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Despite the lurking and attacking throughout the busy day, computer and camera problems, Seizure Sandra, Dizzy Dennis, and Electric Shocking Sherida, there was an element I’ve not experienced since… Oh, let me think… erm… 2007!
“The District Nurse gave me a kiss!”
Thanks to Electric Shocking Sherida, I slept on and off, from the ankle up the leg. The nocturnal pouch was again only partly filled, and the tube held almost brown urine stuck in it—the blowback discomfort was not a good experience.
I got the pouch and went through the same routine as yesterday. Throwing the bag around and shaking the ultra-thick tube until the flow restarted and the blowback pains eased. The nocturnal pouch filled very quickly. Once I’d got the night bag off, the farting diddy day bag filled up straight away. I had to keep emptying it all day. The bending down so often upset Dizzy Dennis. But as of now, 17:05hrs, just the one tumble, but I didn’t go down on the floor; I fell in the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop bought, second-hand, wincingly grotty, beige coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy & dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping, recliner.
I sensed the blood coming from Harold’s Haemorrhoids and made for the wet room to clean and medicate things. Pain and blood, but no evacuations of anything else. I gave up and started to do my other ablutionary duties. Teggies, nasal clearing, earhole olive-oiling, then got shaving. A few nicks here and there, but I’ve had far worse. A good body scrubbing, no areas missed off. Hehe!
Then, it was Harold’s Germoloiding time. The Catheter scars on the leg were Germolened, as were the under-tummy flab area
and the man’s breasts with a barrier cream. I left the painful one till last. Dang, dang, dang, Dang! The Nerisone ointmentating of poor Little Inchies fungal lesion. Now how can I describe the pain when I
rub it in? Dire, agonising, grinding, yes, they’ll do! Agonising was left for Constipation Conrad’s visits to the. Well, the first two produced nothing but pain. The third attempt, while Carer Chloe was present, was classed as Super-Agonising as the brick-like content slowly crept out. Amazingly, there was very little bleeding, just a few specs in the evacuated product. Sorry, this tale of woe is out of sync. I can’t find my earlier reminder pages.
Perhaps I threw away the wrong sheet.
I know. It’s hard for anyone who knows my lucid, alert character to think I may have forgotten something. ![]()
The list was lingering this morning.
turned up and looked after me; it was grand. She rang the Doctors for me, making an appointment for Saturday, October 6th, for the Respiratory Syncytial Virus (RSV) vaccination. Chloe looked at the catheter mess and rang the District Nurses for me. Someone will come out today to check it over. Iceland delivery arrived while she was here. She helped bring the bags in and assisted me in putting some of
them away. Bless her. She took the waste bags with her as she left. Thank you, Chloe.
I put the rest of the stuff away; there wasn’t much. Three annoying substitutes: They always substitute bread they have none of with the same loaf, which tastes like paper. It was flavourless and broke up if you dunked
it or tried to spread No-Nutter Butter on it!
They did have a new fresh meal in a bag, 3 for £10, which I tried.
I opened one of the boxes, and it can be cooked; the meat and gravy in the bag, not the box, Hehehe! In five minutes. There was more fat than meat, but I’m a fair man, so I’ll hold any more judgement until I see how it tastes later. I must be unprejudiced, even against a company that takes off the delivery charge if you spend £40, then adds a Bags, Picking & Packing charge. But at least with them, you know something will be out of stock, and c
rap substitutes will be sent; as for the crushing of the fresh food…
We had a smattering of rain laterer a lot, mind you. I had a stroke of good luck as I closed the balcony window. The camera fell, and I caught the shoulder strap, so I saved any damage!
The District Nurse arrived and said she would order some short-leg-tubed catheters for me. I’ll have many limbs and parts shorter than they should be. Naturally, the almost brown urine that had been stuck in the tube and the fresh wee were much lighter now that she had arrived. Humph!
Two hours later, as I hope you can see in this photo, I’m glad Carer Sham saw it to prove I was not crying wolf. Sham told me the urine in the day bag was equal to a seven on the NHS chart. The tube was again blocked with brown urine, and the flow-back sensation in the bladder was uncomfortable; I put that mildly, mind you.
The drizzle drop stopped, and I got the Kodak to take this shot from the kitchenette window.
Then Carer Christopher came. His first shift back at work. Medications were given, and we had a quick chinwag-waffling session. Then, off Chris trotted.
Two sunset photos were taken as I went to check that I’d not left the oven on high and the hot water tap running, too. Tsk! Nitwit! I assembled the needs to cook the beef in gravy and make oven-cube roast potatoes. I’d accrued a bit of enthusiasm for this meal-making
Everything is in place; I got the oven warming up for the potatoes. Carer Chris arrived.
His last call of the day.
I told him of my losing the thousands of photos from the computer. And that I was struggling to get some more taken to replace them.
Chris took some snaps of me on the computer without me realising while he was making up the medications. I found them on the camera after he’d gone. Bless him. Here’s one of them. I must have been in mid-moan status as I appeared to be grumbling over something on the computer screen. Another cock-up?
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The cook-in-the-bag beef and gravy that looked so fatty would be cooked in the microwave oven. It takes five minutes, but I found the nouse to use the necklace timer as I put the potatoes in the preheated oven. I knew that they would take around 40 minutes, so I set the timer on my neck for 30 minutes, and then I got the meat in the microwave.
The chunks of fat in the bag merged with the gravy, and it tasted okay to yours truly!
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TTFNski, Each!
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climb out of the bed
Sod, all done, tons to get done.
computer. When am I going to get the shower and shave?
As the seizures eased and the catheter had been emptied for about the eighth time, Carer Chloe arrived. She took this photo of the stupid, harmful, annoying, frustrating, miniscule day pouch fitted.
I apologised for boring her with my moaning and thanked her as she departed.
It seemed to get misty again.
something else instead. I was well peed off with things. That is putting it mildly. 
Took this sunset photo.
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The Carer said this one was a 6 on the NHS scale.
To the wet room. The scab had come off the knee injury from when I took another tumble. The bottom of the leg had gone down a lot, but not the knee area
Constipation Conrad must have taken a vacation yesterday cause he’s back again. Arghh!
Just look at this later catheter bag emptying colour. It seems more like the colour of weak tea!
I saw the smoke on the horison and took the above shots.
Took a decent shot of the early evening sky.
Then, I took this terrible shot later while checking how the cooking was progressing.
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I stirred into an unwanted imitation existence around 05:00 hrs. It was not the usual bursting awake this time. It was more of a gradual, reluctant acceptance of whatever the day ahead held for me, but not with any hopes or expectancy for anything I would really like or want. That was a bad start, emotionally.
The nocturnal and the day bag pouch it attached to were almost empty. Jiggling the large night bag and spinning it around before throwing it away from me onto the carpet did the trick. A deluge of wee-wee came through from the bladder, through the day and into the night bag. But there was not a lot of it. With flowing so quickly, I thought it would be much fuller. I also thought I could sense some flow-back. But of course, what do I know.
I pottered about, unhurriedly getting out of bed and in a semi-upright position. Off to the kitchen to check that the taps and cooker had not been left on
Moments after this, I was doing the ablutions, having a stand-up wash and shave… and singing away to myself? Frank Ifields, ‘She Taught Me to Yodel’
I put my feet in a bowl of water with some Dettol and stood in it while I brushed my teeth and shaved. Only one was unseen; it was cut in the neck hole at the back. I dropped the shaving foam, which landed in the bowl and hit the ingrowing toenail on my right foot. I laughed it off, honestly!
I removed the reserve camera, with which I took most of today’s shots, from the new extension thingamabob in the hallway. It worked a treat. Also, I could use the clothes airer at the same time now to dry my towels. I felt around the plastic to see if anything had heated up overnight, but they all seemed cool.
There was an almost cheery period, then for an hour or so, during which I reverted to worrying about things but ignored any signs of depression. I think it was lurking, ready for a comeback, but I would not let it do so then! I got a large waste bag made up from the other three bins and popped it near the front door.
Carer Precious arrived. I showed him the scars from Cathy
He took an unintended photo of his own foot
I took a terrible photo halfway through shelling the last of the gorgeous fresh garden peas. I managed to drop no end, but I got three escapees back.
I put the peas into a basin ready to cook later. While I was doing these, there were no signs of Dark Dank Depression Duncan.
I forgot to ask Carer Precious to take the waste bag with him. I added a small one with some clothes no longer needed, I can’t get into them nowadays, to the other near the front door. Well, I’ve not got a back door in the flat. Har-har!
down there on the floor to clear some out. So, I grabbed the bigger picker-upperer. I started to try to remove some of the detritus hidden from normal view. What a Mistaker to Maker!
the weight of my leg. I’m not surprised by the size of the leg that was blown up in this photo. The patella has merged with the surrounding flash and can hardly be identified. Haha! So, after trying a few times, you can see why I could not get back up after all!
I went to put the meat in the oven, make another mug of tea, and take this snap of the front car park.
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It was back on the computer after making another brew of Gengettie to go cold. The first severe bout of 
The chips were undercooked, and the beetroot was harder than the ball-bearing peas on the kitchen floor. The eggs and yoghourt were okay.
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Not a lot, but clear.
First view.
Guess where I went…
Second photo.
While up, I got the pander peas podded.
I shelled them and put them in the pan with some demerara sugar, and this time, I used ordinary salt.
I was sorely tempted to start on the booze again.
I’ve no idea why I put this on? I took it weeks ago.
And stayed in there for about three hours!
The spuds were left for another hour and a half before I remembered about them!
The meal didn’t look attractive.
But it tasted good to me.
Looked a little like a water painting job.
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0:45hrs: Pretty yellow wee-wee. N
From the kitchen.
I got some clothes that no longer fit me and made two more bags. I don’t know how I can get them to the charity shop. I’m not putting the old stuff in it; they went in the waste bags.
The Morrison order arrived.
I think my feeling as depressed as I am may be worse than the frustration of not being able to pull out of it?
So, everything else was backlighted.
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I decided to get the ablutions tackled. And although something had to go wrong, it was chicken feed compared to my usual disasters.
my diabetic socks off! Then offing the straps from the pathetic new catheter contraption. Painfully, I
Still, apart from this, I’d done well! As I emptied the pouch for the fifteenth time today, I saw how good the legs looked. Even the ankle ulcers seemed to be calmer. And incidentally, I’ve hardly had any of the expected lighting strikes from
Took this snap of the clouds as I started getting the food prepared.
I was happy with the result of the food prepping.
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Something’s gone wrong with Cathy Cathere’s Contraption. A great colour, but so little urine in there? It was a terrible night’s sleep. I’d estimate I managed a maximum of around two hours. One or two minutes at a time, then bursting awake with either a tug at or pushing in of poor Little Inchie from the too-thick and too-long catheter tube. Or
However, I was absolutely exasperated with and sick of hearing myself moan, feeling so melancholy, dejected, useless, and at the lowest point in my life. I made a concerted effort to spring myself out of this feeling of self-hatred and despondency, although I had no idea how to do that. 

must have.
I sorted out what to have for my nosh. I decided on a sweet and sour vegetable ready-made meal. I added half a jar of sauce, with a can of peas thrown into the saucepan to add when the
Chinese are cooked. Fingers crossed.
Can you see what this young, youthful, pareidoliaing addict can do in the snap on the left in the clouds? A double-headed creature of some sort? Also, some cat’s heads?
I came across this one on the right in the morning while updating.
Ah, I can recall with one with some pleasure. First, I’d put some chips in the oven. Later, I warmed up the sweet and sour vegetable ready-made meal in the microwave and added a tin of peas. I bundled it all in a dish and feasted away.
Got the dishes washed and tried but failed on the Porcelain Throne.
I settled down to watch two episodes of ‘Heartbeat’.
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Usual dark wee-wee.
Nice dark morning.
Bright lights.
He’s only just weakening!
Lighting up.
I selected another ready meal to have later.
back on. Yet, I was cleaning the kitchen sink. How the heck can that be? I found a photo that I can’t recall taking, and when I got back to the computer, what a mess I’d made. I uploaded the wrong day’s graphics and photos; I had to delete and rearrange them. Only to find I’d made the same error again!
Took this photo later. Eerie clouds, I liked it.
Forgot to take a photo of the meal until I was ¾ of the way through eating it. Not bad.
This last photo looked similar to the one this morning?
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crumb-containing, TV remote hiding, not working recliner. I nodded of quickly, waking
As I checked the nocturnal pouch, I discovered the urine looked murky, to say the least. Yet it was not such a deep colour today.
full of incomplete crosswords over the years. It still is
I didn’t find a single solution, and I had no success with the evacuation struggle. Then I washed and got the computer booted up. They don’t use that term much nowadays, do they? 
well for an end-of-shift call, bless him.
Then, I made another trip to the Porcelain Throne, hopes high, as the last visit was not so painful.
Back on the computer again.
Off Sharon flew, and I got seated on the computer chair.
The leg straps had opened, causing the pouch to sink even lower down my leg. The exit tube is now resting and leaking again on the top of my foot!
Lamb meat (shredded) with extra-thick gravy, mint, and oven chips. Wholemeal Bread thins and a dessert pot.
TTFN
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Slept for a full 3 uninterrupted hours. 03:00hrs to 06:00.
Another long session was spent on the
wind from the rear end! I put on a fresh gown, olive-oiled both of the earholes and took a Senna tablet in hopes of encouraging some movement from the rear end.
Next, I creamed and ointmentated various gargantuan-sized wobbly belly areas requiring the same treatments.
mugs-a-day ruling… is it too early? Will I want a third cup later tonight? Could I care less? I made one. And let it go cold after I’d started on the blog!
I wiped the mug and prepared it for the next brewing of tea later on. Then, I took this photo from the kitchen window. It doesn’t show well, but I saw some items
on the bottom of the upward-trodden path. I zoomed in close to identify what they were
I was working on the ode of the day
created in the building up of mass in the solid matter. Hahaha!
I took even more of the anti
the inserted instructions leaflets.
I was on CorelDraw and was alternating with this WordPress blog, and got blowback pains from the catheter tube stuck in Little Inchie. Had a look and, to my utter amazement, found the pouch so full, hard and heavy; it had tugged at Little Inchie, causing some bleeding again.
manually again. I’d hate to think I could and had had the darned
time. I’m off to the Throne. And yet again, no evacuation!
Five minutes after getting back to
of effort, struggles, and phenomenal pain, at last, the blood-covered, almost cube-shaped lumps of concrete passed! Ahhh

What an evening view I took from the kitchen window.