Didn’t have time to feel sorry for myself, as Carer arrived to encourage me to bear the pain and ease my elephantine body from the recliner. Where I’d fallen asleep, but not until late in the morning, and no sooner got up and regained my balance, had I to hobble hastily to the Porcelain Throne. Utterly convinced another tsunami was on the way. I was totally wrong.
I took a c
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Porcelain two attended to; harder than ever!
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Unknowingly, I’d dipped the sleeve of my dressing gown in the soya and water. I wasn’t too much bothered; I didn’t swear or curse or feel sorry for myself… not even when I scalded a finger. 
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During the day, I lost my mobile again, my camera, and my remote control. I found the camera and realised I may not have enough ready cash to pay for taxis to and from the hospital tomorrow. This called for a concentrated search 
I took a snap of the room I searched with the newly found camera, but I did a poor job of it.
That was slightly better, but not good, shame.
So, I tried taking a couple of photographs from the 
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No cuts while shaving, but I did drop the razor twice. Freshened up with aftershave and body spray. Got barrier cream on a tissue, lifted up my mammoth flabby stomach, and applied the cream. Then around the genitals. Then applied the haemorrhoid cream to the piles.
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As I left to prepare the meal, I suddenly felt weary, all-in. But feeling hungry, I pressed on. Unbelievable, the amount of things I dropped, lost, or couldn’t find. I genuinely thought I was going bonkers… And still feeling so tired… Settling to eat the meal was its usual farce. I put the tray on the chair. Got my feet on the chair, the tray on my knee and feet up on the chair. No relaxing, though; I realised I had not yet found the remote to put the TV on. Feet down, tray back on the chair, and searched for the remote – I did find the torch, but not the remote. Then I dropped the remote as I sat on it and turned the TV on… that made me jump, hehe!
Settling to eat the meal, yet again, I put the tray on the chair. Got my feet on the chair, the tray on my knee and feet up on the chair.
By which time, the meal had dried out. Did not look the slightest bit appealing, and I’d lost my appetite.
Three-quarters went into the bin. Got up and washed the pots. Returned with a lemon-curd yoghourt, went back to get a spoon, back to the recliner. I got my feet on the chair, quilt over the legs, night pouch on the floor, and watched some lower league football matches I’d recorded yesterday. Then I turned off the TV and waited for sleep to arrive, hoping to get an early start in the morning.
To feel more up to preparing, dressing, and getting ready for the taxi to the hospital for cataract surgery. Fell asleep 6 hours later. Humph!
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Tag: Memory Mangling Malcom
Inchie: Saturday 26th Sept 26
YESTERDAY – ONE: Calamity!
The Catheter Blocked!
The bladder pained…
Agony was confirmed,
Hospital trip, anticipated,
Frustrations were expected,
Fear of this was identified,
From my penile lesion, urine flowed,
On my clothes, body, carpet it sprayed,
Daren’t say how bad it smelled,
My mobile was disconnected…
I’d weed on it; I suspected,
My recliner got properly soaked,
Later, clothes will need to be laundered,
Landline used, hearing aids not mended,
Summoned District Nurses, then waited,
Took some Morphine, lesion medicated,
More urine involuntarily jettisoned,
Towels used, my leak was barricaded,
Two nurses came, problem was mended,
Fears of a hospital trip were suspended,
I know I am hexed, unlucky, jinxed…
Bless them both, for getting things fixed!
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YESTERDAY – TWO: Calamity!
Last night, the late Carer helped me prepare my meal of the day before he left. I
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I carried out the health checks and popped to the Porcelain Throne for a marathon evacuation session. The day pouch was slowly filling up, so when I got back to the computer, I began drinking more water than usual to encourage the bladder to keep flowing, slowly.
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The first two efforts were, at best, rather pathetic.
So, I gave up and got the kettle on to make a brew
Didn’t do a very good job of that either. Did I? Tsk!
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Anyone know where I put my Andy Cap, please?
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Carer arrived and gave me my medications. Put on my diabetic socks and applied cream to my neck, shoulders, and back. I was surprised when the bladder kicked off, angina and my back all at the same time. Since I’ve been on the Morphine, I’ve never had to take the permitted dosage of four in one day. I got up to three today.
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Things didn’t help when a medical delivery driver rang the intercom, and t would not let me open the door. I waited a while; I was answering an email from Jenny when the intercom rang.
I went down to see if the driver had left it in the outer foyer or ground floor lobby. I couldn’t see anything. I came back up to see if it had come up while I was on my way down. But no. Then I got a text message telling me it had been delivered safely. As I was getting ready to go down again, I got a second email saying the parcel had been delivered. I went down and checked around; no sign of it, and Jenny came down to the lobby to help, bless her. Later, when a Carer was here, the door chime rang. It seems the driver handed the box to a tenant, and he brought it up for me. Oh, when I went back up a second time, I found a letter on the floor; I still can’t find where I put it. I’ll ask the Carer to search for it in the morning.
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Inchie: Thursday 24th September 2026
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THURSDAY 24th SEPTEMBER 2026
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Another messy, sparse blog today, amongst the reasons: losing yesterday’s part-created blog, so much to do in vain hope of again catching up. Everything is taking so much longer. Correcting the cock-ups is costing so much time. But possibly the worst: my sciatica this morning was at the worst pain-wise it’s ever been. Hence, my concentration is terrible. Oh, and I’ve got the trots! (Friday) Badly. Curiously, so has Carer Andrew.
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I suspect things may be out of sync, missed, and commented wrongly. Today was a bad day; tomorrow was even worse. Pain-wise, as I belatedly start this blog.
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06:00hrs; Pains, aches, and the start of the trots. On the first visit, I hobbled hastily to the WC, squirted out a loud of stinky-phoo. Stood up to clean myself… and slipped, falling onto the WC, scattering rolls, sprays and medications off of the floor cabinet as I fell.
Getting myself up on my feet again, I saw the reason for my slip… God knows how I didn’t realise it, but I’d dropped a dollop of phoo on the floor en route to the 
cleaner bleach on the pile after getting what I could up using paper towels and the long picker-upper. I sprayed it and left it to soak.
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Taken through the balcony inner doors. I got the hoover out and used it in the main room and mini-hallway.
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As I decided to take another strong painkiller as angina was kicking off, I got a Morphine tablet and put it on the blog’s notepad, and shot off back to the Porcelain Throne again. When I returned, that capsule looked like it had exploded in the photo I’d taken. It hadn’t, mind you, just looked like it had. Hehe!
My shaking hands have been creating unintended weird photographs lately.
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In this one, the sky came out almost white, but it didn’t look white to my eyes. As I said, my photographic skills are on the wane.
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Then yesterday’s contrails.
It looked a little darker now, just a couple of minutes after taking the other snap.
Nature of wonderful!
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Earlier, Ejaz took the laundry down to the laundrette, then went down to move it into one of the dryers. Said Carer Edward would c
When he came, he didn’t collect it; he never does. He comes up to the 12th floor, comes in and registers his arrival, then goes down to collect the laundry. He didn’t hang them up, leaving them crammed in the bag. When Carer Imran (I think) arrived, he kindly emptied the bag and hung up the clothes. Reporting that some dressing gowns were still wet. He put them on the balcony to catch any sun we may get tomorrow.
My memory is crumbling. I’m sure I knew and recognised every Carer’s name a month ago, but not now! Same with the medications; I keep having to look on a box to find the name of the ones I used earlier. I wrote down the names of the Alzheimer’s dementias I had confirmed last Wednesday at the appointment with a psychiatrist; that didn’t happen. But can I remember where I wrote them? Nope! I looked them up: Alzheimer’s, Lewy body, & Vascular dementia. I’ve added them to my notebook WP Edit page; surely I’ll remember that? Well…
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Boiled some small potatoes in the crock pot, with added soy sauce. Then, when nearly ready, I put a bake-at-home stone-baked 400g baguette
in the oven. Staying nearby, for fear of sitting down and falling asleep. I halved some small red and yellow tomatoes and salted them. Added the spuds, put some Teriyaki sauce on them on the tray.
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ARGH! £2,500!
I lost all interest very quickly – immediately!
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May your Foibles Ferment with Fun!
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Inchie: Wednesday 23rd Sept 26 – Psychotherapist Day… Well…
I’d been waking up so often during the night, fretting over 
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When I’d finished cursing, I got a heat pad stuck on my back, and pondered over things needing doing for the visit to the hospital. I thought it a good idea to put the lists Jenny had kindly checked and printed for me into the three-wheeled walker, so I wouldn’t forget later.
Stubbing my ingrown toenail on the wheel of the trolley, I again laughed it off. 
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Carer Andrew arrived; he put some cream on my back and… remembered to put my diabetic socks on. On me, I meant. Hahaha! Medications given, got on his mobile and then off he shot without any ceremony.
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Then I went to the wet room, spending the longest I have ever spent evacuating the almost-water product.
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I did what I could, but time was running out as I waited for the Carer, and luckily the nurse came earlier than planned, and she checked the leg wound, gave them the okay, and hastily got me dressed. Bless her
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After all the hard work Jenny had done to get a four-page list of questions to be asked; typed, printed, and put into envelopes; the lady told me she and the psychiatrist ve had a meeting and decided, after getting her report, that I had two Dementias. Mixed Dementia: Frontotemporal & Vascular Dementia, and this has now been confirmed.
All without the man or woman meeting or talking to me.
I was hoping to spread the word about my not coping, getting things done and would love to be moved into a home to finish my life without frustration.
Well, summat like that.
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She told me I would not see her again; nothing further could be done for me.
So, thus and therefore, my first ever meeting with a psychiatrist did not mature.
I’ve never seen a ghost either, ready to see the Grim Reaper after today, though. Hahahah!
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As we left, I felt guilty and sorry for Jenny. Guilt for not realising they had held their own meeting and decided my fate. And for asking Jenny for her help with the long list, which she did, thinking it would help, and it was unneeded! All that work she did!
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The taxi Ejaz ordered arrived. In the biggest BMW I’ve ever seen! It needed help from Ejaz and the driver, plus a plastic stool to stand on, to get into it. Amazingly, I looked around and asked Ejaz what all this was for in the back of the cab. There were mobile charging points, cup holders, a big shaded glass roof, and buttons to heat the seat if needed! No wonder the trip cost so much.
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We got home; Ejaz had to move on to his next client. I still felt terrible that Jenny’s work wasn’t used. The lady did ask if she could let the psychiatrist see the printout.
I agreed readily and said This is the lady that keeps me going; I’d be glad if he/she would read it.
I went into a semi-depression then, and decided to tell it how it went when I phoned Jenny. I felt bad.
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Carer Ahmed, or was it Carer Imran? Well, one of them did the late call. We managed a laugh or two. A rarity.
He took off the diabetic socks, applied some heat gel to the lower back, and issued painkillers. No Peptac, because I’d not eaten yet, not even started cooking it.
He did the safety checks and asked if I knew the oven was on. I pointed out that I was going to use it after he’d departed, but could I remember what I was going to cook? No! He laughed as I said, “Well, I could blame my bad memory on having Frontotemporal & Vascular Dementia, both types of Alzheimer’s.” But seriously, this past week, my memory has got so much worse. And I swear that the arithmaphobia has, too.
The Carer had a look at the medical returns and pointed out that the urine in millimetres passed, that is, arrived at by adding up each jug emptied and dividing it by the number of jugs used. I had got both figures wrong. I’ll have to correct them on the next chart. Good of him to notice and inform me; he even worked out what they should have been. He checked the taps and suggested, after I recalled that it was the cheap end bits of bacon I was going to cook, that I stay there in the kitchen the whole time. He’s not been coming for a long time, but he’s picked up the things I get wrong quickly. I usually go into the front room and fall asleep until the fire alarm goes off and wakes me. (Not often, though!) This is part of why I miss Mirza, who hasn’t called for such a long time, and Ejaz, who calls far less often nowadays; they are both reliable lads. I am disappointed.
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Back to the dinner making. Started by making two thick-sliced sarnie sandwiches with small-cut pickle spread on the bread. Got the spuds and tomatoes on the foil tray. (Not so much washing-up to do) Added some Sesame Soy sauce, and settled into the £300 second-hand shop-bought, c1966, moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not working recliner to watch an episode of my favourite, ‘Heartbeat’, on the TV and eat the meal.
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INCHIES TALES OF WOE
This did not, of course, go exactly to plan.
I didn’t need to say that really, did I?
As I recall it, the first thing was that I’d left my torch on the balcony. So I had to get up, go out, open the balcony door, grab the torch, close the door, come back in, and almost settle into the recliner…
When I turned on the TV, I realised that I’d still got my reading glasses on. Painfully removed my colossally moribund disabled body from the recliner, stubbing my toe as I got to the computer desk, swapped glasses, returned to the recliner…
As I settled into the least painful position so as not to set my back off again, then, at long last, I bit heartily into the first bacon sarnie… And dropped it! I’m ashamed to say, I swore and cursed. As I got out of the recliner, I used a kitchen towel to clean up the spilt pile of no butter, butter, sauce, pickle and bacon from my dressing gown, legs, feet and the poor, now dingy carpet.
Got settled again, and ate the meal and still found it satisfactory under the delayed eating process.
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Inchie: Tuesday 22nd September 2026
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Did I want to cry? Did I use foul language in self-lambasting myself? Well, not at first…
The instant I found that I dished the notes of the day, thinking that I didn’t need them, now, and of course, now needing them… these two Whoopsiedangleplops may well have caused another stroke or heart attack.
Self-loathing, abhorrence, aversion and hatred showed their disgust, and repeated self-cursing did not help.
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Without my notes to refer to, I sometimes left me guessing why I took only a few photos.
Reasons, news and points of interest were lost.
Of course I’m doing this Wednesday morning. Making recollections even dimmer and scarcer. Grumph!
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A food order arrived…
did I take this snap?
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She had amended some things for me and was waiting for my reply to the suggested changes.
I emailed them back, accepting all her ideas; Jenny did a grand job on them and said hubby Frank would bring them up for me. This proves the value of all the help and advice Jenny & Frank give me. Bless them.
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Frank arrived and told me about the fire alarm, so I took these snaps above…
Poor Frank had to walk up six flights of concrete fire escape stairs to get to me. The lifts self-disable when a fire alarm goes off. I was so appreciative of his help, but felt a smidge of guilt.
I felt genuinely heartwarmed when Frank handed me a packet of wafers and two envelopes containing the list of the four lists of things I have to take to the Psychologist meeting, from Jenny.
So kind and thoughtful; she had made two copies, one envelope for the Doctor, whatever he is, and one for me, printed in larger fonts, so I could follow as the man/woman asks about each needed piece of information. She knew, remembered the cataract and hearing aid loss situation. ❤️
Perfect, great idea, lovely, and kind idea.
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About 23:00 hrs; the dailymeal..
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Inchie: Monday 21st September 2026
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07:15hrs: After another awful night of disturbed sleep, I slowly started to move and feel out the pains in the body.
Carer Andrew came in, asking what painkillers I needed. I was still confused, half asleep and thought the back pain, shoulders, angina & toothache were well calmed, during which he asked me twice again. Then I opted for one codeine & two paracetamol. He slapped on some back gel, and I convinced him to put the diabetic socks on for me. The slippers he forgot about. But progress was made. I asked him to remind the boss about the upcoming psychiatrist appointment & me needing a Carer to go with me. Of course they will no doubt leave before the meeting is over, just like the last two I went to. To get to their next client. If it is not Wjaz or Mizra who goes, there is no point; they are the only two who understand my problems and can answer questions about any changes from the Doctor, dentist, neurologist, audiologist, or EENT.
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It was all clear!
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This shot was taken to the left of the window.
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Hornwoggled again!
Depressed? Me?
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At long last, after weeks of trying to find the time, I got around to reading the comments! A lot of them!
At last, I’ve got caught up! Sorry it took me ages.
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Carer Ejaz called. He is going to get me a list of medications that the EENT and psychologist need for the meetings. A good lad.
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I then spent four hours making up the required details needed for the meetings, during which I lost them all!
Had to start over again. No idea what I did wrong.
Boulderdash, Cragnangles & Boild Turnips!
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My Angel Jenny said I could email her the list, and she could check it and let me know anything I may have missed or got wrong; I can change them, and Jenny will then print it out for me to take with me to the EENT and psychologist appointments. Bless her ❤️
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So it, angina has just kicked off; can’t win them all!
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Almost bedtime now.
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Inchie: Sat/Sun 19-20th September 2026
Lymph Water leaking from the leg
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you wouldn’t believe what came on.
The Catheter blocked; agony. Took an Ezetimibe and Codeine straight away. Then angina and my back played up, as lymph water flowed again from both leg wounds. Just to add a little variety to the proceedings, cramps and toothache kicked off.
I didn’t call the nurses at that time of day, not wanting to be sent to the hospital by taxi again. I couldn’t dress myself anyway. The tablets did little to ease the pain, and I kept doing things to take my mind off them a little.
By 03:30, I could take no more and rang the nurses. They were very busy and told me to ring 111, or I could call back after 08:00hrs.
Then, I’m not joking; between 0330 and 0400hrs, I was stuck on the toilet. I could not get out. Every time I started to clean up the blood and poo, I needed to go again… 8 times! I hobbled back into the front room to take more medications, and the phone rang. A chap said he’d rung four times; staff were outside and could not get in. Of course I was incarcerated in the wet room and could not hear. He checked my name, DOB & address, and realised it was not my place they were at! A male nurse is on his way.
I was thoroughly confused.
Minutes later, the intercom rang. I pressed the open button, and it went dead!
I fumbled about to get a dressing gown on, no footwear, of course, to get down to admit him, and got the walking frame ready to use as the doorbell chimed and he came in. Now for some Grrreat News!
The chap looked all worn out; he was just about to go home when he got the message. He got me on the bed, asked a few questions, and told me he was going to try to force the urine in the bladder to move. He thought my rear-end escapades (constipation) may have had an effect on my bladder. A short, sharp twang of pain from the blow-bubble thing, and 15 seconds later the urine pouch had filled to the maximum! Wonderful relief!
The other pains remained, even now, but they are piffle compared to the flow-back pains. The tired-out medical genius had saved the day. 👍🏻 I was so happy, I sent a thank-you email to the surgery and nurses for their help, which I got when I took a tumble getting into the Doctor’s surgery. and for this saviour genius who called at 04:30hrs, freed me from worrying about going into the hospital Stalag, and got the Catheter working again.
Thank you all!
Then Edward arrived; he’s so good at ignoring me. Skilled at changing the subject when I ask him for something. He knows how to confuse me, easily. I was telling him he had failed to put my diabetic socks on for two days; I glanced at him, and he was on his mobile. Still, it perked him up a bit; he made me a mug of tea and got my socks on. Applying the Phorpain, I saw the lymph water had stopped leaking! YeeHAA!
But I was, and still am, in a better mood after being saved from a trip to the torture chamber… I mean, hospital. 
Then, the Sunday Morning Floods!
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In the wet room, I found that it was flooded, too!
As I was about to get it tested and, if need be, call the NCC Maintenance, the door chime rang out, and Carer Andrew came in. He gave me a hand, trying to do anything that would involve me bending down, bless him.
I asked Andrew to take the wet rugs out first. Which he did. I got the shower going, which had been used only once in four weeks, as the Carers do not have time to help me shower. Occasionally, one will help me have a stand-up wash and clean areas I cannot reach. Lower legs and back mainly. I wondered if this lack of use may have contributed to the drain failure?
Pleasingly, when the shower was turned on, the drain gurgled and worked. I hosed the bits and pieces of dropped bandages, protection-pant fluff, and even noticed a couple of garden peas go down the drain.
Don’t ask. Hahaha!
I tried to get as much down the drain as possible with the cheap long-stick sponge. Later went to check that I’d got rid of the water, as only a few specks came through the kitchen towel I put down.
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Andrew issued the medications, pain-gelled the shoulders, neck and back. He asked if I needed the diabetic socks on; I said yes, as I went back to the wet room to make sure the drain was still working. All looked okay. But we both forgot about putting the socks on.
A proper pair of clots!
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I lost several hours trying to get the new drive attached to the new computer, but the installer wouldn’t work, to no avail. So, yet again, I had to move things into a new file and delete them from the old file to save memory.
Everything I do is taking me so much longer with this new computer! Adding the extra medical things I need, I can see I’ll have to give up blogging soon. I do love it, though; well, I used to. Since the new Carers started, the problems I can’t solve keep increasing. British Gas, still not solved. Six promised arrangements were made for an engineer to call to look at the meter; none arrived. Carer Ejaz has been in control of sorting this out, and has done his best. But he calls far less frequently nowadays. Which is doing me no good, frustration-wise.
Now the medical needs are increasing. It’s going to need more in the near future (starting the week after next).
The cataract lasering (EENT-QMC) is taking place next Tuesday or Wednesday. From last time, I know this will need extra care until my vision returns. Various drops to be put in the eye, four times a day. Both Lymphohrea wounds will need the socks on in the morning and off at night. (But this is not happening, so the problems with them will continue for longer, needing more attention).
The psychiatrist’s monthly meetings start next week as well, adding time, Carer, and taxi costs.
We still haven’tmade an appointment at the Audio Clinic to have both hearing aids mended. Without them, it is hard for me to make and receive phone calls. The neurologist appointment has been cancelled again.
Am I moaning or just mentioning?
My chances of getting into a home are minimal, hopeless, to impossible. But I believe this move is my only hope of retaining my sanity and getting a little life back as I await the Grim Reaper’s attention. Yes, it will be more costly… but not when you realise how much I’m paying for the Carers. I could solve my known-but-can’t-do-anything-about-it problems with ordering food online. I wouldn’t need to order food online. Maybe they will offer a lift to a supermarket for occupants? Give lifts to hospital appointments? That will save me costly taxis to the Dentist, opticians, doctors, neurologist, audiologist, urology departments, outpatients, cardiac, psychiatrist, A&E; all currently needing Carer & taxi costs.
I was given this advice about my upcoming first meeting with a psychiatrist: Preparing for your first NHS psychiatric assessment (often called an appraisal or evaluation) involves gathering your medical history and current symptoms so the Doctor can understand how best to support you (PDP).
What to Prepare Before the Appointment
1) List your symptoms: Write down what you have been feeling, when the issues started, and how they affect your daily life, work, or relationships.
2) Gather medication details: Make a clear list of all current and past medications, doses, and any herbal supplements or vitamins you take.
3) Note your history: Write down any past mental health diagnoses, treatments, therapy experiences, or significant life events, history and definitely stresses.
4) Prepare questions: Jot down anything you want to ask about potential diagnoses, treatment paths, or available support services.
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Am I moaning or just mentioning?
Does it matter?
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This may take me too long; with the appointment in four days and busy days, I won’t have the time.
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Home Sweet Home.
Now, tonight, the Catheter pouch isn’t filling up!
Well, I mean tomorrow morning, 01:20hrs
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Inchie Today: No Carer arrived for Escort to Surgery Visit
Mon to Wed 16th SEPTEMBER 2026
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I stirred back into mock life, to be greeted by the acidic upsurge from the innards. So, I knew easily that I’d had seizures during the night. But didn’t fret; that’s not unusual, as Tom Jones sang. What happened next was that I awaited the foul taste in my mouth and nasal throat to clear. Seconds later, a bubbling escapage of wind from 
Not today, though. I’ll not go into detail, other than to say it took yonks to get the wetroom furniture, myself and the stinking mess on the floor cleaned up.
There was a little surprise for me when I eventually got back to the bed. On the decrepit, shuddering computer chair was a purple bed throw. 
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I’m waffling awfully well this evening.
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Mostly, or muchly, guesswork from here on. May be out of order, as indeed my body and mind were for three days and still are. Lack of balance, hospital, Doctors, District nurses. Lymphoedema in both legs; now leaking lymph-water. Struggling to walk, massive headaches of unknown origin, and two sleepless danged nights. My back pain got even worse. I didn’t think this was possible, but they did. Sitting and standing up are the worst bits.
Then the Carer’s failure to supply and escort me again on Wednesday to the Doctors. That put the cap on it all. More later, if I don’t forget.
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But, of course, he didn’t arrive…
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Failure and bad luck; both allicient…
A 6-week wait for this appointment,
No communication, nowt accordant,
Waiting for the Carer Escort…
Needed to get me dressed,
Socks, shoes on; he never arrived,
No Care came, can’t apprehend…
I awaited arrival; it never happened,
I was rescued by Frank and Jenny…
Frank called, shoes on & dressed me,
Whilst Angel Jenny called me a taxi,
Frank got me in the lift, & frankly…
To the taxi we had to hurry,
I soon arrived at the Doc’s surgery,
Going into the building hurriedly,
I tumbled, gaining another injury,
Falling over my walker-trolley…
My language turned diderpecatingly,
Turning to sort of self-derogatory,
Rescued by patients, expediently,
Staff moved me into another area,
Their help? Like a breath of fresh air,
They sat me in a higher-seated chair,
Went into a seizure then and there,
Woke up, scratching my buccula,
Where was I? Ah, the Doctor…
Couldn’t have woken me up gentler,
To her office, lacking much acumen,
Feeling in need of an adaptogen,
Mixing reality of the flowing Aufgaben,
Forget most that she said, as it was spoken,
Comprehending? I turned abecedarian,
She suddenly said, here comes your Carer,
Not a word to me or me or the Doctor,
My concentration got worse, even iffier,
Farewells; we left the surgery minutes later,
Taxied home, got home minutes after,
A day of perplexity, complexity, ill-fated…
… adversity, calamity, & misadventure,
Carer shot off to his next customer,
Jenny rang me moments later…
Worried at my late return, bless her,
So much, she’d rang the hospital,
Then my Carers. My Guardian Angel,
Asked why there was no escorting Carer,
Was informed that nobody had told her,
Asked for a Carer to get me from the Doctor,
This explains his late arrival,
These details may be anachronistical,
A mistake, error, fib? No accusing…
A day to do without, all the bumfuzzling,
I’m left in a state so confusing,
Bruised, battered & back-aching,
Blood pressure ever decreasing,
Pride, confidence dwindling…
Being forgotten again; appalling,
But I avoided hospitalisationing,
That’s next week, and exciting!
I’ve an appointment for lasering…
on the cataract, well I’m hoping…
Will the Carer again go missing?
Hope that I’m not overcomplaining,
My head bemused, my body aching,
No light in the tunnel, only darkening,
No signs of good luck approaching,
Hopes of going in a home helping,
Fading; time for relinquishing…
= = = = = = = = = = = =
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TTFN
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OUT of MEMORY
Inchie: 7th-8th & 9th September 2026
MONDAY 7th SEPTEMBER 2026
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Terrible morning first thing; the pains from the back, belly, and legs joined with the leg wounds and brought forth mega-pains. Hard to take.
Carer Ejaz put some of the non-medical heating cream on them and did a good job too. 20 minutes later, the back and belly pains eased off a smidgeon.
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In the afternoon, things took a nasty turn. The mobile rang; it was a food delivery from Asda. Obviously a new driver, and he didn’t know how to get in. I tried telling him how, but the connection was its usual crappy self. I had no choice but to go down to let him in. I got four missed calls on my way down in the lift, and the back pain kicked off big time… and got even worse.
We got up to the flat, and he put the food in bags on the floor. All done, I had to keep bending and stretching to get the fodder put away; the pain doubled. Bad, now! I managed to take a few snaps while I put the food away.
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Today’s snaps
This was under the contraption, and it was puzzling. I put these paper towels under the pouch. Carer Edward, after cleaning up the areas, put a plaster on the larger one. It’s hanging off now, three hours later. But no more leaks. The bigger one is stinging a bit, but all the smaller ones seem dormant, with no blood escaping.
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Dentist visit tomorrow. Don’t know who will be escorting me yet, Ejaz or Mirza, I hope. Might be a rush, cause I rely on Carers to get me clothed and on time, and to take the things I need with me. Must get up early and get a wash & shave; can’t get shoes, socks or trews on.
It is more painful than ever with this unknown trapped nerve or Sciatica, giving me grief.
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The day’s visit to the Porcelain Throne again revealed garden peas in the mix; this only happens with the fresh ones, not the canned ones. Might have to stick with the tinned ones in future.
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The flipping fracas with the food delivery then arrived.
I’ll not mention the struggle and agony again.
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Now I was in real pain. I took a Codeine, and fortunately, in the order I’d bought, there were some Heat Pads for my back and shoulders. I’ll get the Carer to get a couple stuck on after he reads the instructions I cannot read later.
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I thought I’d get some tomatoes sliced, ready to go with the meal later on…Oh, Dearie me!
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Woke up to the chronically painful back pain.
I’ll ask the Carer to put one of the new pain pads on when 
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Along came the Food delivery 
Not a lot of fresh food ordered for today, but I did 
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Had a good wash, shave, teggies done. Managed to get the Protection pants on; not without some extra pain.
I even got a Kaghoul on, but I’ll not be trying that again without help. I got the dizzies, bag pulled, hit my wounds on my leg against the trolley, and felt awful. I even considered cancelling the dentist trip for a while. I felt truly shook up. New Motto for self: Never ever again try to get a nightgown or Kagoule over my head to wear, without Carer help!
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A painful getting on, travelling and getting off of the bus, but we were soon alighting on Mansfield Road, in Sherwood. We crossed the Pelican lights to the other side to get nearer the Dentist’s. As we walked up the hill, we noticed two passengers who carried on in the bus as we got off of it. They told Ejaz that the 40 bus no longer goes to the City Hospital. It turns left and back around a traffic island, and starts the return journey to town. They had dropped off outside the Dentist’s. Ejaz explained this to me and said next time, we must stay on the bus, and it would save us some time and walking. See how he cares for me? Great lad. Shame he doesn’t call so often.
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Amazing, but testing each tooth showed only one that was not good? “Terribly infected”, Ejaz repeated to me.
I was given choices! “I can prescribe antibiotics, but this will not guarantee the pain will not return. Or, I can book you in for an extraction”. I asked her how much this extraction would cost – I didn’t hear her reply, but I did get the nod from Ejaz, the look that told me it would cost a lot. Then I asked for antibiotics. Then she asked Ejaz to leave the room while they did the X-raying of the suspected tooth. This time, using a simpler system, new to me. No plate setup or shields. A plastic thing, whatever it was, in the mouth, making sure the bit of metal was where she wanted it, and a strict command that I bite on and hold it in position. All done in seconds.
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I noticed he was returning to me; well, he didn’t – he had had to nip back into the Dentist’s; something on the prescription needed 
Returning as I took this last snap of Mansfield Road, Sherwood, outside the Dentist’s surgery. The bus arrived minutes later, and was were soon back at the Winwood Heights complex.
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Ejaz was running late now. We got in the flat, and Ejaz answered my chirping mobile phone. It was someone from the EENT, offering me an appointment for cataract lasering. I instantly went into bliss mode- at last! Damnations! I lost the connection when I looked at the calendar to see if the date clashed with another. Ejaz did not have time to sort it out. He told me not to delete anything on the phone, and he’ll sort it out later.
He was thanked profusely as he shot off.
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I must ring Deana to ask if she had asked Matron Jacky to take a look & advise me. No doubt it will involve me going to the QMC again. £30 taxi fare, and being treated like an unwanted wart on one’s penis.
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A ready meal of battered chicken, rice & veg, two cheese rolls – these would soak up the sweet & sour and Gung-Po sauces. They were delicious!
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And a long session of lengthy squirts after another. Cleaning myself, and a second splodgy session started!
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My back seemed to be a little less painful for once. But the leg wounds were a lot worse. Can’t win em all!
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I soon got myself tucked into making corrections I’d made on one of the Word files. I spent hours on it but failed to sort them all. Had another bash at them later.
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Then, sat down in the £300 second-hand shop-purchased in 1968 recliner. Which is welt-causing, uncomfortable, not working, itch-in
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Ejaz tried to reach the EENT about the missed call when they offered me an appointment. But it took so long to get through that he gave up and said he’d try another day.
The chances of an appointment still being available are about zero by now.
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And the lightbulb blew.
Luckily, the new Carer is about 7ft tall, and he got the new lightbulb in for me.
He also gave me the wrong dosage of Warfarin, well, I think he did. What was on the printed list was only half a tablet different. It was far too late for me to check with the surgery. He thought I’d used an old, incorrect list and that the one on his mobile was correct. I imagine half a tablet difference wouldn’t be dangerous.
I’ll try to remember to check tomorrow.
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Inchie Today: Week-ending 6th September 2024
I’m struggling a bit. There are ten areas of my body in need of thrice-daily Porpain or Voltaren gel. Back rear, left and right, up the backbone, neck, both shoulders, both arthritic knees. More painkillers to cope with the toothache; Dentist on Tuesday. Both leg wounds need to be redressed twice a week. Haemorrhoids, penile fungal lesions, ear drops, eye drops, Catheter contraption, weekly visits from the nurses. INR Warfarin level has never been so consistently low. I’m using the Zimmer frame or two sticks as standard now.
Getting into the kitchen is so painful and takes so long; I’ve stopped bothering. It’s the getting up and sitting down that is the most painful; for whatever it is I have going around my back, front down my legs, up my spine into my neck, it’s, I’m guessing. With the earliest appointment available when Carer Ejaz rang up to book one being 4 weeks away – four weeks of ever-increasing agony- I might find out on the appointment day, which is next week, 16th September.
It’s all these that are killing my best asset, time!
Even typing is painful, and depression seems to be in a permanent mode lately. Because I’m taking so long to apply my medications and ointments to all the areas in need each day, I’m not getting a shower and don’t shave often. Everything is taking so much longer to achieve.
My usual getting-drained time of 16:00hrs hrs starts at 13:00hrs hemerinely.
Another oddity, I think due to the peripheral neuropathy, is the number of times I’m dropping things: saucepans, pens, camera, mobile phone, bottles or mugs, food, plates, cutlery… anything, owt I am grabbing, holding or lifting presents a danger of either being dropped, or, amazingly, I cannot lose my grip on some things? I actually had a can of deodorant in my hand for two hours until the Carer came and had to force my fingers to let go of it. At least it produced a moment of humour for him and me. He was amazed at my strength, but it wasn’t that, of course. It was the neurotransmitters that were making me hold on to it, but as they were slowly dying, the brain was misreading their message… I think anyway. Two Doctors at the Mary Potter Centre, and having all the electrical readings analysed, told me this would happen eventually, and they could do nothing; it is impossible to repair neurotransmitters. That was in about 2008, so I think I’ve done well to have lasted this long, awaiting the forecast, turning into reality.
The back is getting worse. I’ve taken some snaps this week, but after dropping and breaking two cameras and having to buy another, not many, I’m nervous about taking snaps nowadays. I’ll get them on with any memory I have of them. I think they’re in order, more or less chronologically… ish.
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It didn’t make it into the veg stew.
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