Little Inchies Fungal Lesion Bleeding

Inchie Today: Friday 28th November 2025

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

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Another day of gaffes, mishaps, & Accifauxpas. I suppose that these were the cause, reason, for the non-appearance of my beloved and much missed . And the, dragging-me-down surfeit of .
Assisted by Dastardly Dementia Doreen, letting me down so often, and causing irritations, frustrations, making the day seem to go as fast as a month would. One thing after another.
Only increased the mental mayhem.

05:10hrs: I jerked awake,   I took the catheter bag off and, seeing the state of the day bag on the leg, made a mental note to ask a Carer why it had not been changed for three weeks; it should be, and was at one time, done weekly as the nurses instructed. This seems to have been forgotten about lately. My fault as much as the Carers’, I keep forgetting to ask them if they can do it. But with the times cut back, they would not get the other jobs done if they changed the bag as well. Frustrations of the day started here.

I hobbled into the kitchen to check on the taps, cupboards and fridge doors, nothing amiss. (Honestly) 

I took a couple of snaps of the view on offer from the kitchen windows. As you see, they didn’t exactly come out very well. In fact, they were atrocious. Off to the wetroom to make an early start on the . These did not go very well this morning. Starting with the first job on the Porcelain Throne. Trotsky Terence burst forth a dollop of watery, smelly, yellowish mush! I cleaned up and went to get the toothpaste, toothbrush and mouthwash ready to use – I didn’t make it; I rushed back to the porcelain and only just in time, as another near liquid burst forth into the WC bowl. This time, I remained seated, and sure enough, two minutes later, a third evacuation of the same ilk squirted out. Cleaned up again and back to get the teeth-cleaning pot… dropped it on the floor as I felt the rear-end evacuation on its way… Again! Same routine, and back to the teeth cleaning. I was a little miffed with the diarhorrea back once more, and was a little overkeen with the toothbrush. The gums hurt, but they did not bleed too much. I was putting the stuff back in the pot, and after yet another sitting down, a messy session on the Porcelain Throne – Even I find this could not be happening! But, it was!
Started shaving. By the time I’d finished, I began to struggle to stop the three teeny-weeny cuts from bleeding. I had to put a plaster on my chin, but it stopped leaking later. As did the evacuations… eventually. Just as I was squeezing the Germaloid tube onto some gauze,
 burst forth with a short, sharp, costly hand and finger shaking session. I couldn’t release my grip on the just-opened tube of Germalloid Ointment, and it shot out about 95% onto the floor and the wall. Poor old paid the price in pain.
Then, as I was getting the new protection pants on, I lost my balance, and with some quick but stupid reaction to avoid a tumble, I hastily plopped my overweight bum on the toilet seat – which worked. Realising as I gingerly got back up on my feet, I could feel the blood running down the back of my leg. 
What a bleed it was from Harold’s Haemorrhoids!
I ripped off the pants at the tear-points, and got the blood cleaned up from the floor, my leg and foot.

Frustrations of the day continue…

Then had to battle against my nervousness to get another pair of PPs on! 
I got the Health Checks done and recorded on the board, then made a brew of Typhoo Extra Strong tea. Updated the calendar.

I was washing the mug, and Carer Manprett arrived. She thought I’d just had a seizure, but didn’t say why she felt that. Gave me a body check. Barrier cream, Phorpain Gelled the lower back and both knees. Medications issued. And said she wanted to call me ‘Bapu’. That is “Dad” or “Grandad” in Pakistani-English; I looked it up later. Bless her. She also checked that the HC figures were written correctly – I’d made one cock-up with the temperature. Tsk!

Frustrations of the day continue…

I spent three hours on the replacement word listings! No blog work done at all yet. Humph! 
Carer Mirza arrived. He took the replacement TV remote out of the bag, and as I was telling him not to press the red button, he did before I asked. Well, that seemed to be the end of any hope of getting Virgin TV back on. The lad did not have time to fuss with it. Mirza said for me to ask Ejaz on Wednesday. He had to rush off. Can’t be helped. But I got the feeling they had no time to do anything. And with the day catheter pouch not being replaced for weeks… a little disappointed, and shamefully sorry for missen!

Frustrations of the day continue…

I managed to finish yesterday’s blog and send it off. Decided to celebrate with another mug of tea.

Started again, the ndanged short-as-a-flash ones that leave me of sync & balance. Spent a lot more time recovering than having seizures.

Frustrations of the day continue…

When I did finally get to the kitchenette, I found I’d left the hot faucet running again! Kicked in, not had much bother from her for a week or so; still, she has as much right as any other ailment.

Noticing how heavy it was raining, after making the brew, I went out onto the balcony to take some shots through the glass… the rain was pouring in through the front windows. The wheeled walkers and two wheelchairs were soaked… I got a bit wet taking the photographs. (Haha!) I had to take off the dressing gown & kaghoule & put them on the airers to dry.
Back on the balcony to take some more photographs of the rain.
This one came out a little better than the others, so I tried to get some to the left side of the balcony.
Pointing down at the car park opposite Winwood Heights block of flats.
This one was taken straight ahead to the left of the balcony. Back on the computer, and I got a call on the landline phone, it was from the Doctor’s surgery. Informing me that the hospital had changed the Ramipril Capsules from 15g to 10g, I think he said. Two years ago, I was on 30g. They did the same with the Phorpain Gel: started at 30%, then 15%, and now 10%.

Along with saving the NHS money on them, as they did in cancelling my Glaucoma operation, and I’m now virtually blind in my left eye, not one of the five promised offers of help when I was in hospital has arrived. The neurologist who saw me about the seizures wanted a photo of me in one… it took two weeks, but much-missed Carer Nimra took a video, and Carer Ejaz helped sort out how to send it via email to the Doctor, who has not been in touch at all. Adding Herr Goldenballs Starmer’s robbing us pensioners of the winter fuel allowance, I reckon they’ve made a profit out of me, and pissed me off!

Frustrations of the day continue…

At long last, I got around to starting this blog. I was interrupted by the last visit of the day to the
!

After the last evacuation of the day (this is a bit misleading, cause I was up until gome 03:00hrs doing this blog, and had to pay another early morning visit), I had to get the mop and bucket out to clean and freshen the floor of blood and a few splashes from Trotsky Terence’s activities. As I tugged at the mop, which had got caught in the wheel of the trolley, it shot up. I hit myself in the face with it!

Frustrations of the day continue…

The result was agony from .
I often write these quips about my luck, just for a bit of humour, tongue in cheek, getting into the proceedings.

The mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, grotesque succubae, Whoopsiedangleplops, ailments, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, spirits, Accifauxpas, rent increases, food price hikes, and the Fata Morganas, that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind? I’m thinking after this week’s, especially today’s cock-ups & go wrongs, they all might be true! Hehehe!

I started cooking the meal of the day. Oven chips, Polish kielbasa, and beetroot. I got the oven on and set the mobile phone alarm for 25 minutes, when the chips should be cooked. Then a fatal decision was taken… I thought I’d do a little word list updating.
An hour into it, and I smelt the burning chips! No idea why I didn’t hear the mobile alarm go off… (I likely set it wrong, it’s the first time I’ve tried to use it… and the last time, too!) I salvaged most of the chips, another bad decision that was… they were so hard I had to soak them with vinegar to eat them, and started the gums bleeding. I got them eaten, well, no, not all of them.
Suddenly, as I was standing up to take and wash the dishes…

Frustrations of the day continue…

Carer Dilan arrived. I mentioned that no one had been changing my day bag for three weeks, and he laughed. I don’t think he was being rude at all, just didn’t understand what I was saying. Which is fair enough, I couldn’t understand what he was saying later. I said my farewells, then went to clean out and antiseptise my mouth from the bleeding gums.

I stopped for a few minutes of quietism: another mistake! All I achieved from it was feeling more deeply depressed at how life is going. The best Carers have had their calls on me reduced; one does not call at all nowadays. Can anyone tell me if CDB helps with depression?
I’ll look it up… Nope!

Well, well, well, (and I’m not well, Haha!) early hours of the morning now, and believe it or not, I’ve just found bleeding from Little Inchy. Best I can guess, it’s coming from either the tube or the fungal lesion. Going to need help with this one. How embarrassing! 
Always the weekend when summat needs attention!

Frustrations of the day continue…

Not a lot worse than many other days lately.
But everything has got to me more today.
I’ve ordered some St John’s Wort capsules.
Once a day, read all the reviews; it might work.
Then I checked on Google…
Too dangerous to take with Warfarin!
I’ve tried to cancel it. They say they will try, but it may be too late! (I only ordered it ten minutes ago!) Hope they do/can stop it.

Frustrations of the day continue…

So tired, and it’s 04:00hrs now. But I want to look at the WP Reader, and I did. 
KITTY OF THE DAY – ANDY

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What a day!

Inchy Today: Wednesday 30th April 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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Our intentions may well be admirable,
But are they needed and desirable?
If they happen to be altruistical?
Are the benefits given physical or ethereal?
Endurable, sustaining or apothegmatical?
Will this incite the recipient to turn greedful?
I don’t want to appear hyperbolical,
After all, I’m fallible and infeasible,
Arguing over things, possibly mental,
fear of numbers, I love anything anecdotal,
Still working out the meaning of biopsychosocial,
Calculations and maths, to me, are cryptical,
Logic, commonsense, I often find chimerical.
Seizures can sometimes make me feel extrinsical,
Leaving me feeling depressed and inimicable,
Things I did 78 years ago are now unfathomable.
I’m not a part, essential, or even integral…
An unmoving nomad, innate, incognoscible, 
When Happy Horis visits, I get incorrigible…
If Depressing Duncan returns, then I feel terrible!
It’s only with me that I get argumental,
Obviously, we don’t need to go all aetiological,
It’s a practicality to be commonsensical,
Seek for the localised idiosyncratical,
Things may not become clear or irenical,
No need to search for the inexplicable,
Don’t spend valuable time on the impenetrable.
Remember, we are not powerful or juridical…
If baffled, then make yourself a foxhole.
Still don’t understand? That’s fantasmagorical,
Still struggling, I’ll write you another oracle!
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Another busy, confusing day for the old groat! 
Carer ‘Joe’ did two calls, and Carer Ejaz did the other two. Phone calls from Matron and Nurse June. Nurse Helen told me to make an appointment, as requested by the Doctor, to see her. I hope to get one for on Wednesday, then Carer ‘Joe’ can accompany me. Asked him to ring surgery tomorrow afternoon if he does the afternoon call tomorrow. 
Made a few cock-ups again. I believe it’s the arithmaphobia that caused most of them.
Ejaz took some snaps for me today of the outdoors. He noticed I’d got the micro-shakes. Bless him. 
Carer ‘Joe’ & Ejaz both helped me out last and this week. And with all the action from the medical front, you wouldn’t believe how appreciative I feel. Fair enough, I’m still with it enough to feel embarrassed at not being able to do things for myself. 
As I pointed out earlier, I believe the issue with the battery delivery and the microwave meal delivery was due to dates, times, and numbers. 
But were they? I think so; I experienced three waves of panic over the last two days as I misread or misunderstood the most straightforward advice and instructional details. Arithmaphobia?
I’ve been meaning to look up Ménière’s disease, the condition the nurse mentioned.
But have I done it yet? No!
To date, I have confirmed some appointments.
The four-wheeled walker is expected to arrive on Friday. Followed by a BRCCS Technician to sort it out and point out handling and safety features.
In abeyance, waiting for confirmation of the visit to the doctor next Wednesday or a later Wednesday so I can go with Carer ‘Joe’, who is aware of my actions and can explain things to me as they are.
On the 15th May. Nickie to do a walker assessment.
On the 23rd, Physio from Manuel.
Awaiting appointment for the Glaucoma lasering.
I’ve missed it on my calendar, but Nurse Caroline is coming to conduct the Pre-Morbid Cognitive Impairment assessment. Alternatively, I need to go to Nuthall Hospital to have it done. But when?
Nurse June rang, but I can’t remember what it was about. Thanks to a seizure, things did not register. At least, I think that’s why. Just photos from here on with what I can recall of them. The earlier ones hold a more explicit memory.

My morning shot before going to the wet room.

Things went okay, I think. One cut shaving
Medicating was easier this morning because I only had to do about half of them, and the intercom chimed out. Naturally, I went back into the wet room and continued dressing without medicating.

Carer Ejaz arrived. He barrier-creamed the ankles, which looked a little more likely to erupt into seeping from . Ejaz took some shots from the kitchen window for me.
Bluey blotches on this one?
Great shot, Ejaz!
Nice one. Is that smoke I see?

Blogging. It took me hours and hours, and I was still nowhere near catching up. Huh!

Mystery afternoon, and I don’t know why?

Ejaz evening call shots were taken for me.

I prepared a mixture of food and placed it in a microwavable container. Later, when I decided to add some mini-roast potatoes, there would be no room in the dish. So, while the spuds were cooking in the oven, I transferred the mix to a larger dish to use in the microwave. In the mixture went a can of vegetable curry, a ready meal of beef in black bean sauce, garden peas, water chestnuts, carrots and some extra Bisto gravy.
Lip-licking luxury!

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Have a Great Day!
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Inchy: Tuesday 18th February 2025

/ Inchie / 14 Comments

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– MONDAY MORNING BLIMP –
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GENERALLY WAFFLE
DDDD’s then unnatural highs…
I’m either spouting fripperies,
Tweedledum’s, then Tweedledee’s,
Both or either, but rarely neither
No solution, no help, no arbiter…
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The DDDDs swapping with the highs is eclectic,
Leaving me mentally drained, endorheic,
Lows are deep, highs make me ecstatic,
Why lows? That remains somewhat esoteric,
Change of moods, without any logic…
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I suspect it’s something neurophysiologic,
Mental or Peripheral Neuropathic?
High, Low, High Low, very methodic,
Lows can be curmudgeonly, choleric,
Highs, for no reason… neurotic!
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I can no longer remain an abnegator,
I’ll make an appointment with the Doctor,
Say how DDDDs make me feel blanker,

Two sandwiches short of a picnic, seizure!
Beg for help with my dysphoria!
Oh, and tell her of my gastrectasia.
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A five-cut shave was quite an achievement,
Because Shaking-Shaun was absent,
Porcelain Throne call, a Trotsky Terence Torrent!
This morning Anne Gyna was so condolent,
Sandra’s Seizures the opposite, calcitrant!,
Ankle Ulcer Ulrich was not urticant!
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Dementia Doreen had my mind all volitant,
Seizures repeatedly came and went,
Another letter, writing on it said ‘urgent’,
A bank letter, unhappy at what I’d spent,
An email which caused befuddlement,
I’ll pay the bill; be acquiescent!
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Food, power price up, & the rent,
Starmer gets me feeling termagant!
Nicking pensioners’ fuel cost grant,
As PM. he’s a dishonest abomination,
The Tories did less damage to the nation,
His election stance was anticorruption.
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Keir should be served a summons or citation,
Arrested, hung, in any combination,
For his lies and known transgression,
Never has a PM been more unloved,
He at least, should be vilified & reprehended,
Criticised, castigated, but not castrated!
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He may be academical, but he is not an Aristotle,
Hid backhanders are not apodeictical,
His lies turned voters apoplectical,
His smugness come over as antagonistical,
His past actions are somewhat adumbral,
His responses are agathokakological!
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No oligarchs are interested in antipoverty,
Nor peace, compassion or any amnesty,
Selling arms to both sides, but not equally,
They make fortunes with utter efficiency,
Innocent victims dying daily,
Safe, in their towers, sipping Drambuie
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A busy, tiring & trying day. But some progress was made. I got an appointment with the doctor. No, I’m not joking! 
Carer Chloe helped me as I called the doctor’s surgery to make an appointment to get help with DDDD, the Seizures and the ankle ulcer. What a performance it was! The recorded message told me I was fifth in the queue. Recorded messages kept playing, but they were too loud for me to understand them. Sounds daft, but anyone with ménière’s disease would understand the problem. A wave of Chloe’s hand after everyone told me to ignore them, they didn’t matter. Finally, a message telling me I was next in the queue and informing me that I would not be speaking with a doctor, but an Appointment Assessor. I did! She took my details and reasons for wanting to see the doctor. Then, I explained that it would be a telephone call job from the doctor. On Thursday the 27th between nine & twelve. That helped my depression no end. Here is a memory prompter; Can you remember when medics would say, “We’ll keep him in overnight for monitoring”?

I’ve not been well today at all, but apart from DDDD and the seizures taking a tumble, there was no apparent cause for the reversal either, again. Yet, High Spirits Herbert kept popping back up now and then. Puzzled!
Not any detail other than impotant stuff, to me.
I fell asleep this afternoon for hours in 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. A sudden feeling of weariness flooded over me. I might be disintegrating bit by bit? Hahaha!

Nocturnal Catheter Bag.

Morning kitchen window view.

First things first!
I increased the shaving cut to seven this morning. All tiddly little ones. I also cut my finger when cleaning the razor.

Finally got on the computer.
Changed the dates on the clock calendar.

Choe made the first call and then the second, which was domestic. This was when she helped with the mail and doctor’s non-appointment. Hehe! She also checked the dates on my fridge foods and hoovered the hallway. Taking a threatening letter from BG about my needing a new electricity meter down to the Warden’s office.

Carer Sam did the midday call.

I fell asleep due to a sudden feeling of weariness dawning.
It’s not as if I’d done much.

The bacon & cobs tasted terrible.
All the others were delightfully tasty!

Carer Christopher took my diabetic socks off. Medications.

Night-time snap.

Did some catch-up on this blog.
Then, onto WP comments and the Reader,
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Hasta La Vista!
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Acci-Whoopsies Sat 8th Feb 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

HAVE A GREAT DAY
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– ANOTHER GREAT RESULT! –
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Do, do-do-do
Do, do-do-do-do, do-do-do
Do-do, do-do-do
Do, do-do-do-do, do-do-do
Do-do, do-do-do
Do, do-do-do-do, do-do-do
Do, do-do-do
I’ve Morphine for the pain, just singin’ in pain,
What a glorious feelin’, I’m drunk once again,
I’m laughin’ at clouds, on Amitriptyline,
The sun’s in my heart. I’m on Simvastatin,
Beta-blockers ease the pain all over the place,
Come on with the tablets, a smile on my face,
I’ve been down to the lobby six times & again,
Just laughing, & smiling, I must be insane!
Dancing, laughing at the pain
I’m happy again…
I’ll cope and smile at the pain,
I may flinch cause the pain is a bane!
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There were so many shooting awakes, but every time, I seemed to drift off back to sleep almost straight away. 
I think I amassed around 6 hrs shut-eyed, all the same. And welcome, it was, too! I lay there feeling somewhat confused about a dream I’d had. It didn’t make any sense. I scribbled some things on the notepad and may use this for the ode on Sunday. I’ll see how things go.

Dismounting the bed had some good and bad aspects about it this morning. 
The nocturnal catheter urine colour was a seven on the NHS chart. But no cotton-wolly bits were in the pouch. That was a plus! Also, no flow-back sensations when I emptied the bag. Another plus! A third plus was & did not give way throughout the standing up and exercises! Fair enough, Chloe caught me out later and all but had me over! The only hassle was from . She was determined to ruin my morning, to start with anyway. She did a fair job, too.

Of to the kitchen to get the kettle on. I foolishy opened the window to take this snap on the left of the morning’s view. What happened then? I’ll tell you… , several of them within a few minutes. It’s not a good start at all today.
1) As I clicked to take the picture, my foot hit a bottle of sea salt on the floor, breaking it as it tipped over. I then acquired a pleasant-smelling wet left slipper, sock, and foot. I cleaned up, sorted things and checked the camera. The shot seemed okay.
2) I went to the fridge to get the milk out. I dropped the carton, which didn’t burst open but did leak on the floor, and the same previously sea-salted slipper, sock and foot! Now slightly stickier than they were before.
3) The bad one! As I bent down, using
for support, the end rubber slipped on the not-yet cleaned-up milk! I didn’t go over, but it went much lower than planned.
A Porcelain Throne motion started of its own accord! Oh, lucky me!
At first, I dared not move for fear of a torrent bursting out at any time. After I decided, I just had to beat a path to the wet room. It was already too late to get there on time! 
. Frustration, shame, self-pity, inner anger at myself, self-hatred, and a flow of curses and self-blame rang out. I felt worse after having had the same problem the week before last. And this time, the mess I made was even worse. I was glad I wasn’t wearing any trousers at the time. I used the mop and bucket for half an hour and went to the kitchen to change and get fresh and disinfectant water. I wasn’t pleased! I was wheezing a bit, and the stabbing pains kicked in at full power! Eventually, I things and myself cleaned up and freshened and returned to the kitchen to make the brew of tea…  Number 4: To find I’d left the hot tap run, and it was now stone cold! So, I cannot shave and shower until the water heater comes back on this evening.
I’ve had better mornings!

Carer Promise arrived. He was in a good mood. We looked up to find the name of whatever tablet I took to counter pain. We found it was the beta-blockers. Bisoprolol Fumarate. We also found that Glyceryl trinitrate (GTN), a short-acting nitrate that can be taken as a tablet or mouth spray to relieve angina pain. That may be the one they stopped me taking because of side effects a few years ago. I can say that the beta-blockers are not cutting it at the moment.
There I go, moaning again. Tsk!

I got the computer on the go.
By Gawd, it’s going so slow.
But so was I, like an armadillo.
Then I got rumbling below…
Back to the wet room I went!
I can report that after an original kerfuffle, I got to the this time in time! !
Again, it was a really messy evacuation, but all the mess ended up inside the WC this time. It was almost a pleasure visiting this time. Mind you, this is the first time in over a week that I’ve taken two dumps in a day. I took two Anti-diarrhoea capsules earlier, which I’m glad I did now.
However… on leaving the wet room, I turned and fell over the mop bucket I’d left out after cleaning the mess up this morning. I managed to get back up using the WC. But I cracked the plastic lid in the process. More expense and hassle to go through.
A feeling came over me that many words could describe: Foolish, incompetent, unequipped for life, pathetic, useless, hopeless, inadequate, deficient, imbecilic, incapable, 
thick-as two-short-planks and foolish come to mind.
Pick one. Any would fit me or even all of them.
Did you notice I am getting a little low? Haha!
Depressed is not a sufficient word to cover it. 
I’m moaning again. I’m sick of hearing myself!

Carer Joanne called to collect the laundry for me; I’d be lost without the help I got. ♥

Well, I’ve been at it (awake) for about 12 hours now. I’ve been swamped all day, achieving next to nothing. Unless you count having a series of silly, embarrassing, and frustrating and sorting them out and making some cracking cock-ups, all I’ve done is blogging. Mistake-ridden, but never mind that. It’s all part of this chronically embarrassing nature of this Saturday. I’ve just had a thought… I wonder if the dream I had last night, which I can’t recall, was trying to warn me of events that occurred today?

Well, the Carer is due, and I am hungry. No point in making a meal yet, to be disturbed while eating it again. So, I’ll go onto WP Reader and look at the Comments first.

Carer Promise arrived. I begged him to find out about posting the parcel for Tim P. He said he would help me, and he packed the parcel. He will finish the job on Monday or Tuesday.

I updated this blog up to here.
And made a much-needed strong brew of Co-op 99 tea.
This shot should have been on earlier, but I missed it.

Late postal delivery arrived. It was from my good cyber friend and excellent photographer, Tim. To replace the broken Kodak.

The same model that had broken it got the blotches on every picture taken.
Thanks, Tim. I appreciate it. Having the same model should help me figure out how to set it up!

Then, I sorted out a meal.
But this one wasn’t!

I watched two FA Cup football Matches in about 200 parts. I kept nodding off; they were on an advertising channel, and I drifted off every time they came on. 
Gave up in the end and wanted to get in bed, but Tiredness Terry & Fatigued Frank meant I slept in the second-hand, £300, c1968, overwhelmingly sickening beige coloured, tatty, uncomfortable, wobbly, germ-producing, falling to pieces, food residue collecting recliner.
Constantly waking up with either  or pains twinging away.

A painful day and night today!

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Evening… or, Morning Each

 

Inchy: Saturday 1st February 2025

/ Inchie / 14 Comments

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My situation could be described as delicate,
So many concerns it’s hard to navigate…
Worsened by not being numerate,
Although I’m not yet nonliterate,
I talk to myself, and how do I reciprocate?
My cerebrum needs to reorchestrate,
If Doreen Dementia would only vacate,
Maybe then, I’d no longer verbigerate?
The norovirus is making me ululate,
I still cannot manually voluntarily urinate!
My confidence & abilities absquatulate,
Hopes, plans & desires are all abirritate,
Needs that vary every hour assimilate…
Single thoughts, problems, will bifurcate,
It’s my personal choices that I berate,
I’m getting myself into the right state…
At 10 o‘clock, I could self-strangulate,
Complete shame, disgust, and self-hate,
Depressions by the hundredweight,
11 o’clock, I’m impossible to humiliate!
My worries, & fears, I did incarcerate,
The Enoxaparin, which I did inoculate,
Which left me with some stomach-ache,
But I was worry-free to compensate…
Others, worse off, I was compassionate,
Twelve noon, my joy did regenerate,
Up & down, it’s hard to hariolate…
Then flow-back came from my prostate,
This time, I reacted not as an ingrate…
Lots of folks have more worries on their plate,
The ailment with which I have to cohabitate,
Leaves me confused, incoherent & inchoate,
These good moments may well be inquorate…
But they are so precious, mate…
My situation, as of now, is not so delicate!
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Great Results This Week!
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After hours of complete failure to sleep, I gave up and got up at 04:00hrs. I kept changing from the bed to the c1966, £300 charity shop bought second-hand, wincingly grotty, beige coloured, not working, crumb-covered from the nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, recliner, and back again.

There was not a lot in the nocturnal catheter pouch. But it was a beautiful colour even if it was too dark on the NHS colour scale (It was a 7). Note that this indoors-set shot hid the blotch very well on the black bit!

I got the waste bag to the doorway, then went to take some morning snaps from the kitchenette window. It felt bitter cold as I opened the window. Then, I had to change my plans again. The innards indicated it would be wise to visit the Porcelain Throne. So, I did!

Yet again, it was a close call that I got to the and seated in time!
The evacuation couldn’t have taken 30 seconds at most – but the follow-up motions, which were all liquid, took much longer to escape. I dared not move until I was as sure as I could be that they had finally finished coming. The cleaning up of my muscular, firm, lithe little rear end took me ages. Then, the Porcelain cleaning and deodorising had to be done.
The medicalisationings had some moments of humour. Is that the correct word to use? 
1: Taking off the PPs, as I tore down the seam, I caught the top catheter gripper with my broken fingernail; this caused me to tug at the tube stuck down the poor and now painful . Naturally, the blood flowed out all down my leg and foot and onto the wetroom carpet and floor. Naturally, the pain didn’t bother a man of my youthful calibre; I did not swear, spit, or howl out. Although the cleaning up and all the bending kicked off , it really annoyed  .
Of course, I just laughed it off!

Anne Gyna’s pains were not on at this stage, which was very welcome. After about an hour of cleaning up the mess, I continued with the medicationalisationings. Harold’s haemorrhoids were Germaloided. The colossal belly folds, underarms, and back fat  were barrier-creamed. Then I did the eye drops and spraying.

2: I got the olive oil dropper to do the earholes next. I assume I had not cleaned the barrier cream off my hands properly; The bottle shot out of my hands, hit the wall, bounced back to fall on my toe nail, with the oils spread all over me, then the floor I’d just cleaned! I saw the funny side, and I did laugh!

3: Now joined in the grief & agony-giving party of ailments. I cleaned up the blood again.
  4: With more bending and pulling, it opened up again. Humph! I take these , and in my stride, you know.

Hours after my first attempt, I got snaps of the morning view.
A sort of brownie-green hue to go with the 07:50hrs photographs taken?
I tried a closer-in shot of Cavendish Vale. That’s the road with the suspiciously first snow-melting roof tiles on the left of this picture. Hehe!

Carer Precious made the 08:25 and 11:25 hrs calls of the day. He tried to sort a camera out for me, but it beat him. It was nice of him to try to get it to work for me, anyway.

I got on with updating the blog. Soon got it posted. Shame about all the time lost in the wet room farcicalness, else I might have caught up with it. Har-Har!

Carer Joanne called to collect the hand washing for me. She’d been off a long time with the Nocovirus Flu. She’s not back to her normal self yet, and it showed, bless her. ♥

I was annoyed with CorelDraw again, and the computer went so slow that I feared the worst! However, after CCleaning it, it got a smidge better—but not on CorelDraw.

I got the ode done and dusted for tomorrow – yes! In front, at last, I thought. Until I realised that I had not completed all of the templates. Then I recalled having a series of frequent but short bursts of the other day and must have thought I’d done them. So, back to catching up again.

I took a snap through the kitchenette window. The top right is a gloomy-looking view, complete with ‘the ‘Persistent Blotch’ showing. It’s easier to hide when taking night shots cause the blotch blends in the darkness and is less conspicuous. 

The waste bags had not been taken to the rubbish chute yet. So, I took them to the rubbish chute. On my way back after depositing the bags down the tube, it gave way. No tumble or fall, though, just pain. Hehe! I smiled at it and whistled as I hobbled back to the flat. 

Around 16:00hrs, the Co-op food delivery arrived. I’d stocked up with the cheesy bread rolls. I’m rather partial to these. I also got some ready-made beef and caramelised onion sandwiches. It was not cheap, but I was feeling idle and tired and had no sleep lately. I added some cooked smoked bacon, chicken thighs, German smoked cheese, & sliced tomato to the sarnie and overcooked battered onion rings. Well, I like them browned a little. Salted the sliced tomatoes. Nice! Complete with semi-hidden blotch! A different Carer did the last two calls.

I’m getting miffed about not getting any sleep in. I watched the football highlights, then nipped through the channels to find something to watch. I moved from the bed back to the aged, grotty-looking c1966 made, charity-shop-bought, horribly beige-coloured, £300, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, non-operational, acne-giving, virus-breeding, rickety, easy-to-fall-out-of recliner. But it made no difference to the sleep deprivation until I turned off the TV at 03:00hrs. Sometime then, I nodded off! Yes! Waking up coughing and sneezing at 04:00hrs!

I gave up and got up!

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CHEERY-BYE!
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Inchy: Wednesday 29th January 2025

/ Inchie / 12 Comments

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I once had hopes of understanding Aristotle,
His views seemed inevitable, apodeictical,
Which led me to study causations, aetiological,
My lack of education drove me apoplectical,
My efforts all failed, confused & pathetical,
Depressed at my failure, I tried phenobarbital,
My studies, & results sadly turned pedantical,
I gained an appreciation of beauty, philosophical,
Accepting my abnormalities as psychological,
The black & whiteness of life turned quixotical,
My inner thoughts turned into a vague quiddle…
Understanding others’ problems became quintessential,
My thought processes turned quodlibetical,
Decisions taken? Some, primarily quasiexperimental,
Asleep, awake, I’d stutter & gabble.
My brain turned into a tangled graticule,
As Dementia began to rule, I turned gullible…
To graceful, grateful, then gladiatorial,
Confused by numbers, figures, things horological,
Life came hazardable, unhealable, not hearable,
Things hopeful, humourful, became hurtful,
With no control, events results became happenstantial,
Why, where, whom, which, when… are now idiopathical, 
Problems insolvable, inconcludable, not influenceable,
Hopes, dreams, permanently imprisonable,
Some things remain so impressionable…
Nature, the trees, the sky, the bramble,
The daisies, bluebells, mankind’s burial,
The fish, the birds, even the dung beetle,
I fear the oligarchal & bureaucratical,
The politicians are so bribeable!
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Oh, flipping ‘eck!
Sleep is back to being accompanied by no less than . None of my usual tricks to shut him up worked. I tried guzzling soda water from the soda bottle. Nope! I moved from the hospital bed into the c1968, non-operational, tatty, scruffy, unkempt, uncomfortable, germ-breeding, Harold Haemorrhoid-Testing, catheter-tube-yanking, sickenly beige-coloured recliner. Nope, no good! This made him worse by lambasting away at my problems and faults! Grumph! I turned the TV on, which seemed to annoy him more than ever! This grinded away at my confidence. He’s been leaving me relatively hassle-free these past 6-7 nights. He’s back now!

I gave up and got up; my balance was in good condition as I released and emptied the Nocturnal Catheter Pouch. Then, a summoning from the innards to visit the Porcelain Throne arrived. So, I did! It was a Trotsky Terence performance similar to yesterday’s. But masses more of it!

I’m doing well with the Health Checks this week. Carried out the medical cleaning and medicationings. This cough medicine tastes horrible. Haha!

Computer on, & updated yesterday’s blog & posted it.

11:20hrs: Carer Kimberly came to do a finance and appointment check visit. Starting with an email filling-in form (At last! ) to make an appointment with the Dentist. It was made for Tuesday 11th February. Then I asked her to inform the District Nurses of this appointment in case it clashed with their appointment to change the Catheter Contraption. A good job I did, too, cause it did clash. They rearranged their time for Monday 10th February. I put these down in the Google calendar to be on the safe side. During the visit, the grinding dry cough returned. I fear the Influenza Norovirus is returning again. This is the last thing I need… but it is!

As departed, I had to rush to the wet room again. Another mega-messy mammoth dollop of an evacuation was taken! During the evacuation hit me, and it took me a while to get back up on my feet; then, it was a struggle to stay on them. Oh, dearie me!

I will try sitting down and getting some obviously needed sleep catch-up. I didn’t work, of course, but I took my mind off the ailments by watching an episode of ‘Heartbeat’ on TV. Then sat through a second episode, with little outbursts of the damned coughing and the occasional sneeze.

Influenza Norovirus is returning again!
Back is the sleeplessness. Sore throat. Cough. Utter weariness. I tried to get some sleep and ended up doing nothing but watch TV, drowsily but no sleep as such for the next nine hours. During which two carers came. Richard was one of them, and Precious the other.
Confusionableititus Reigned.
Not in a good condition.
Sweet Jenny phoned – she has a camera I can use, bless her, she’ll drop it off tomorrow for me.
Bless you, Jenny! ♥

I gave up on getting any sleep and got up around 04:00hrs to find I’d left the computer on, and I am now getting blue memory warnings on the screen.

May have trouble doing the blog.
I’ll try to get the ode done on Thursday if nowt else.

TTFN.

Inchy: Monday 27th January 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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Perhaps it’s time I was adulterised? 
I won’t qualify for being apostolised,
Too late for me to be activised or adrenalised,
I’m considering being re-alcoholised…
I’m no academist, a failed accordionist,
A mistake-maker? I’m the most awesome!
I’m not a Blairist or a Bonapartist,
My thoughts on Starmer are by bloodthirstiest,
As PMs go, he is undoubtedly he’s the brutalist,
Farmers & pensioners are his biggest bigotries,
I wish him cancer, pain and blepharitis,
While I’m at it, add brainsickness…
I have/had each of these ailments & sickness,
His stealing of my fuel allowance made me stressed,
My hatred can no longer be suppressed,
I’m a sceptisist, while he is a lying Satanist,
To Labours’ lost Cor-Values, he is a sacrilegist!
If he’d be kind enough to die. He’d be so unmissed!
He’d expect more backhanders in heaven’s mists…
Where dead pensioners & farmers resist…
Welcoming him with headbutts & fists!
But my guilt will not be vanquished!
Or should that be unvanquished?
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07:10 hrs: I stirred, woken by a grinding chesty cough, Dizzy Dennis, with Twtiching-Neck-Nigel trying his best to detach himself from my torso. 
Realising the time indicated that I’d slept the longest night for over many weeks, 8 hours! The phlegm-clearing continued for a few minutes longer.
Then I remembered that the Ocado order was due between 07:00-0800hrs; & I worried in case it had already been and I didn’t hear the intercom. 
I took off the nocturnal catheter pouch, a 7 on the graph, and as doing so, the door chime rang out. At first, I thought it must be the delivery, but Carer Richard came in. I was coughing away, so I took a swig of the cough linctus. 
Gawd, it tastes so foul! Eurgh!
Richard looked slightly tired at the end of his first shift back at work (naturally). He checked the medications and recorded the shortages, which were issued today. The last of the Anne Gyna Painkillers was taken. It will be a painful wait until the lad orders them from the doctor. She electronically orders replacements from the chemist, and his average delivery time has been three days up till now. So, a possible four days ahead without any help getting any ease Anne Gyna.  
I turned on the computer to check the time of the Ocado order, and it arrived as I was doing so. I put the things away and took a can of Mighty Malt that someone told me to try to perk things up a little. I drank it while typing this.
Then, I tried to sort out yesterday’s colossal error in making the templates and storing them out of order. What a Plonker!

COMPUTER CALAMITY!
There I was, doing well with the blog updates.
Suddenly, the cursor went blue, and I could not type anything else in the blog, ode or word list. After pressing the Esc button, I got a new email browser. I closed it in the same pickle as the other one. I tried various combinations of Ctrl Win & Alt buttons. All to no avail. I closed the computer, saved what it would allow me to, and selected “Restart Windows.”

At 11:40 a.m., Carer Chloe arrived.
A new full-sized Blue Screen came up. Options offered; 1) Open in Windows 10 browser. 2) Close this computer
3) Contact the MS engineer assistant line and another one 4) that was so technical it had me beaten. Chloe wanted me to press Number One. But I had set up Google as my browser. After getting myself even more confused, I closed the computer. Waited a few minutes & restarted again.

I was baffled but pleased to say that it was working!

RETURN
I’d been half-hoping she may have gone on vacation for a nice break. But, No! Silly me!

Carer Promise did the last two calls for me. Medications were given & diabetic socks were taken off. On the last call, he remembered he’d forgotten the prescription Medications. He nipped down and fetched them. Then, attach the nocturnal catheter bag. Thus, he saved me a lot of agonies when the Anne Gyna meds ran out. Carer Richard’s planning and Precious saved the say again.

Anne Gyna did her best to get at me again, but taking two of the tablets must have disappointed her aims.
Ranolazine & Beta-blockers at the ready!

A night of broken sleep patterns again, but I soon nodded off again each time that and/or woke me up. Yes, DD is back!

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Skol!
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Inchy: Friday 24th January 2025

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

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Talking to Doreen Dementia communicably,
It has never been or will be very easy.
Cognitive Impairment Iris is another problem for me,
Avoiding things depreciatory or derogatory…
They both warp my limited etymology,
It annoys them when I get stuttery…
Why? When I’m communicating mentally,
I appreciate that I stutter verbally,
Especially when I talk aguishly nervously…
I’ve disabilities in physical & mental functionality,
This is just a barely-bearable reality,
A by-product of Peripheral Neuropathy,
And having the stroke, regretfully,
The brain moves between agony, self-hatred & complacency,
It seems my neurotransmitters have lost choreography.
When the Neurosurgeon hacks in cerebrumly…
In my brain, what will he see? An electric melee?
My surviving nerve ends, as confused as me?
Or Doreen & Rita, having a cup of tea, bizarrerie,
Deciding how they can attack me… bloodcurdlingly,
Can he drag them out using keyhole surgery?
Maybe they got in when I had my appendectomy?
They’re illegal immigrants; they didn’t ask Inchy!
Annoyingly, my pre-op emotion is one of apathy…
They get pleasure from Mind-Mangling, you see…
But how did they get at me? Serendipity?
I have to suffer their Satanophany, frustratingly,
If this op fails, will I be brokenhearted? Hardly!
I’ll show no displeasure or recalcitrancy, 
I’ll be in cloud-cuckoo-land, & thankfully… 
To the surgeons, nurses, & staff at the QMC,
And go back to my life’s mental hurly-burly,
Where my own thoughts lack authenticity,
My memory is beyond any help or assistance,
Self-worth and good luck show imperceptibility,
To my struggle with mental mobility,
My ailments gift of physical disability,
Glaucoma Gladys makes my vision foggy,
Shaking Shaun keeps me feeling groggy,
Anne Gyna, currently the epitome of agony,
Catheter leaks, leaving my leg & slippers soggy!
The morning ritual of cleaning things that are bloody,
Little Inchies Fungal Lesion; he’s also sticky,
Eye drops & sprays, lip balm, cream the piles, that’s dodgy!
Yes, back to the flat of milk and honey,
Computer, mobile, and TV troubles, not funny…
Where I’m perceived unsympathetically,
The mini seizures, Leg dances, Twitching-neck-Ali,
Where I’m assured of being ignored & querimony,
And of Fauxpas & Whoopsiedangleploppery!
And await my Glaucoma op, & retinopathy…
And the everyday hassle from Arthur Itis, Not Askey!
The terrible twins, Catheter right, Carol, left, Chloe,
When they go, at best, you’ll fall on one knee…
Which always sets off a reaction from the FND…
Arthur Itis, Cartilages Carol and/or Chloe,
Sometimes, the Catheter pouch will blow!
The tube in Little Inchie yanks; you will never know…
The pain entailed cleaning & medicating with Opzeluro,
My right testicle swells to the size of a baking potato!
Still, I don’t like to complain, though!
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I had a lot of bother in the morning trying to get this blog started. I’m starting to get all het-up now.

I got 3 hours kip in, though. Ye-Haaa!

It’s now Saturday, and it’s 19:00hrs! So this will be short.
Otherwise, Saturdays will never get started. Arghh!
Sorry about this. Not coping well.

The new ailment that I thought was the Cartilages… now I don’t think it was. Several times when the knees gave way today, both went together. Terrible sensations. From the ankles, knees and up to the thigh. Everything wobbled, and the instant weakness and balance loss all but had me over a few times. Actually, it did have me over once. But I crumpled conveniently onto the second-hand, c1968, eyesorely-horrendously grungy beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, microorganism-microbe producing, gungy, moth-eaten, beige-coloured, non-working, bacillus encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, c1968 recliner.

The nocturnal Catheter Pouch was classed as a No. 8 on the NHS Richter Scale Card. Hehe!

Carer Sherida called. She kindly removed the socks that were not done earlier and suggested I ask the next carer to put the fresh ones on. She checked to ensure that they were diabetic ones for me. This way, I could get a proper shower and medicalisationing session early.

I struggled to finish the show and was dubious about my weak legs. Constipation: Conrad was still in control of the Porcelain Throne duties. There was a smidgeon of blood, but it was hardly worth mentioning. The shaving: I thought I had done a good bloodless job. I got under the shower and used the shower chair for the shower session, which was well over an hour. Then, I ensured all the needed treatment areas of my magnificent, muscular, youthful body were well dried, drying the Catheter bag and tubing simultaneously.

Then, as I was getting on the dressing gown, I felt all the hairs I’d missed on my neck hole when shaving. I was a midge annoyed as I got the tackle out and gave the neck a go over again. The bleeding took me ages of time and half a bottle of Brut aftershave to stem the flow. Humph!

Carer Sherida took the laundry bag down for me. Pound to a penny, the bag gets stolen, or the clothes disappear again.

Carer Sam did the midday spot.

Carer Precious Called. I mentioned the low quantity of the Anne Gyna medications, and they told me they had been delivered.

I feel I’m going to go through pain like never before after the tablets run out on Monday.

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TTFNski!
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Inchy: Wednesday 15th January 2025

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

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INCHY’s ODE
Called on by an acquisitor, investigator or burglar,
We deal with far too many an abrogator…
A Prime Minister who gives us apepsia,
Virgo Keir, who astrologers say is a charmer?
Who’s open to a bribe and/or backhander,
I’m sick of him saying his dad was a toolmaker.
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Always something needed to clarify, certify…
Actions to decertify, destinkify, degunkify…,
Secrets, errors to reveal, declassify, demystify…
Questions, who, when, which & what’s the fee?
Higher, lower, how, who, too few, too many…
Will the earth die, with no petrol or electricity?
: : : : :
Keir hates farmers, & those on a pension,
Bad times for those with a medical affliction,
And for proletariats with ambition…
Why Keir’s not a Tory is beyond my comprehension,
As is his lack of socialism and compassion.
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Some people can’t walk, hear or see…
People get addicted to drugs & go alcohol-free,
Some act naturally with hatred… aggressively,
Vandalism & bullying is annoyingly scary,
There’s a lack of control & abstinency,
Folk act violently to antiquity & authority…
We’ve known this was coming for years… sadly,
The world’s end, I mean; then we’ll all be free!
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04:30hrs: I stirred but without the usual jumping and jerking. This was replaced this morning by .
Well, it made a nice change for me.
I got the removed and felt the need to check the kitchen. I had doubts about the verity of my last night’s checks on the state of the taps, stove, food fridge, and freezer doors. Apart from the kitchen looking a mess, I need not have bothered. There were no running taps, stoves left running, or taps (faucets) left on. I used the old camera (not that I had any choice left now) to take photos to see how they would come out. Oh dear!
I took a wash and utilised the Porcelain Throne. At least the passing of the evacuation was far easier than when was in charge. But it was super messy and needed a lot of cleaning up. Which I did! Then I olive oiled the earholes and cleaned and creamed the   affected left eye and lids. Put the lip salve on the mouth. Ointmentated the knees to help hopefully keep down the pains from ,    and of course, . I’m glad to say it has eased off already. Then, I did the nasty bit, getting the cream onto . Arghhh! I just laughed it off, of course. Ahem!
I took some shots with the old camera, hoping to improve on yesterday’s earlier ones. As I opened CoelDraw and prepared to import, she gave me a dose of her moving pains in sequence. It felt as if it was running amok. I was close to pressing my wristlet alarm, and as I was getting ready to, things calmed down tremendously. It didn’t stop or anything ridiculous, but it was entirely bearable. I was collating the pictures and saw the one that I did last night. Here it is;
I noticed the marks on the right-hand side. Then, I realised with the aid of the spyglass that it was all the way across. I hoped that today’s photos were not going to have it on them. All of this morning’s efforts were below standard for many reasons.
Odd hue?
Blurry.
The hallway that was taken with the flash on?
Disappointing, to say the least.

I had to try again after I’d got dressed.
Well, the night shot wasn’t too bad.

I finally made a start to yesterday’s blog update. There’s not much to do, so I posted it off, too!

arrived in good spirits. Medications were given, but she forgot about putting my diabetic socks on for me, I asked her to as well. But I was in a bit of a seizure at times, so my fault. I’ll ask her when she does the financial help visit. 
I got around to cleaning the used files and making a start on the graphics for this blog.
Made her second visit. I was deep in a mini-seizure again. I recall bits of the call. She opened the email, only one of interest from the bank. It was filed in the box. The email help went good, I sense. A questionnaire was done, and other things, but I can’t recall what they were now.
Ah, I asked her to ask the Wardens if they had made the loss of Bank Details yet; I was not rushing; I just needed to settle whether it was being done. said she would ask them and let me know. Bless her. 
But I heard nothing. I assume that ILC (Independent Living Coordinator), Oberstgrüppenfuhreress Warden and Primo Ballerina, Warden Deana, and ILC (Independent Living Coordinator) Generaloberstess, Ice skating champion florist and Warden Julie were not in the office when she called.
I forgot about the diabetic socks again!

I’ve got this out of order. I think it happened earlier in the day.
The J Sainsbury order arrived.
I tried the camera again.
I took one of the things the driver had put in the boxes for me in the hallway.
Some of the delivered goods were photoed. A pack of Protection Pants, JS’s own label, are on the left of this first photo. This includes air fresheners, shaving foam, razors, and food bags.
Nigerian Garden peas and sliced red onions went in the fridge.
I think I’m missing some photos.
So I looked at the SD card, but they are not on it. Does that pee you off? Well, not you, but it does me. Humph! The photos were not very good, were they? If I can get the passwords from the Wardens, I may consider contacting the bank to see if I’ll be allowed to buy a new camera. Then again, maybe not. Waste not want not!

I’ve decided to have the same dinner as last night because I have some Sopocka left to use and one of the rolls to bake. I won’t have tomatoes, though; they are horrible this time of year. I think I’ll have some sauce, though. 

OH, AGAIN!
The peristency of them got to me.
I put the Community Nurses folder with the telephone number on the stand, so just in case, I’ll remember where I put it. And it’s written in large letters on the front of the folder.

Decentish shots to the left of the kitchenette window were taken here, methinks. I do a lot of that, thinking... I do a lot of gorgetting, as well. Possibly a little more than thinking and remembering.

Then, I took this fairly good photograph to the left of the kitchen window.
This camera! The lousy shots, then decent ones. I must ask Tim Price what a ‘P’ on the camera selector button stands for.

Cut off the attacks instantly. She’s not been back since the same time that replaced her as the primary ailment of the moment. I’m fed up with this change all the time. Still, it makes for variety, I suppose. The cracked lips are improving, and not a single volt has shot up my right leg for three hours! Great!
Well, I’m sick of listening to my own moaning!

Cracking on with this blog, and I heard a noise through the Baby Monitor – but could not understand what was being said.
I got the wooden walking stick and went to the door. Opened it, but nobody was lurking. Luckily, as I turned around, I hit my shoulder on the door frame, which gave me some grief. Had she not, I would never have found the packet that someone had put on the top of the heater. It was the top-up prescription that Carer Richard had ordered for me on Monday. The chemist had popped it through the door without ringing the bell. Again!Hehe!  I walked to the kitchen to put them in the medical drawer; a beautiful night view was available. Carer took a couple of shots, hoping to catch whatever it was high in the sky. Was it the moon? It was so tiny. It might have been Jupiter or Venus? But if it was either, where was the moon?
You can only just see it in the sky in these pictures.
I also wondered what the red thing was in the top photo?
These came out reasonably well.
I took them all with the ‘P’ options selected. The inside photos didn’t come out as well, did they?

The Carer lent me his camera on loan!
I took the following shots and those in the morning with it. Well, he took the first two tonight during his last visit to me. I’ve got it until midday tomorrow. It’s being collected. So, on Thursday’s blog, the only shots will be those taken in the morning.
I told him I was nervous about dropping my Canon, and he said, No problem. You can buy me a new one—smilingly!
With my record with cameras, I am sooo Weary!

Well, it’s late now and time to make myself some nosh. Oh, no! I’ll answer any comments on WP Reader first.

Eventually, I got the nosh made.

I didn’t make it into the bed. I tried to stay up late to watch the football highlights on the BBC. That didn’t work, of course.
I drifted off about five minutes into the footy. Woke up about an hour after the programme had finished.
And went back into slumberland!
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Sayonara
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Inchy: Tuesday 14th January 2025

/ Inchie / 9 Comments

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What are you? What kind of achiever?
What would you be if you weren’t a skiver?
An autoworker, auctioneer or autobiographer…
An archiver, aspirer, or an awe-giver?
Backpacker, baker, ballbreaker…
Banker, billposter, beggar or bedmaker?
Cheesemaker, contractor or counterfeiter…
A Chauffeur, croupier, or courier?
A grave-digger, drug-taker, drugmaker…
Murderer or some kind of doctor?
Lift engineer, mayhap an Egyptologer…
Driving test examiner, an art exhibiter?
Fortune teller, foot-soldier, or fraudster?
A gardener, food gatherer, gamekeeper?
A house-sitter, work on a Helter Skelter?
Interpreter, inventor, or interviewer…
Ironmonger, investor, immigrant importer?
A jailer, janitor, jitterbugger, or jester?
Kindergartener, or a kettledrummer ?
Lamplighter, lawyer, or do liposculpture?
Microbrewer, or full-time Father/Mother…
Microbrewer or full-time malingerer?
A weed-neutraliser, maybe narcotrafficker…
A military officer or a Newspaper obiter?
Paperhanger, photographer, prize-fighter…
A pilferer, plasterer or psychobabbler?
Quantity surveyor or quartermaster?
A reupholsterer, a Brexit renegotiater…
Maintain a roller-coaster or racketeer?
Schoolteacher, or work in a shoe store…
Be a seismographer or a speechwriter…
Market stallholder, mayhap a speedskater?
A BP sphygmomanometer operator…
An actor like Arnold Schwarzenegger…
Possibly become a stripteaser…
Streaker, shoplifter or stationmaster?
A trumpeter, toastmaster or toymaker…
Toreador, tax-gatherer, world traveller?
A uranographer, become chairman of Unilever?
A passport validator, or maybe a vintner…
A furniture varnisher or a beach voltigeur?
A basket weaver or a whoremaster?
Work for Starmer as his yeasayer?
A politician and or a Parole Boarder?
You’ll learn how to be a freeloader,
A bullshitter, wanker & hobnobber,
Backhander-taker, hatemonger, & hornswoggler,
A farmer & pensioner-impoverisher!
If you fawn to & backhand Starmer…
Your career will eventually stutter…
As the end comes for Herr Starmer,
He’ll blame every pensioner,
He’ll blame every family farmer,
He may lie his way to be a survivor?
Starmer’s an excellent scammer & schemer,
Did I mention how much I hate Starmer?
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I awoke this merry morning and pottered about, photographing the nocturnal pouch and a few morning views. Then, after an hour or so, I realised I had not taken any falls, walked into anything, or dropped anything. My bleeding groin area was far less painful than yesterday, and the shave was a bloodless affair. Of course, medicating was as painful as it usually was.
But overall, it was a fantastic start to the day. I was expecting my beloved Nurse Hristina to call to take my blood. Apart from medicating the lesion, I naturally sang away as I launched the computer to finish yesterday’s blog.

I soon had the blog done and posted. (Still singing away to myself as I plodded on). I went on CorelDraw to prepare for up, loading the ten or so photographs I’d carefully taken.
DANGKNANGLES!
The Kodak camera had taken only two of the pictures! The first one had gone into the ether.
The second, the collated waste bag, was on the SD card. The card was in the camera; I recall taking it out and into the computer thingy, but there were no more shots!
BUT NOTHING ELSE!
I went to check on the tiny inner file. Nothing was on it.
I retook some shots of the views, ensuring the card was back in the Kodak. I took several snaps.
When I returned to upload it to the computer, nothing went through. Then, I noticed the camera did not light up when I put it on again. Stupid me!
Obviously, the batteries had died.
I put in new batteries and tried again. Nothing
RIP to yet another camera!
Then, how did it take the second shot but not the first or those that followed? Was it all a part of the mysteries of the Woodthorpe Court’s Sinister Spirit’s master plan? To raise the devil, spread wonders, blunders, rodomontades, fears and descenders from the comfort of semi-sanity, with me almost in a good mood, into a gibbering wreck!

I spent hours trying to figure out what had gone wrong. I got six more batteries and replaced the first ones I had put in. No, there was no life! Then, I put two batteries into the torch, and they worked, eliminating the dead battery idea.

A break for my mind when Nurse Hristina arrived to take the blood. It’s lovely when she comes. ♥

Two caregivers, well the same Caregiver, came twice; Carer Chloe, one for medications, and one for domestic.

I settled for a photoless blog (All bar the one); I had no choice and insufficient cash yet to get a replacement.
Depressed, dispirited and pissed off, I started doing today’s blog ode, then the top graphics.

I kept looking at the camera, thinking it must be something I’d done wrong. But it was a no-go every time I tried. And I tried so many times, sort of hoping!

At my lowest point, when I had the least interest in continuing the blog, it happened: Ailment number four kicked off.
Flared up. My confidence faded, my depression got more profound, and the roaming chest pains settled in for about a solid five hours this afternoon, well into the early evening.

What a last three days I’ve had. The two tumbles on Sunday, thanks to the bleeding from the groin par, put the mockers on Monday. Tuesday and the Kodak broke my heart by packing up on me. And gives me hell. I suppose I could order a camera from Amazon… Ah, I did that last time, so I must have one somewhere that is battery-powered… A futile spurt of hope arose!
I searched everywhere without any joy in finding it. Slowly, it dawned on me that the camera had been dropped down the waste chute while I tried to take a shot of the tube inside when it was first fitted.

I’m going to get something to eat and think about my situation. I heated a part-baked long cob with tomatoes and Sopocka, using no butter, butter.

I changed my mind and looked at the cameras on Amazon. They were far too expensive. I’ll wait until my pension goes into the bank and how much there is before spending to get a better one. Or give up altogether.
This reminds me that I still can’t access the bank account until Warden Julie gives me all the details she kindly took to sort and print out for me.

The carer came and examined both cameras. He said they were both dead, but the cheap one may work if I recharge it. It’s possible that the connection was loose when I recharged it yesterday. So, I charged it again, ensuring the plugs were solidly in place and the blue recharging light lit up.
No medications were needed. He removed my socks, picked up a drink and nibble, and went home.
Thanking him.

I was settled to watch TV when I remembered I had not eaten anything yet. I went through a hard battle against my desire for sleep and got up to make a meal. I got as far as the door, and in the dark, I could see the flashing blue charging light on the camera. So, that told me that the camera was fully charged when it failed. I took it off the charger and meandered into the kitchen, and after making my meal, I tried to take a photo of it.
GOTTEN HIMMEL It Worked!

I tried again on the evening view…
Wunderbar!!!

Note: The morrow morning, all pleased with myself, I used the miraculously working old camera again.
You will see the disastrous quality dip in the quality of the resulting pictures on Wednesday’s blog. I was very disappointed. I may get better results late in the day, but I think that is because I have more misled hope than faith.

Gluckliche!