Neuropathic Myoclonus

Inuring Inchy: Thursday 28th November 2024

/ Inchie / 7 Comments

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A change in style for Ode of the day today,
Sarcasm I tried to avoid, store away…
Add intelligence, albeit adumbratively,
I tried to create an eclectic array…
Thoughts, & memories a personal breviary, 
Steer clear of any lachrymosity…
Not to overdo my loquacity,
Or even mention Starmer’s lubricity!
Mix reality with dreams & veridicality,
To blend farce with pretend-unctuosity,
I was hoping for some theopneusty,
I failed in all; I just created self-anxiety…
My earlier ideas mentally acted evasively…
Doreen Dementia with great audacity… 
Stopped me from accessing, acted evasively…
Dealing with my thoughts circuitously,
My grey cells, infested with a new proclivity,
My intended hopes fell into jejunity!
I’m sad now I’ve missed the opportunity…
I’ve lost my thoughts, plans & fecundity,
Fading intelligence & mental acuity,
Next week, I’ll be back again in Ward 23,
The nurse said for electroencephalography,
It records brainwaves, electroencephalographically
I wish I could have done this ode betterly…
It started so well as well… Pity!
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Yet another sleepless night! I went through the same routine. Last night I watched the TV in 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.
But Sweet Morpheus refused to arrive. Once more, I moved into the hospital bed. But the piles were so painful, I moved back to the c1966, £300 charity shop bought second-hand, wincingly grotty, beige coloured, not working, crumb-covered from the nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, recliner. I stayed there with the TV on and nothing to watch, but as a general rule, this often sends me into the bliss of sleep when the adverts come on. Not tonight, Oh, no such luck!
I was still there at 06:00hrs and decided to rise from the depths of the uncomfortable recliner. The first job was to remove the , and then get a wash and medicate poor Harold’s Haemorrhoids, which were as bad as yesterday morning. It’s not anywhere near so bloodied this time, though.
I made a halfhearted attempt at straightening the hospital bed covers, giving myself a decent .
For the first hour or so, I had no s, and as far as I could tell, no seizures either. When the shocks came on, the seizures came on simultaneously. I managed a nifty bit of balance manoeuvring that prevented any tumbles.
. I was taking a photo of the dark morning sky, with Venus as the only thing on view in the sky.
I considered adopting another Smug Mode when I saw how well it came out. And took a lower-down view of the hidden houses. As I closed the window, the Kodak dropped from my limp grip. ! I automatically grabbed the camera as I bent down and actually caught it! Unfortunately I had a  and banged my against the floor radiator. It made such a mess that I got a new set-up from the main junk room and retired to the wet room to get the bag changed and things cleaned up, putting on some fresh PPs afterwards. At least I felt a little freshened up and cleaner. It took me ages to replace it, and the bending down so much bothered Dizzy Dennis, who told me about it. I sat down on the Porcelain Throne to let things calm down. Soon, however, I found myself in need of the Porcelain Throne mentioned above.
It was all over in about a minute. I passed so many soft chunky lumps, along with what looked like a good dose of gravy, that followed immediately after the approximately twenty cubes of poo had escaped! It’s a blessing in a way; the differences in colour, pong, and contents in my daily visits to the wet room’s Porcelain Throne.
Never ever the same twice on the trot!

As I belatedly got on the computer, Carer Alia arrived. Medications sorted and given.

I did well with the photo saving after using the cCleaner this morning. Only a couple were rejected.
I pressed on and finished the Wednesday blog. It took me a while, as I had a prolonged Seizure when checking the blog for errors. I do recall starting the Grammarly check. Their new confusing side strip indicators (they’ve just come on again, and with my eyesight, they often confuse me) annoy me with all these unwanted changes, and that was my last memory for an hour or so. I very nearly just clicked the ‘Publish’ tag. But I managed to see what an absolute mess I’d made with so many errors and mistakes, and I had to spend another hour reviewing them and correcting them. Grumph!

EERIE PHOTO
I snapped a picture of the horizon. The mists in the background and the sun rising from the left behind the block of flats looked beautiful, almost surreal.

The cannabis-growing dwellings showed up, with the ground and roof frost melting more on the top of some houses than others. Yes, I was wearing my Sherlock Holmesian hat this morning. Hehehe!

Gave me a few tugs, but she soon settled down. He was enjoying himself for a few hours. He was on and off for most of Carer Sam’s midday visit. Not sure what she thought was going on. But was kind enough not to mention it. I explained to her that the nurse had ordered me some cream and lotions after she had checked my magnificent (Ahem!) bodily orifices. The acne and eczema, Little Inchies fungal lesion, the Catheter strap area, and piles will benefit from these. But, I’ve forgotten what she told me, that each one was for now. Tsk!

I made an Asda order for late next week. I shall make sure I get it right this time! No, I didn’t, after all.
“Sorry, something went wrong. Please try again later”
Well, I did several times. But no, go!

: I spotted on the web that the new Heron Food Store in Sherwood had opened. I decided to pay it a late visit. Which meant having to get washed, unclothed, and reclothed, as well as struggling to get the trousers on after rejigging the new catheter set up so it didn’t pull too much with the trews on. Then, I had a battle to get the shoes on. I set up the three-wheeled trolley and hoped I’d got the bus times right. I set out…
I left the front door with the walker and turned to lock the door, but I didn’t have the keys! I was sure I had them in the coat pocket. Now I must find and collect them and get to the bus stop on time. A mini-panic overcame me. Back in the flat, it took me a few minutes to find the keys, then I checked that I’d got the bus pass on me. I departed again in something nearing a poor imitation of a rush.
I went to the lift, down in it, out of it, along the connecting corridor, through the main foyer, and out onto the street. I noticed no bus at the stop. Maybe I was early. I hobbled hastily to the bus stop.
How terribly disappointing! The sign read something like, “This bus stop is closed due to road repair workings!” Shitski!
All that effort and pain to get ready as well!
I walked back to Winwood Court foyer and let some nurses in as I entered the building.
Along the dark, dank corridor, then through the connecting swipe door into Woodthorpe Court, limped to the lifts, up in the lift, out of the lift, into the flat’s foyer, and finally back home to the flat. I think I sulked a little! I got iI got inside, feeling that my decision to go shopping was not a good idea. It took me yonks to save the two photos on file for use.
I had to use the cCleaner twice for some reason?

Better make my evening sarnies then.

The photographs on the left were taken by cheeky chappie Carer Christopher!

The little scallywag took them while I was eating my meal & watching something on YouTube.

I had no idea he’d done so until he handed me my camera. Hehehe! You can see how I was enjoying, despite the painful teggies, as the last few teeth battled to chew through the mini feast. And there’s no doubt about it, it was one of the most enjoyed ones I’d had in a long time. Good job that I’ve got the Tooth Pain Killer spray at hand! It was well used.

The Meal: It was nothing fancy. Two large defrosted cheesy topped rolls, none-butter-buttered, with a smidge of Marmite added. Chopped onions, a big dollop of pickled beetroots, sliced-up a sea-salted Dutch tomato, and a stick of Marmite-infused cheddar cheese! I made up four cobs, wrapped up two and put them in the fridge for the morning. (I’ve just taken them out of the refrigerator now, Thursday midday) I must have been concentrating on the programme on the computer or eating the meal (most likely).

Cause I don’t know how I didn’t realise that Chris was snapping away with the Kodak. Hehe!

SADLY… Sleep was resisting again!
I didn’t even bother trying to get into the bed after last night’s ‘Oh, so painful’ effort at sleeping was, for poor old Harold’s Haemorrhoids. I returned to the £300 second-hand shop purchased in 1966, which was a welt-causing, uncomfortable, not working, itch-inspirational, and crumb-containing recliner.
Initially, I had some success and nodded off for around about an hour & a half.
Then, the first visit for several days came from the nasty . That was the end of my night’s repast. I forced myself up at 06:30hrs… and commenced a battle with the to get it detached from the day bag.  

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TTFN & Taketh Care, each!
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Insular Inchy: Wednesday 27th November 2024

/ Inchie / 10 Comments

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06:00hrs: My body shook, and the sharp, tacky pains emitted from the blood-congealed, horribly painful rear rump, which contained .
I edged my bottie as carefully as I could manage; I could feel the cracking dried blood as I lifted my elephantine bellied body from the second-hand, c1968, eyesorely-horrendously grungy beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, microorganism-microbe producing, gungy, moth-eaten, beige-coloured, non-working, bacillus encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, c1968 recliner.

As I rose up on my wobbly legs, I trod on the tube and nearly fell back down onto the bum! Thank heavens I didn’t – I’d probably still be crying now if I did. The Haemorhhoids were so hurtful at their most painful today.
Last night, I forgot to ask the Carer to remove the Diabetic socks from me. Then, as I was removing the night pouch from the day pouch connection, I noticed that the urine colour was far too red! I recall thinking, “What next?” It didn’t take me long to find out…I’d left the tray with the dirty plate & cutlery (but no food on it; Hehehe!) on the Carer’s table from last night’s meal. I took the things into the kitchen, the pouch plates and trays, etc., to get them all washed, emptied and sorted. To find:
The water was so cold. Then again, being left running for about 12 hours, hot water taps tend to do that. I notice these things! This was about the 4th time this week! A little gnashing and s+wearing in a self-defamatory well followed. Then, I felt the blood trickling down my inner legs as Harold’s Haemmorrids flowed freely. By the time I’d cleaned the plates and sorted the catheter pouch out, there was a blood-red puddle on the kitchenette floor, via the rear end piles, down the legs and feet, and had got into the slippers. Finding the words to describe how I felt gives me vent to using naughty language… but I’ll not do so.
I painfully manoeuvred my way to the wet room, now requiring the use of the .
After a near standard other than its great weight, first Constipation Conrad torpedo evacuation – Trotsky Terence followed up immediately after, with two spurts of mushy-spraying-all-over & making a right mess to clean up. But the thing was, another first… well, second really; The torpedo was dark brown, the first wet-mode burst was almost red, and the second splattering was Karki coloured! I was tempted to take a snap to show the Doctor. I started to strip off to get the Heammorrhoids cleaned and creamed and realised that no hot water was available. After another short burst of frustrating language and self-berating, still in pain, I went to the kitchen, thinking I could put on some saucepans of water to heat up and use…
!!! I remembered that the cooker had broken and could not be used to heat anything! The curses I used grew a little nastier now! So, I used the kettle and the slow cooker to get some hot water to clean up and carry out the needed medicalisationings.
I began to try to sort out the haemorrhoid problem for cleaning as the PPs were removed…
Joined in with Harold, spouting blood. This cannot be happening, surely?
Every single day – disasters, failures, errors!
And it wasn’t over yet…
I pride myself on being more pain-tolerant than most, having been thrown in the Canal as a youngster, being shot twice, a heart attack, and having had Peripheral Neuropathy. A duodenal ulcer, & been mugged. On the same day in 1966, I suffered a DC and then, an hour later, an AC electric shock. Then, I had a stroke. So, all these things helped me learn to cope a little easier. But today, Harold’s Haemorrhoids and Little Inchies Fungal Lesion bleeding at the same time, then Toothache Tiffany kicked off – combined with so many out-and-out , Accifauxpas, cock-ups, mistakes and a belated appearance from , I felt that I struggled to cope as well as usual.
But it wasn’t over yet!

I did suffer with fetching hot water to and from the kitchen, but at least I avoided an Accifauxpa of dropping any.
Smug-Mode, almost Adopted – but I thought it best not to!

Carer Richard arrived as I made a brew of Glengettie tea, which was when my first of the day arrived. I think I did a lot of waffling, but I am unsure. I forgot to ask Richard to take off my socks for me. Minutes later, a carer and the NHS district nurse arrived. Nice!

The Carer departed to come back later and left me with the nurse. No complaints here! Embarrassingly, she checked Little Inchies fungal lesion, then Harold’s Haemorrhoids. I think I explained that I’d cleaned them up, but she was not impressed. She is going to order two new creams for me to use. She was in a rush, and I can’t remember what she told me about which cream was for which ailment now. Grumph!

I finally got on the computer. I’m miles behind again.

On the right, I took three shots this morning before finding the hot water tap in the kitchenette had run cold. But it didn’t bother me, naturally… I suppose one could say I’m such a happy-go-lucky, cheerful bundle of joy, a petite young scallywag.
On the other hand, if I have another day like today, who can say? Sob!
The rain came down a little later. Not as much as t blood did at various times today; as I was writing this, I had a monster -sneeze. Now, I’ve a bloody nose! Knowing how affectionate, supportive and jealous my selection of ailments are to each other, I was not in the least bit surprised when, an hour later, I dunked an LU cookie in a mug of tea… it took ages to stop the tooth bleeding.

I suppose I’m just lucky?

After the next Carer arrived, Carer Kara came to see me. As if to prove if I had a seizure when Richard called or not, I found the morning tablets box filed on the Carer’s desk. I could not remember if I’d taken some this morning or had missed yesterday morning’s dosage?
As I thought hours ago, what’s next?

Wholemeal rolls, Stilton cheese, red onions, pork loin, & air-fried potatoes. With loads of sweet baby pickled beetroots.

I packed up early on the darned computer. So tired and fed up with the problems it was giving me. But could I sleep? No! Not a chance in Hell! I tried the hospital bed, but the way the nurses left it after changing the positions so often to try to get the catheter tube back in Little Inchie it was just too uncomfortable. I spent over an hour adjusting it to how I got it, which was restful and took hours, the last time the nurses had been, to get semi-sleep-on-able.
No chance tonight. So I returned to the itch-creating, bruise-giving, catheter-tube-tugging, crumb-decorated from my nocturnal nibbling, God-awfully uncomfortable, cringingly grotty, no longer working, dirty beige, anti-sleep designed, c1966, second-hand bought for £300 ten years ago from the charity shop, recliner. But had acquired a new back pain from all the trying out the bed, and depression took over.
Carer Promise did the last two calls. During this, I didn’t move out of the c1966, £300 charity shop bought second-hand, wincingly grotty, beige coloured, not working, crumb-covered from the nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, recliner.
Just laid there feeling as if I’d been given a pep-pill and failing to fall asleep at all! I must have been trying to sleep for about 10 hours. Rising at 06:00hrs, feeling rather grotty, suffering  worse than ever.

HUMPH!

TTFN!
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Incapable Inchy: Tuesday 26th November 2024

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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My being a long-time self-medicator,
A sprayer, a creamer & ointmentater,
I’ve got tips for others to endure…
Some use bicarb & talcum powder,
Aftershave is an excellent blood-stopper,
Some tips for the use of a catheter,
You’ll have troubles… oh, yer!
The urine in your external nocturnal pouch…
Will make your Carer say, ‘Ouch!’.
When the colour is browner & redder,
You can waste your time telling a nurse or Doctor,
Who’ll always say you must drink more water!
Don’t bother telling them you feel a bit peakier,
Or that you are drinking gallons of spring water,
They’ll just think, the old git Inchy has dementia,
Don’t say you’re running a temperature,
They think you can’t read the thermometer…
With your cataract and glaucoma,
If you mention your seizure disorder,
You’re told, ‘Well, you’re getting older!’
I seeked help from the local Wicca Paganer,
She had no idea, but she was a fantastic pleasure,
Tube-out & in repeatedly pleased this pensioner,
Then the medics found I had parasitemia,
I broke the release valve on the catheter…
Started leaking more oftener,
Needing cleaning and a carpet washer,
My confidence began to falter,
But nothing did alter…
I’ve still got the same bloody catheter!
Pains, leaks by the plethora…
But I don’t complain… but I am a fibber!
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I couldn’t file any photos yesterday, yet this one of the sun dipping Monday night did. Amazing!
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Inchy Ode – Mark Two

I was partly inspired when the old me returned after enjoying a few hours of freedom from a life that, as I grew older, more disabled, and feeble, I was not really enjoying anymore. It did feel as if I was drugged, it’s true, but did I care? No! It was great! It flowed out so smoothly, not very well, but smoothly. Those few hours were free of hassle, although nothing had changed other than My appreciation and reaction to things? Maybe Seizure Sandra did have a go at me? This experience ended about three hours ago, and after reading my notes to do the ode, the old doubts came on again, tormenting me. Did I? Would I? Why? How? Not possible, surely? Etc…

Anyway, here it is, unedited, mistakes and all.

Today, I admit and say…
Was neither this or that way,
I sensed little at all today…
My mind seemed so far away,
Seizure Sandra seemed to go astray,
Most difficulties seemed to go mentally,
I was out of it almost permanently,
Yet, it didn’t seem to bother me…
For most of the day, I responded salaciously,
I believe I showed signs of almost sagacity?
At one time, I thought someone had drugged me!
I’ve never had a day go so worry-free!
I couldn’t have given a toss, actually…
I seemed to be living somewhat sacrosanctly,
This afternoon, around a quarter to three,
I reclaimed my veracity suddenly…
Worries, fears, & frustrations returned instantly,
I went from the rare uncaring back into misery,
Gloomy, dubiously, with my mental tortuosity,
Is this how it is for the drunk and druggie?
If someone did Mickey Fin me, ostensibly?
I hope they do it again cause it did seem to me…
Admittedly, it only lasted temporarily…
For a few hours, it was a different Inchy,
Self-hatred gone, I felt a smidge of pomposity!

Or did I dream it all? No, no, no, I didn’t!

Mostly guesses with the photos today.
Last night’s sunset.

Different shades of the urine bag.

Waste bag; I have no idea why.
There must have been a reason for it?

Horrible tasteless rolls

I remember this: the laundry returned damp, and some of it was still wet! Hung them on the airer.

Evening mug of Glengettie.

Sunset.
The computer let me save them!

Found some notes that I wrote last night.
Can’t read a word of the scribble.
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TTFNsk
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Ignored Inchy: Monday 25th November 2024

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

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ODE FROM INCHY
AWAITING THE RETURN OF LOGICALITY
Which I think will not return to me,
Another loss, just like my sanity,
Hoping for improvement shows my inanity,
I prayed pleadingly to the almighty,
I don’t think he heard Inchy, not with certainty,
Then I tried Lucifer to free me from demonry,
But I guess these pleas were more delusionary,
They were for sure rather confusionary…
Sometimes I feel near-contented, jaunty…
Usually, when Odeing, that to me is not petty, 
For some reason, it is a lifegiving essentiality,
Even when the brain mangles my memory,
My computer bars graphics, & photography,
I hate violence, war and the Oligarchy,
I left the hot tap running; I did it twice today!
Suffer many bothersome mini-seizures daily,
With manifestations through my theopathy,
As one ages, words gain a new certainty…
I appreciate words, but not as easily…
Like, anonymity…obscurity, & uncertainty,
Invisibility, inscrutability, & anonymity,
Making decisions is complex, fuzzy, hazy,
Actioning finally taken often shows ethereality,
Making corrections, ridden with inner disunity,
Confusingly, words show a level of banality,
I have to treat specific memories sceptically…
Well, indeed, every memory or action doubtingly,
Look at the world, Putin, Starmer, Trumpery!
Complaining? Me? I’ve not got the temerity,
Although life can sometimes feel so tawdry,
It can be scaring, worrying, and depressingly,
Yet, at this moment, there’s a sign of glee…
I’ve beef in black bean sauce & a mug of tea!
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Reluctantly, I stirred at 02:50hrs.
Fell asleep at 0255hrs.
Unintentionally, I stirred at 03:10hrs.
Fell asleep at 03:15hrs.
Jumped awake at 03:30hrs.
Lat pondering on a dream I’d just had that was not clear enough to recall in detail, but Grizelda was in there somewhere; the pain from the so rare involuntary movement in Little Inchies locality assured me that Grizelda was the topic of the dream. I think it was a pleasant one.
Fell asleep at 0420hrs. Tried to find Grizelda in the ether again. No luck, of course.
I woke with a jump at 04:40hrs.
Fell asleep at 05:45hrs…
I woke again around 06:00hrs and realised I needed to complete the ablutions before a carer arrived.
I carefully dismounted the bed. Little Inchy’s temporary expansion had disappeared, leaving a small amount of blood coming from the catheter tube inserted.

Not for the fainthearted!
I stripped off and put the nightwear in the laundry bag. Got a fresh catheter pouch holder, the slippers, and fresh Protection Pants, etc, ready for after the shower & shave, and medicationing duties were finalised. Took them with me into the wet room.
The first thing was to get my bottom down on the WC. The evacuation was a tacky-sticky, messy one. I did the few teeth I have left, causing, I’m afraid, to kick off. Then, possibly the most farcical event of the day. Having a shave. An everyday event, but not for Inchy. A first-ever here! While shaving, I’m sure I went into a few seizures of over 20 minutes or so. As I had supposedly finished shaving and rinsing off the foam and blood, it dawned on me that I had shaved only half of the face and neck! It’s like I go on auto-pilot… but as with the computer, where I get the majority of the seizures. I keep doing things while ‘under the grip of (sometimes), and I come to semi-awareness to find I’ve made a mess of everything I’ve done. But this is the first time it has happened in the wet room. I assume, anyway. So I had to reshave again. Bringing up the total number of cuts and knicks to a count of five.
: The usual routine was carried out, but the Catheter netting bag was not attached; too much genuflecting is not suitable for and upsets Dizzy Dennis, Arthur Itis, Cartilage Chloe & Carol, Bad-Balance-Barbara, and can trigger Tumble-over- or Trip-over-Trevor. 
, and . then rubbed in the Barrier Cream on Inchy’s-Bouncy-Belly, underneath the arms, on the forehead, lower arms and on the edges, and ,
and checked to make sure there were no more outbreaks of .

Then, I got the eyes and ears medicated. Next, I tackled the typically most painful medical sequences required daily. Little Inchies fungal cream applying!

This was the last job, as usual, in the wet room. Luckily, the pain does not bother me in the slightest bit. I just laugh it off and usually start singing a song or yodelling. Today, it was Frankie Vaughan’s Don’t Stop, Twist’… Argh!

was playing up again. Later, when I got on the computer, I gave the sparse teggies and gums a blast of £599.00 per 100 ml Toothache pain relief spray. Some effervescent paracetamols were added to the Bladder-demanding spring water bottles. I almost forgot to empty the nocturnal pouch. I then realised and stopped myself in time, as the Carer will need to confirm the colour with the NHS colour record chart/card. Carer Chloe arrived later and said it was a match with a classification of a seventh level. Ah, well!

SANDRA’s MINI-SEIZURES SHOWTIME STARTS!
As Carer Richard arrived, so did Sandra. I have no idea if he noticed my condition, and my recollections remain confusing. That’s how bad Sandra’s first attack was. This time, it was not so mini-either. Richard was here for a while, making his last night shift call. Thankfully, the blurriness and confusion had cleared by the time he left. But she gave me many more mini-blanks over the next four or five hours. My beloved DVT Anticoagulation Warfarin nurse, Hristina, arrived. And she could tell the difference in my responses… even if I couldn’t.
My memories are still a little vague, but I’m sure she mentioned me talking to the Doctor about the seizures. Hristina is a lovely gal♥

My other friend, Jenny, called me. After she’d read about the Milk Roll loaf not being delivered, she arrived at the flat with a loaf of bread from her freezer for me. Another Gem! ♥

I struggled with the computer (I still am now, Tuesday p.m.), but despite getting further behind, I am determined to get the photos on the blog. It’s hard work!
Aha, got some from, not many, from earlier in the day.
Unfortunately, only these two above.

SANDRA’s MINI-SEIZURES SHOWTIME RESTARTS!
Little & often. I did give up then. I sat down and tried to get some sleep, catching up. Huh!

The Carer called; I was half asleep after waking up, yet somehow knew I was coming out of another seizure.
Carer Promise took the washing down for me.

Afternoon delights in the sky

Bootiful!

Plenty of vehicles in today.

The last shot was as the sun was on its way down.
Well, it wasn’t the last, but it was the last one the computer would let me save to file today.

TTFNsk!
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Infant Inchy: Sunday 24th November 2024

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

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ODE from INCHY

From within the depths of a shallow hope,
Dreams may start to evoke…
Your old desires, you will possibly revoke,
Be you young, old, female or menfolk,
Chances are you’ll need a urineascope,
You can avoid them using the cystoscope,
Maybe a heart op, or colonoscope,
Or the uncomfortable gastroscope,
A bronchoscope that goes down your throat,
Perhaps (I’ve had lots of these) a cystoscope,
An oesophagoscope (I’ve only had one) no more, I hope,
Many surgical wotsits names end with scope…
Laparoscope, various forms of endoscope,
Urethroscope, proctoscope, that’s also a rectoscope,
The first cancer detector was a spinthariscope,
Which at the time helped me cope.

Labours Nye Bevan, my hero, had appeal & allure,
He saved many lives; he created the NHS for sure…
In 1948, began the NHS adventure,
Few medicals were then available for the poor,
Then, to the NHS, they did pour,
I became an ardent admirer,
Look at it now, and we’ve got Starmer…
Stealing from each pensioner and farmer,
He’s a bribes & backhanders palmer!
What made the liar want to join Labour?
Let alone become the opposition leader,
Did he come as a Labour saboteur?
Now he’s P.M., the nasty, cruel bleeder!
The politician I most hate and abhor,
Labour’s Red Rose may be due to alter…
Keir may replace it with a bloodied sabre,
He’s not going to be the UK’s saviour,
It’s personal wealth that he does savour,
I don’t mean him harm, but I’m not a well-wisher, 
I’ll wish him Godspeed to his undertaker!
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Photo filing problems again.
Mini-seizures were rife throughout the day.
Dark Dank Depressions.
Immediate Dizzy Dennis Spells.
Concentration collapsed.
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Whoops! Wee-wee a bit red again.

I’m not sure what I did wrong taking this Kodak 2 photograph of the Renaurd-ridden toes and feet. They didn’t look anything like the hue the picture came out as. The bruising was where the cans of veg I dropped landed.

Made a mug of strong Glengettie tea. Slurp!

They were with me for about three hours on the trot.
I couldn’t find any work I had done while they were on, which is unusual. Usually, I’d find work done on the computer or in the kitchen that I could not remember doing. With the blog, this means I have to spend ages correcting things, but not today, as I have not done anything.

I soon found out I was wrong again!
It cost me time and money and embarrassment, which I didn’t realise until near teatime. When the front porch intercom sounded. I went to see who it was, expecting someone had rung the wrong flat number… or a resident had forgotten to take the key to get back in with them. But no, nothing so simple.
At the door on the screen, was a gentleman delivering me a Morrison’s food order?
So, I had been doing something while in the seizures. And what a mess I made of that, too!
I checked later on and sent the order off during the 3 hours of Sandra’s attendance.
The chap arrived, and I put the food away, but why I’d ordered some things and not others will remain a muddled mystery.

Why the hell I ordered roasting potatoes and frozen red onions, I do not know. I have nothing to cook potatoes on or in. I can now recall buying a bag of these months ago, and they were tasteless and had to be thrown away. Three bags of cheesy bread rolls were ordered, but no sliced Milk Roll bread was ordered. Oh, dearie me!
I ordered canned coffee, which was for the nurses and carers. I also ordered some more soft drinks, but no spring water, which I take to fill the bladder.
Cream cakes? Why? Who for on a Sunday? Also, some fresh chopped white onions had been ordered? More tomatoes, two packs of different ones!
Not the faintest memory of making the order in the first place, when I made it, or why I made it!
I soon decided to see if any Caregivers wanted the cream cakes in the morning. I dropped one box of the cakes, and they squashed and sprayed cream through the breath holes in the carton!

It took me ages to clean up the mess.

Now, depression and frustration have begun.

I’m glad I ordered these cheeses, though. Mature Blue Stilton cheese and extreme vintage cheese spread. Not knowing this order was coming, I’d defrosted some ready-sliced brown bread rolls for today’s meal.

,
I used the last of the extra-strong cheddar slices on these rolls. Had I been in the habit of eating newspapers, this is just how I expected them to taste – tasteless!

After eating or nibbling a few bits of the horrendous-tasting rolls and weak cheese with some tomatoes, I put the just-delivered cheesy-topped rolls in the freezer for later.
Then I discovered they were not cheesy-topped at all, just plain wholemeal. Presumably, they had been substituted for the cheesy rolls that I wanted. Spit!

More of the day lost than recalled. Sorry.
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TTFNski!

Inchy: Friday & Saturday 23-4th November 2024

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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The memories recalled, but only just,
I think it may have been 1972, in August…
I met and was mauled by an anaesthesiologist,
Stabbed by an acupuncturist.
This year, I was robbed by an oligarchist,
Who goes by the name of Starmer!
Known as the proletariat’s financial amputator,
His first job as PM put pensioners asunder,
Raised taxes for every farmer,
Who accepted far too many a backhander…
He is still the Labour leader,
Money from anywhere he can acquire,
To his many wrongs, he’s not a conceder,
Because he is such an arrogant bleeder…
A perfect match to be a Tory Prime Minister,
He’s although blunt, he’s a clever circumventor…
Lies directly, by omission, a fibbing blatherer,
I bet he’s never been a TV renter,
Cause self-wealth is at his centre…
Working persons new tax inventor,
Bet he gets a free haircut from his barber!
His taxes put an end to improving agriculture,
He’s just like a greedy vulture!
His ruthlessness gives me acroparesthesia,
It’s like he got into power with tabula nasa,
Apart from filling his bank account whenever,
To morals & sympathy, he is a denyer,
I wonder if his stockings are 15 denier?
I doubt his calculations, cogitation, & dedication…
I wonder at times if he is just an apparition…
Sent by Putin, to do our economy in?
Or maybe a Right-Wing Martian?
He’s certainly caused political confusion,
Are, to Keir, old labour values an illusion?
Voters want action with anti-depression,
Not an HMG leader like an automaton!
It could all end with a revolution!
Maybe it can be stopped by a coalition,
But he doesn’t need my permission…
But he can have my commiseration,
HMG UK is leading to deterioration,
Sooner the better, for the voting disillusioned
That Starmer is toppled & decommissioned!
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Ah, a bit better colour!

Terrible photo!

Waste bags condensed.

Evening mug of Glengettie tea.

Blue evening views

Four big cob sarnies. But they were too big for me to manage. Waste not, want not; I bagged them, put them in the fridge, and ate them on Saturday. They were pork loin with robust cheddar cheese, no-butter butter, sliced tomatoes, and chestnuts. No finger cuts were sustained. 

Got more photos saved to go on tonight!
Smug-Mode-Adopted!

Note the deliberate spelling mistake? Ahem!

Gawd, I hate Starmer!
I don’t think I’m on my own.

A large rise in cases percentage-wise!

I did a bit of research later for the odd below above!

All was normal here.

Slightly darker this morning.

My morning shots are getting atrocious!

Yesterday, I, Sherlock Holmesianly, searched for the signs of which houses are growing Cannabis in their lofts.
Today, it became apparent. Hehehe!

I’m unsure how I did it, but I got the battery-powered can opener to work!

Snowgoinger! Haha!

No TV. No landline phone. No Panic Alarm Working.
NO INTERNET! For 5+ hours.
Still, as long as the owners of Virgin, Liberty-Global, keep paying their CEO a phenomenal salary. Indeed, they will remain the supreme, cunning, lying Oligarchs they are. Trying to cancel their service, with their clause making us pay £100s to do so, requires someone with the following skills and can afford a barrister, a mathematician, & Einsteinian genius.
If one does escape their financial and incapable service, one may try EE, 3, Vodafone, BT, UPC Broadband, 02, ITV plc, or  Sirius—all of which Liberty-Global either owns or has investments in! We can’t win!.
But Liberty-Global Always Do! (Spit!)

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TTFNski

Infoless Inchy: Wed 20th Nov 2024

/ Inchie / 9 Comments

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I’d like to relate a little anecdotage,
I’m losing my grip on life in my dotage!
My financial situation can be called in arrearage,
The medics can’t mend my wee wee appendage!
I have no willpower, respect or appanage,
So, I consulted a Sherwood archaeologist…
He dismissed me as being human sullage,
He checked on my lineage,
Suggested I go live in a hermitage,
Although a wizard, he was more like a hucksterage,
My nerve rash started getting blotchier,
He said: I know what’s up with yer…,
Like many old farts, you’re angry at Starmer!
Yer blood’s boiling at Keir and your bank manager, 
There’s no one at home to give you a blether,
And look at the state of the bloody weather!
I can see yer at the end of your tether…
Yer cookers’ broke, standing in yer corridor…
Can’t cook or pissed, you’ve lost your composure,
Problems with your heating & the computer,
Cancer, Renauds, toothache & painful catheter,
Starmer, Rachel Reeves, the HMG chancellor,
Yer feelin’ sorry for yersen, yer silly old dodderer!
Doreen Dementia depresses yer, 
The solution is available for you,
For £500, I’ll reveal what it is, too!
Go home and think it over, and come back Tuesday at two.
So I went back all punctual, expecting a natter and brew…
They told me he’d died last night on the loo!
More dreams like this, & I don’t know what I’ll do!
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I was up at 04:00hrs to give myself plenty of time to shower, shave, and complete another visit to the Porcelain Throne in time for food delivery from Ocado. A Trotsky Terence controlled evacuation, and all over within 20 seconds of getting my tight little bottie settled on the plastic WC seat. Splush… all done!
This ablution session took me over two hours, which was nothing unusual. I was all done abluting and started to get the medicationalisationings done.
Unfortunately, after yesterday and the five nurses’ attempts to get the tube back in the bladder via poor little Inchie, He was very delicate this morning. So, ointmentating the fungal lesion was even more painful than ever. It brought tears to my eyes!
But I got that done, and then I Phorpain gelled the cartilages of Chloe and Carole. Then, I did Arthur Itis’s left and right patellas with the same gel. Olive oiled the ears, put the
Blepha gel in the left eye, and Chloramphenicol drops into the right eye. (Well, most of it ended up down my chest and on the floor!)
I got some Germolid ointment on my bottie to help soothe Harold’s Haemorrhoids. Always a pleasure doing that. Then, the Acne & Excema medications are under and on the arms, the flabby drooping belly, the head, and the neck. Yes, it’s spreading again!
Next, congestion relief was sprayed onto the nasal area, and the Anti-Bleed swabbed when that cleared. The Nozohaem was kept handy, but it was not required. 
Then, a miracle occurred!
I could not understand why it was so easy this morning, but I still felt smug when I put on the fresh Protection Pants, pulled them up, and adjusted them without catching the catheter netting or anything—in less time than it took me to take the old ones off! Brilliant! I still can’t believe it myself! Did I dream it or have a mini-seizure?

I cleaned up the wet room, took the waste bag and the used catheter bag to make up a larger one, and saw it was only 06:10 hrs! I’d done all that in just over two hours. But,  being me, doubts lingered that I may have got the starting time or waking up time wrong. This took the edge off of my temporary period of almost glee and pride.

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COMPUTER NOT UP TO SCRATCH TODAY
I took this snap just before going to the wet room. You can’t see the snow in this one, but it’s stubbornly time-melting.
Very sad about all the photos I took, I can tell you! Heartbreaking.
I’ve lost the compunction… is that the right word? I’ll look it up… No that’s the wrong word altogether. I’ve lost interest in even trying to get this blog done. It’s already gone 20:00hrs, and I’m only up to here with it. I keep trying to get the photos on, but it takes so long using the Ccleaner that my pride and heart are not in it. For the first time ever as well. Still, it’s been a busy day again, interruptions, mistakes and the damned mini-seizures. I had a lot of them today, two when one carer was here and another with a different carer. I’m fuddled.

There was a mammoth cock-up again with the food orders. I would have sworn that I made one order for today and another with a different shop for next Wednesday. First, the Ocado delivery arrived. Then, this evening, the Tesco order arrived! No photos can be saved again, yet it let me do these above, then died on me again.

The computer let me upload these tonight, and later it saved them. Huh!
I think technology, ill health, mental & physical are getting too much for me.

Half of what took place needn’t have bothered me. I know that I had a carer doing the financial checks today, but who it was and two mini-seizures during the visit have left me well-baffled.

I’ve just run my neighbour and Angel of Mercy Jenny. I ordered cream cakes next Wednesday, and I now have two boxes. Her hubby, my mate Frank, kindly came up to collect them, along with a few bits that I would never eat, and they were short-dated. So, at least they have not been wasted and got to where they were intended for. I’d be lost without Jenny & Frank.

Sorry, but I’ve had enough today.
I’ll see how things go in the morning.
Fingers crossed.
I’ll make something to eat. I might even photograph it… but will the computer allow me to file it, or even load them?
Feeling dejected, that was the word!

Hope to see you in the morning.

Well, it’s evening now on Thursday.
But I did get some photos saved.

The 2nd delivery
I am a fool!

Tomatoes, potatoes, chestnuts, and chestnuts, with two really-filled ham rolls, with no-butter butter, & a dab of Marmite.
The potatoes were not very good.

Evening all! The snow melting.
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TTFN & Have a great day!

Iriot Inchy: Tue 19th Nov 2024

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

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Some words meanings I cannot muster,
Who invented the blockbuster?
A film, a book, why the buster?
Why a block? But it doesn’t matter…
Words that are far less a mind-bender,
Suited to describe a megalosaur…
It ideally matches the skills of Starmer…
Those words are a bullying-bullshitter,
He probably suffers from micropsia,
His decisions are self-centred & macabre,
His cabinet is something of a bricoleur,
He appears to be something of a bereaver,
They consider him their saviour, malefactor,
He’s like Thatcher, a determined tax-raiser,
He lies, by omission, the little meshuggener,
Taking freebies and many a backhander,
History will recall him as the Pensioner-Mugger,
A closet Brexiter,
A lousy, inhumane budgeter,
Being ballsier, but also barmier,
Contributors made his wealth grow bigger,
He knows he’s hated but doesn’t bother,
He hates plebeians; he’s a political blagger,
Rumour has it he wears a brassiere,
I see or hear him, and life gets mangier,
Life’s prospects get lower, mankier,
Starmer, the pensioner’s mortifier!
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03:00hrs: I girded my loins as I woke up, stretched my rippling muscles, and started yodelling as I began my morning press-ups and squats and did fifteen minutes of shadow boxing.
Alright, if yer want the truth, then…
06:15hrs: I stirred reluctantly to allow a mega-bast of wind to escape from my rear end. I removed the far-to-red coloured nocturnal pouch from the day catheter and mused briefly about yesterday’s various mistakes, cock-ups and all three of them, to me, disasters.

I grabbed , and went the kitchen to get the kettle on to satisfy my urge for a mug of Glengettie tea. Then, I spotted the hard-to-miss snow covering the view from the window.
After a while, I returned to the front bedroom and found the Kodak Camera. Back to the kitchenette and took these photographicalisations.
Each car park area is on Citrus Way in front of the apartment building. I rushed as it was darned cold out there.

When I got to the kitchen, I decided it was in a very untidy mess and needed tending to. I started by sorting out the waste bin bags into one and placing it near the front door to the rubbish chute later on.

I got distracted by the innards’ alert messages, which suggested that I should get to the Porcelain Throne as soon as possible—which I did! Only just in time, mind you; it was another close call. But they are much better than being embarrassed by any premature escapages. I’ve had a few of them lately! Humph! Today, not the usual one visit, but four! All in the same mode… Splurty!

Tea GlengettieFinally, I made a brew of Glengettie.
I then proceeded to the computer to start blogging… dropping the mug of Glengettie en route! 
MISTAKE AFTER MISTAKE!
You would not believe the things that needed doing, which I’ve been doing every day for the last three years on the blog, and they were tackled during Mind-Blanks and several Mini-Seizures. What a pickle I got myself into. 

Carer Chloe, I think, arrived a little later. The diabetic socks were not put on cause I thought I’d have to get the blog caught up and would not be able to take them off to get a shower. Naturally, this did not work out; with all the time needed to correct and amend things, I’d cocked up.

Carer Sam arrived as I’d just taken some more snow photos.

No snow was falling now.
The blue hue from the sky seemed to light all below.

Sam was going to put the socks on for me, but I thanked her and declined. I’ll have to have a shave and shower tonight or in the morning if I get up early enough and can make the time. I need two hours minimum, and the Ocado order is supposed to arrive between 06:00 and 07:00 hrs. It’s best to do it later tonight. If that is, I don’t leave the hot water tap running. Tsk!

The mini-seizures increased as the afternoon went on. At least I didn’t have much time to cock-up again. But I had to keep checking after each session.

THE SNOW BEGINS TO GO

The brown and red trees seem to be ridding themselves of the snow quicker than the other ones? I think it may be because they had thinner branches, and any wind may knock off the snow? No idea what I’m on about, really. 
Nothing new there!
Another summoning to the Porcelain Throne, Trotsky Terence, was still in control.

I’m struggling with getting the photos saved to file again. I’m going to give up and get summat to eat. I doubt if I bother taking a snap of the meal; it will make it onto here. I took this snap from the kitchenette window before prepping the daily nosh. I’m missing my stove and oven already. No chips, no lamburgers… I’ve given them away so someone else can try and enjoy them. Last week, when the oven gave up the ghost, I tried cooking them in the air fryer, but they didn’t come out well.

Well, the food photo was saved right in the morning. And the two shots I took of the evening skies went on!
I made three cheesy cobs, no-butter buttered them. I added a splodge of Marmite on each roll, then German Bavarian smoked ham slices. I also added sweet pickled baby beetroots and halved mini Dutch tomatoes, slightly salted.

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.

Washing the pots later, I took another picture of the night sky.
I was pleased with how this one came out. I did a bit of apophenialising with this shot. The seemingly baby ghost clouds escaping the clutches of the dying sunset glow on the horizon. Hehehe!

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TTFN.

Interned Inchy: Monday 18th November 2024

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

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WHAT A START!
MIND YOU THE MIDDLE & END WERE NOWT TO SHOUT ABOUT
I stirred around 05:30hrs, after another disturbing jumping and shooting awake imitation night’s sleep in bed.
The nocturnal catheter pouch was the brownest it’s been for a while.
Carer Richard confirmed it as seven on the NHS colour-rating scale card. I was not in good nick this morning, but nothing seemed worse than any other ailment. 

I started updating Sunday’s post. As I was about to post it, I got emails and messages from the bank about the payment for my new Tesco account order not being paid. I thought I’d coped well with setting up an account with them.
Over the next few hours, I received more emails and messages from Tesco and the bank. Obviously, I had done something wrong somewhere.
I struggled to get the bank to pay for my Tesco order. A carer tried, the first nurse tried, and then I rang Deana for help. I had eight different passwords come in, and none worked. Five emails from Tesco and three more from the bank. But I could not work out what I’d done wrong, although it was apparent that I’d done something wrong. Another nurse worked it out for me – I’d put the wrong telephone number as I registered with Tesco. I’d put the landline instead of mobile – what a clot and farce that was. Then, I rang Deana to say it was sorted; I’m so glad the nurses came today.

However, I still did not grasp what I had done wrong in the process for a while. 

THE NURSE’S VISITS: A nurse called on me (Thank heavens) this morning to replace my Catheter. But she could not get it to go back in. After a phone call for assistance, another nurse arrived to help. An hour later, it was still not back in. They called for an ambulance but were told no non-emergency ambulances were available. So they departed, saying, just like Arnie said in the film, did, “I’ll be back!”

Three nurses arrived later! They got the Catheter painfully for me and sorted it around 20 minutes later. They were in a rush; they had a lot more Catheter-ridden old farts to visit. I said I was sorry to bother them, gave them some nibbles and drinkies of their choice, and was told to ring if there were any problems later. (None yet) I think this is why I did not post the blog properly. Jenny sent me an email as I checked those from Tesco and the bank and posted off Saturday’s blog. Then sent a message to Jenny; “I hope it’s gone through now, Jenny. ♥” Explaining the day I’d had as an excuse for the cock-ups that I’d made already. Hehehe! 

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First photographs.

Second photographs.

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THE BEDThe torture bed, where things got badder…
Four tries to get the tube back into the bladder,
It felt like I was being mauled by a barracuda,
Blood came from the fungal lesion’s ulcer,
I sang to make the pain easier…
Gene Pitney’s 24-hours from Tulsa,
I thought one nurse was the Grim Reaper, undercover,
My howling was like a documentary voiceover, 
My voice recording could be used in Dracula!
Each nurse got annoyed at each failure…
One suggested taking my temperature,
Their kind efforts did not waiver,
In the NHS, I became a believer,
Each nurse was a wallflower with power,
As they worked out how to grab my waggler,
Which was getting smaller and wrinklier,
On the 6th attempt, I sensed they were getting tireder,
My bladder was getting fuller & fuller,
On the 7th, they epitomised womanpower,
Their attitude to me was pure exemplar,
These Angels were so patient and avuncular,
As soon as they’d won, I had gastrectasia…
Telling me to stay in bed for a while, to recover,
The tube reconnected in my tallywhacker…
I was already feeling so much better,
I told each one I loved her!
Nibbles & a drinkies of their choice, I did offer,
I thanked them all for being so spectacular! ♥
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All in, up and running again!
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Tonight’s ready-made meal.
I plan to have some tomatoes and
beef sarnies with it.

Back in the morning… I hope!
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Good Morning!
Carer Promise arrived on his last call and took photos of the snow falling from the balcony.
Then the lad attached the night pouch to the Catheter, which leaked all over the floor!  
So I was freezing from him letting the cold into the room, wet, and I had the job of cleaning up the leaked urine, wee’d on legs and slipper!
And all I wanted to do was to get some sleep!
Still, it gave him a laugh. Hehe!
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TTFN each, Joy & Happiness to you All!

Idjit Inchy: Thursday 14th November 2024

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

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So. I’ve got recurrent aphthous stomatitis, 
Glaucoma Gladys; Eyesight out of focus, 
The return of pain from Toothache Tiffany,
Peripheral Pete is acting somewhat oddly,
Up in the sky is a whopping cumulonimbus!
Years ago, I was libidinous and lascivious,
Now, I move ornamentally, & act sentimentally,
I often act like a schoolteacher sumpsimus.
I don’t mean to act so obnoxious,
My toes and feet turned white & xanthous,
Many things make me worried and anxious,
How can mortals beat off the oligarchy?
They rule, from wars, they make more money!
Proletariats, innocents survive quixotically…
Politicians live life quintessentially,
We vote for MPs who we think, essentially, 
Will do the job least damagingly…
In return, 26 taxes go up, regretfully, 
Starmer gives pensioners a financial raspberry!
Commoners hate… his MPs show him ambivalence!
He may be vacillatious, the voters are unfelicitous,
A backhand-taker, give him a certificate,
Did God permit this animal to rule us?
With his lies & constant obscurantist blatherskite!
Lies is another word spoken in omission,
But we’ll see him consider any admission, 
As he agrees to send more ammunition…
Compassion to him is an apparition, 
Of course, some eye him with a different complexion,
Would never give him any condemnation, 
They’ll be part of some financial conglomeration!
Overseas investment, banks denying the crucifixion.
Fair enough, I’m still awaiting confirmation…
What’s he done? My conclusion is he causes confusion,
His manner & words show floccinaucinihilipilification.
To pensioners; flabbergastation,
N.I. increases, employers frustration,
To voters, he’s an overpaid fustilarian.
The self-employed, driven to fulmination!
Taxpayers, give him a two-fingered gesticulation! 
He must be the current most-hated man in the nation,
He’s guilty of inspiring the common man’s hortation!.
Personally, I think he’s a schmuck, a sleeveen,
His stealing from pensioners was particularly mean!
We’ll mostly be dead come the next election…
My last words are typed with some hesitation...
Bear in mind they come from a man lacking education,
I’ll be waiting for him, at his damnation!
And we can both have a discussion in Hell’s dungeon!
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Early morning—well, not all that early, really—around 06:30 hrs, morning views from the kitchenette window.

Later on.

An hour or so later.

Toothache Tiffany kicked off.

Teatimeish.

Not a proper meal. But the innards had been playing me up all day, and I didn’t want to annoy them anymore.
I was content with what I had: Milk Roll sliced bread, nobutter-buttered tomatoes, beetroot, and red onions.  
The last pickled egg: red onion, a splodge of Marmite, or Vegemite—I like them both. And mini franks of undetermined meat and flavour, but they tasted okay. 
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I’m struggling with toothache, seizures, and concentration. Lack of sleep is doing me no good, either. I can’t get caught up.

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Let’s see how I go in the morning and if the computer is kind to me when it comes to saving photos. I’m low.
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TTFNski!