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I just had to copy this one!
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It’s so important to hang on to hope,
I thought of this today when I awoke,
Without him, life is all upslope,
You should keep him on a tightrope,
Have you ever caught a single raindrop?
Shouted for help from the rooftop?
Lost your thoughts while taking a troke?
Caught flu, COVID, shingles or croup?
Did you have a heart op or a cystoscope?
Been shot, imprisoned or had amblyope?
Are you deaf, neurotic or have deuteranope?
A catheter fitted? Had an oesophagoscope?
Your feet & ankles turned a deep heliotrope?
Is it different every single time you poop?
Does Peripheral Neuropathy make you quoke?
If something goes right, do you glope?
Do you stutter or make the odd malaprop?
Do all others consider you a fruitloop?
To counter these things, you need hope,
You must attain it, try mentally to evoke,
Hope? I’ve never met the bloke!
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A cold health alert has been issued for the East Midlands, warning them that an upcoming cold spell could affect vulnerable people and cause a rise in pensioner deaths.
No doubt Pensioner-killer Starmer will be tickle-pink
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It seems I’ll have to get used to every night’s sleep being broken, and the abysmal lack of rest and peace will undoubtedly see me off earlier than I expected visiting St Peter. What with our beloved PM, who robbed me of my Cold Weather Allowance? And the caregivers forgot to put my diabetic socks on again. Brrr!
Still, it’ll unquestionably please the living-ready reckoner beyond the reach of any moderator, who’s a hot shot at jiggling truth and data... I mean, of course, the conspiratorial, surreptitious, duplicitous Herr Heil Starmer! Sorry about that, I got a smidgeon carried away there.
I began the battle to get out of the bed. Back-Pain-Brenda and Cartilages Chloe & Carole were unhappy being forced to move at 0500hrs. I noticed there was not much in the Ncturnal night pouch this morning. At first, I was most satisfied to see the bright colour, but when I got around to emptying it, I realised that it was one of the new ones that eBay had delivered last night. These were much cheaper than the others available but did not have a release valve. Also, the PVC, or plastic bag, was much thinner, and the urine was much darker as I cut the bag. Can’t win’em all!
I got into the kitchenette to check things; no taps had been left on, and no doors or windows were left open. I avoided going into a 
.
The sky was fog and mist-free! That’s because the snow and ice will be brewing from Storm Darrach, bringing Red Warnings for Wind and Snow. Apparently, the lowest temperature recorded in Nottingham was −13.3 °C (8.1 °F) on 13 January 1987 and 23 January 1963. That’ll cheer up amphibologically-trained murderer Starmer. I can see it now; “200 Nottingham pensioners died in last night’s storm.” Herr backhander-taking Starmer was told, he replied, “So?”
I am so frustrated and angry!
After being free of them for so long, I’d worked on this blog for nine hours off and on when the Seizures started.
I was so close to finishing it when they came. I felt things were getting more manageable and more transparent, and I expected to find some errors as I seemed to have been doing it for hours while under the influence. After coming around, what I saw made me so irate and self-condemnatory! I am still stewing inside and not in a suitable mode or mood to do much! I am feeling frustrated and depressed! I could almost cry now, my temper had calmed down. Hello, it’s returning with a vengeance…
I scrolled to see what cock-ups I’d made…
And somehow or other, I found I’d published the blog.
But even worse, I must have put it in the WP bin!
Then I discovered that over 2 thirds of the work I’d done was no longer on the editor when I retrieved it.
All those hours of concentration amidst seizures – Gone!
It’s late and dark now. But I shall try to put some more on, but there’s no heart in it. All that work! Of course, to save space in my memory, I deleted some photographs saving space.
My self-anger is building up again as I type.
The sky is red, and I had to force myself to get up to take a photo; that’s not me, this isn’t me.
Have I died? and am having a final nightmare? 
All that stuff I’d done. Some witty, some sarcastic. But it was all a little entertaining, I thought. There were many insults about Starmer – but not now. I’m even nervous to try again. Thoroughly depressed beforehand. Knowing it could happen again if the seizures or shakes return. I’m heartbroken, I think.
I’m going to have to think about this. What to do?
Well, I’ve ‘thunk’.
I’ll not have time to reproduce the same quality as the old blog. I’ll probably never again produce one with the same wit and hilarity as the original. This makes it so much harder to cope with; it was a rare cracking blog. And I was so happy with it.
What the hell went wrong? I’ll not even try to get it as good… well, I can’t now in this mood, and there’s no time to try anyway. Depression is far too weak a word for how I feel at this precise moment in time. I’ll use my few notes and photos, but as I said, there is no heart in it after what I call the ‘Sodding-seizure-to-blame’ disaster. It’ll likely all be out of sync chronologically. I can’t remember the whats, whens and whys now – And I’m not all that bothered either. It could be messy.
I’ll do my bestest, but it’ll not be good.
Starting the second try…
Waste bags sorted.
Carer Richard, Carer Chloe. The last two were Carer Promise.
First emptying of the day catheter.
Bloody and nearly 8500ml worth!
Fogless day.
Mug of 99 tea.
Cobblers.
I just looked on CorelDraw, and I think a few original photos were on the page—I’m sure they were—but not a Bloody one!
What the hell had I been doing?
Say no more…
No record to use for two more hours.
The night shots I had to force myself to take.
Carer Promise came. In a rush, but he did listen to my moaning about myself and the computer cock-ups. Thanks, Promise.
Worries about what I wrote on the first blog…
It took me such a long time to select the wording, but I have no time now, so this will be, in short – a shame. I even smiled at the original moans when I wrote it.
Current concerns;
Getting the hearing aids mended.
I have to book an appointment. The Caregiver said they don’t, so it’s up to me to do it. So, if I can miraculously hear them on the phone and get an appointment…
Then I have to ring Easy-Link to book a lift to and from the audio centre… So, if I can miraculously hear them on the phone
If they can’t fit me in…
I have to call the audio centre to cancel the appointment and get another one made. That would be great if I could miraculously hear whoever was on the phone.
Then, I’ll have to call Easy-Link again to see if they can get it for me that day—if I can miraculously hear them on the phone. Huh!
It’s a Circus – round & round I go… getting anywhere? No!
Six weeks now, I’ve still not got my hearing aids mended!
Another problem is that the nocturnal catheter pouches are not arriving. Richard told me I had to phone the District nurses.
If I can miraculously hear them on the phone.
An unexpected box arrived last week. Thanks to Dementia Doreen and Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, I thought the box contained the night bags.
I got down to the last night’s pouch.
Ended up spending a small fortune getting some pouches from eBay and Amazon. Luckily, Amazon arrived on Monday; eBay should arrive on Tuesday. The ones I have now do not have any release valve on them, but they were two-thirds the cost of the EBay ones.
Carer Kara used to manage all these things for me; she was a blessing, not in disguise.
I had written three more problems, I think, on the first blog, but I can’t remember what they were at the moment.
Nosh!
Despite my low spirits, I countered them by telling myself that whatever lousy luck I suffered, I must deserve it. I should accept these Accifauxpa & Whoopsiedangleplops without all my childish moaning and groaning, self-castigating episodes.
What you give is often what you get – despite not knowing precisely what it is, I must be guilty of it with my luck. Did you know I did the lottery for a couple of years, my neighbour, Jock, won 18 times in 1978. I never won a sausage. So, the sins I committed must have occurred before then.
I lost the plot again there, sorry.
I still enjoyed this mini feast.
Last of the sunset!
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Fings Ain’t Wot Vey Used To Be! Hehe!
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At 0440 hrs, I most unwillingly climbed onto the side of the hospital bed and removed the Nocturnal Night Pouch. I had given the urine a too-low rating, so I must change that on the NHS card later; Carer Chris said it was a six. I keep forgetting to change it.
I gathered the waste bin bags into one and left it near the door to take to the rubbish bin later.
with me and avoided going over. 
tea and got the computer booted up. I seemed to be doing well this morning. Only Dizzy Dennis, Cartilage Chloe, and Arthur Itis have been any bother up to now. 
ensued from my innards, warning me to urgently attend the Porcelain Throne.
e leg, and then lowered it… 
which brought on Dizzy Dennis again, and I had to give it a rest for a minute or so. I tried squeezing the transfer tube, twisting the plastic bag, and even praying, 
Drinking and blogging away, and a text message came on my super-modern mobile Nokia phone. A message told me my food order would arrive today within two hours. That will be the food order I’d just told Maryham was due next Tuesday… I assume. Erm?
CorelDraw was playing up now! About an hour later, during which I got nothing achieved on the blog, the intercom chimed in. I was the food order arriving. The driver placed them in the mini-hallway for me, I thanked him, and he asked if I was over 21. I said I’ve not ordered any alcohol, only soft drinks and water? We both laughed, which was nice! Four bags 
worth. I carried them one by one into the kitchenette. I seem to have treated myself to more fish balls, fishcakes and fish fingers, too! Oh, and a bag of potato 
croquettes. I got the frozen put away first. Once again, I had to take the fish balls out of both boxes and jiggle with the food in the freezer to get them in.
It also took a bit of planning to get things in the fridge—not
Afternoon Carer Joanne came, and she was very welcome. I showed her the photo of the last pouch emptying. Can you see the fluff-looking clump that came out after I rejiggled the bag and tube again? I expected the flow to be freer on the next emptying, but no! The flow is still about the width of the darning-needle-eye… at best! I have to bend to encourage it, which merely invites the attention of 
and 
has joined in the assault! Joanne is having trouble with her catheter, so we have that in common and things were not going right for either of us.
I had another go at the blogging. And the landline chirped! It was a lady from the Social Services. The line was terrible. This reminded me that the hearing aids still need sorting out, repaired, and mended. And how do I get a lift there and back? Anyway, she asked if I had time for a Q&A session. I hadn’t really got the time. But this rare, almost unheard-of opportunity to tell someone my problems could not be missed. It was hard work, and the lady shouted some questions after I’d asked her to repeat herself a few times. I mentioned the problems with the ablutions, the hearing aids getting repaired, shopping, the bank, etc. Of course, when she rang off, I thought of so many other things I struggle to get done, but it’s too late now. 
I got some potatoes in the slow cooker. Hopefully, I can have it later with cheese. But we’ll see, it’s getting late now.
crushed cream cakes delivered earlier. Most dissapointing. It looked like finger marks on the icing and cream. The cream had left the bread altogether. Maybe not so bad. I’m going to chew them up anyway. Hehe!
Nosh started. Cheesy potatoes, fish balls, and garden peas.
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Occasionally joined in. This repeated until I resigned myself to surrendering and getting up. Marvellous, one tries to stay awake so as not to miss the footy, but that comes on, and I fall asleep. I miss the football, and then I can’t get back to sleep! Humph!
I was pleased with the colour of the urine this morning. Carer Chris gave it a Five from the NHS colour chart. Best morning shade for weeks.
I went into the kitchen to check the taps and saw the fog again. It was even thicker than it was yesterday. I could barely discern 
the lights. I assume there were some out there? I took a second shot of the view in a different photo mode. This time, I could make out some vague bits of green that must be trees?
I did the Blood Pressure on the Sphygmomanometer. It came out just inside the ‘Hyper range’; it was not high enough to cause me any concern.
I sorted all four of the waste bin bags into one. And took them to the front door. I am hoping a Carer will take them to the chute for me. I would have taken it, but with the kitchen thermometer only reading 40°F, it was just a smidgeon too cold to risk going out there yet. Haha! 
Although not as big or painful as yesterday’s monster passing, it was still enough to bring water to my eyes. Hehehe! One good thing about Constipation Conrad’s evacuation is that it leads to fewer premature escapages than Trotsky Terence’s.
At long last. I made a brew of 99 tea, got on the computer and changed the date on my almost historical clock calendar. 
.
Carer Christopher arrived as I tried to sort things out and what to try or do about it. 
came over me for about an hour. Somehow, it seems that I kept on typing away through them all. When I partially regained my faculties, I found a mess grammatically and one paragraph that did not mean anything to me, all gobble-di-gook!
Fish balls in batter, pickled beetroot, onions, green tomatoes, carrots & home-pickled water chestnuts.
Being unsure of myself, I rechecked the templates. I took this shot through the balcony door, and only the fog was seeable. It felt dreary and cold. I checked the kitchen thermometer, and it was showing only 35.6°F. 
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0530hrs: I stirred from my broken sleep for maybe the twentieth time and decided to give up on sleep and get up. I was well pleased with the limited hassle I got from Cartilage Chloe as I hoisted my mega-sized, wobbly-bodied torso onto my feet. 
Whoopsiedangleplop would arrive first. I decided to get the nocturnal pouch off the day bag first, then check to see if I’d left anything like taps running overnight again. If I find the hot water tap running this morning, it will be for the third day on the trot.
kitchenette to check the things in there. Much to my relief, I found I’d not left the hot or cold tap running. I got the kettle on and photographed the foggy, dark, dank morning. The light was from some property. It looked a little like it could be the sky, but it wasn’t; in view that couldn’t be seen were Nottinghamian’s dwellings, roads, and streets. Possibly a few burglars at work, drunks still making their way home, muggers lurking, drug deals taking place, and many Nottinghamians, perhaps still sobering up from the Christmas Day party? I made the brew of Glengettie and turned to get the milk from the fridge.
I found I’d left the fridge door open and the freezer one, too!
A few more street lights can be seen in this second photograph of the early but not-so-early morning view from the kitchenette.
Made a brew; I’ll get to drink one soon. I took it to the computer and reset my old-fashioned calendar clock.
Carer Richard arrived. The lad looked and sounded done for after his shift; I was his last call. I didn’t keep him waiting about this time like I did yesterday. He still has two leg braces on and is using a crutch-walker. I did not ask him to put the diabetic socks on for me. Bending does the lad and me no good. I’ll ask a later Carer to put the socks on, providing that I remember to, of course!
After Richard had departed on his way to a much-needed sleep, I had to pay the wet room a visit. I anticipated more trouble like yesterday from a Trotsky Terence session. I didn’t waste a second in getting in there, just in case of any unanticipated droppages before I could get myself seated.
Was back in charge! I sat there urging, painfully pushing, to encourage the monster torpedo to move; it got stuck at what felt like an inch of the way out. Refusing to budge any further!
So, I went back into the kitchen to make another one. I took another snap of the fog out there. It looks just the same now as I write this 4 hours later.
I inspected the freezer to see if anything could be risked using and what needed dishing. A costly decision to do that. But better safe than sorry. I left the thawed-out bread and cobs in there; I think they can be refrozen safely. I took the bag of throw-outs to the waste chute and threw them in.
What An Amazing Session This Was!
Do you notice the acute lack of any shaving cuts in this photo on the right? Not a single one! 
. I ended up with 
, and the
newly grown leg ulcer got a clout as I battled 
bleeding. Still, I thought I’d done a decent job in the end with the catheter.
1400hrs: And just look at the effect of the fog! Can’t even see the Christmas lights put there now. It could be dodgy for the Carers to get in. Or home!
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The result was I gave myself a bloody nose by losing my balance as I bent down to open the Catheter Valve yesterday. Then, while wiping the flow from my nasal holes, I started my cracked lips bleeding. I rather hope that they do not start again today! (They did!)
talking to me, but I was not receptive and unable to. 
As soon as Richard departed, I got the kettle on. Taking this photo from the kitchen window of morning view. Feeling more myself all the time.
after drinking the small mug of tea and getting the computer on, the day bag filled almost to the maximum. In fact, it was the backflow discomfort that made me aware of its need to be emptied again. Not only that but in the jug was nearly 800ml of waste water! I think this happened yesterday as well. It continued to fill up all day, but not as much as this one. In the middle of this emptying, no spillages!
I didn’t mention this but decided, as it had happened, I would. I had to scoot off to the wet room to use 
the Porcelain Throne when Richard was here. 
,
I collated the waste bags into one and placed it near the front door. 
I’d hit the catheter day bag, a decent wallop with the edge of the door. I laughed it off and returned to the main junk room to get the computer back on and update the blog. I would think it was about eight to ten minutes later that I realised that urine from the pouch was trickling down my leg! Once more, the sock, leg, foot and slipper had been self-unrinated on with great venom! 
Such shame, disgrace, ignominy, humiliation, and indignity!
When I zoomed in to take this picture from the kitchenette window, I got a sense that something was wrong or not right. Different somehow compared with yesterday’s viewing. I spent a ridiculous amount of time and kept returning to look with the naked eye. Was it just that the sun had sneaked through, lighting up the scene? I’d enough to worry about as it was, but this bugged me. I gave up and got on the computer. 
I went to make a brew of Glengettie and took this snap of the sky on offer. Then, it dawned on me what the difference was in the previous photo.
Imitation fish sticks, potato chunks, sliced bread with a bit of Marmite. Followed by a pot of jelly with three small pieces of satsuma in it. Very nice! This year, for Christmas lunch, inmates at His Majesties Prison New Hall will get to choose from Moroccan vegan roast, Salmon & dill fishcake, Roast turkey with pigs in blankets, and sage and onion stuffing with complete trimmings. Christmas pudding (vegan option), ice cream, Swiss Roll or banana & custard. For free, of course.
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Terrible, sad, bad shot of the urine bag.
The leg and ankle ulcers looked a smidge inflamed.
Yesterday’s Trotsky Terence’s comeback was short-lived.
Got the waste bags sorted out.
Made a start on the blogging.
The urine was getting a little lighter in colour—good! It was also flowing well. This shot was taken 25 minutes after the previous emptying and contained just under 800ml.
.
I went out on a hobble to see if I could find him. I gave up and hoped I’d done right in admitting the chap. Later, I went to lock the door and saw a packet not there before on the radiator. I think some meds from the chemist had not been delivered earlier. I wish they had called to inform me.
2140 hrs: Carer Chris arrived as I was plating the meal, so no photo was taken. It was a good one, though: beef in black bean sauce, roast potatoes, and extra seasonings.
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At 05:30hrs, I emptied the urine pouch. While doing so, I decided to close the computer down and run a Ccleaner session. Then turn off the 
computer, and get the Ablutions & Medications sorted out. 
would not let me nod off. 
medicalisationing, apart from Little Inchies Fungal Lesion, seemed to go great!
Dried and dressing gown on.
I restarted watching the film. And fell off into bliss again, missing the end of the movie! Grumph! But I do need the sleep catching up on
The sleep was a little longer this time, but I shot awake with Electric-Shocking-Sherida blasting away at me. She’s such a persistent ailment! I gave up on sleeping. Sherida had beaten me again! I took a photo of my beloved old-fashioned clock calendar. Nearing 15:00hrs. So I had to rise and get on the computer to start blog catching up all over again. Will it ever end? Hehe! I mustn’t moan; I think in between Carers calling. I got around five hours of sleep. But, I need more yet. On with the blog!
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06:15hrs. I woke. Found myself still sat 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. 
I removed the colourful nocturnal urine pouch from the day bag.
Hobbled with the stick to the kitchen and took some pathetic pictures of the morning view. It was raining, but I braved getting a little wet to get decent results. 
Being still a little early for the late sleepers, I farted about and, got a bowl of water with disinfectant and washing up liquid, and stood in it while I did my teeth & shaved. 
was instigated. 
,
! As I bent down to retrieve the stick, 
(I’ll ask the carer when he or she comes to do the back or me). The 
arms, ankles and groin. Then I 
. Next, I 
, then 
, 
where I could reach anyway, and then I 
on both knees. Used the picker-upperer and paper towels to tend to 
.
. The pain and bother from this put all the others to shame! No matter how I tried to avoid pulling on the tube, not tugging the catheter or its bag, and not catching the support strap… I did. Repeatedly!
As a final thought, after finishing the medications, I thought I’d put some Germolene on my bottom externally. But I could not seem to find the tube anywhere. I searched along the length of the floor cabinets and inside. Nope! Then, I limped with the stick to the front room to get my torch, returning to shine it down the back of the floor cabinets, which I felt was the only place the Germolene might have fallen out of 
sight. Nope! This failure to find the Germolene really annoyed me! 
As I was getting my dressing gown on…
I put the waste bags into one big one and placed it near the front door.
Then, it at least seems that I took this photo on the left for some unknown reason. It must have 
been me cause it was found in order on the SD card?
The rain was getting heavy now. I thought of the carers on their way to work and how damp they would be when they arrived at the prison. No, no, I 
meant to arrive at the flats.
I had taken a hold. Slowing down my progress even more! My c
When Sandra released things, I started to recall things, like feeling hungry and making two cheesy cob bacon rolls to eat. Despite the atrociousness of this 
photograph, and it was a lousy effort, I enjoyed it!
I think I must have taken this shot earlier. I’ve no idea when. It had to be during the seizures.
I undercooked the sausages but still ate them.
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Another partly full-of-beans awakening this morning! And why not? I’d been blessed with 8hrs in bed and only waking up with a jump three times. Yes! 
even when I had to hasten to the Porcelain Throne, I accompanied myself with a few toneless Elvis songs. And the urine I’d just emptied from the jug was a 6 on the NHS scale. I wasn’t overly worried. Then I changed to an Acker Bilk Song, ‘Bona Sera, Seniorita’, following up with Adam Faith’s ‘My Last Wish’. Yes! I was aware of my upbeatness and enjoyed it! I was bounced back to reality when I went into the kitchen from the wet room. 
I soon found myself in an instant depression 
. Self-hating, spitting, self-lambasting, and swearing began! Then 
, she kicked off yet again, but far worse than she was yesterday. Although I thought that was bad yesterday, now I know it wasn’t.
and 
I got the kettle on to brew a mug of Co-op 99 tea. Then I opened the window to take some snaps of the morning views on offer. A genuinely blue sky looked 
impressive from where I stood, holding my chest, trying to ignore Anne Gyna’s stabbing, moving around the torso’s chest pains.
A mug of tea and I planned to make a start on the blogging.
The holiday foods arrived with a few more treats. I had a heck of a job getting the stuff into the freezer & fridge, more the 
freezer.
new stuff. Tsk! 
d
Checked the tracker for the delivery.
Battered fish balls, terrible potatoes, two none-butter-buttered cheesy cobs, pickled water chestnuts, pickled mushrooms, garden peas, and a Lemon Fool dessert.
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I can remember waking up and looking at the clock. I was a trifle befuddled… it was 08:35hrs. I’d been in the bed for 8 hours, bejesus! I only woke up a few times, five maximum, methinks!
I started the daily drudgery.
I moved the prescription medications that had arrived last night into the kitchen near the medicine chest.
I cleaned the parts of the air fryer.
The new mini cooker was given the hygiene treatment. The counters, as well. Not that much of them were exposed. Now I have the mini-cooker, mini air fryer, microwave and slow cooker scattered about, filling most of the prep workspace. Tsk! 
I cleared the mess and emptied the waste bags, placing them near the front door to take to the rubbish chute later in the day.
Later, I found that it looked like this on the right. A sort of photo of nothingness? Sad!
But my energy and willpower had not faded yet! Oh, no, I seemed to have the bit between what few teeth I had left!
I made a brew of Co-op 99 tea and went with it to the computer. 
A deeper than usual 
dawned.
I hope the cruelly expensive tomatoes I bought will keep fresh enough until I need them. I’ll have some tonight with something or other. Or not.
The black tomatoes are already turning to a brown colour.
Tomato sarnies – with No-butter-butter.