Ménière’s disease

Inchie Today: Thurs/Fri 23/24th July 2025: Bad days, especially vague Friday

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THURSDAY 23 JULY 2026
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FRIDAY 24 JULY 2026
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Apart from when I woke up midst having my stroke, this was the worst, foggiest, most out-of-it one!
I had just had a seizure as the Carer arrived. I was practically unresponsive, I think, and went into, I believe, two other seizures while the Carer was giving me medications. I assumed this by finding the tablets spewed out in the waste bin later.
I thought he was still here, and called to him, albeit in a garbled way; confusion reigned. He had gone.
I’d not had the back, neck, shoulder or knees Phorpained-gelled. The day protection pants had not been put on. The slippers not put on. I found the night pouch on the floor, so that had not been emptied, just taken off. However, the colour and quantity had been put on the notepad?
To be fair, the Carer must have been almost as confused as I was. I thought he may have pressed the alarm to NCC Control for help. But none came.
I was being so vague for his entire half-hour visit. This is not a definitive description, but the best record I could muster. I’m still not with it properly two hours after waking up. I can’t recall having short repeat seizures as often as this before.
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Talk about falling to sleep unexpectedly!
I visited the Porcelain Throne, a Constipation Conrad affair. So painful trying to force it along. Yet somehow or other, I managed to fall asleep! And, for about fifteen minutes! Waking up, with no progress in the evacuation stakes. No acidity tastes, so it wasn’t a seizure. I gave up trying. I then made a bottle of water from the fridge, flavoured it a little with grapefruit, and made a start on this blog.
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I’m not clearing the brain fog very well, and wondered how the Carer has disappeared without me knowing he’d gone. He must have been baffled himself, to have missed all the treatments. Mind you, would I have been capable of getting the togs off for the treatments? Mmm!
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Moved on to try and get the daily Ode done.
Concentration was at a minimum. But I pressed on, and got it finished and ready to be converted to JPEG, then snipped into MS Word.
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Carer ‘Leave-it-there’ Andrew arrived on the midday call.
Do you like his nickname? I’ll explain: each time he does some medicationalisationing, he leaves the pot, Germoloid or Germaline tubes. Feet & legs foam spray, Phorpain tube when he does the shoulders, back, knees and neck where he put them on. Then we have a job to find them next time he calls. He also has a habit of leaving the waste bags where they are. I started putting the three into the large kitchen one on the kitchen door, but he just ignored that one altogether. Then I moved it each morning into the front room; he’s bound to see it and take it from there? No, he leaves it where it is, like he did this morning. Hence, Carer ‘Leave-it-there’ Andrew.
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Hallo! Movements from the innards, I think things are moving. Then I moved in the direction of the wet room, got in, got settled, and realised this was going to be a long, painful and bloody battle urging on the what felt like concrete into an evacational position. Still, apart from the blood, little cleaning was needed.
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Went into a depression. Still in it today, Sunday.
Sorry, but no one to talk to about it.
Frustrated, the world goes on, but not I.
This is a terrible thing, not socialising.
Carers who just don’t realise my problems.
My differing responses to changes in pain, and head confusions changing daily. I find myself being jealous of folk who can cope, feeling sure they…
I hope to pull out-of-it.

Cheers. 🤎🫰🏻 
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Inchie Today: Mon/Tue 6-7th July 2026 Busy Day

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INCHIE: MON/TUES 6/7 JULY 2026
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MONDAY
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Needless to say, I stayed up all night to watch Mexico v England in the early hours of the World Cup.
A Magnificent Performance
Just Thought I’d Mention It!
I soon fell asleep, happily and contentedly, and woke up an hour later with a warm, proud sensation within.
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And struggle to free myself from the clutches of the second-hand shop-bought ten years ago, £300, c1966, discomfiting, alarmingly beige-coloured, virus-breeding, acne-prompting, rickety, crumb-containing, TV-remote-hiding, non-working recliner off to the Porcelain Throne. This evacuation was all over within, at most, about 30 seconds. Whoosh!
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Got the computer on, then the Carer arrived, as I was struggling with the MS Snip doing odd things as I was trying to convert the Ode to a picture. He clicked on a red spot on top of the panel, and the mistakenly taken video disappeared. Thanked him. Medications issued. Phorpain gelling was asked for and done on the shoulder and back.
No breakfast, tea, or help with washing was offered to me. I asked him to take the bin bag down with him. He decided not to listen to my questions about my appointment problems. In fact, I took a photo of the chair, which he had turned away from me, after he had gone.
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I pressed on with the Sunday blog update, finished it, and posted it to WordPress.
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I limpingly hobbled to the kitchen to put the kettle on.
Not a hard job? It was for Inchie! His poor old left knee gave way, and he fell forwards, landing on the radiator and window ledge. Knocking a large jar of Tiryaki sauce over the floor, which shattered, spreading the contents around. My first thought was to call for help. But I was not up to much this morning and got irritable with myself for being the whimp I am. Pleased to have found the brush and dustpan last Saturday, I went to the wet room to collect them. But they were not in there. Back to the kitchen to search, without any luck. In the front room and balcony, again fruitlessly. The unused rubbish room, no luck. Back to the kitchen. Which incidentally stunk of Tiryaki by now, nice Aroma though. I looked in all the places I thought it was possible to have put the brush & dustpan, getting annoyed a smidge with myself now. Back in the wet room, while looking, I set up the speedmop for later. Finally, on the verge of giving up finding them, I closed the open door in case any sauce had intruded… There were the brush & dustpan! Once I saw them, I remembered putting them there. Tsk!
I forgot, I put a full roll of kitchen towels over the glass and food first. Now, I added some more to it. I used the picker-upperer to collect them and rubbed the floor a bit. A last with more paper towels, a spray of cleaner, and got them up again.
Then, I used the mop, all done without any bending. An iota of smugness crept into my psyche. I was so cuffed, I rang Jenny to tell her. (Daft as a brush, me!)
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I forgot to ask the Carer to put my slippers on my feet. Standing up, I felt a sting underfoot. I got the piece of glass out with the small picker-upperer, thus again avoiding any loss of balance from bending. Checked the scullery floor. It looked clean enough to me. Turning to leave, I knocked a box of soap powder off of the draining board, then I wondered where I’d left the brush and dustpan!
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I rang Mr Cervic – 0115 746 9309
To inform him of payback has not been received in the bank yet. Also, it is worth mentioning that the long calls from ICC have gradually stopped; until last week, they made none at all.
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Matron JACKIE ARRIVED
We spoke of my going into a home. Unfortunately, I’d just come out of a seizure when she arrived; I stuttered and forgot words, not certain of all we spoke of. But I sense I was telling her of all the visits and the failure to secure lifts for appointments. Showed her the letters mounting up that need guidance and form filling. Those are not being done since Carer Mizra & Ejaz stopped calling.
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DOCTORS SURGERY RANG
New Warfarin INR dosages.
M:1-TWThur:1½-F:1-ST-SUN;1½
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I’m running down now.
I found the Catheter tube on the night bag had sticky bits all the way through. I’m worried now!
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Going to get summat to eat, then watch TV.
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Mr Kervic didn’t ring back.
I’ve had enough now.
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The 3% turned out to be a false alarm.
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TUESDAY
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Reluctantly rose from the recliner at 07:00hrs, following hours of wakefulness, sort of praying for sleep. And fretting over the increasing number of unsolved problems, one after another. It was not will-power that got me up, but the need of the Porcelain Throne.
The evacuation was slow, but not in the least painful, and no bleeding. I removed the Catheter night pouch, and the Carer arrived.
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Being so concerned about getting an Escort and lift for tomorrow’s appointment, I asked him to please find out whether they are coming or not and let me know.
No response, other than a nod of the head. The lad then issued the medications. Pforpain gelled the shoulder and lower back. Got on his mobile to do his report. I disturbed him when the intercom rang, and the food order arrived.
I asked him to put the light stuff in the box and the heavier stuff in carrier bags. He had to go then. As he was leaving, I asked him again to confirm if a lift and a Carer were coming on Wednesday. Getting a nod in return, then a thumbs-up! I hope he can. Uncertainty, lack of communication, and doubts plague me.
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I got the bags emptied and food stored. But before continuing, I just have to say, in putting these things away, and I may have missed some off, for I forgot about, dropped so many of them. I got so angry with myself.
1) The pod pea bag, which was at the bottom of a carrier with cans on top, burst open when I grabbed it. Pod peas decorated the kitchenette floor. Collected and put in a basin, for shelling later.
2) Then, getting the few things that needed to go into the fridge, I dropped and trod on Jenny & Frank’s cream cakes. Arrrgh! Ruined and needed cleaning up.
3) Then knocked a bottle of spring water, which luckily… yes, luckily, did not burst open… 4) It just landed on my left foot! I just laughed it off. (Possible Fib Detected!)
5) The pot of potato salad was the next victim; this one did burst all over me, the shelf and the floor. It took me ages and a lot of self-lambasting to clean up.
6) The pork & pickle pork pies, which had obviously had a rough trip to get to the flat, and/or the Carer had also put at the bottom of a carrier, were all dislodged from their container compartments. I tried to jiggle them back in, and the top pastry fell off each one I touched.
I got the cleaning up sorted… dropping a few curse words I haven’t used in years. I got some spuds in the slow cooker and started to pod the peas.
7) My estimate for dropped peas and pods would be around 25. I’m getting so many more incidents lately; I must mention this if I do get to the Doctor’s appointment tomorrow. 
8) As I was retrieving them with the picker-upperer, I noticed the carrier was still on the floor; I had not put the things in the freezer yet, so I did. Not sure what happened when taking this snap on the left, I think and expect the camera to pack up again soon. I put the bread and cobs in, and this lot filled the fridge altogether. In fact, I had to take some old stuff out to make room. A large bag of out-of-date chips that had been in there since Adam was born had to go. But and however… The bag burst when I lost my grip again, when it hit the floor.  
9) This was a little more dangerous. As I got the paper towels again, some oil, presumably from the old chips, all but had me over as I slipped on the invisible oil. What did I hit as I grabbed for the counter? The poor left arthritic and fractured left knee!
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What with these dropsies, uncertainty about lifts and escorts to the five medical appointments I have on my calendar, and the farce with British Gas about the metre (they are really confusing me now; I need help), I hope the Social can assist me ASAP. It’s getting worse than ever as the list of unsolved problems grows each day. Dentist, lifts not forthcoming, uncertainty.
I really am getting in a big pickle. The eyes, hearing, brain (memory, Premorbid Cognitive Impairment), body, lack of confidence, nervousness, suspicious, dubious of ever being content again; or that the problems will ever get solved, the new One Stop Computer Shop bought computer will ever work right. I was warned about my memory and Peripheral Neuropathy getting worse. They have not been too good, but for the past two weeks, the degeneration has increased a fair bit. At least I am aware of the reasons. I anticipate things getting worse, and I will lose more cogniscence of mt surroundings. Luckily, I am old enough to not live long enough to suffer the full consequences. Hopefully.
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I went into the kitchen to take a better photo of the freezer, and took one of the fridge by mistake. Then as I moved to take one of the freezer again…

As I bent a little to get the right angle for the picture, my spectacles fell off.
They now have sellotape holding the left arm attached to the frame. Huh!
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When the midday Carer arrived, I was just making my first brew of tea, Glengettie for a day and a half. Honestly!
I managed one sup of it, and the Carer told me there is no lift arranged, and to get a taxi to the Doctor’s. Whether a Carer will be coming with me is uncertain. This is life for me nowadays. Full of uncertainty. Inconclusiveness, instability, doubtfulness, scepticism, and dubiety, 
Rounded off with my getting all angst and I didn’t drink my Glengettie! More money spent!
If I wasn’t told off for not taking a Carer, I wouldn’t bother. And if I do, it will be a Carer who does not know my history and will not understand them anyway. I love it when they say I must bring a relation or Carer who can answer questions if I am too out-of-it. Fed-Up Again!
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I asked the Carer to take some food down to the laundry room. The last few pot noodles I dared not eat after trying them again and enjoying one; the innards were not too keen, and the next morning, I think it was about 5 Trotsky Terence trips to the Porcelain Throne. Unfortunately, I also sent a loaf of bread and some short-dated fridge items for anyone to take. 
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Then a DPD delivery arrived. So glad it won’t arrive tomorrow when I will be out at the Doctor’s. Bit of fun here, if you don’t mind, folks. What do you think the carton contained from the list below?
A: Snuff
B: Pipe tobacco
C: Cigars & Cigarettes,
D: Two bottles of Champagne?
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My two thin nightshirts are being used as curtains to help block the sun a little and keep it from making it so hot in there. I was going to move them along with the sun, but decided not to. With my luck, I’d risk knocking over another bottle or jar, pickle, sauce or vinegar.
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Going to get a meal prepped and eaten now.
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By gum, that was good!
Ate it all bar one slice of the tomatoes; I dropped that on the floor, via my hand, bulging flabby stomach, testicles & knee, onto the mat.
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Two testing days. Carer asked ot help in the morning visits. To phone to track an order, help me get washed, shaved and clothed. Ejaz and Mirzra would have known what was needed. This lad cannot answer questions from the Doctor like Mirza did, cause he’s not aware of any medical changes taking place. Then ask him to order a taxi for us to go to the Doctor’s. Must check that I have enough money with me before leaving and prepare the walker. Can’t cope with the walker and stick.
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Not sure if there will be a blog on Wednesday.
EQ tells me all will not go very well tomorrow.
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Inchy Today: Mon/Tue 1/2nd June 2026 Fare Thee Well 🌸

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I see today more political baseness,
A lack of moral principles, sordidness,
Boastfulness, bluffness, & bluntness,
Bamboozlers, bankrollers, beguilers, belittlers,
More backstabbers, backhander, backsliders,
Churlishness, clandestineness, contemptuous,
Violence, slaughter, governmental bloodshedders,
 Deceptiveness, detestableness,
Can our rulers not see Earth’s finiteness?
In the citizenry, fear, contagious distress,
Hopes, needs, turning into illusoriness,
Proletariats, once. quite tenacious…
Exist, survive, but are trepidacious,
Who can we blame for this tragicalness?
My forecast may well not be the zaniest,
The end of days, of earthliness…
part of the real, inherent adscititious…
Earthlings will miss the end of the Universe…
As it implodes, collapses…
Well, that’s my synopsis!
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OLD CARTOONS
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Hope for the future…
To please, please I beg, mend my computer,
Help with the bank account dwindling disaster,
A miracle with my kidneys, & blocked Catheter…
Penal Fungal Cut, before they get painfuller,
To stop leaving the tap on & the cooker,
To stop taking tumbles, 
Slow down, to have fewer seizures,
These needs, how do I conjure?
I think life’s getting cruddier.
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On Tuesday, I can’t type in Notepad; it deletes letters after the ones I’m typing. CorelDraw is still not allowing me to import, export, or perform at least 18 other actions that are blacked out. The Computer warning beeps from the hard drive are back again. I’ve got the trots.

 TUESDAY: I am so frustrated. Can’t even open a new template. No reply from the calls and emails to the computer man for help. £850 quid plus fitting. He must be so busy. 

Hour extra visit: No body check, Catheter comfort check. No cleaning done. No mail help. No floors mopped, or food date checks. Bored on mobile. 

Frustrated, depressed, and have had enough!

This computer is the only thing that keeps me going. Now it doesn’t, though I believe it’s not my fault. Notebook, the internet, and the keyboard, I think, are all giving me problems typing. The internet keeps going down. No help.

Help is unavailable with the banking problems.

The promised help with getting the new wheelchair was promised in November last year. Bought six months ago, it had not been brought into a usable condition.

Oxicodone could be my way out?

Tried to ring 111 for mental help, I felt I needed it.
I rang 111, feeling I needed help, as I am having dark thoughts, and needed it.
The phone didn’t work. The Carer had knocked the 2nd unit off the hook while putting the Hoover away. I replaced it and rang 111. The very thought of going through the Robot options was making me feel worse. These are the reasons for my bank. Virgin and British Gas problems, which, along with the Computer ones and the Catheter ones, made me forget about it, and I rang off. I wish I’d stayed on now. Confused, fed-up, and no idea what to do.
Other than adopt my dark thoughts. If I don’t ring, I’ll get no help, but that leaves me where I started.

Fret not if I do get the courage, I’ll be depression, frustration and worry-free. I write this out of desperation, knowing I’m a coward and will surely suffer on longer.

Cheerio. Bless you all.

Inchie: Tuesday 19th May 2026 – A fall & A Flood

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The Ode explains my early-morning kerfuffle.
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We had not had time to properly clean the wet room. But my attention was on the flaming new computer mysteries with Corel Draw, the new complicated Note app, and my seemingly new to me (I’m fibbing, done it months now, even on the old keyboard) habit of hitting the wrong combinations of keys, and getting up so many baffling options to choose if I wish to continue using programs I’ve never heard of.
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Carer Rashid, then Dilan, then Mizra, then Carer Ejaz called today. Damned busy, so much that this is going to be another rushed, no-time-to-do-properly, blog.
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The second call was to Dilan. Who got the laundry started and called Jenny to let her know. Then I asked him and explained what I’d like done to finish the wet room cleaning.
He did a great job!
Hard to see the depth of or even the water…
You can see how it soaked the box of Dettol.
Later, Carer Dilan tackled it after taking the laundry down to the laundry and putting it in the washer. 
Cleaned up the stuff I’d dropped in the corner.
And behind the pipework.
Mats down, much betterer!
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Lovely view this afternoon.
I discovered a reason for my making so many errors of the computer, CorelDraw, MS Word, Excel and the blog.
I’d been looking at the ‘Cool’ battery clock calendar! This time, at a quarter to one PM, I had not updated the clock’s date for two days! Naturally, for me anyway, I swore at myself, added some locally used curses and insults, spat, and sulked for quite a while. Went to do what so many folks do, I made a brew of my favourite tea and got some biscuits out to dunk. They didn’t get dunked. I dropped the mug, and the handle came off. Undeterred, I made another brew of Glengettie with it. Feeling rather smug didn’t last long either; a hairline crack sent the freshly made tea spilling out, then the mug cracked and broke. Sending tea all over the counter, then down the cupboard doors below, decorating my Khagoule as it did so. 
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Two shots from the kitchenette window as I made a third mug of tea, Co-op 99 this time.
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The Carer took these two later.
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I partly made a meal, just some spuds to add to it. I haven’t got any fresh ones, so I opened the last tin.
Then I realised that only Asda, Iceland, Ocado, and Morrisons had rejected my sign-in to place an order. Because it was on the new computer. I half-heartedly tried J Sainsbury’s. And got in! Hopefully I’ll have bread, tomatoes, a few ready-made meals, bikkies, potatoes, veg and mushrooms in the morning.
Hopefully, (I did, but it was a terrible day).
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Inchie: Wed/Thru 13/14th May 2026-Horrendous Day!

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Things went All-Apeshit on Thursday Morning.
Not that they were much better on Wednesday, just horribly, even worse on Thursday.
With the fear of sorting things out for Friday, the visit to the Audio Clinic, and worries about whether a Carer had been arranged to go with me as required, and with transport not yet confirmed, I am in a bit of mental turmoil. Having no calls for days from the Carers who Care, Mizra & Ejaz, I am getting no information about these things. I only found out late today that the 1-hour extra call that didn’t happen Monday had been moved to Friday, for the escort to the Clinic, thanks to Mizra. 
I only started this blog late Thursday morning.
After sorting out the Double-Whammy of Whoopsiedangleplops, I suffered. I’ll explain these now to avoid having to repeat them later and to save time.
Also, the two blogs will not be formatted as usual and will undoubtedly be error-ridden due to my rush to complete them. To add to the problems, on Wednesday afternoon, Trotsky Terence got hyperactive. Anne Gyna seems to have settled back into one of her painful, nasty periods.
Thursday’s Nightmare, while it’s fresh in my mind.
This sort of thing is happening far too often.
Anne Gyna guaranteed a terrible, ever-waking night’s rest. My tierdness could do with a more precise name. 
I felt lethargic, bone-weary, drained, knackered, fatigued, and weak, each and every time that the stabbing Anne Gyna woke me up. Taking longer to get back to sleep each time, thanks to incoming houndings from ,bringing up the past and a selection of my mistakes I’ve made. At about 04:30hrs, I woke without any Anne Gyna pains and felt the urgent need of the .
I’d not made it into the bed, and had fallen asleep in the fifth-hand Charity shop bought £300, broken down, Catheter tube crunching, dried blood-covered, grotty, dirty, and creaking recliner. The necessity of speed was hampered by Kagoule, a long dressing gown, and I wrapped myself up in a large throw. Had to free myself from those, then grab the extra long night Catheter bag tube, and without time or thought of doing any balance exercises, no time to, I fumbled my way with the walking stick and Catheter pouch to the wet room…
I think you can guess what was coming. 
The evacuation started well before I reached the Porcelain Throne. I tore off the Dressing gown and pulled up the long Kaghoule, sat and threw the night bag full of urine away on the floor, to concentrate on Trotsky Terence Torrent that flowed. 
As I sat there while the innards spurted out tiny soft blotches of wet excrement into the bowl…
This is when I noticed several tiny soft blotches of wet excrement on the floor. My first concern was when they had escaped and had fouled the Kaghoule and my legs. The answer to both thoughts was yes! Not that it was funny at the time, but I think I said out loud, “Oh, Shit!” The thought of cleaning up, with all the associated pain of bending down, went through my mind… But then things got even messier and worse!
As I stood up to check my clothing and body, I espied that the night pouch was leaking its urine, and slowly filling the wet room floor.
There I was, with the floor covered in two rolls of kitchen paper to help drain the fluid, and as it did, about 8 of the tiny brown boblets that had escaped earlier showed through. I tore the long, partly soiled khagoule off and fetched the needed toilet rolls and kitchen towels from the hallway.  
I was too angry at myself to cry.
After getting the used towels up with the long picker-upper and spraying the floor with disinfectant, I applied another load of towels, then turned my attention to cleaning up my body.
The towels were left, the WC needed cleaning, and I somehow decided to get a stand-up wash and shave. 
Got the teeth cleaned, then had a good body scrub and shave. All in a hurry, as I wanted to get the medications that the Carer would normally do. (Well, Ezaz & Mizra would automatically), done and to sort out the floor.
The shave proved to be one of my worst-ever; I hurried so quickly. Later, I realised I may as well not have bothered. Growth on the chin and neck seemed untouched by my panicky effort to cut them.
I had to have a shave later to make things right. I did this because the Clinic appointment is at 10:00 hours in the morning, and the lift has not yet been confirmed; a taxi may need to be ordered. Time will be at a premium. My head was getting confused, and I got on with the body, man breasts, underarms barrier creaming, testicle ointmenting, then I got Germoloided.
Leaving the “Painful One”, cowardly until last. 

Tackled the rest of the floor and WC cleaning. A painful job, and Anne Gyna was not happy at all.
As I was tidying up, the intercom chimed. It was the Carer, Rashid, coming. I put the kettle on as he arrived. 
A bad listener by nature, Rashid is. But I had to tell someone of my morning disasters.
He issued the medications, and I started blurting out my Yale of Woe. As I chuntered of, I noticed he was head down on his mobile again. I asked him if I was boring him. I restarted from the beginning of the tale, after asking him to listen, and he will learn some of my problems… not that you would be interested, of course. No reply. When I got to the medicationing I’d done, I told him he only had the stomach folds to barrier cream this morning. Carrying on, I glanced at him, back on his mobile, so I gave up.
He asked if I needed any Peptac. I said no thanks, and he gave me a dose of Peptac.
Then he came over with the barrier cream. I’d just told him what I’d done already, reminding him that only the tummy folds needed doing, and he put the barrier cream away. No body-checks done. No Phorpaining anywhere. No breakfast offered. No tea making offered… mind you, I was pleased about that. The last time He made one, I had to clean up spilt tea on the counter, down the cupboard below and on the floor. And the tea he made was horrible. Hahaha!
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Delivered today, my long-awaited long brush and dustpan wet. To replace the broken one from Amazon. Crap again, my fault, I expected and thought I was buying a long handled dustpan, but as you can see in these snaps I took, it has to be held with your foot. Meaning having to bend down to empty it. Bending is the reason I ordered it in the first place. I just can’t win, can I?
Ocado: Gorgeous, tasty food.
Isle of Man tomatoes
Treats for Jen & Frank, Nurses & Carers
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Rainy morning
Brightened up a bit
Darkened, but no rain
Started feeling unwell, and
made an early meal
Last photo, rain back

I 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.
And fell asleep, but not for long, the return of Anne Gyna season started. Humph!
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THURSDAY 14th MAY 2066
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MISTAKES FOUND ON THE URINE COUNT, I’ll correct them later
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Hard work catching up. The waking-up farce from today I’ve already written, but not forgotten.

Let’s see, Number One: Premature involuntary escape from the rear end – dealt with and reported earlier.
Number two: Trotsky Terence Torrent messed me up even further, and the floor.
Number Three: The night pouch spit and covered the wetroom floor, already with bloblets of evacuated product on it from escapage
Number Four: Later, I emptied the day bag with the butterfly control valve. I’m not sure whether I didn’t close it or caught it later, causing it to release urine. I noticed this two hours later.
Now I urinated on both legs and feet, and my socks.
Number Five: Getting my docks of triggered Back-Pain Brenda and Fractured Knee Frank into action.
Number Five: Then I had to hand-wash the kaghoule and socks. Or I’d have no clean ones left to use. While emptying the bowl of soapy water, I spilt most of it onto the kitchenette floor.
Number Six: I could not find the camera to take photos for the record. I used the old one, which may or may not work for me.
Number Six: 
Got a text from the bank; £1040 had gone out of the debits. I need help on this one.
I told the Carer of my problems. No comment made.
Carer Ejaz did one call, which was annoying, cause when I told the other chap about the cash, he didn’t comment or even look at the text. Taking away Ejaz and Mizra to be replaced with a non-caring Carer brings the idea of going into a home a little more acceptable. Then I would not have to wait 6 or more days to get help with banking (8 days since any). I am not prepared to let a Carer who helps himself to food from the freezer check my banking. Shopping (11 days since any), and arranging lifts to clinics, Doctors, Dentists, chemists, and opticians, which would either be unnecessary or so much easier. As with the problems today… Mind you, if they knew about these problems I’m having, I would not be popular or possibly accepted as a patient.

A FEW PHOTOS.  
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Kaghouls and socks to wash, de-urinate!
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Sorry, but I must stop now,
Lots to prepare for and do.
I’m not really up to going out tomorrow, but my need of hearing aids, whatever they cost me, is crucial.
I may have to wait a couple of weeks for them as well.
Today has left me so depressed.
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I’ve not felt as bad for a long time,
Mentally & physically out of tune,
So many things going apeshit…
I don’t like confusion, not one bit,
Lifts have not been arranged for the Clinic yet
Things to take: Do I need a bus ticket?
Which Carer is due? Ah, I think Mizra,
If owt else goes wrong, I’ll be all aquiver,
Something’ll happen; My mental barometer,
At rear-end escapages? I shudder,
Or leakages from the Catheter?
Some say bad luck is bilgewater…
I prayed life may improve, at least easier,
It got worse, not better…
I blame Starmer!
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Inchie: Tuesday 12th May 2026 Carer Missed Call

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I rose singing out loud at 0325hrs. Took off the nocturnal Catheter pouch, got up and ran with it to the wet room, emptied it and returned for my morning exercises. Stripped off the nightwear and naked, I went onto the balcony, where I keep my weights. Grabbed a 240lb barbell and did a hundred waist-lifts. Got on the sit-up machine for 600 tugs, touched my toes 200 times, dived down for 400 press-ups. Then 250 squats, 300 planks & lunges. Opened the windows and yodelled out my greetings to the world, followed by a Tarzan Talk with the crows. A robust “Aah-eeh-ah-eeh-aaaaaah!” Jogging in place, jumping jacks, high knees, splits, then launched into ten minutes of shadow-boxing, with some neat left undercuts thrown in. Knee raises, one-leg stands, and leg extensions.
15-Min Beginner Cardio Circuits, including chair squats and 15 downward squats. Abdominal crunches, bent-over-rows, then nipped out and down in the lift and ran back up the fire-escape stairs, eleven double floors.
Back in the flat, drank a gallon of carrot juice and made a banana-and-garlic puree.  
Well, alright, I only did 300 press-ups.
I’ll start again…
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I jumped awake at 0325hrs, this was thanks to who had been having a go at me about so many things I’d done, failed to do, lost, done wrong, forgotten about, or misunderstood. I usually cope alright with these attacks, but today was critically different. He was digging up memories not from years ago, as he usually does, but having a go at me about fresh stuff! The Git! 
But as it kicked in, of took away my concentration; heavenly, I nodded off back to the land of nod. Annie was having none of that, and she kept giving me a good twinge of pain to wake me regularly.
At around 0500hrs, I moved to a different position and banged the ingrowing toenail on the bedpost.
Swore and cursed and joined me. I don’t think I did anything for a long time, just lay there, sadly feeling sorry for myself.
Slowly, I came to appreciate that the Catheter Flow back was pain-free, and I almost cheered up. 
Freed the night bag, and as I did so, an involuntary escapage of wind from the rear end infused the flat, and probably others as well. It was putrid!
My timing in getting sat on the porcelain this morning was perfect.
Just before I got seated, the evacuation started of its own accord, and kept coming for a good while.
I think I coughed as the aroma filled the wet room. And it did, too. However, I’m a little confused about what happened, for I had a seated seizure mid-flow. When I came out-of-it, the usual acidicness upflowed into the throat and mouth, yet the disorientation seemed so mild compared to normal.
As I rose and started to wipe and wash the rear end, I realised I could no longer smell the pong that had permeated everywhere; it seemed to me to have been there a couple of minutes earlier. 
Cleaning up, I knocked the battery clock off of the shelf. It showed 0635hrs? Impossible, I must have caught something when I used the picker-upperer to retrieve the AAA battery clock. Finished cleaning, grabbed 4-legged Wally, the walking stick, and casually made my way to the kitchen to get the kettle and make a brew of Glengettie tea. Spotting the clock on the window ledge, telling me it was 0650hrs. Where did nearly 2 hours in the wetroom disappear to? I had to check I was not going bonkers… well, no more than is usual, and got the mobile phone to check the right time. It was indeed 0655hrs. I think I’d had a second seizure, because there was no acidic taste in my chest, mouth or throat. I returned to the kitchenette and found I had not switched the kettle on. No big issue in itself. But I felt certain, positive that I had done so. Is it going to be another one of those days? My EQ has not mentioned what to expect or given me any warnings.

I made the brew, let it mash for a while, and went to the fridge to get the milk. Flippin’ eck! The fridge had a load of water slopping about at the bottom! Had to take out or move about the stuff and used a whole new roll of kitchen roll to dry it up. I checked the cans and bottles for leaks, but found none. Then found I had a few items out of date. Cheese and yoghourts. Of course, with my eyesight problems, I may well have missed some. Like last week, when I checked a jar of pickled mushrooms, thinking I must eat this soon. I thought it said Use by May 28… well, it did. But when Mizra checked it on Saturday, May 28, it was confirmed, but the year? Well, that was verified as 2025!
The mysteries of Woodthorpe Courts hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, grotesque succubae, ectoplasms, Whoopsiedangleplops, ailments, extraterrestrials,  spirits, Accifauxpas, and the Fata Morganas strike again!
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I got the computer going on the second try and started updating the blog… then the Carer arrived. Hard Work. He cleaned the testicle area, but not as the nurse told him to. Disconcerting.

By the time midday arrived, I’d been to the toilet for a rear-end job four times. Each one was of the same or a similar type. Phooey, yellow and soft, but not liquid. 

The extra-Carer call for 1330 > 1430hrs (cleaning) did not happen. No one has contacted me. Which is disappointing to say the least. When I did mention this to Carer Rachid, he offered no advice, help, or even a response, as far as I can tell. No apology (not that it is his fault), no support. No help with letters or emails.
Maybe they want to lose me from their books? They have taken E and M off of my daily rota, which is heartbreaking. The two best, I lose. Two hard-to-work-with replacements. There may be something in the air with this action. That I will not like, just a message from EQ. Could be an ulterior motive, surreptitiousness, clandestine, perhaps.
Or it would just be my usual bad luck.

bleeding & sore. We’ve run out of Anusol Cream yet again. Carer informed, no reply, or signs of interest given. Asked him to order some. No response received.

The INR blood girl called in and out in six minutes.
Oh, yes, she’s quick on her feet. Hehehe!

THE FEW PHOTOS:

The filthy gap between the now non-working cooker and the corner counter. I tried to clean it a bit.
Did my best. When no Cleaner-Carer arrived today.
Beautiful sky
But it wasn’t very warm
The Tree Copse
Closer,
A bit of blood from the piles late on Ran out of Haemorrhoid cream. No idea whether any Anusol has been ordered. Carer E used to handle all prescription ordering, but he no longer comes in during the week. A heartbreaking loss, and no idea, because no communication is coming from the new guys. I don’t even get any information or contacted when a Carer fails to turn up. I know these things happen, sometimes out of the company’s control.

Wobbly night shot
Sad meal.
Worra Day!

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HORRIBLE DAY
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Not feeling up to much, Sorry.
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Inchy: Sun/Mon 10-11th May 2026

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BP AND TEMP UP
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A mixed Sunday. Starting with my inability to move when I woke up. No medical or mental problems as such. I just felt so tired out and drained. I think I’ve worked out what the problem was, but I can’t be certain. But then, whenever could I be? Not for years.
I was dreaming that I was in the porta-cabin where we used to hold the weekly social get-together for the residents. I really did think I was there, and could see and talk to the folks enjoying the meeting that Jenny used to organise. I reckon this caused my reluctance to get up… I must have been trying to nod off again to get back to the enjoyment and fun I was having again. See Gaynor, Cynth, Jenny, Joe, and the others again.
I know it sounds strange, but I was asleep and was knowingly trying to reach for the dream to reappear. 
I part-slept for longer than I have since having my 1996 Covid jab, when I slept for 22 hours.
I was eventually forced to get up by a disgusted-looking Carer Dilan. Not amused at all.

, after the Carer departed – I farted, and near as it is possible for me, I darted, well, hobbled swiftly to the wet room and Porcelain Throne… I’m sure my regular readers will know what happened next… but I’ll tell you, I didn’t make it in time! Then into clearing and cleaning-up mode. 

Next: After a long battle with the computer, and not knowing what I was doing, I
rather miraculously got it to boot into action.
Then spent hours and hours doing the one-off blog of Mr Starmer’s reaction to the disastrous local election result for Labour. I enjoyed doing that, but did not get it done until very late. And I was so tired again. Possibly, I thought I might get back to the Wednesday Social in the porta-cabin, if I got my head down?
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Snaps of the day
Bootifull!
Amazing skies
Accidental photo, Hehe!

Attempted wide shots, erm, failed.
Plates of meat status
A better effort
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Sorry, no Ode today. Just
A TALE OF WOE… Maybe later?
After removing the night bag, with only 500ml in it, and taking some photos, sorting the wast bins, having a wash, shave and shit,  doing my teggies, and getting the dressing gown on… the 
Catheter Flowback started again. And this time it was worse than the last two occasions.
Carer Rachid arrived and saw the pain and heard the bad language each time the stabbing, stinging pains hit me. I’ll call the nurses later to see if they can attend, too early in the day yet.

Rashid called again. I was in a lot of pain from the return of the Catheter flowback pains. He said he’ll phone for an ambulance. I explained that I’d called the District Nurses, who will be calling on me, so no need. Adding, if I go by ambulance, I’ll have another nine-hour wait in a corridor to be seen, and I didn’t fancy that again. He picked up the phone to dial 999. I said, “Do not use the landline; if you use your phone, any problems, they will phone you back, and then you’ll keep in touch with what is happening. He carried on using the landline. I made sure what to do when I took the phone, in case of it was not needed. The lady asked me to ring 999 to cancel. Which Rasid later did… on the landline. When he made his next call, the Nurse arrived. She got me on the bed, and he came leaning over me to see things. I asked for a bit of privacy. The procedure took a long time, and the Nurse handled it well. She got the tube out and showed me the black on the inner end of it, with a lot of gunk in it, like last time. Saying this can happen when we get older. So it might not be an infection. She asked Rachid to do a proper job of cleaning the testicle area. She is ordering some foam spray to clean the skin before applying the Barrier Cream. “You’ve made a right mess here.” That didn’t go down well! Inserting the new tube was almost painless; she first used a lot of the pain gel.
The Nurse took a urine sample to test for infection—the new pouch filled in seconds. The Urine was almost red. The only thing was, after she had gone. I found that the new pouch had a butterfly release valve. I’d stopped using them when I kept catching the clip and opening it. Peeing on my legs, slippers and on the carpet. Fingers crossed. Haha!

Photographs of the day
This one was taken when I woke during the night.
Why did I take these?
Anyone’s guess, Tsk!
Ah, the not-working Catheter.
The Catheter started working again seconds after, thanks to the nurses’ skills.
The Sun kept disappearing.
All-Starmer on the News.
The first flow after the initial torrent.
A bit bloody, as was anticipated.
A high shot here.
Seems the Sun was losing
the battle again. Lower down,
it was getting through.
But, another mystery here; 
Why did the shot of it
not get on to the SD card?
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Despite being overjoyed at getting the Catheter agony removed, I am now feeling very queasy, and not at all like wanting to eat anything. Another Mystery of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, spirits, or the Fata Morganas, that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind: which is now losing its few marbles it has left.
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The last late snaps…
Late sundown.
Late sundown, closer
Help was needed from the Carer to
get this one ready.
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All the regular pains returned later on.
The Ingrowing-Toenail-Titus, Back-Pain-Brenda, Lymphorea-Leslie, Colin-Cramps, Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley, Kidney-Pains-Kitty, Fractured-Knee-Frank, Duodenal Donald, and even Anne Gyna threw in her pennorth of pain. But, with the memory of today’s chronic Catheter Flowback Pains, I almost welcomed the return of my regular ailment, which had been overshadowed by the more vicious, cruel Bladder-Blockage-Beryl agony that no medication could counter. Thank heavens the Nurse came. 🤎
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Inchie Today: Thursday 7th May 2026

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Woke at 0635hrs. Took off the night Catheter bag, noting my aches and pains were minimal.
Then the summoning from the innards to get to the wet room and Porcelain Throne with all the alacrity I could muster arrived. So I did!
The first sitting proved to be a total failure; apart from escaping wind with each effort to start the evacuation, nothing else moved. Being as I was in the wetroom, I had a stand-up wash, did the teggies and had a shave. Just the one knick. And was much less painful.

I was certain that Constipation Conrad had me in his grip. I had the same thing three times over the next half-hour. I was telling the Carer about it and decided to take a Senna tablet to help move things along. Another ache in the stomach developed; I was sure it was Constipation Conrad, solidifying my waste in my rectal ampulla. I made my tea & breakfast. Feeling smug at taking the Senna, I bade the Carer farewell.
Minutes later, I felt the same rear-end and stomach feelings that I had before. Knowing full well that Senna tablets could not be affecting things so soon, I ambled to the wet room. Very luckily, I took off my dressing gown first.
But fear not, no floor, wall or furniture splashed!
It was me and the porcelain that coped with the liquid splash-backs. I made a mess on the floor, but that was only from bits of the one-and-a-half toilet rolls I used to clean myself up. I asked the Carer to Hoover the bits from the mats up for me. Found much later on my next trip to the Throne, they were still there. Maybe he didn’t understand my request or thought it wasn’t his job. Not earth-shattering. I managed to do it safely.

The computer had to be restarted twice more today. Restarting it took three tries each time.
Fed-upperness dawned.

I think the flowering shrubs around the flats are so beautiful. The Nurse who came later thought they might be called Spirea? I certainly have no idea. Being born into brickwork, a massive London Line railway viaduct, not a garden in sight. Outside loos and coalhouses. A tin bath hanging on the soot-covered brick viaduct wall didn’t help my education or understanding of plants. But I love these.

Two medics, one a nurse, came in the afternoon to give me my Covid shot. Nice couple.

The clouds looked even prettier to me today.
Now, we did have clouds in my young days in the bricks, railway viaducts and high-rise station. The cobblestoned streets were for the horses’ safety on the ice.
But our views of the sky from Brookfield Place, a terrace of six British Railway 2-up-two down houses, were limited. The height of the viaduct, much higher than the houses, limited the view.
I keep getting flashbacks. I can’t say I was happy back then… but I just accepted that that was how things were. Like scrounging food or 2/- from a neighbour for Mam. Having no TV. I was amazed when I saw that the next-door neighbours had not only a TV but also a gramophone, a telephone, a refrigerator, and a hot-water geyser.
Although I’m certainly not happy with life today.

Catching this snap brought to mind One Man & His Dog, although I had to look up where I’d heard of it before. Oh, yes… It was a BBC programme series about a Shepherd and his dog and Sheepdog trial. 1977, I think. 
There goes another flashback!

A fellow blogger told me that Pluto TV were showing the original Mission Impossible series on TV. I looked at the channels available on Virgin, getting all excited about watching them again. But Pluto was not on the list. I almost cried! Hahaha!

I managed a couple of teatime shots of the sky, clouds, and sun. I’ve never known the sun to be hidden so quickly by the clouds. The darkness lightened a little later?
Flashback due…
Reverend Salmon, 1956ish. Telling our Boys’ Brigade Company that when the Lord returns, the world will go dark, yet the sun will shine. Now, did I dream this? Where did it come from? How the Hell could I remember it if it did happen? How come I’ve never thought about it before?
And another thing: I forgot to publish the blog today. I emailed a request for the Doctor and sent it to the District Nurses! I lost my reading glasses, can opener, TV remote and forgot about the Doctor’s appointment. That is, of course, up to now, plenty of time for me to make more .

Then I found I’d made another cock-up. I came across the meal snap from last night and feel I didn’t put it on the blog for yesterday… or did I? I’ll check later.

Waiting for the same last Carer to arrive. Hard work. 
Makes me nervous, actually. And the company have made this Carer my regular one.
My bad, someone else’s good.

The meal, prepared before his arrival, was potato and vegetable soup with extra spuds, seasoned with a drop of teriyaki sauce. Two bread rolls for dipping.

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Inchie: Tuesday 14th April 2026

/ Inchie / 12 Comments

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Cragnuts – Testicles – & Cobblers!
Late Wednesday morning now, and I’ve just found out that all graphics & photos for today have been deleted in Tuesday’s panic over the memory, after I’d spent hours deleting as much as I could to free up the memory to start, and hopefully save this blog later, I foolishly deleted Tuesday’s! At least the two above had been inserted into WordPress before I proved my need for mental help.
Oh, I found I’d left just one more photograph on the card, the meal, taken after the mess deletion session. Thankful for small mercies.
Everything is going wrong again!
The Catheter problems and the forgotten tasks are building. Book with the Chemist for the Covid and the flu jab. Call the bank as requested.
The British Gas Meter farce has not been sorted in three years now. Despite three attempts by Carer Ejaz phoning them, nothing has changed. The threat is that the meter may stop working unless I send a meter reading. We have requested and been told that an engineer will call to resolve the issue… but the oligarchs did not send anyone, nor even email a reply to my request.
Finally finding out that my chest pains were not from the rib cracks, as the Warfarin DVT blood collector said she is taking an extra vial today, for the Renal Department. Kidneys?
Anne Gyna’s visitations return with venom.
Still have not got a list of the Carer’s call times. 
I’ve never been so far behind with my, to me, precious blogs. I’ll see if any photos are left on the Camera SD, but I’m pretty sure I deleted them all after putting them on file, only to delete them again. Luckily, I had not deleted them all; I have the grand total of two from the 15 I had. Grrr!
Every time I go on the computer, I do not know if the memory will cope, uncomfortable, frustrating and demoralising. P’s me off so much, and I get angry with myself, which instantly brings on self-hating and loathing at my patheticness.
I’ll have no enthusiasm after another idiotic mistake that could have been avoided. If only I did not panic when things go wrong… which seems to happen several times a day. Everyday.
So, a graphic-less, and sparseness of photos, and again, the memory-pad writing is terrible and often means I ignore what I can’t read, and sometimes I do have a guess if the word seems to fit the scribble on either side of it. But this gets me even madder, ’cause it takes so long that I end up even further behind on the blog, and no other problems get sorted. Then either Anne Gyna, Duodenal Donald, or Shaking Shaun joins in the discomforting emotions, and usually, a decent length of time  to add to my mental mayhem. Writing this is such an occasion, so I expect that having to redo work already done & lost through my own over-anxiousness will not help at all.
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Tuesday 13th April 2026
At 02:00 hours, I woke up in agony from the urine flow-back. No urine in the Catheter Pouch again. I went up and walked about slowly for around two hours, as for some reason, this lessened the pain a smidge. I tried pushing the Cather tube further in, to no avail. But when Anne Gyna and then the kidneys kicked off, I could not take that much pain. So I pressed my Alert-Alarm button. Explained to the controller, and she said she’ll ring the District Nurses for me. I then started doing all manner of things to try to put my mind off of the agony from the bladder within. Vaccumed, had a stand-up wash and shave, visited the toilet twice, and weighed Trotsky Terence results. Hoovered, sorted through a drawer… dropping it on the floor! You wouldn’t believe the amount of crap that tumbled out! Upsetting , and I had to bend down to retrieve the scattered assorted garbage from the floor. 

06:20hrs: Not long after, two Angels of Mercy arrived. Got me on the bed (I can’t say that very often, Hehe!), and could find no reason for the Catheter failing. The nurse jigged the Catheter tube and inserted it a little more, and suddenly the urine flowed again!
Once more, I felt a fool!

A page and a half of ungrammatical, undecipherable scribblings had to be ignored. And that’s yer lot from the notepad help. However, I think there may have been a possibility that the kidney pain started at a higher, more severe level. With no Oxycodones left to use, I had to take several Co-Codamol tablets to reduce the pain to an acceptable level. Although still painful from Kidney Kid & Anne Gyna, they eased within 20 minutes, but only temporarily. I’m sure I remember recording the Carer’s visits. But if I did, I might have written them on any of the three pages I was jumping between as I moved from page to page over two days’ blogs. Or, the pain was so much that I didn’t record them at all. Not in a good spot today.

Ah, the found meal photo.

Got it done by myself tonight.

I really did make a mess with my notepad recording.
I can now recall…
Jenny, my Angel, who did the laundry for the Carer, who put it in the wash, and she collected it, and Robin Hood Frank returned it all folded. Much appreciated. Bless them both, thanks, X. Jenny phoned me later; she is coming to see me with her friend, who is visiting Jenny and collecting for charity.

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In the next blog, I’ll try not to delete things from.

All the bestest! 

Inchie: Monday 13th April 2026

/ Inchie / 12 Comments

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3:15hrs: I woke very reluctantly indeed, to be greeted by Mind-Mangling-Malcolm, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley and Rib-Pains-Rupert were in angery moods.. As I was taking off the night Catheter, Grip-Loss-Gloria ensured I dropped the nocturnal pouch, and Dizzy Dennis nearly had me topple over as I retrieved the pouch. Made a dismal effort to straighten the bedclothes.
Off to the Porcelain Throne, Trotsky Terence fashion, sorted the bins and got the Health Checks done. With some poor results again, see the photo above. I searched for the Four-Pronged-Percy. Failed to, but I’ll find him later, of course, I may have left him in the kitchenette with the Wooden-Willy-Walking-Stick.
Got the computer on to record the HC results.
Google loaded second time, then had a right farcical eight attempts to get CorelDraw to load. I then ended it, which was loaded with missing pages, and it gave me a warning that my device’s memory was 96.5% full. You cannot save any changes made to this graphic. Try saving it with another name. ‘Save As’ in a different name. Remember to delete what you can to ensure there will be sufficient room to save. That cost me over an hour to sort out, and I think I may have deleted some unintended files. Cumudgeon-Mode-Adopted! Third visit, same mode, to the Porcelain Throne.
And found Wooden-Willy-Walking-Stick.

07:15hrs: The Carer arrived.
Jenny, my Angel, sent an email, and I responded. Hubby Frank is coming up to see me later. A nicer, kind pair of people and I could not ask for better. Always willing to help out, despite Jenny’s own problems. 🤎

In the morning, lateenalenal morning on Tuesday, (Another bad night & morning involving nurses visiting me and lots of hours of excruciating pain), I found this photographicalisation on the SD card. It took me a while to see what it was of, the reminder notepad on the desk, I think. Then I launched into ‘Wandering-Mind-Mode’ for a few hours. Concentration Konrad had me starting jobs, and at the first interruption to my thoughts, I found myself in another room doing something unrelated. I kept doing this so often today. But many tasks were never returned to, and that ‘Haze’ was in charge too often, too.

Rashid made his next call. I was pleased with his increased attention, and to me. Not a bad lad, and seems to be improving each call. He checked and loosened the Catheter straps and medicated the leg scars. After he’s gone, the bag fell down when the straps broke. After another Porcelain Throne visit (Trotsky Terence mode), I went to empty the Catheter bag… and there was nowt in it? I wasn’t too worried, with all the fuss and bother today, I hadn’t drunk so much water. So I got a few bottles out and started to gulp it down. After three litres had been swallowed, as I checked the pouch, I felt the bad backflow pains start. The pains were terrible and persistent. I decided to call the Community Nurses to ask for advice and help if needed. The AI robot kept repeating, ‘We are very busy. If you are calling in an emergency, please dial 111 for advice.’ After half an hour, another AI voice, female this time, said, “You are number 18 in the queue. I was walking around to take my mind off of the pain, and the door chime chimed. I had progressed to being 9th in the queue and went to the door.
It was the Falls Team, lady. As I was saying about the lack of urine flow, it started flowing again out of the blue. All good. Slowly, the pain eased, and the flow continued while the Fall’s Team lady was here. We did some Q&A’s. Kindly adjusted the c1968, tatty, scruffy, unkempt, uncomfortable, virus, microorganism, bug, bacterium, bacillus, germ, parasite producing, eyesore-horrendously grungy, disease-fermenting second-hand, beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, moth-eaten, non-working, itch-encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, Catheter tube yanking, recliner, for me. Thank you. Looks better now. Some no-sores cushions were arranged for me on my recliner and computer chair. Bless them. I was still in some pain and got the shakes and dizzies while she was with me. I lost a lot of what was agreed. But there was something else, I think. When she’s gone, I increased the water intake to be on the safe side.

I got back onto the blog and made so many mistakes again. I was doing reminders for Monday and using the Sunday blog to catch up, and got slightly confused between the two.
So, from here on, I realise there may be more errors between the days. I hope not, but it’s so late in the day now; my eyes are fading fast, and my cognitive attention and recognition are worse.  
I, well, my EQ can sense that my conditions, physically and mentally, are getting to me more, and things will get worse in a short space of time. Along with the lack of a good painkiller, the computer and related problems were getting worse, and later on, scarily, I had to shut it down before I was ready, blue-screen, shortage of memory warnings, and the frustrations developed again to keep Dark Dank, Depression Darius company. My wandering mind does not help.
The Catheter problems are returning, no sleep at all tonight, and backflow agony, and my responses to the problems and failed corrections are that I think I’m getting a smidge more resigned to them. Accepting them… what else can I do? Then I think of the help I get from Angel Jenny, and feel ashamed. I’m getting all morbid and self-pitying, aren’t I? Writing this codswallop, and knowing now what was to come overnight, I should be ashamed, too.

Another mystery snap found on my Kodak-Tim-2 camera. Not a mystery of what it is of, but a mystery of why the heck I took it in the first place, possibly not meaning to? All part of the great mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, & spirits. Receptive Aphasia Phyllis, Paroxysmal dyskinesia, Episodic ataxia, Ménière’s disease, Dark, Dank Depression Darius, Chronic Kidney Disease (CKD), Brain with TBI, Toothache Tiffany, Nicodemus Neurotransmitters Dying, Cataract Katie, Fractured Knee Frank, Glaucoma Gladys, Anne Gyna, Stuttering Stephany, Lymphorrhea Leslie, Premordid Cognitive Impairment Inchie, DVT, Diabetic Polyneuropathy, Reflux Roger, Mind Wandering Malcolm, Blood-Levels up & down, Duodenal Doanld, and the damned seizures. With Fata Morganas that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited sanity of cerebrum and body. High Blood Pressure & Cholesterol. Did I mention getting shot twice and my mechanical aorta? My faith & hopes are on the wane. Not to mention my bank account, which is at its lowest it has ever been!
Just thought I’d mention it, like. 

This photo, I’m not sure when I took it, but I think it was Monday, and I have no idea what it was of. A work of unintended art? No, a shaking Inchie. Haha!

Mizra made his only call of the day, following Ejaz’s.
WE hope to get the showring and laundry done on Tuesday. Fingers crossed there is no hassle to stick its nose in… There was, tell you next time. 🤐

Got the meal prepped and done. Mizra spread some bread and buttered it with no-butter butter and some soft cheese, to have with my nosh.
Smashing!

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