, indicating?
Diabetic Dementia, mind juggling…
Yet this cold seemed more worrying & bothering?
Enough of my self-tormenting, witwantoning,
I going to get this Ode done, then my bed I will jump in,
Carer Sam called, and I was moaning…
My self-pity vessel was filling,
Life is not very fulfilling…

I’ll battle on, but I’m not genuinely willing,
My bad luck seems unrelenting,
Onto the bed, I’ll soon be settling,
Will I be able to manage to get some sleeping?
If owt happens, that’s worthy of writing,
Anything worth reporting…
No camera for photographing…
Where am I going?
What am I doing?
What will ensue for me?
Maybe a summat will happen. That’s thrilling…
Enchanting, stirring, exhilarating?
Huh, blood from the teeth & gums are flowing!
Onto the bed, in search of Sweet Morpheus,
Oh, I’m expecting the nurse…
Hristina, a lovely, kind gal, an Aquarius
I love to see her and her apparatus!
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Sleep didn’t come, but apprehensiveness did,
The next few hours were fetid, which made me livid,
Getting no sleep, but I felt almost intrepid…
The following events didn’t make me  stolid,
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Here are the reasons why I hadn’t slept,

An alarm went  & stopped,
Then there rang out a fire alarm, I panicked
An alarm went beep-beep-beep-bleep & stopped,
I couldn’t work out what it was, but hoped,
The landline rang, someone had phoned…
I got to it too late; the ringing stopped,

Again, the landline rang; too late, the ringing stopped,

An alarm went beep-beep-beep and stopped,
I couldn’t work out what it was, but hoped,

After five hours a minute’s sl
eep, I was gifted,
Then the alarm went beep-beep-beep & stopped,
Carer Chris came in, into the drinks selection he dived,
Then, a drink was chosen & correlated,
Again, the landline rang; someone had phoned…
I got to it too late; the ringing stopped,
Then Cartilage Carol once again crumpled,
But a complete fall was deflected…
The leg was medicated & elastoplasted,
An alarm going beep-beep-beep was emitted,
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Carer Chris had forgot to bring the camera,
But he took a shot of the meal & bilgewater!
And the hospital bed, & controller,
On his phone, saved these to his SND recorder,
Said he’s off work for 72 hours,
Wants to be with his wife, who is now pregnanter,
Carer Richard & Joanne off, both much poorlier,
I know how they feel with acute coryza,
Head cold, grinding-coughing, known as Flu-R,
It is unpleasant and a right miserable bugger!
I tried to get some sleep, but it was deac
tivated…
But my plans were again ascerbated…

Don’t come to hospital, sufferers are told…
The hospitals are so busy, shemozzled,
My plans, ideas, & hopes have been sphacelated,
Flu-R is so bad that I’m dumbfounded,
If I stood up, moved or even quetched,
Ailments these last two days have quintuplicated!
I feel my designs have been mancipated,
My thoughts could do with being manumitted,
shame, embarrassment, teeth always gritted!
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Today, I felt as if I was apprenticing…
Coping with this new bug or flu and learning,
I rang 111 to ask what I could be taking?
To counter the constant sneezing?
My heavy breathing and wheezing?
My impossibility
 to get any sleep in?
Can I take an alcoholic
 drinkie?
To counter the phlegm & blubbering?
NHS 111 said don’t take Aspirin…
Cause you’re on Finasteride & Warfarin,
Well, that was not very informing!
Then they added I’m not to go to hospital…
Doreen Dementia understood it was elemental,

I considered bringing up my mental problems.
The line went dead; it was pretty comical!
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Figures show urgent and emergency services, with 98,118 ambulances handed over to hospitals last week and 495,442 calls received by NHS 111. No wonder they are struggling to cope with the stampede!
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I’m fed up with this bug! Tsk!