Involuntary right leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dance

Stressed-Out Again Inchy: Thurs 12th Sept 2024

/ Inchie / 10 Comments

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I woke up, checked, and removed the nocturnal catheter pouch from the day bag. I was eager to get going with the ablutioning. I seemed to be avoiding the usual morning depression today.  That’s good for me! As I pottered about getting the things ready to visit the wetroom, wind emitted from the rear end. So, sharpishly, I traipsed into the wet room to use the Porcelain Throne. It soon became obvious that yesterday’s Trotsky Terence affair was a one-off. I took this photo as the morning sunshine caught the General Hospital. It was captivatingly pretty, I thought.

I was smiling when I sat down. But no amount of urgings and pain would get things moving. So, I gave up, washed my hands, and decided to bet the ablutions after the first Carers visit. As I got into the kitchen, Carer Chris arrived. He got the medications sorted and my socks on. We had a short natter, not that we understand each other, accents and deafness on my behalf. Chris went on his way.

I began taking the things for showering and shaving into the wetroom, and as I opened the door…

It’s frightening how quickly one’s outlook on life can change. Depression can come on instantly and rapidly, followed by self-critical, lambasting thoughts and the desire to spit! I was so annoyed with myself for leaving the damned tap on to run cold. I felt I was physically shaking, I don’t think I was, but it certainly felt like it. I should have blamed 
They seem to enjoy their brain-battering battles to see who can make my life more rotten. I’m now trying to blame them, but I just can’t help it when something distracts me or I get two things simultaneously.
Looking back at my jobs with Tesco, the co-op, and security, I realised that many things simultaneously needed attention. Yet I seem to recall coping well with the incidents back then. In fact, I was the one other people came to for help, and I got it. The anger turned to self-pity and sadness. But I’d sooner have than than the depressions. Well, maybe not really; the guilt of whatever I do that goes wrong also gets to me. Embarrassment and shame are always lingering dangerously for my mental health in the shadows.

I’ve tried to pass at the Porcelain Thrown 3 times until now (16:15hrs), but I have had no success. Blood and pain, yes! Hehe! Luck, well, good luck is an alien to me.
Bad luck; A constant late-life disciple of Lucifer.

Carer Sham midday. In a rush, but she still emptied the catheter for me. I had filled up rather quickly, but I’d not noticed it. (Fancy that, me not noticing something, Hahaha) Thank you, Sham. ♥

I eventually got on with the blogging. And, dare I say it, I was doing well. That was a fatal thing for me to be thinking! (Worrying that was)

The keyboard stopped working while typing. The light on the keyboard was still lit up. The mouse was still working.
The depression that turned into shame came back. No self-anger this time, just pure frustration and fed-uppers with my rotten luck. Not being technically capable, I investigated the situation. What to try, so all my limited abilities turned to solving the issue. 
① I changed the batteries in the keyboard. Rebooted the computer –  No, that didn’t work. 
② Made sure the sender in the USB port was fully in.
No, that didn’t work.
③ I gave up on the keyboard and threw it on the recliner. Keep the pain-givers together. Then, why didn’t I realise it sooner? I realised I’d got a new keyboard I bought ages ago, so I decided to try to set it up.  
④ Getting it out of the box was a work of art and must have taken me about ten minutes of struggling. Now, how do I set it up. I investigate the new keyboard further.
⑤ It was a bit of another struggle for me to get the battery hinge off. Fancy that!) Then, I saw it took AAA batteries, not the AA ones I have lots of in the flat!
⑥ Then a stroke of luck. (Worrying that was).
I found that the batteries were inside the computer!
⑦ I put the keyboard dongle in the USB port. Took out the old one. And rebooted the computer.
⑧ I bothered me that it was working. Then I got a Windows message telling me it had been successfully loaded, so I opened WordPress. And would you believe it…
HURRAH! It worked!
Of course, it had cost me two and a half hours to get it to work. But working it is! YeeHaa!

Now, to get the photos of the day on the blog. 
I went to put the kettle on, and Carer Chris called.
He took some photos on the spare camera and changed the settings so that it clicked when a shot was taken. 
He did it all so quickly for me, too. Bless Him!

No shower again; the hot water was not hot enough.

After putting the photos together, I found the one I thought I’d forgotten to take of yesterday’s meal: caramelised sausages, fresh peas, tomatoes, beetroot & red onions. Early evening sky, Bootiful!

I was going to turn on the TV to watch ‘Heartbeat’ while continuing the blog.

I could not find the remote control!
I got the torch and looked underneath the dilapidated, breaking up, partially doored, second-hand bought Hopewell’s E-plan cabinet, with 7 drawers, of which two are still working, hoping to find that the remote had fallen and slid underneath it. I found pens, a pencil, and dried-rock-solid fresh peas. Along with a 1960 Scan Security Certificate of Merit, training courses passed, and two of the missing Health Alert wristbands… along with an old laptop, four AA batteries and an old pair of glasses in a case. But, no remote!
I then searched almost everywhere: the junk room, hallway, wet room, and Kitchen. I even looked on the balcony. But no remote was found.

Then I foolishly tackled moving the £300 second-hand shop bought, c1966. Moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly-beige-coloured, much-filthied, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not working recliner. I couldn’t get down to look underneath, as the last time I tried, I could not get up again.

So, hauling it around, inches at a time, in the small space it stood in was the only option.
I hoovered as I went along to reduce the mountain of dust, more rock-solid garden peas, more pens, and yet another mystery: three packets of French Fries with a sell-by date of February 2020. Ahem! This made me feel so guilty.
I nudged the chair a little more and…
Saw a corner of the remote control sticking out. 
Got the bugger! But as I bent down to pull it clear, Back-Pain-Brenda and Dizzy Dennis kicked off, and with the physical jerks, I’d tangled the catheter pouch strappings that needed sorting out. I was not in good shape and left the chair all askew, and I got on the computer to make this rather sad report for my multitude of blog followers. I hope they can both see the funny side. 
I could, even in such pain. Hahaha! Carer Chris is coming later, I’ll beg him to help me get the recliner back in position. It’s up against the bed at the moment. And I’ll ask him for extra Codeine. I missed one earlier, so it should be okay, I am allowed up to four a day.

Carer Chris turned up, looking a little tired. I told him of the farce with the remote-searching mess, and he quickly put the recliner back in position for me. 
I was still a little ‘out of it,’ Chris picked up on this. Thanks to him, I got the nocturnal pouch fitted, the diabetic socks removed, and a Codeine given. He also took the waste bags on his way out. Thanks, Chris!

I will get something to eat now. But I’ll not cook in this tired and confused state, and dragging or carrying the nocturnal bag around is too risky! I’ve got some chicken and fresh peas in the fridge. I’ll have a pot of instant potato with them. I won’t look good or be fine dining, but I must eat, and I’ll pray that the ailments let me rest and recuperate for once. Then in the early morning, I must get a good shower and shave. Please let me wake up early!
But first, please let me get some sleep! I don’t know who I’m talking to; it’s out of desperation.

Please give me a break tonight. I have Back-Pain-Brenda, Sherida’s Electrical Shocks, Dizzy Dennis, Cartilage Chloe & Carole, Anne Gyna, & other ailments.
That should do it. Hahaha!


Confused and tired, I made the no-cooking meal. No problem with the trailing 4ft nocturnal extension tube & pouch.

After washing the pots, I took five shots of the early-morning views from the kitchen. This is the only one that came out reasonably.
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I settled in the £300 second-hand shop recliner I purchased in 1966, which caused welts, was uncomfortable, did not work, was itch-inspirational, and contained crumbs.
I was intending to watch a recorded episode of ‘Heartbeat’. Soon, I was with Sweet Morpheus for two minutes at a time, repeatedly waking up with a jolt.
I gave up the TV idea, and amazingly, or perhaps not. I slowly drifted of back into the land of nod. 
I woke up five hours later, and the door chime rang out when Carer Maryham arrived.

Another day in the life of Inchy Gerald Chambers.
Living Proof that Bad Luck in later life is to be expected. Nae, in his case, is guaranteed.
Without Cogniscent Impairment Iris, Doreen Dementia and all the ailments he’s accrued, life would be so dull.
Dull sounds attractive to him.
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TTFN

Pyogenic Inchy: Wednesday 11th September 2024

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BUSY DAY TODAY
BUT, VERY LITTLE WAS ACHIEVED.
Conrad Konfusion, violent Dizzy Dennis interruptions, and mini-seizures galore. However, I am pleased to report that Twitching-Neck-Nigel and Electric-Shocking-Sherida were both very kind to me. I still have a problem with my Morning Blood Pressure, though. It was 160 yesterday morning; had it been 161/70, instructions are to call 111 and/or 999 to inform them if the SYS is over 160.  It was close again this A.M. at 158/58. Carer Marie was with me later when I took the second, and it was down to 131/63. Hopefully, this glitch, if that be what it is, will level out.
The cheap food delivery and about eight other tenants’ orders were left down in the foyer. Amazon did it yesterday, and EMri today. Go-Wrongables & Mysteries. Tsk! 
Carer Shaquille helped with the socks, etc. Carer Marie was on a domestic call, and then Carer Kimberley did the lunch at the same time as the financials, which she couldn’t do until someone showed her what needed doing and how to do it. She helped where she could with other things, though, which was lovely. Carer Israel, I got a food order from Ocado. I had a heck of a job getting the stuff in the freezer and had to dish some older stuff to make room. 
Then, there is the farce with the low-cost food order. I’d not have known it was in the Foyer, but Jenny, my saviour, was going out with Frank and called on the intercom when she noticed the [parcels dumped in the lobby by EMri. Thanks a lot, Jenny ❤. I took my box up to the flat with Warden Deana, who took the others to people’s parcels to the flats. Grrr! Amazon! EMri, Grrr! Deana to the rescue. 💕
A mystery water leak as well, Humph!
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From the beginning…
I woke up most unenthusiastically, around 06:00hrs. I just laid there for several minutes, wondering if it was worth getting up. For EQ Quasimodo (New name), the instant I returned to mock-life, “This is going be a bummer, mate!” 
He was right, of course; he always is. I recalcitrantly forced my monstrous, gargantuan-bellied body from the bed. As if to prove EQ Quasimodo was right, I knocked my new spectacles off of the bed tray and bent to reach the nocturnal catheter pouch to remove it. I wondered how much it might cost to get them repaired, as Dizzy Dennis gave me a howler of instability moment – which made me grab the ‘Don’t-fall-out-of-bed bars. Thus, I stubbed my ingrowing toenail on the metal leg stump of 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. I got the pouch off, grabbed Wooden Walking Stick Willie, and needed to visit the Porcelain Throne.
The Day Had Started!
What a mess! Cleaning up me, the porcelain, and including the very-swift, 10-second almost liquid Kharki fluid, then applying the Harold Haemorrhoid ointment. I reckon it took me 15 minutes or more! Then (can this go on?) I caught my shoulder on the door frame as Dizzy Dennis had another go at me.
Care Shaq came and issued the medications, got my socks on for me, and as he was talking to me, a rarity that it’s usually me doing all the nattering and moaning, Hehe! I had a mini seizure, and have no idea what he was saying. I don’t think he noticed, but yes, he must have. He’s a canny lad.
I may have things out of order here, but they all took place. The food order arrived. A big one. I struggled to find room to store it all away. 
The one red onion I ordered was a bag of about nine big ones! Luckily, I got the Milk Roll loaves, a big bag of red potatoes, and some Norwegian-cooked bacon. It looks horrible, but I’ve had it before, and it has a great flavour. I also got six bottles of long-life milk, bleach, yoghourts, and more.
When I finished getting things away, I put the kettle on and started the computer. I returned to the kitchenette to make the brew of Glengettie and saw water on the floor near the window.
I mopped it up with kitchen towels using the Picker-upper-Paul. But could not understand where it came from. I told each carer and showed Marie what I’d done when she came on the domestic call. It saved her mopping the foot anyway. Hehe!
I left some towels where the water may have come from because there were water spots on the window ledge; the ceiling showed no signs of a leak. When I checked later, they were all dry. At first, I thought the catheter might have had a puncture, but it hadn’t. Conrad Konfusion!
Still not started on a blog, I got more seizures, strong ones, and I found myself at the kitchen sink washing out an old flat cap!
I put it on a rack and put the bowl underneath it. I think it should be dry within 6 months or so. I’ll go and check it now (nine hours later). Hahaha! The wet can be seen as it sinks down, and dirty water is in the bowl. I think I’ll have to wash it again.

The DVT Anticoagulation Warfarin Nurse called to take my blood. In and out like a shot she was. Leaving blood pouring out from under the tiny plaster and a tiny bruise. That doesn’t happen usually, not for a year or more.
Aha, a spot of rain with the sunshine. Such beautiful clouds for me to view. But it was changeable throughout the afternoon. I should have said earlier that Carer Kimberley cleaned my wound. But my getting in a mix-up chronological does not help with the clarity or lack thereof.
It felt like minutes later, I was on the balcony again with the Kodak taking… no, the cheapo camera, taking shots after the drizzle had stopped. Well, the rain kicked off again.
So, I poddled with Micky, the four-pronged walking stick, out into the balcony.
I started to take this series of photos of the rain through the windows in different directions.

I honestly cannot remember taking these pictures.
How did I manage to take these snaps?
Why didn’t I lose my balance and tumble on or over the running boards?

How did I not remember?

I think that most of the time out there, I was pondering over the dream’s events?

How did I recall it all so vividly? This event was the mystery of the day for me.
I started this blog very late. It seems like it’s going to be another working into the morning job.
I came in and back on with the blog. I went to empty the pouch contents into the jug and to the restroom to empty, clean, and disinfect the jug. I had another mini out-of-it. I’m sure I sat on the loo for a while. It only lasted a few minutes, and when I came out, boy, the skies had changed.
The sun burst through! The sky brightened, the clouds dissipated, and sunshine got through! 
The seizures diminished, just the odd mini one. I set to work again, trying to catch up on this blog.

After Carer Victor’s last call, I went to look at the vast choice of food I could have later.

I took these shots on the right to capture the change in view.

Then I was off to the kitchen to see what was to be done foodwise. I decided on a salad with some chips. Maybe! 

I’m not a good decider or decision-maker nowadays.
What day is it?
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May Contentment Enfold You! TTFN.
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Phlogogenetic Inchy: Tuesday 10th September 2024

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TOP OF THE MORNING!

I got my head down last night, about 01:00hrs. I woke up at 01:15hrs. Nodded off again, waking up with an streaking up my right leg that nearly me nudged out of the bed. I’m sure I heard a buzzing coming from the leg and bottom! Luckily, I hit my head on the anti-fall bar. But sleep was out of the question. 
I tried, but the shocks were coming so often I gave up and went on the computer. Once on there, the shocks stopped. But I was concentrating on just for once, getting the blog finished earlier, sooner, quicker. When I eventually realised that they were no longer coming, well, the odd one now and then, it was too late to get back in bed cause the carer would be here in a couple of hours. So, I decided to get the ablutions done. No showering; the noise from the drain would wake those below me up. I extracted the nocturnal pouch from the catheter. The shocks had at least made me pass more wee-wee. Hahaha! Expecting reluctance from Constipation Conrad, I got in the wet room and picked up the crossword book. It wasn’t needed or used. Tsk! I casually but carefully got the PPs off and sat on the plastic seat.
Well, no torpedoes today; there was no doubt that Trotsky Terence had regained command of things rear-end-wise. The porcelain filled up with what looked like Oxo cubes, but Kharki, not brown, and many of them.
Getting cleaned up, washing the lower regions, and then getting the fresh PPs on was as difficult and painful as ever. It took me so long that I feared the Carer’s time was coming, so I rushed the shaving and body wash. The same goes for medications. The results were four shaving nicks and one deep cut. A stubbed toe – miraculously, I didn’t knock the ingrowing toenail! Also, I forgot to do the teeth. I got a long Kaghoule on and went into the kitchen, fancying a mug of Glengettie. 
I took these photos, although they were not good ones, of the morning view. I went to turn on the computer, but I got distracted by the noise from the baby alarm in the hallway. I never made the brew!
It was some mail that made the noise I heard. I was not in such a good mood then. A damned depression came on instantly as I realised the things I needed help with sorting for the letters. HMG sent three of them! (TV licence), the bank (2) and an unopened one after the shock of the first few. As I got on the computer, a barrage of painful… well, no, they just made me jump, but this time went on and on at me. This encouraged me to look up the cause of these shocks on the computer and find out if there was any help. There are some sites in America, but not the NHS. I spent far too long looking this up. The Carer arrived relatively late, not that it mattered. I mentioned the problem of the shocks, and she tried to help me with a problem from XL. Carer Sham, it was a nice gal. When she left, she took the laundry bag with her. I’m surprised I remembered that. Haha! 
I did a search and copied some information that I found.

Phytoestrogens?
But it informed me what I should eat and drink to help.
Soya beans & chickpeas, yes, I eat them two.
Flax – What’s that?
Broccoli berries have been barred for me by the cardiac team. 
It is too high in vitamin K. Tea is limited to two cups daily by Urology.

Advice: to keep moving. I’m bending down all day, emptying the catheter bag.
Cut out beer and nicotine. I did that in 1975. Eat Omega, found in fish. Last month I bought some smoked haddock, and very nice it was, but it was only a half fillet, & cost me over £6!
So, it seems that when they throw my cadaver in the fire on my way to St Peter’s gate, there might be more sparks and flames than there usually are? I must warn the crematoria. Hehehe!

We had a drop of rain this afternoon to teatime.
I got the Kodak out and took these three view shots into the balcony.
The rain didn’t last long… Sounds like something the wife used to say to me. Haha! 

I turned the oven on to heat up. I’d forgotten about the fresh beer-battered chips in the fridge. They are labelled “Use by yesterday,” but I’ll risk it. And a ready-made Shepherd’s Pie with a root vegetable potato topping. I made the nosh. It has a delightful flavour.
I ate it slowly and savoured every mouthful.

The evening view was one of those ‘everything-had-brown’ in it. Great!
I fell asleep in 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.

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Ideogenous Inchy: Monday 9th September 2024

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September 9 also marks the Day of the Homeland, European Heritage Day, International Sudoku Day, National Grandparents Day, National Wiener Schnitzel Day, and Rosh Hashanah. Oh, & the day I got thrown in the Nottingham Canal off the Wilford Road Bridge when I was about six years of age.

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Haemorrhoid Harold was harassing, harrowing, harrying, hurting, and stinging from the moment I woke up, and he kept at it for most of the day. Not that he, Dizzy Dennis, or Colin Cramps bothered me at all. I just laughed them off.

I was taking off the nocturnal wee-wee pouch as Carere Richard arrived. He told me it was a 7 on the NHS scale. I think I must have put the wrong photo on. Tsk!

The medicationings took me longer than the wash & shave did!
Constipation Conrad was back in charge, but I think he is struggling to keep the top dog spot. This morning, there were signs of liquidity in his five smaller-than-recent torpedoes. I just thought I’d mention it. Haha! Owt for a laugh me. Common as muck! It’s amazing how I took such a decent shot of the wet room as I departed. You can see which way I swayed to shoulder charge the door frame. I’d forgotten why I took it now. Some misconceived humorous quip or other. Tsk!

The seizures were rife for a while. Then eased of in the afternoon a little.
I returned to the wet room to do the tidying and mopping I failed to do the other day. But where the hell I’d left the mop was anyone’s guess. I did a Sherlockian search in every room and the hallway. Baffled I was!

So I gave up, got the computer on, and got on with the blog catching up. After many hours of slow, grinding progress… with the seizures still visiting and my mind wandering, I did another search for the mystery of the mop disappearing. I pulled the shower curtain, but I was certain because I’d not had a shower, it would not be in there… and it was! Aha, I’d found my bamboo mop! I didn’t use it, as a Carer arrived and forgot about it.

I thought the colour was a lot deeper about the ninth emptying of the mini catheter pouch, but then again, with my achromatic vision.

I made a pot noodle for myself, the only person in the flat. Hehe! I took it back to the computer and enjoyed it very much.
It’s starting to look a little gloomy now that the sun has gone behind the thick clouds, or the thick clouds have gone in front of the sun. Erm…
Do you have any idea what it is that I’m waffling about?

I’m still working on the blog, making errors, wandering off to other things, and then coming back and finding I’d made even more cock-ups. I’m lost today.

Oh, what a colourless sky. It’s a beautiful view.

Carer Chloe visited. I was in the middle of the last seizure of the day. I talked a lot but did not have the faintest idea of what to say. Yes, I have; I’ve got it now. I opened two letters while she was here: from the bank and Meridian Charges. Then, after Chloe went, the first depression of the day hit me. It came on so quickly. Ten or fifteen minutes on, it still lingered, but was I bothered? No! I was really!

The sky changed so often over the next three hours.
I took snaps of many of the changes but missed many because I was trying to keep up with the blogging.

The colouring changed between photographing sometimes.

Not as sensational as those that Tim Price takes in New Mexico, the sies there are magical. And Tim is too, with a camera.
Jealous? Me?
Of course, I am!
Hahaha!
The skies here over the last month have been so drab.
Tonight was a pleasure.

I have some potatoes baking in the oven, and I have pressed on with the blog up to this point. Now that I’m tired and confused, I’ll get a meal prepped and be back in the morning.

Good Morning!

Made a meal, but just as I was about to take the tray into the front room to the £300 second-hand shop purchased c1966, welt-causing, uncomfortable, not-working, itch-inspirational, crumb-containing recliner, Carer Precious arrived. He carried it through for me. But I forgot to take a photo of it. Carer Precious issued the meds, removed my diabetic socks, and linked the nocturnal pouch to the Catheter Contraption. 
Zzz!
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Cheers, each!

Aerogenesis Inchy: Saturday 7th September 2024 Seizures Gallore!

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It is now Sunday, 15:00 hrs. Finally, I’ve started yesterday’s (this one) blog. When I’m done, I doubt I’ll have time to start tomorrow’s until late on Monday.  
So, I’ve have to cut down the time used on it again, or the contents. But I love doing them so much.
The ailments, especially the new ones, are causing me to spend so much more time doing similar work that would take three hours now, taking me 5 hours. That’s just the physical ailments; the others, especially the mini-seizures, are getting to me. Going in to let the NHS look at things on the 5th of October. That is if I had not been arrested on the 15th of September when HMG Recovery Enforcement Officers came to get the money for a TV licence I’d already paid for and demanded their £1000 fine if I didn’t. So, I may be in prison, but I’m sure they’ll let me out to go to the hospital. Hehehe! It might be nice not to have to cook and clean up, and there will be a nurse on duty 24/7 for us prisoners. Yes, I’m not going to pay! A quick few mentions, most prompted by the pictures taken.

The nocturnal night pouch was unattached from the day bag.
Still a dark shade. I might get that investigated while I’m in prison? Hehehehe!
Early morning shot of the clouds and mist. Taken from the balcony. 
Gloomy is the word I’m looking for, I think.
I swear this visit, well, the actual evacuationing, was more painful than yesterday’s was.
I did get a few extra cuts shaving this morning. That was due to hindrances
The other ailments on good Inchy-bashing form for the day were as follows; 
, , and .

When I’d finished and was about to leave the wet room, a twinge of guilt came over me at the state of the place. I took the decision; well, I decided to get the dump cleaned up and sorted. A rarity there! I’ll do it now, I thought!
I bent down to pull the floor cabinet away from the wall,  A and kicked off in unison. Down I went, but not far. I fell against the wheeled trolley, so minor damage only was caused. At least physically. Only to my pride, as the mini-tumble flicked the release valve on the catheter, I weed on the floor that I’d struggled so painfully to clean yesterday. My new-found dedication and determination to get the room sorted out… rapidly faded into the ether! I may have muttered, “Sod It!” Or something of that nature as I left the mess for another day. It would’ve been nice to do it before I went to prison.

Several hours passed, and I was doing various things, not connecting or finishing the one I’d started. But somehow, I felt a smidge lively… I wasn’t, but I thought it.

Some catheters that Carer Kimberley had very kindly ordered for me were delivered. 

Minutes later, the PP’s

Then the food delivery, three minutes later
Got them into the kitchen to sort them out.
Sorted. I got some of the red spring onions that sorted the meal. A sad tonight. I’ll try to be inventive.
No idea why I thought that.

Hours later, I started on the graphics for this page, but I only had two done. I’m not sure if it was the craving for the onions or that I was so tired, but I got the nosh prepared.

Well, it was different, I must say.

Lashings of No-butter butter and some Marmite were in the wholemeal rolls. Don’t cringe! Hehe! Vegetarian sausages, white and red onion, concrete-like so-called cooked beetroot, tomatoes, and sugar snap peas. Slurrrp!

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Cheerio, and all the best of luck!

Inchy: Friday 6th September 2024 The Whoopsie and Accifauxpas Ruled the Day!

/ Inchie / 7 Comments

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A Wicked Night’s Sleep!
 The Cold Tingles & Electric Shocking Sherida, with a few sessions of brain talking from Thought-Storming-Steve, I don’t think I slept at all! I don’t recall waking up as such. I gave up trying to sleep and unmounted the bed. I took the nocturnal catheter pouch to the day pouch and went off to the kitchen to check the taps, cooker and fridge.
Nothing had been left on or running. The fancy nightshirt hanging on the hallway wall looked nice; I might wear it later today. First, I decided to continue with the ablutionalisation and medicalisations. 

As I stripped off, ready to have a shave, do the teggies and take a shower. I noticed that I had not used the Porcelain Throne this morning. That’s a rarity!

It was rather cold! So, I decided to wear one of the thicker dressing gowns.

As I entered the room, I saw the floor was dirty. I don’t think any domestic help could have come this week, so I decided to get the floor mopped afterwards. Little did I know how long it would take. Tsk! Teeth done, I began shaving. Good stuff to stop bleeding that Brute is!
Apart from spraying what I thought was shower gel all over me and finding it was power-cleaning foam, things went reasonably well until I got in the shower. But there’s worse to come. If you had been thinking of sending some pity through the ether, that would be nice. I enjoyed showering… that is, until I moved the broken curtain and saw the water had been sprayed all over the wall, toilet, medications, and cabinet, too. The dirt on the floor had been moved over a greater area now. So, there I was, with nothing on but the catheter contraption and walking stick in hand. A Carer was overdue. So, before medicating, I dried off and investigated the easiest way to mop and clean the wet room. There was no easy way. At first, I got the old mop and bucket out, making more mess as I clambered over to get them from the back corner, But I realised this would mean carrying the mop and bucket into the kitchen to clean them up. So, I got some rags, soaked them in cleaner fluid, and used the picker-upperer to clean the floor. Stopping often to wash the rag, and how I didn’t have a fall, I just didn’t know, with the picker-upperer and walking stick limiting my actions.
But it took me ages. And the result was a wet room floor that was only marginally cleaner than when I started the job! I put the flash on to take the photos so it looked cleaner. Hehehe! All that bending and stretching, doing the cleaning, had done me no good, and I still had to get the medicationings done!
I put on a thick dressing gown, went back to the wet room, and struggled to get the PPs on. Then, as I approached the cabinet top with the meds on it…
Dizzy Dennis hit me, and I tumbled forward, hoping to get my hand on the wall, but , gave way, and I knocked an endless amount of medications and cleaners on the floor, as I went down. Hitting my nose on the edge of the floor cabinet. The blood flowed down my chin, chest, bulging stomach, and legs and onto the bloody floor that I’d just gone through agony to clean!
Then I had to clean it all again!
The filthy kitchen floor then has to be mopped. But I used the speed mop; it was much easier and quicker.

At long last, I could take a seat before trying again to medicate my nether and lower regions. I put the kettle on and went to medicate ‘things’.
I felt worn out, and it was only about eight-thirty. I did the red patches first, I think. The Harold’s Haemorrhoids. Cartilage Chlo and Carole and Arthur Itis’s knees were Phorpain-gelled. The ears were olive-oiled. Eyes dropped and sprayed. I put a foam tablet in the nose. Barrier creamed under the man-breasts and colossal stomach. Toothache spray was applied. Then, the most painful one. The Ketoconazole (Daktarin) cream on Little Inchies fungal lesion. Always the most painful. But I just laugh it off.

I got the kettle on and turned on the computer.
Carer Joanne arrived. I told her of my calamities and failures. I had her in tucks. I think people would not believe what is happening to me every day is possible.

But it is! And shortly, there was some more ‘unbelievable’ (bad luck) to come. It was hard to believe, but then, it was for me! During Joanne’s first visit to see me, I emptied the tiny catheter day pouch, and something about the colour and size of a red ant came out and into the jug. What with the cloudy bits that look like fine cotton wool? I’m anticipating a house brick coming out next. Hahaha!

On with the belated blogging!
It was slow work, but it had to be done before I forgot any details. After Joanne’s second visit, things went all out of sync. Dizzy Dennis, Electric Shocking Sherida and Loss-of-Balance-Brenda took turns to have a go at me. Worse than these were the Mini-Seizures. A damned good job. I got the earlier bits on cause hours are missing.
And I thought yesterday was bad!

Carer Chris came; he kindly took the peed-on slippers with him when he put them in the laundry for me. Bless him. He also helped me into the other slippers.

I spent hours on this blog. Then, when it was getting darker, I gave up and made a meal. I took a photo of the frozen potato letters as I put them in the oven. But I forgot to photograph the served-up meal. Tsk!

The Liberty-Global-owned Virgin Media TV took ages to get started. Still, as long as Chairperson Mike Fries still gets his pittance of $123,254,000 as Vice Chairperson of the Board, President, and Chief Executive Officer at Liberty Global Ltd. The estimated Net Worth of Michael T Fries is at least $184 Million as of 1 May 2024. Mr. Fries owns over 185,522 Liberty Global Ltd stock units worth over $37,969,951; over the last 11 years, he sold LBTYK stock worth over $22,634,655. And has an open-ended expense account. During the Covid crisis, he received a Monthly Bonus of $1m.
In September 2021, Liberty Global announced the sale of its Polish operations to Iliad Group’s subsidiary Play (P4) for $1.8bn. The transaction closed on 1 April 2022. In July 2023, Liberty Global’s shareholders voted overwhelmingly for Liberty Global to redomicile from the United Kingdom to Bermuda.
Liberty Global Ltd. is a British-Dutch-American multinational telecommunications company domiciled in Bermuda, with headquarters in London, Amsterdam and Denver. Liberty Global operates through the following subsidiaries and shareholdings: ITV plc (United Kingdom) (9.9% shareholding), Platforma Canal+ (Poland) (17% ownership), Sunrise (Switzerland) (100% ownership), Telenet (Belgium) (100% ownership), Play Media, Play Sports, UPC Broadband, UPC Slovakia, Virgin Media Television, Giffgaff (88% ownership), Tesco Mobile (50% ownership), Virgin Media Limited (UK), Virgin Media Business Limited, Virgin Mobile (UK), Vodafone Group (4.9% ownership), VodafoneZiggo (50% ownership), Ziggo, Ziggo Sport, Ziggo Sport Totaal, Virgin Media O2 in the UK, Sunrise in Switzerland, O2 in the UK, Virgin Media in Ireland, Telenet in Belgium, (57.8% stake). The epitome of, and finest greedy Oligarchs!

Just thought I’d mention it. 
I’m not jealous of Mr Fries, his money, good looks, or lifestyle. His 74-roomed, palatial, nine-acre, swimming pooled, tennis-courted, picturesque $6.2m home. Oh, no! I’m happy enough to live up here in the sky on the 12th floor of a 4-roomed counting-the-wet room here in Nottingham. I can cry, laugh, sing or not, and take tumbles virtually daily. With my crippling catheter bag, failing ticker, dodge cartilages, ailments, Arthur Itis, Vascular Vanessa, Dementia Doreen, Shaking Shoulder Shirley, Seizure-Sandra, Neck-Ricking Nigel, Lost-Balance-Brenda, Dizzy Dennis, Gladys Glaucoma, Acne & Eczema, Axonotmesis, Cognitive Impairment Iris, DVT, Electric-Shocking-Sherida, FND, Memory-Mangling-Malcolm, Diabetes2, and all the other ailments. Daily medicationings and taking two hours and a lot of pain to have a shave and shower. I can appreciate the Prime Minister taking away my fuel subsidy, increasing my rent and taxes, and the 20% increase in fuel cost in October… it doesn’t bother me in the slightest bit.
Life, albeit within the flat, but my walking sticks help. I’ve got four of them, you know! There’s not one of them that I haven’t tripped over… where was I? Ah! Life is so good, I’m happy, contented…
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I hobbled into the kitchenette to get the washing of the culinary nature done, taking this snap of the evening sky.
On the left here.
I dried the pots and took a slightly more zoomed-in photo of roughly the same area. Bootiful!

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I’ve had three rotten, wretched days on the trot now,
I got through them, not knowing how…
I fear a 4th, I have to acknown,
Is my lousy luck justice or verismo?
Life is like a permanent strappado,
Can I take another day like this, though?
Yes, I’ve coped, but badly hereunto,
Battling against the Whoopsiedangleplops flow,
Will I return to the beer, LSD & Vino? 
I think for tonight, it’ll be mushroom risotto,
Either that, or I’ll just get blotto!

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TTFNski, Each!

Mysteriosophy Inchy: Thursday 5th September 2024

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

And Keir Can feast on his claimed & granted expenses
Now he’s PM. You just watch him go!
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05:55hrs: I woke up and took a few moments to figure out who I was, where I was, and why I had woken up. No joking! I think it must be possible to have a while one is asleep. This could possibly explain my bafflement when I stirred. It didn’t help much when joined in the confusing morning equation. As confused as I was, I wasn’t in a depression until the thought storming started, but I was then. Steve harped on and on; The computer problems, the TV Licensing Prosecution, the damned stupid and painful Catheter Contraption fitted, electric shocks shooting up my leg, the guilt of being so inadequate in even needing help to get dressed! Many other things were thrown at me at almost the same time. Things from 70+ years ago, mistakes, bad choices, stupid options that were taken… then, as I was trying to get out of bed, I stubbed my ingrowing toenail toe on the bed support bar. This was followed by a sharp-jarring pain from the catheter tube on Little Inchy, which took my mind off of the earlier depression and replaced it with a sickening ‘Sorry for myself’ moment. Lacking clarity or precision might be nearer to the optimum delineation.
The nocturnal pouch was later checked and saved for colour classification by a carer. I’d regained a modicum of logicality by the time I’d made a brew of Glengettie and drank it.

The usual start, with the throne duties first. And what a change there! It was all over in seconds, but a ‘cunning plan’ from Trotsky caught me. I’d cleaned myself and WC up and was getting the shaving tackle ready… luckily I was only a hobble and a half away from the Porcelain Throne when a second wave arrived. I made it in time, but it was a close call. Had I needed to remove my PP’s, I’d have messed myself up. Luckily, if that’s the word, I’d taken the PPs off when in bed cause they and the catheter were causing me such pain.   
pillock
I did my teeth and then carried out the various medicationings,  got some fresh PPs on, and forgot all about having a shave. I put the tackle away, thinking that I’d had one. Is there any hope?

I took an earlyish morning snap of the view from the kitchenette window. It was a bit nippy out. Brr! I closed the window, and I started updating yesterday’s blog. But, as usual, I got an idea for today’s Ode and spent ages on it, then almost forgot about yesterday’s not being done. Onto CorelDraw and Carer Chris arrived. Chris got the diabetic socks on for me. Medications were issued, and he mentioned that the catheter conglomeration looked rather painful. He was on the button there! Hehehe! He took the laundry down for me. I hope it returns today; the smaller socks were both in it.

I had a couple of minor seizures, I think, so I gave the computer a rest. And started to sort the waste bins out. As I emptied one, I

burst into life and dropped on the bins. Crumbs were scattered over the carpet. So I unplugged  Vaccumm- Vincent to clean them up. I made a decent job of it, and as I turned (a little too quickly) with Vincent to replug him,   visited, , just enough for me to kick the bin over that I’d just emptied Vincent’s contents into! 

The day started badly… it’s still not getting any better!

came in to do a battery check. We had a little natter. Well, I told her of the day’s disasters. Hehehe! I love to laugh, but I get minimal opportunities nowadays. They are so precious to me!

Minutes after Deana had departed, the door chime chimed. I’ve noticed that it does that occasionally. 
The Postlady delivered three letters. One a bill. The other two from the TLA (Television Licensing Authority) informed me that an Enforcement Officer visit has been granted the right to call on me to collect payment. A £1000 fine may be applied if the licence fee is not paid on this visit on September 15th. Nice! Keir Starmer starts by stating that he means to go on with the liquidation of the older generation. Starmer’s total travel bill for his time in charge of the CPS stood at £236,485, which included first-class flights. It states in the letter that anyone over 76 years of age does not need to buy a licence?
I phoned Deana, who gave me a reference number to give to the bully boy or girl when he or she arrives.
The day started badly… it’s still not getting any better!

I made a food order from Ocado for next week. I can starve until then. At least that would please Starmer! Haha! 

Getting depressed again.
I got the Kodak and took this shot on the left of the flat’s Chestnut Way car parking.
Not a soul in sight!
Then I took this one on the right.
To the left of the apartments. (It sounds much posher than flats, dunnit?) Haha!) 

Next, off into the balcony.
To take a shot of the dead-end car park.

I felt the weight of the mini-sized catheter pulling down at the same time as Little Inchie felt the pain. Arghhh! I hobbled back into the flat and emptied the pouch, and all but went over again, as nearly had me over as I bent down to my foot to retrieve the bag. Fed up!
I limped cautiously back onto the balcony to take a final photo.
The rain had started. We need it, though; we’ve not had much this summertime.

The day started badly… it’s still not getting any better!.

I’ll investigate what food to have for nosh later on. No, I won’t.
I’ll go on the WP Reader. Some great photography and poetry were posted for my pleasure by other bloggers!

BEEF IN STOUT GRAVY
With a baked potato, halved and salted. Wholemeal bread rolls to soak up the gravy and get stains on my humungous, horrifically hefty, hanging-down stomach!  
A couple of squirts of BBQ-flavoured ketchup on the spuds.
Naughty, but so lovely!
I got the pots washed with one hand. The other was carrying the nocturnal catheter bag in hand. Then I put the bag on the floor and took this snap on the right. It looked ominous, yer peaceful at the same time.

Got down in 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. Intending to watch some recorded episodes of ‘Heartbeat’. I kept falling asleep and playing back the recording to catch up on what I’d missed. The chilly-cold body tingles, along with the , assured that I didn’t stay asleep for long each time.
When I got onto the bed, the same two ailments then joined in with to give me a horrible night’s rest! One of the worst nights for months. Tsk!

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The day started badly… it didn’t get any better!

CHEERS, EACH!

Pseudosophy Inchy: Wednesday 4th September 2024

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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Another day of frustration, torment, mistakes, Accifauxpas, Whoopsiedangleplops, agony from the bladder, wee-wee not flowing correctly. Urine’s colour regularly changed from almost clear to a deep brown and back again, Little Inchie in agony, the Catheter Contraption tugging away at him, Constipation Conrad showing no signs of easing, and… Never mind, a typical day here up in the clouds in the imprisoning flat, with increasing rent, power to go up 20% at the Labour’s first budget in October, and the yearly Power Costs Support Money has been cancelled by the Labour Party. That’s the one that Keir Starmer told us at the election was safe in our hands! I hope I never meet him; I’ll be nervous expecting him to pick my pocket!  Or worse!
The Founder of the National Health Service and my top Hero, Anyeui (Nye) Bevan, must be turning in his grave! 
Keir Starmer is a liar, cheat, wealthy, and power-motivated creature who seems too clever for his own good.
Did he not know his deceit and underhanded lies by omission would not be revealed? It’s only the suicidal Conservative Party’s own ineptness and patheticness that got him into power! Well, fair enough. Keir’s blatant lies helped. One of his first sleight-of-hand moves was taking away the pensioner’s Winter Warmth cash: an easy target for him, and he knew it. 
The personal protection of the prime minister and former prime ministers is the responsibility of the Protection Command within the Metropolitan Police Service. The fleet of Prime Ministerial Cars provides the prime minister with a number of security features and transport. The Labour leader racked up an extraordinary expenses bill – an average of nearly £50,000 a year – while senior public prosecutor, including a chauffeur-driven car alongside first and business-class flights worldwide.

Starmer billed over £180,000 for chauffeur-driven cars in London despite living four miles from the Crown Prosecution Service (CPS) office.
He took first-class flights to four continents. As head of CPS, he took an 85-minute flight to Belfast, which cost us £443. 
Starmer spent nearly £20,000 on four flights to Washington, D.C., then claimed £7.24 for a taxi in the US capital.
His successor, A Saunders, served the same 5-year term but had travel expenses less than a third of the size of Starmer’s. And we have to grit our teeth, he says, at the budget?
Starmer took home £1m over five years in charge of CPS and accrued £336,000 in pension benefits.
Long-time watchers of Keir Starmer, who have questions about his murky rise to leadership of the Labour Party, will have noted the investigation by Gabriel Pogrund and Harry Yorke in last weekend’s Sunday Times with interest. Based in part on materials from investigative journalist Paul Holden, whose forthcoming book The Fraud: Keir Starmer, Labour Together, and the Crisis of British Democracy is due out early next year, the Sunday Times article reveals the slush fund of undeclared, unregulated, and unlawful dark money – more than £730,000 of it – that financed the reconquest and reclamation of the Labour party by its far-rightwing using Keir Starmer as a figurehead. 
Still, I mustn’t let the pug-faced, tergiversation, lying, duplicitous, untrustworthy, clever double entente master, and obnoxious Oligarch git get to me!  
Keir Starmer is at the peak of his dishonesty! Or should that be at the birth of unlimited new opportunities?

I got a little carried away there… didn’t I?

I woke late, at 0600 hrs, but I felt a smidge perky, so I decided to get up and do my ablutions. I looked down from the bed to see that the nocturnal catheter pouch had barely any wee-wee in it. But the gigantic, thick, overly-long tube was backed up with much darker urine that was not going into the bag. So, I applied the usual morning task of throwing the bag around like a football rattle, then threw it back on the floor. Sure enough, the urine flowed. Still too dark, but still. Can’t win them all. I popped into the kitchen before the wetroom to check that I’d not left the taps on, fridge or freezer doors open or cooker on. They all looked good to me.

The photo of the Bottom field and City Hospital in the distance was taken. They’re not bad either, well, alright.

First thing, a sit on the Porcelain Throne, pain, effort, and Oh, so slow coming out. Constipation Conrad is still in full charge. I took another Laxido sachet in warm water later). There were only a few specs of blood on the toilet roll, and there was no mess to clean up! After cleaning my teeth, I had a shave. The aftershave dribbled onto the flesh cuts. Tsk! A body scrub, and ont to the medicationalisationings. Olive oiled the earholes; Earache Erasmus was no bother today. Put the eye drops in. Then, I got the barrier cream under the man’s breasts and belly bulge.

Germoloided Harold Haemmoroids and antiseptic cream were on the top of the legs, where the catheter straps had cut into the skin a bit. Acne cream under the arms, around the neck, and to the forehead. Then Phorpain gelled the knees for Arthur Itis. I could not reach down to do the ankle ulcer; I’ll ask a carer later. But, of course, I forgot to! The last mendicant, as usual, was the ointmentating of Little Inchies Fungal Lesion. Gawd, doing this hurts! I cleaned the glasses and cut my fingernails. I was in the middle of the usual battle to get the fresh PPs on when the door chime rang out. I finished as quickly as possible, but whoever it was had gone by the time I got to the door. Hobbled back to check the wet room, but could I find my hearing aids? No! It’s still a mystery to me, like so many things nowadays.

As I put on the gown, I noticed the thick, long catheter tube was in backflow mode again. And even deeper red now! I’d also obtained a new cruise on the left leg. It might have been caused by the top strap trapping the skin. Or not. I didn’t know what I was thinking at that moment. A seizure was on the way, and I knew it. Although how I knew it, I don’t know. But it did come, as Carer Shaquille arrived. I think I was waffling a lot. I know Shaq got the diabetic socks on for me.

I made a brew and got onto the computer belatedly. I have no idea what I got carried away with, but hours later, I’d still not started updating the blog. It seems I got some work done on CorelDraw, but not successfully. Spit!

Carer Kimberley arrived to provide financial help, but of course, she couldn’t. I pointed out that until Kara told her what to do and how to do it, including changing the name of my Prime Helper with the bank, they would not talk to her. She had a look at the mail but does not know, nor do I, where or which folder has to go in where. Kara used to do it so well and efficiently for me. She will see if Kara can show her and change her name.

I took this snap of the clouds while making a mug of tea. I’ve already drank three days’ worth of my allowance, which is six mugs, which should be two daily. A twinge of guilt was soon cast into the abyss of the ‘I’m-not-bothered-anymore’ section of the brain. A Dark, Dank Depression fell that instant! 

I could not seem to break out of this downer. It appears that I also snapped a picture of a beetroot jar, but I cannot recall the reason why. But finding it on the SD, I thought I’d post it with a warning and advice for chefs worldwide who may use pickled beetroot from the UK. “Warning: This beetroot is as hard as concrete!” “It can bend knives used to cut it”, and “Break teeth”. But, think of the poor producers, who are like everyone else, who have struggled with the Conservative’s ineptitude and now face Tax rises, Price Rises, and cut-backs from expense-fiddler Herr Keir.
Just thought I’d get another dig-in at HMG.

The miniature catheter pouch emptying went on and on. And it was not a good colour at all.
That is until about 19:00hrs after Carer Israel made a quick visit. After a few minutes, the weight of the mini-pouch tugged on Little Inchie, so I emptied the bag again, as it was so light a colour? This is baffling me. 

I decided I was too tired to carry on. So, I went to the WP reader and viewed any messengers. But I needed to rush, as my hunger was growing, and I needed to eat before I fell asleep.

I was serving up the nosh when Carer Israel arrived. I forgot to photograph it. Israel took the diabetic socks off my legs and attached the nocturnal bag to what may be my most painful catheter contraption. It has a tiny bag that needs emptying far too often and a long, thick upper tube that is giving Little Inchy more pain than ever before. (Written in hopes of the Doctor reading this blog)

I took these shots of the near sunset earlier and forgot about them until I found them on the SD card in the morning (Now).

It’s not too bad an effort, even if I say so myself. Smug-Mode-Assumed!
Got settled to watch some TV, & although I was seated with my legs up, Dizzy Dennis visited me for a couple of hours. I was on the verge of pressing the wristlet alarm, and as he dissipated.

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TTFN

Morosophy Inchy: Tuesday 3rd September 2024

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

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Despite the lurking and attacking throughout the busy day,  computer and camera problems, Seizure Sandra, Dizzy Dennis, and Electric Shocking Sherida, there was an element I’ve not experienced since… Oh, let me think… erm… 2007!

“The District Nurse gave me a kiss!”

Thanks to Electric Shocking Sherida, I slept on and off, from the ankle up the leg. The nocturnal pouch was again only partly filled, and the tube held almost brown urine stuck in it—the blowback discomfort was not a good experience. 
I got the pouch and went through the same routine as yesterday. Throwing the bag around and shaking the ultra-thick tube until the flow restarted and the blowback pains eased. The nocturnal pouch filled very quickly. Once I’d got the night bag off, the farting diddy day bag filled up straight away. I had to keep emptying it all day. The bending down so often upset Dizzy Dennis. But as of now, 17:05hrs, just the one tumble, but I didn’t go down on the floor; I fell in the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop bought, second-hand, wincingly grotty, beige coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy & dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping, recliner. 
I sensed the blood coming from Harold’s Haemorrhoids and made for the wet room to clean and medicate things. Pain and blood, but no evacuations of anything else. I gave up and started to do my other ablutionary duties. Teggies, nasal clearing, earhole olive-oiling, then got shaving. A few nicks here and there, but I’ve had far worse. A good body scrubbing, no areas missed off. Hehe! 
Then, it was Harold’s Germoloiding time. The Catheter scars on the leg were Germolened, as were the under-tummy flab area Med Hydrand the man’s breasts with a barrier cream. I left the painful one till last. Dang, dang, dang, Dang! The Nerisone ointmentating of poor Little Inchies fungal lesion. Now how can I describe the pain when I rub it in? Dire, agonising, grinding, yes, they’ll do! Agonising was left for Constipation Conrad’s visits to the. Well, the first two produced nothing but pain. The third attempt, while Carer Chloe was present, was classed as Super-Agonising as the brick-like content slowly crept out. Amazingly, there was very little bleeding, just a few specs in the evacuated product. Sorry, this tale of woe is out of sync. I can’t find my earlier reminder pages.  
Perhaps I threw away the wrong sheet.
I know. It’s hard for anyone who knows my lucid, alert character to think I may have forgotten something.

The list was lingering this morning.
turned up and looked after me; it was grand. She rang the Doctors for me, making an appointment for Saturday, October 6th, for the Respiratory Syncytial Virus (RSV) vaccination. Chloe looked at the catheter mess and rang the District Nurses for me. Someone will come out today to check it over. Iceland delivery arrived while she was here. She helped bring the bags in and assisted me in putting some of them away. Bless her. She took the waste bags with her as she left. Thank you, Chloe.

I put the rest of the stuff away; there wasn’t much. Three annoying substitutes: They always substitute bread they have none of with the same loaf, which tastes like paper. It was flavourless and broke up if you dunked it or tried to spread No-Nutter Butter on it!
They did have a new fresh meal in a bag, 3 for £10, which I tried.
I opened one of the boxes, and it can be cooked; the meat and gravy in the bag, not the box, Hehehe! In five minutes. There was more fat than meat, but I’m a fair man, so I’ll hold any more judgement until I see how it tastes later. I must be unprejudiced, even against a company that takes off the delivery charge if you spend £40, then adds a Bags, Picking & Packing charge. But at least with them, you know something will be out of stock, and crap substitutes will be sent; as for the crushing of the fresh food…
We had a smattering of rain laterer a lot, mind you. I had a stroke of good luck as I closed the balcony window. The camera fell, and I caught the shoulder strap, so I saved any damage!  

The District Nurse arrived and said she would order some short-leg-tubed catheters for me. I’ll have many limbs and parts shorter than they should be. Naturally, the almost brown urine that had been stuck in the tube and the fresh wee were much lighter now that she had arrived. Humph!

Two hours later, as I hope you can see in this photo, I’m glad Carer Sham saw it to prove I was not crying wolf. Sham told me the urine in the day bag was equal to a seven on the NHS chart. The tube was again blocked with brown urine, and the flow-back sensation in the bladder was uncomfortable; I put that mildly, mind you. 

The drizzle drop stopped, and I got the Kodak to take this shot from the kitchenette window.
Then Carer Christopher came. His first shift back at work. Medications were given, and we had a quick chinwag-waffling session. Then, off Chris trotted.

Two sunset photos were taken as I went to check that I’d not left the oven on high and the hot water tap running, too. Tsk! Nitwit! I assembled the needs to cook the beef in gravy and make oven-cube roast potatoes. I’d accrued a bit of enthusiasm for this meal-making  
Everything is in place; I got the oven warming up for the potatoes. Carer Chris arrived.
His last call of the day. 
I told him of my losing the thousands of photos from the computer. And that I was struggling to get some more taken to replace them.
Chris took some snaps of me on the computer without me realising while he was making up the medications. I found them on the camera after he’d gone. Bless him. Here’s one of them. I must have been in mid-moan status as I appeared to be grumbling over something on the computer screen. Another cock-up?

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The cook-in-the-bag beef and gravy that looked so fatty would be cooked in the microwave oven. It takes five minutes, but I found the nouse to use the necklace timer as I put the potatoes in the preheated oven. I knew that they would take around 40 minutes, so I set the timer on my neck for 30 minutes, and then I got the meat in the microwave. 
The chunks of fat in the bag merged with the gravy, and it tasted okay to yours truly!

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TTFNski, Each!

Hypnosophy Inchy: Monday 2nd September 2024

/ Inchie / 7 Comments

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I woke up, not that I was too interested in doing so. Late around 06:00hrs. I went into an instant seizure and sat there on the bed for an hour or so. I don’t know what I was thinking, which is probably a good thing. Felt well enough… well, physically, to climb out of the bed. The night pouch had over 900ml of urine in it. I emptied it, sealed the bags for disposal and washed my hands. It was as if I’d blinked. I found myself in the kitchen, cleaning the sink. I must get someone to phone the Doctors for me – and get some help getting ready for and going there. 
I’m back into another seizure and found I’ve made a brew of Glengettie. Things are getting daft. That’s not the word.

Carer Richard arrived and sorted out the medications. I sense that I moaned about things and listened to his replies, but I’m unsure. His legs are bad again; Richard returned in the heavy-duty leggings this morning.

As Richard departed, I had a Dizzy Dennis visit. A bad one this time. I just climbed back on top of the bed to rest a bit.
I say a bit; I didn’t wake up until nearly midday!
Sod, all done, tons to get done.
Starting with the Porcelain Throne visit. It hurt more than yesterday’s.
The farting little day punch filled up while I washing, and the weight took the tube down the leg. Little Inchie took the brunt of it. I was fed up already! Mind you, it was late. It’s afternoon already now! And all the extra work to be done on the computer. When am I going to get the shower and shave?
I found these photos when I got on the computer.

I must have taken them during my first reluctant rise before Richard arrived, although I don’t know anything for sure in my current state.

I could not make much headway with the blog. I had to keep making things to replace the thousands of graphics I had created and lost yesterday. Or was it on Sunday? Obviously, the concentration was not good, and things were getting worse.
As the seizures eased and the catheter had been emptied for about the eighth time, Carer Chloe arrived. She took this photo of the stupid, harmful, annoying, frustrating, miniscule day pouch fitted.
I apologised for boring her with my moaning and thanked her as she departed.

I went out onto the balcony and took a couple of shots of the cloudy sky.
They held a beauty to me, however low I was feeling. I’m getting sick to the teeth listening to myself gripe about my bad luck, but I have to say, I’m having a lot of it.

It seemed to get misty again.

When I got back on the computer, I was more baffled than ever about what I was doing and what I needed to do. I had to sidetrack to get things I’d have normally used from the CD file, and then I started doing something else instead. I was well peed off with things. That is putting it mildly. 

I used the new Kodak on these shots of the mist.

Carer Precious arrived. With me getting up so late, I thought it was about 13:00 hrs… it was 17:35 hrs! The lad issued the evening medications and gave me a bit of help on the computer. I was struggling with having to make a new spreadsheet for the health checks after deleting four years’ worth. It’s many years since I’ve had to make one, but the new methods and layout in XL had me beat. He sorted it in three minutes.
Thanks, mate! 👍🏼

Took this sunset photo.

Worked till early morning again.

TTFN