Tag: Onychovryptosis: ingrowing toenail

Inchy: Friday 3rd January 2025

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Inchy: Why do you mention I’m depressed?
Grim: You are obviously out of it detracted!
Inchy: Detracted? No, but I am dim-witted,
Grim: Delipidated, & diabetically demented,
Inchy: Well, to a small degree, I do feel dejected,
Grim: And discriminated, against, disenchanted?
Inchy: Well, possibly disjointed & dislocated,
Grim: You’re feeling undiagnosed, disregarded?
Inchy: How do you know all this? I’m dumbfounded,
Grim: You look & sound like an eggheaded plod! 
Inchy: You’re saying I’m dunderheaded?
Grim: Yes, & downcast, discontented, disoriented,
mentally dissected, & obviously diapered,
Inchy: Hang on… am I or not being Grim Reapered,
Grim: You’re on the waiting list, position 623rd!
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0315hrs: I sprang awake more slowly today. A certain reluctance lingered as I noted what the time was. I tried to get back to sleep, but it was impossible. I removed the overnight Catheter Pouch. Cartilage Carole did not bother me as I tried to rise, but Cartilage Chloe had it for me. By the time I’d carried the nocturnal bag to the WC for emptying, she had given way twice. No falls or tumbles, though. I emptied the pouch and wrapped it up. Then I had a search for the reading spectacles lost yesterday, in I thought, the wet room. Talk about reversals; after days of Trotsky Terence in charge, Constipation Conrad was back in charge. After a determined and painfully encouraging, pushing session, I gave up any hopes of achieving evacuationing.

With figuratively crossed fingers, I put the computer on and started to upload and save the photos for yesterday’s post updating. One went okay this time.

Within ten minutes, I needed to visit the Porcelain, hoping that this time Constipation Conrad had eased off enough for me to evacuate. Off I trundled to the wet room.
After I bought more toilet rolls to counter Trotsky Terence, Conrad Constipation returned with a vengeance!
It may have only been a few minutes to force things along. Painfully! It was more like the shape of the H-Bomb, Little Boy. I needed another couple of minutes to recover from the effort! Hehe! I can laugh now! On the bright side, cleaning up after the evacuation was easy.

I poddled back to the computer. After four more hours, around 0800hrs, I realised the Carer had not arrived yet. And it showed the outside temperature at -3°c when I first put the computer on. It’s showing 0°c now. Still too cold not to have my socks on. Brrr! I will make a mug of tea to help warm me up, then put a quilt over me when I return to the computer. They can leave off the midday call now; no point in medications. I have to leave 4 hours between each tablet and medicine taking. 08:10hrs now.

0905hrs: Carer Christopher came as I took photos of the cold-looking morning views.
First, Chris got the medications issued. He remembered to put on the diabetic socks for me, and after I reminded him, the Friday fitting of a fresh day pouch was carried out. Hehe! We chatted, and he nibbled on the treats throughout. Haha!
The lad did a decent job fitting the day catheter. The socks are now keeping me warm, and I feel a warm sensation that things could turn for the better now.
Why? A Good questions.
Answer: I’ve no idea.
But it could be because I got help yesterday from outsiders. DVT Warfarin INR blood nurse Christina, Catheter bags ordering. Matron Julie, with the BP and health checks, and Anne Gyna were not playing up so much.

Here are the photographs taken just before Carer Chris arrived. I’ll change that. Here is the picture taken just before Carer Chris arrived. The Kodak sent the other one taken into the ether. Humph!

I went to the wet room to check I’d not left any taps running. I’m doing this too often lately, and it gets me mad at myself… feeling guilty and depressed. But not this morning. I came out and went to put the kettle on and found the missing pair of long-range glasses sitting on top of the mini oven. This cheered me considerably, and I took the spectacles to the junk room, where I cleaned them, finding out… . I must have put them on there and then cooked the sausages for half an hour… the frames are now warped! I didn’t cry, but it was a close thing. But it doesn’t bother me.

Frustrated, I made a fresh mug of Glengettie tea. And raided my biscuit box. I wish I hadn’t now.  
The first dunk in the tea with one of the large LU cookies and the biscuit crumbled and fell in the mug, splashing the old-fashioned clock/calendar, cabinet me, and the notepad. Humph!

I was peed off with myself again. I carried on with the blog and finished yesterday’s work. A text message told me the food order would arrive between 1100 & 1200hrs.
So I got some boxes and carriers near the door to use when the delivery arrives. I took the large waste bag to the chute without walking into anything or finger-trapping.

I looked at Cavendish Vale houses to see if the loft drug growers were at it again. Looks like it to me. Do you see the roofs that were defrosted earlier than others? That looks suspicious to me. And there were two police cars and a van on it yesterday evening.
I went into a Sherlock Holmesian mode then. Sorry about that. Hahaha!

Around 1400 hrs, the Mini-Seizures, the kindest they have ever been since she moved in with Peripheral Pete and Nicodemus’s Dying Neurotransmitters, started making a belated charge and engaged her attack mode.
During this, Carer Joanne called, and we started sharing jokes and events; it was like having medicine. I was almost entirely with it suddenly. No sooner than Joanne departed the flat, then  began again, and stayed with me a long time. Everything went hazy. They were extremely short events, but was that a good thing? It seemed I could not get anything right on this block. Each time I came out of one, I had to check everything I’d done and correct it. Also, this is the first time I’ve gone back into a mini seizure so quickly, and on one occasion that I recall, I was putting things right and went off again. What the… I nearly swore then; heck is going on. And this morning, she was all but absent? The nurse thinks they are a part of Peripheral Neuropathy Pete. I searched the web to see if I could find anyone who suffers from it and found anything to counter it. I only got as far as this bit that I’ve copied on neurotransmitters.

Here are some key facts about neurotransmitters, which are chemical messengers in the body & brain. Their function is to transmit signals from nerve cells to target cells. These signals help regulate bodily functions ranging from heart rate to appetite. Neurotransmitters are part of the nervous system. Neurotransmitters are released from the end of an axon into the synapse, where they travel across to receptors on the next neuron. The neurotransmitters fit into the receptors like keys into locks. How they influence neuronsNeurotransmitters can influence neurons in three ways: excitatory, inhibitory, or modulatory. Excitatory neurotransmitters promote action potential signalling, while inhibitory ones prevent it. Examples of neurotransmitters Serotonin is an inhibitory neurotransmitter that helps regulate mood, behaviour, sleep, and memory. Epinephrine, or adrenaline, is an excitatory neurotransmitter that stimulates the central nervous system. (Hence Shaking Shaun? Shaking Shoulder Shirley & Twitching Neck Nigel?) Abnormal levels of neurotransmitters can lead to dysregulation of brain functions and various diseases. Examples of Disorders Associated With Defects in Neurotransmission
Autism, Anxiety, Autism spectrum disorders, Brain injury, Depression, Seizure disorders, Neuroleptic malignant syndrome, Pain, Parkinsonism, Parkinson disease, Schizophrenia, Tardive dyskinesia, Myasthenia gravis, Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, Episodic ataxias (that’ll be Seizure Sanda?), Hyperkalemic periodic paralysis, Hypokalemic periodic paralysis, paramyotonia congenita, Rasmussen encephalitis, & Organophosphates.

I was going to go on to check Peripheral Neuropathy and my other ailment, but after reading this about my dying neurotransmitters… what’s the point?
It all baffles me. With so many things connected, it’s not surprising that the clinic gave this answer when I asked years ago, What is the treatment?
“There is none; no one can save a dying nerve end”.
Of course, as I knew, it was slowly getting worse, and I was getting more depressed with it all.

I just had to force myself to check on the first Peripheral Neuropathy explanation that came on my search.
PN: Peripheral neuropathy is a type of nerve damage that can cause a variety of symptoms, including:

Numbness, tingling, or prickling: (Yes, I’ve got all of them)

These sensations can start in your hands or feet and spread up your arms and legs.

Pain: You might experience sharp, burning, throbbing pain or pain during activities that shouldn’t cause pain. (Yes, that’s me!

You might experience muscle weakness or loss of muscle tone. (Yes, I’ve got them)

Loss of balance: You might experience difficulty coordinating or falling. (Yes, I’ve got all of them)

Changes in sensation: You might not feel temperature changes or pain. (Spot on again!)

Other symptoms: You might experience cramping, muscle twitching, changes in skin, hair, or nails, or emotional disturbances. (Yes, I’ve got all of them)
Autonomic changes: You might experience heat or cold intolerance. Or related problems.

Problems with blood pressure, bowel or bladder control, or swallowing. (Yes, I’ve got all of them) In fact, the DVT Warfarin INR level is dropping again, and they are going to send me some Enoxaparin injections to go in the stomach three times a day on both sides. I’m looking forward to injecting myself, if not needed to, for over a year now. No problem, really… apart from the pain. Which is something I’ve learnt to live with… Live? Me? Cope with, is a more accurate statement. 

To add to possible concerns, there’s Metal Micky in my ticker. Toothache Tiffiny, Bad Hearing Boris, Gladys Glaucoma, Catheter Cathy’s Contraption, Diabetes2, FND, Colin Cramps, a daily Porcelain Throne Visits with a choice of Trotsky Terence or Constipation Conrad (it’s always one or the over, never normal), Diabetic Polyneuropathy, Deakness, Cognitive Impairment Iris, Arthur Itis & Cartilage Damage in both knees, Little Inches fungal lesion bleeding, Mind-Blanks, Short Term Memory Problems, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete’s Leg Dances & Right Arm Hitler Salutes, both involuntary, Back-Pain-Brenda, Onychovryptosis (ingrowing toenail), Earaches Erasmus, and Eczema & Acne. I may have missed a few. Hehehe! 

Do you know, the chinwag & laugh with Joanne, then the nurse, had was a reet treat. 

The later seizures seem to be a little different.
Gar more shaking from the right arm & leg. More persistent with it as well. My head was involuntarily bent down and forward on each of the last four episodes. I’d be lost if I didn’t have at least one new ailment or quirk to worry about daily.
The shock could be fatal. Haha!

Daily FodderCheesy cobs & tomatoes were lovely. As was the pickled mushrooms, red cabbage & onions.
The pork pie & potatoes were not so good.
Ah, well, can’t win ’em all!

I suddenly felt weary and tired. Almost instantly, after turning off the computer, Carer Christopher arrived, removed my socks, and medicated me. He covered me with a quilt after putting on my night catheter pouch; bless him. He knew I would not make it into the hospital bed tonight, and he was right!
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TTFN

Inchy: Thursday 2nd January 2025

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My medicationing & ablutions were completed,
My hands looked blotchy, bony, extravasated,
Cadaveric, but I wasn’t bothered or over-wherrited,
Suddenly, my Grim Reaper visited,
What we discussed, we both quadrated,
Aren’t you ready yet, Inchy? he obsecrated,
I smiled at him, and he nictated,
I asked him if dying was time-obligated…
How’d you like me to go: Run over & be mangulated?
Grim said it didn’t matter, perhaps being lapidated?
Well, I said, I’ve spent already being dilapidated,
We laughed when I  said I wanted to be cremated
Grim said, Supposed you’ll die fully intestated?
Grim asked, had I managed to get trothplighted,
I replied, no, I’m still waiting to be dated,
I reminded him of the ailments I’d collected…
Grim asked; Have you become hypocondriated?
Inchy: No, but my ailments had escalated,
Grim: Well, you are getting on and dated!
Inchy; All tellurians do that, I elucidated,
Grim: Yes… You’re right, they all get elided,
Inchy: I reckon it’s time to die, I Wikipediaed,
Grim: I’m sorry, you’re not due to snuff it yet!
Inchy; Oh, how much longer then will I get,
Grim: Your life should really be revered,
Inchy; It’s been failures & mistakes punctuated! 
Grim: Yes, St Peter may get you relocated…
Let you try again; that’d be splendid,
Inchy; No, I want that idea permanently suspended,
Grim: You’re still depressed! I thought you’d recovered.
To Be Continued…
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Not a lot, but very dark.

Food Delivery.

Morning sunshine.

Afternoon.

Afternoon.

Early sunset.

I didn’t wake until 0630 hrs. The intercom chimed out as I lay there waiting for my brain to engage. It was a JS order.

The Carer arrived. Medications & finance were examined.

Carer checking details of doctor’s letter.

Computer on. I spent four hours updating errors I found in my Ode word listing. Humph!

The morning, as far as seizures, Electric Shocking Sandra and even Anne Gyna, went well. Back-Pain Brenda, Cartilage Chloe, Toothache Tiffany & the Cracked Lips Leslie made up for the lack of pains. 

As the seizure kicked of, the District Matron arrived.
Body check and weighing: I shan’t tell you about the massive increase in weight. But I have to say, with my legs and arms so skinny lately, the mass is from the midriff and bladder, methinks. Told Jackie about my problems with getting the Catheter Contraption bags. She will order some for me. Lovely to see a nurse now and then.

Glady Glacoma started to blur and distort my vision. I was glad I’d got the Ode list updated first.

Carer Sam arrived; I told her about the two missed calls over the holiday, not making any issues. I remember what it was like every Christmas and New Year when staff did not come in when I was a security controller. A nightmare scenario for me then and others now.

I totally lost about two hours. But I seemed to carry on with the blog, and when things cleared, I lost another hour sorting out the mistakes I’d made. It still puzzles me how this happens.

I lost the long-distance spectacles.
Although I can’t clearly recall doing an ablution, I knew I had, for I was smelling nice and in a different dressing gown and hat. And no Protection Pants, which tells me one or other, Chloe or Carol’s cartilages must have been playing up to prevent me from getting them on. Some unwarranted idea that I had taken off the glasses all that time ago made me investigate the wet room to see if I’d left them there. Another nagging semi-thought was that they are always kept in the main junk room near the TV and computer, but I had no luck finding them.

Carer Christopher arrived. 
Med’s given a little natter and drinkie.

I was looking forward to these beef sausages.
I went to great lengths to get them cooked just how I like them; well done. Just sausages and bread, with pickle-flavoured tomato ketchup to dip them in.
Oh, yes, I used the new mini oven.
Funny, isn’t it? How many mini-things do I have? Mini-Seizures, a mini-cooker, a mini air cooker. Take TrZmini tablets, have a mini bank account, and an ultra mini-appendage. 

I ate most of the sausages, which smelled good but did not taste very pleasant. I will not rebuy them.
He says, confident that he’ll remember not to.

TTFNski, Each
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Ode Happy Inchy: Wednesday 1st January 2025

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PART ONE⅝
On my last visit to the Porcelain Throne,
Bleeding from my rear bottom, I’m prone…
No Carer called this morning, I was all alone,
Missed taking my Beta-blocker, Betamethasone,
I pondered on this while I was abluting…
But had to get on with my shaving,
It’s New Year’s Day, a Carer will soon be calling,
It takes time to recover from over-boozing,
Twitching-Neck-Ted, hurt my collarbone…
I can take Codeines while all alone,
But not the Beta blockers, or Prednisone,
I can rub in the cream, Hydrocortisone,
Phorpain & barrier cream on my private’s zone,
Can’t take the Finasteride, or Atorvastatin,
Omeprazole, Carers watch me taking,
Yes, the Carer will soon be appearing…
My Carer, who came at noon, was very caring…
But this is not unusual or over-alarming,
Covering holidays is difficult & frustrating,
Ailments? Parts of me were pulsating & shaking,
The worst is the pain near the breastbone,
That’s why I took a Betamethasone,
But the toothache was barely aching!
Electric Shock Sheida; hardly any stinging,
My vision was hampered by Gladys Glaucoma,
Moving chest pains, I blame them on Anne Gyna,
I had cramps, Little Inchie was bleeding,
Oh, I must take my Amoxicillin!

PART TWO¾
I wondered if Starmer is still lying & cheating?
Would he ever stop his backsheeshing?
I heard him blaming Tories, badmouthing…
He’s certainly not appealing, just appalling,
After fringe benefits, influence-peddling,
Schmears, kickbacks, open fiddling!
Bribes, sweeteners, is anyone checking?
On his hush-money & bung investing?
See his expenses for number crunching?
So often, the Oligarch’s been caught lying,
He’s like a Tory, I’m not guessing…
Pensioners & farmers will be dying…
He’ll be denying blame for the bloodletting,
He makes time for self-wealth searching…
He is an overblown urchin!
A snotbag, Grade-1. But I’m fibbing,
His habit of voters & union disregarding…
It will make proletariats’ life more gruelling!
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PART THREE⅘th
I begged guidance from those in the tabernacle,
Why did I fail? In things mental & physical?
I once found life was easy, enjoyable, a doddle,
Now, at nearly 80, there’s no one to cuddle…
I was genuine and loved being charitable,
PN, Arthritis, Cramps made me xenarthral,
Dementia, memory, seizures are awful,
Now, I find life is inexplicable, theoretical,
I loved a natter, gossip or twattle…
Seeing and hearing can be a battle,
Daily complications with my catheter tackle,
I can no longer voluntarily piddle,
My aorta valve is made of plastic & metal…
I feel as if I do not fit in anything tellural,
Success is no longer there or accomplishable,
Depressions are now giving me trouble,
Around 1969, life burst my bubble…
I don’t exactly walk; it is more of a hobble,
I was theistical, but it is now there’s so little,
Confusion, delusion, constant refusal…
Lies, murders, killings, wars, tarradiddle,
With Herr Killer Starmer on the fiddle!
Every nation’s decisions are incomprehensible…
to each other, and inscrutable, dubitable,
Earth’s leaders, moraless, in a shemozzle,
Oligarchs, criminals so sybaritical,
I’ve become a loser and comical…
Old age is the sum of a riddle!
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I grafted to catch up on the blog mess after getting to bed around 0400hrs THIS morning. I got my head down for three hours and had to get up for the Carer to arrive.
No Carer Arrived. Had to guess at the medications because I’ve not sorted them myself for many months. Also, I can no longer read the label instructions of the writing in the carer record book. I Pottered about not getting onto the computer because I may not have heard if the intercom went off if I had. So, I’ve had two missed calls on the trot! And had to gamble with the medications. I’ll know later if I got them wrong. Tsk!
A quickie blog from here on, as it is now 2100hrs, and I’ve to do the ablutions yet and get summat to eat. It’ll be morning again before I get to sleep. I’ll rush.
It’s not been a good year up to now.

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Release valveless nocturnal pouch.

Waste bins sorted.

Reet rainin’ this mornin’.

Phor!

End car park mudslide.

No Carer arrived, which is the same as last night.
Essential to get the medications right.
But I could not read the labels.

Topped up the Nurses’ and carers’ treat
box of nibbles. Wonder if I’ll ever see a
Carer again. Hehehe!

I made a brew, then changed the clock calendar and got it on the computer to make a belated start on the blog.

I found two snaps that I took last night and forgot to put the SD card into the camera. Better late than never.

At midday, Carer Chloe arrived. I explained that the last two Carer calls were not made last night and this morning. Well, New Year Booze, Mayhap? Har-Har! 

Kicked off.
Thankfully, I had some pain spray for the teeth.
It does ease things a bit.

Teatime views.

I’d spent a lot of time doing the odes at the top. 
And got little else done for hours.
Carer Promise arrived. Medications given. 

The legs looked better than yesterday.
I’ll not mention the fungal lesion that’s being
tugged at by the catheter tube bleeding.
Oh, I did! Hehehe!

A better shot of Devonshire Avenue.
It seems to be well-lit compared
to the other roads?

Nosh-Time now.
I regret to inform you that, once again, the picture taken of the cheesy potato, mushrooms and garden peas meal has done a bunk from Kodak’s SD card.
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TTFN
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Busy, Busy Inchy: Tues 31 December 2024 Part Two

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For me, a gal must ooze pulchritudinous,
It matters not if she is or isn’t punctilious…
Precarious, precautious, or even predaceous!
As long as she’s not pompous or pretentious,
She can show practicalness or be pecunious,
Be prosperous, silly, or pugnacious,
Be pretentious, previous, or procacious,
For one to attract me, she must be plumptious,
No need for her to be clever or perspicacious
I’m not after bodily prettiness,
As long as she likes a laugh and is pervious,
I pray she’ll not be disloyal or perfidious,
A septuagenarian, & a smidge mischievous!
I could buy us a couple of paragliders,
Sorry if that sounded a smidge perverse,

Haha!
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I had a bad fall when I reached this stage, so I called it Part One and posted it off. An hour or so later, the nurse called, tending to the burst bag and bleeding from the tumble. Bless Her♥. I’ve made a brew of Glengettie and am starting again from here.  I doubt if I’ll get this finished before midnight… well, I won’t. I wanted to stay awake to take the celebration fireworks at midnight, but I fear it may be too much. I’m praying that the seizures leave me alone. Depression creeping in again!
– – – I’ll press on – Seizures and if the catheter allows it. – – –
I’ve had a couple of bad days. Tsk!

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06:30hrs: I grumblingly rose 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. Knowing that after yesterday’s farcicalness, I had a busy day ahead of me. The morning’s Carer, then the domestic Carer, the food delivery, the INR Warfarin Nurse Hristina, and the midday Carer, and I was so far behind with the blogging I didn’t think I’d get yesterday done, let alone start on today. (Just the usual bleak morning moan to myself, nowadays) Little did I know what I had in store, or I may not have bothered getting up! I wish I hadn’t got up now, but not then. I think I got that right?

I removed the nocturnal catheter pouch. This is one of them I had to buy cause of the mess up and lack of help with my ordering. Some do have a drainage clip that has no drainage tube. Took it to the WC and used scissors to cut and drain the pouch. Still, it was no bother and went okay. As I got to the kitchen to get the kettle on, the innards grumbled and rumbled; in response, I returned hastily to the Porcelain Throne.
Trotsky Terence was now back in full control! The evacuated product funked awful. It took me ages to clean up the splatters from my clothes and the china.

I got the ablutions, a stand-up shave, teggies, body scrub, oiled the earholes, and drops in the eyes. Germoloided Harold’s Haemorrhoids, Barrier Creamed the Acne & Eczema. Then Porpain Gelled Arthur Itis’s and Cartilage Carol & Chloe’s knees, the underbelly lesions & underarms. I couldn’t reach Phorpain Gel Back Pain Brenda; I was going to ask someone, a Carer, when they came next. But of course, I forgot all about it, even when she was playing me up! I’m forgetting more each day! Into the kitchen.
I tried to get some decent shots of the views on offer through the window. But the photos didn’t come out very well.
Not up to even my low standards.
The last one I took of the houses on Cavendish Avenue was one of my biggest photograph failers ever. No idea what I did wrong, but Surely I must have done something wrong to get this terrible result on the right?

I returned to the wet room to ensure I hadn’t left the taps running. As I came out, the intercom chirped at me. I could not see who it was, so I thought it might be the deliveryman with the oh-so-expensive night catheters I’d had to order.
But no! It turned out that it was Friday’s (as I thought) JS order. Fancy me getting things wrong like that! The driver kindly put the food in carriers and my boxes and then carried them to the kitchen for me. Kind of him.
Spent a lot of cash this time! Mushrooms for pickling later on. Jamaica patties, a lamb and a beef one. Pork Pie, no-butter butter, Cornish Pasties, tomatoes, cream cake treats, and some horrendously pricey garden peas from Nigeria. I love these! Marmite Rice cakes, cheesy-topped rolls, a bag of sea salt & cider crisps and Marmite crisps.
A bottle of mulled wine. Reduced to clear after Christmas. A large bottle, cans of Sainsbury’s cider, and a bottle of washing-up liquid.

I took this snap of myself inside the main junk room, looking through the balcony doors and blowing my nose. Then took the photo below as the day slowly dawned, and turned brighter.
I sorted the waste bags to make room near the doorway; no carer had taken them. So, I took them to the chute and found an empty box there, just like Christopher had taken away from the flat yesterday. I put the three bags down the chute and broke the box up, which also went in. I hobbled back to the flat foyer, and as I did,   it gave way to me, and I walked into the foyer door frame. I believe I said, “Well, fancy that!”

Carer Chloe arrived as I was about to put the food away after the photography session. She gave me medications, and I was lucky—yes! Although I didn’t realise it, and Chloe didn’t notice it, I’d dropped a tablet while taking them. Chloe said she was doing the Domestic visit and would be back later. I walked her to the door. When I got back in, and at long last on the computer, I espied a tablet I’d dropped on the carpet. And a good job, too; it was a beta-blocker! Not one to miss. 

It was a mental battle trying to sort out what was what and what needed doing with having yesterday’s to do yet. 

Chloe returned to do the domestic run. I started to place an order for next week from Asda, but again, it would not let me get on the site. Grrr!

I struggled to communicate with Chloe, yet I always seemed to be waffling and losing track. Then, my beloved Nurse Hristina arrived while Chloe was hoovering the hallway for me. What a triple blessing it was that she came! When I told her about the farce of running out of night catheters and buying them, she found the number to ring, then called them for me on her mobile, too! ♥
I’d mentioned to her earlier that the cotton wool-looking material came through the tube from the bladder and got stuck, causing the uncomfortable flow back sensation. Hristina told whoever she was talking to, and they told her that it would be a bladder infection and that they would send a nurse to see me when they got back from the New Year Break and ordered the catheters straight away, wanting to know why the Carers had not contacted her. Hristina then showed me how to open the night bag to drain it! Worth her weight in gold she is! The most patient and understanding nurse I’ve ever known. 💛 She helped me today more than anyone else has in weeks. Hristina left, leaving a respectful and appreciative Inchy.

Carer Sam did the middle call. We laughed about things I was going through, which helped me cope.

Carer Joanne 💛, on her way home, called to see me. She collected the not machine-washable laundry. I insisted she pick up a bottle of her choice as a New Year’s treat. (I did the same with each Carer today) She said that her elderly neighbour had gone to the hospital, so she was late in collecting the washing. I can tell you that a woman who takes, hand washes, and returns my nightwear and brings it back for me is yet another angel I’ve acquired. My sort of gal, too.  

I managed about five minutes on the blog, and the landline chimed up. The call was from Sister Jane. Not heard from her for a while. All the best for the new year sort of thing. But had a good chat. Jane & Pete are going to the pantomime shortly. She was sorting the food, and Pete the booze. Hehehe!
The natter brought up memories to share between us, all good or neutral ones, though. Nowt unnice!

I tried to get some more done on the blog. The landline chirruped again. It was from the Doctor’s surgery receptionist. She advised me of this morning’s blood test result (Gawd, that was quick).  
Apparently, the INR level plummeted from 3.2 to 2.6, which is not good. The medication doses were also increased. I wrote the details on Google Calendar.

Then,  back to have another go at this blog. 
Life seems like an awful slog!
I waited for my brain to defog,
Then I had an in-the-bog!
I emptied the pouch, cleaned and flushed the WC, and turned to leave. As I went through the door, I accidentally shoulder-charged the door frame. Apart from triggering Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley, I let slip a few vulgar words that I shall not repeat here.

I returned to the computer again and finished about 15 minutes of work. The door chime chimed out! En route to the door, this time, Cartilage Carole gave way. I opened the door, and to my delight, the postman was working late and delivering my eBay-bought nocturnal catheters! We had a chinwag, as we both have catheters, but he has the latest ones, which look so painless to wear; I was jealous when he told me the other week about it. He is being sent supplies that have built up, and he has too many! Another twitch of jealousy crept in; Hahaha! He kindly told me that if I was ever running so low again, I was to put a note on the door, ‘Barry, I’m short on night catheters’. He even checked on my catheter to ensure the tubing was the same size. What a kind, thoughtful gentleman he is!
I gathered the items needed to make the pickled mushrooms. got the mushroom in the slow cooker, on a high heat,
Hope it works okay.

Going to take a photo of the evening sky, this time it was who went on me. Most unfortunately, I clunked down onto the left knee with a sickening thud, and once again, I gave a clouting . The Catheter Day pouch took a good hit but surprisingly did not split open. Even more amazingly, as I was about to get back into the main junk room and the recliner to get back up again, I grabbed the sink side and got up; painfully, but I got up! Within a minute of getting down in the itch-creating, bruise-giving, catheter-tube-tugging, crumb-decorated from my nocturnal nibbling, God-awfully uncomfortable, cringingly grotty, no longer working, dirty beige, anti-sleep designed, c1966, second-hand bought for £300 ten years ago from the charity shop, recliner, to recover from the fall and Phorpain gell certain areas, knees, back and where I could reach of the shoulder.

And the doorbell sounded its version of ‘Oh, Susana’. It was a Community Nurse. She’s come in response to Nurse Hristina’s telephone call to look at my wedding tackle area regarding the cause of the bladder infections. I went into a deep seizure while we were talking. I thought she had Phorpain gelled my back and for me. I’m unsure what else occurred, but I was deeply out of it. But she seemed happy enough when she left, as I was returning to near normality. Well, that may be pushing it! Ah, she did give me a painkiller, I think… waylay that, now I’m writing this, I’m not so sure… something in my warped mind tells me she did. But, in the malaise of my muddled mind. 

I sat still and quiet for a while. Then got back on the computer…
Carer Chris arrived. No socks were taken off, and I was going to stay up to try to take some fireworks photos. He was given medications. I treated him to his bottle and cream cakes early, as he said he was not doing the late call. But no one made the late call. Well, it is nearly New Year’s Day.

It is now 5 minutes to midnight. I will hobble into the kitchen, camera around my neck, and await the hour. 

It is now 0015hrs and the New Year!
Photographs have been taken of the fireworks.
Now, to see if I can get them on the computer.
When I opened the window, the gusty winds blew in the just-starting rain! I’ve had to disrobe myself of the now wet bobcap and dressing gown! Humph! Hope the camera is okay!

Here Are NYD Firework Photos Taken

Art Decko?

Electric Art?

A bit of both?

Well, what can I say?

.
I was getting wetter!

Ah, well, I did my best!

Ah, better get the mushrooms into the pickle jar. I would have a pastie, peas and chips for my morning meal. But I’m too worn out to bother now.

What a busy day again.
I thought I retired 15 years ago?

0330hrs: Drained beyond belief.
But hunger took a grip. Cooking is not easy when one is mentally and physically drained. Sometimes, one burns one’s vegetable pate, as seen below. Hehe!
But I ate it all!

I went to get the pots and dishes washed. My eyes were almost closing as I did this. Then, as I had the light on and looked out of the window, I thought a final photo was called for to try and get a reflection shot of the kitchen, still seeing the relentless rain and me. But of course, you can’t photo wind. Hehe! 
I dragged myself into the junk room and deposited my tired, weary body and brain in the £300 second-hand shop purchased in 1966, which was a welt-causing, uncomfortable, not working, itch-inspirational, and crumb-containing recliner.

As no late Carer had arrived, I attached the nocturnal catheter pouch to the day pouch. Then, I ate a pot of jelly, put the TV on to catch the news, and planned to move into the hospital bed. Unfortunately, this didn’t happen.  
I’d nodded off into bliss within seconds of the TV adverts starting. Woke up with a jump later, turned off the TV, cleaned up raspberry jelly from my bulbous mountainous belly, and rejoined Sweet Morpheus. 
Where I stayed until 06:15hrs.
Not a long kip, but it was much needed.
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Despite the continuing Whoopsiedangleplops, Mishaps and Accifauxas of the last four days, today had some lovely touching moments that were well appreciated.
The amazing Nurse Hristinas helping above and beyond.
The kind postman’s offer over the night catheter bags.
The community nurse called to check on me.
Again, I won’t mention the many failings, irritations, and annoyances I suffered.
I’m sick of hearing myself moan!
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Hope you have a better year! (Not Starmer) TTFN.

Useless Inchy: Monday 30th December 2024

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I just had to copy this one!
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It’s so important to hang on to hope,
I thought of this today when I awoke,
Without him, life is all upslope,
You should keep him on a tightrope,
Have you ever caught a single raindrop?
Shouted for help from the rooftop?
Lost your thoughts while taking a troke?
Caught flu, COVID, shingles or croup?
Did you have a heart op or a cystoscope?
Been shot, imprisoned or had amblyope?
Are you deaf, neurotic or have deuteranope?
A catheter fitted? Had an oesophagoscope?
Your feet & ankles turned a deep heliotrope?
Is it different every single time you poop?
Does Peripheral Neuropathy make you quoke?
If something goes right, do you glope?
Do you stutter or make the odd malaprop?
Do all others consider you a fruitloop?
To counter these things, you need hope,
You must attain it, try mentally to evoke,
Hope? I’ve never met the bloke!
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A cold health alert has been issued for the East Midlands, warning them that an upcoming cold spell could affect vulnerable people and cause a rise in pensioner deaths.
No doubt Pensioner-killer Starmer will be tickle-pink 
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It seems I’ll have to get used to every night’s sleep being broken, and the abysmal lack of rest and peace will undoubtedly see me off earlier than I expected visiting St Peter. What with our beloved PM, who robbed me of my Cold Weather Allowance? And the caregivers forgot to put my diabetic socks on again. Brrr!
Still, it’ll unquestionably please the living-ready reckoner beyond the reach of any moderator, who’s a hot shot at jiggling truth and data... I mean, of course, the conspiratorial,  surreptitious, duplicitous Herr Heil Starmer! Sorry about that, I got a smidgeon carried away there.

I began the battle to get out of the bed. Back-Pain-Brenda and Cartilages Chloe & Carole were unhappy being forced to move at 0500hrs. I noticed there was not much in the Ncturnal night pouch this morning. At first, I was most satisfied to see the bright colour, but when I got around to emptying it, I realised that it was one of the new ones that eBay had delivered last night. These were much cheaper than the others available but did not have a release valve. Also, the PVC, or plastic bag, was much thinner, and the urine was much darker as I cut the bag. Can’t win’em all!

I got into the kitchenette to check things; no taps had been left on, and no doors or windows were left open. I avoided going into a .
The sky was fog and mist-free! That’s because the snow and ice will be brewing from Storm Darrach, bringing Red Warnings for Wind and Snow. Apparently, the lowest temperature recorded in Nottingham was −13.3 °C (8.1 °F) on 13 January 1987 and 23 January 1963. That’ll cheer up amphibologically-trained murderer Starmer. I can see it now; “200 Nottingham pensioners died in last night’s storm.” Herr backhander-taking Starmer was told, he replied, “So?”

I am so frustrated and angry! 
After being free of them for so long, I’d worked on this blog for nine hours off and on when the Seizures started.
I was so close to finishing it when they came. I felt things were getting more manageable and more transparent, and I expected to find some errors as I seemed to have been doing it for hours while under the influence. After coming around, what I saw made me so irate and self-condemnatory! I am still stewing inside and not in a suitable mode or mood to do much! I am feeling frustrated and depressed! I could almost cry now, my temper had calmed down. Hello, it’s returning with a vengeance…
I scrolled to see what cock-ups I’d made…
And somehow or other, I found I’d published the blog.
But even worse, I must have put it in the WP bin!
Then I discovered that over 2 thirds of the work I’d done was no longer on the editor when I retrieved it.
All those hours of concentration amidst seizures – Gone!
It’s late and dark now. But I shall try to put some more on, but there’s no heart in it. All that work! Of course, to save space in my memory, I deleted some photographs saving space.
My self-anger is building up again as I type.
The sky is red, and I had to force myself to get up to take a photo; that’s not me, this isn’t me. 
Have I died? and am having a final nightmare? All that stuff I’d done. Some witty, some sarcastic. But it was all a little entertaining, I thought. There were many insults about Starmer – but not now. I’m even nervous to try again. Thoroughly depressed beforehand. Knowing it could happen again if the seizures or shakes return. I’m heartbroken, I think.
I’m going to have to think about this. What to do?

Well, I’ve ‘thunk’.
I’ll not have time to reproduce the same quality as the old blog. I’ll probably never again produce one with the same wit and hilarity as the original. This makes it so much harder to cope with; it was a rare cracking blog. And I was so happy with it.
What the hell went wrong? I’ll not even try to get it as good… well, I can’t now in this mood, and there’s no time to try anyway. Depression is far too weak a word for how I feel at this precise moment in time. I’ll use my few notes and photos, but as I said, there is no heart in it after what I call the ‘Sodding-seizure-to-blame’ disaster. It’ll likely all be out of sync chronologically. I can’t remember the whats, whens and whys now – And I’m not all that bothered either. It could be messy.
I’ll do my bestest, but it’ll not be good.

Starting the second try…
Waste bags sorted.

Carer Richard, Carer Chloe. The last two were Carer Promise.

First emptying of the day catheter.
Bloody and nearly 8500ml worth!

Fogless day.

Mug of 99 tea.

Cobblers.
I just looked on CorelDraw, and I think a few original photos were on the page—I’m sure they were—but not a Bloody one!
What the hell had I been doing?

Say no more…

No record to use for two more hours.

The night shots I had to force myself to take.

Carer Promise came. In a rush, but he did listen to my moaning about myself and the computer cock-ups. Thanks, Promise.

Worries about what I wrote on the first blog…
It took me such a long time to select the wording, but I have no time now, so this will be, in short – a shame. I even smiled at the original moans when I wrote it.

Current concerns;
Getting the hearing aids mended.
I have to book an appointment. The Caregiver said they don’t, so it’s up to me to do it. So, if I can miraculously hear them on the phone and get an appointment…
Then I have to ring Easy-Link to book a lift to and from the audio centre… So, if I can miraculously hear them on the phone
If they can’t fit me in…
I have to call the audio centre to cancel the appointment and get another one made. That would be great if I could miraculously hear whoever was on the phone.
Then, I’ll have to call Easy-Link again to see if they can get it for me that day—if I can miraculously hear them on the phone. Huh!
It’s a Circus – round & round I go… getting anywhere? No!
Six weeks now, I’ve still not got my hearing aids mended!

Another problem is that the nocturnal catheter pouches are not arriving. Richard told me I had to phone the District nurses.
If I can miraculously hear them on the phone.
An unexpected box arrived last week. Thanks to Dementia Doreen and Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, I thought the box contained the night bags.
I got down to the last night’s pouch.
Ended up spending a small fortune getting some pouches from eBay and Amazon. Luckily, Amazon arrived on Monday; eBay should arrive on Tuesday. The ones I have now do not have any release valve on them, but they were two-thirds the cost of the EBay ones.
Carer Kara used to manage all these things for me; she was a blessing, not in disguise.
I had written three more problems, I think, on the first blog, but I can’t remember what they were at the moment.

Nosh!
Despite my low spirits, I countered them by telling myself that whatever lousy luck I suffered, I must deserve it. I should accept these Accifauxpa & Whoopsiedangleplops without all my childish moaning and groaning, self-castigating episodes.
What you give is often what you get – despite not knowing precisely what it is, I must be guilty of it with my luck. Did you know I did the lottery for a couple of years, my neighbour, Jock, won 18 times in 1978. I never won a sausage. So, the sins I committed must have occurred before then.
I lost the plot again there, sorry.
I still enjoyed this mini feast.

Last of the sunset!

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Fings Ain’t Wot Vey Used To Be! Hehe!

Debtee Inchy: Saturday 28th December 2024

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I met a lassie in Aberdeenshire,
She offered me a cuppa, & romance with tincture,
She was married but delightfully, an advoutrer,
We blended into one sort of amalgamator,
We mangled certain limbs in particular…
We ended up boozier and bouncier,
I hope to see her again later…
I found Aberdeenshire to be boshter!
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Yet another horrible night’s sleep. Forever waking up with jerk or jump, and this wrangled me last night.
At 0440 hrs, I most unwillingly climbed onto the side of the hospital bed and removed the Nocturnal Night Pouch. I had given the urine a too-low rating, so I must change that on the NHS card later; Carer Chris said it was a six. I keep forgetting to change it.

I gathered the waste bin bags into one and left it near the door to take to the rubbish bin later.
Went to the kitchenette to check the tops, taps, stove, and doors.
On that short little hobble, Dizzy Dennis nearly caught me out; luckily, I’d got with me and avoided going over.

I arrived in the kitchen, I performed the safety checks. Nothing was out of place, left open, or running.
The fog outside still looked thick. But maybe a little less than yesterday’s did. I thought that his shot had an eerie aspect to it. I made a brew of 99 tea and got the computer booted up. I seemed to be doing well this morning. Only Dizzy Dennis, Cartilage Chloe, and Arthur Itis have been any bother up to now. Then, a summons ensued from my innards, warning me to urgently attend the Porcelain Throne.
A splurty, messy, smelly, and gooey dollop of excrement splodged into the ceramics. It took a while for me to get cleaned up. I mean for both the WC and me. Hehe!

I went to empty the urine from the day catheter pouch, and for the love of me, I could not get it to flow out. The thinnest, slowest, barely a trickle did flow. I tried to encourage things along. Jiggled and juggled the day bag, pulled it up, twisted it around the leg, and then lowered it…  which brought on Dizzy Dennis again, and I had to give it a rest for a minute or so. I tried squeezing the transfer tube, twisting the plastic bag, and even praying, but to no avail.

I was on the computer. Something was playing up again with the text writing, and I was unsure what I’d done on Friday to prevent it from acting up again. After I pondered what I could do to correct the situation, Carer Maryham arrived. 

I told her about the wee-wee being so reluctant. “Drink more water!” So I did. I also mentioned that I had only two nocturnal catheter pouches left. I didn’t think anyone would be working on a Saturday. Maryhan helped me find the telephone number for City Care on the computer, Bless Her! I was in a bit of a panic now, but I realised I’d got the days mixed up. IF… I can get through, and IF I can hear the voice on the other end on Monday, the situation may be saved… (or not); thanks, Maryham! ♥ She rushed off, taking the waste bags with her, so kind.

I kept on the computer and taking the water, but it was still a trickle at best. I went through the same procedures as before, and it didn’t get any slower, but the flow did not increase.

Drinking and blogging away, and a text message came on my super-modern mobile Nokia phone. A message told me my food order would arrive today within two hours. That will be the food order I’d just told Maryham was due next Tuesday… I assume. Erm?

CorelDraw was playing up now! About an hour later, during which I got nothing achieved on the blog, the intercom chimed in. I was the food order arriving. The driver placed them in the mini-hallway for me, I thanked him, and he asked if I was over 21. I said I’ve not ordered any alcohol, only soft drinks and water? We both laughed, which was nice! Four bags worth. I carried them one by one into the kitchenette. I seem to have treated myself to more fish balls, fishcakes and fish fingers, too! Oh, and a bag of potato croquettes. I got the frozen put away first. Once again, I had to take the fish balls out of both boxes and jiggle with the food in the freezer to get them in.
It also took a bit of planning to get things in the fridge—not that I had a lot of stuff. I can’t recall ordering some of the items, but I did no fear dying from hunger.
That must be heartbreaking news for Pensioner killer Sir Keir Rodney Starmer. Rodney, as Del used to say… “You Plonker Rodney!” In the fictitious Trotter family.
Har-har-har!  

Afternoon Carer Joanne came, and she was very welcome. I showed her the photo of the last pouch emptying. Can you see the fluff-looking clump that came out after I rejiggled the bag and tube again? I expected the flow to be freer on the next emptying, but no! The flow is still about the width of the darning-needle-eye… at best! I have to bend to encourage it, which merely invites the attention of and  has joined in the assault! Joanne is having trouble with her catheter, so we have that in common and things were not going right for either of us.
We shared a chunter. Hahaha!

I was not getting on well with the blog. After Joanne departed, I sulked a little and returned to the computer. I found some of the same types of
They were expensive but had no drainage pipe fitted and were half the price of the others. I ordered some, but they will not arrive before Tuesday, so I’ll not be able to wait until then. All the more important thing is to get in touch with City Care – Option Three on Monday. There may not be a blog on Monday cause I shall keep on trying to get through, and if they say you are the 19th customer in the queue, I’ll stay online and wait. Although knowing my luck, I’ll fall asleep or have a seizure and not recall what I was ringing for! I feel a depression coming on!

I had another go at the blogging. And the landline chirped! It was a lady from the Social Services. The line was terrible. This reminded me that the hearing aids still need sorting out, repaired, and mended. And how do I get a lift there and back? Anyway, she asked if I had time for a Q&A session. I hadn’t really got the time. But this rare, almost unheard-of opportunity to tell someone my problems could not be missed. It was hard work, and the lady shouted some questions after I’d asked her to repeat herself a few times. I mentioned the problems with the ablutions, the hearing aids getting repaired, shopping, the bank, etc. Of course, when she rang off, I thought of so many other things I struggle to get done, but it’s too late now.

She kindly said she would ring me back to update me on any plans made or altered. ♥

I got some potatoes in the slow cooker. Hopefully, I can have it later with cheese. But we’ll see, it’s getting late now.
Oh, I forgot to mention the crushed cream cakes delivered earlier. Most dissapointing. It looked like finger marks on the icing and cream. The cream had left the bread altogether. Maybe not so bad. I’m going to chew them up anyway. Hehe!

Gotten Himmel!
I went into the kitchen to see how the potatoes were coming along, and the fog was gone—there was just a light mist in the air! So, I took a left, centre and right shots of the view. The Carer may arrive soon. I’ll now go and get the oven warming up and try to get the cheese into the flesh of the potatoes. I’ve not had any of these for months now. Lack of injuries permitting, of course. Or seizures, tumbles, falls, walking into things… take your pick.

Chris made his last call around 0920hrs. The lad was rushing to go home, and he looked all in. However, he kept his chirpiness up and made sure Chris took the diabetic socks off, and he attached the next-to-last nocturnal catheter pouch we had. Gave the cream cake treats, and off he poddled. A nice lad.

Nosh started. Cheesy potatoes, fish balls, and garden peas.
Nothing else was needed!
This was the first proper cheesy potato dish I’ve made since the old oven conked out. I used the new mini-cooker, which was great because it was on top of the old cooker. I could check the crisping colouring at eye level as it cooked to ensure it was spot-on. I so enjoyed this one. It was worth all the time, bother and cleaning up afterwards! Great!
The cod balls I did in the air-fryer. I’ve not yet mastered this air fryer. But I’m slowly getting better.
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Attritee Inchy: Fri 27 Dec 2024

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With intruders in my brain, eyedrops in my eyes…
No hair needs to be permed, washed or blow-dried,
Medications to take, ointments to apply,
Catheter to change… pains that I can’t nullify,
Toothache, Arthur Itis, I get by, by and by,
It’s my brain I need to reclaim, defunkify…

Doreen Dementia, & Cognitive Impairment Iris,
Of my ailments, they are the awesomest,
Now, I don’t want to seem an alarmist…
They rule the brain with brazen audaciousness,
No help from my doctor or psychiatrist,
Maybe I should try an acupuncturist?

I put up with them, I think, admirably?
Despite their internal argie-bargie,
They confuse me with anything arithmaticy,
Twist matters logical and practical & my memory,
It’s impossible to converse with them amiably,
Mostly, they come over antagonistically!

They are in my brain, so no problems audiologically,
They are dictators rather than supervisees,
My reactions can be tenuously or timorously,
My uncertainty, they always guarantee…
Acting vexatiously, viciously, always victoriously,
To a degree, I admire their wizardly!

My brain makes me a perfect accommodationist,
I’m an easy target, being an anthropomorphist…
Seizures installed by these anaesthesiologists?
On the one hand, they are undoubtedly abstrucities,
They’ve made my brain an acropolis…
So, I struggle at times to gain access!

Their actions mostly, I fail to comprehend,
Obviously, my IQ became overburdened…
But my EQ has never wavered or stuttered,
I don’t know which side my bread is buttered,
So, common sense, I’ve had to suspend,
I admit to feeling a smidge frightened!

Each of them is a cerebrum adulterator,
Assured of brain-installing habromania,
How to get help? An astrologer, an auger?
Will I still them in Hell hereinafter?
Is it possible at all to find an ameliorator?
They’ve beaten the best, such as Maggie Thatcher!
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A restless waking up far too often sleep. 0425hrs: Gave up and got up from the itch-creating, bruise-giving, catheter-tube-tugging, crumb-decorated from my nocturnal nibbling, God-awfully uncomfortable, cringingly grotty, no longer working, dirty beige, anti-sleep designed, c1966, second-hand bought for £300 ten years ago from the charity shop, recliner. I didn’t make it to bed last night. I was trying to stay awake to watch the football. Then, naturally, as I started to watch the TV, I fell asleep, waking up with the jump and tweaking away. But could I get back to sleep? I only stayed that way for minutes, banging away again. Occasionally joined in. This repeated until I resigned myself to surrendering and getting up. Marvellous, one tries to stay awake so as not to miss the footy, but that comes on, and I fall asleep. I miss the football, and then I can’t get back to sleep! Humph!

I was pleased with the colour of the urine this morning. Carer Chris gave it a Five from the NHS colour chart. Best morning shade for weeks.

I went into the kitchen to check the taps and saw the fog again. It was even thicker than it was yesterday. I could barely discern the lights. I assume there were some out there? I took a second shot of the view in a different photo mode. This time, I could make out some vague bits of green that must be trees?

I did the Blood Pressure on the Sphygmomanometer. It came out just inside the ‘Hyper range’; it was not high enough to cause me any concern.

I sorted all four of the waste bin bags into one. And took them to the front door. I am hoping a Carer will take them to the chute for me. I would have taken it, but with the kitchen thermometer only reading 40°F, it was just a smidgeon too cold to risk going out there yet. Haha! 

I refilled the Nurse’s & Carer’s nibble box on their table. Then, the need for the Porcelain Throne arose. 
Although not as big or painful as yesterday’s monster passing, it was still enough to bring water to my eyes. Hehehe! One good thing about Constipation Conrad’s evacuation is that it leads to fewer premature escapages than Trotsky Terence’s.

At long last. I made a brew of 99 tea, got on the computer and changed the date on my almost historical clock calendar. Then .
The text writing on WordPress suddenly stopped me from moving about the mouse without outlining all the text. It was impossible to write anything. I tried doing text in CorelDraw, then MS Word, with the same results.
I closed down WordPress and CorelDraw, and then a screen appeared with Prosessers in the use list, which had hundreds of items on the list. I had no idea what was causing or what this was all about. 

Carer Christopher arrived as I tried to sort things out and what to try or do about it. He issued the medications. Then, he changed the Catheter Contraption for me; lastly, he got the diabetic socks onto my legs. (Lovely & warm, now!)

I tried to remember what had gone off with the computer.
The screen with the listing has a Stop Process button, which was no longer highlighted. So, I closed the window and tried writing again after reopening CorelDraw and WordPress, and it worked. I can’t cope with technology! Still, it allowed me to finish yesterday’s blog and post it.

I had started on the photographs for this blog. And a swarth of came over me for about an hour. Somehow, it seems that I kept on typing away through them all. When I partially regained my faculties, I found a mess grammatically and one paragraph that did not mean anything to me, all gobble-di-gook!
Sorting them out took me more than another hour, and even then, I made and found more errors. I wanted to try to make time to read January’s templates. I hope I can get this done; having them ready to use on file does save time each day. Boy, the time is flying.

Carer Joanne arrived. We had a natter, and she related her holiday mishaps. Bless her 🧡. It sounded like I was listening to myself. Haha! I do like that gal.

After some more work on the blog after Joanne had gone, I decided to try to get the templates made up. With hope in my heart and crossed fingers. (I do not really cross my fingers; Arthur Itis no longer allows me to cross my fingers. Although Colin Cramps often bends and twists them when I don’t want them to be like that!) I’ve dropped many things over the years thanks to Colin & Arthur Itis.
Here goes: I’m continuing with the template work, which I expect to take 2½ hours, the same as last month. It is now 1230 hrs. See if I get them done, and remember to check how long it takes me this time. I hope the computer & CorelDraw do not play up again.

God Heavens: I’ve just finished, and it is 1630hrs! Took me a lot longer this time. I said I was struggling to get things done, but I didn’t think this would take me that long. Again, correcting mistakes, those that I noticed cost me a lot of time. Made a brew of Glengettie to celebrate.

Fish balls in batter, pickled beetroot, onions, green tomatoes, carrots & home-pickled water chestnuts.
Very nice!
The landline chimed. It was the Doctor’s receptionist. The DVT Warfarin blood test showed a low INR count, so she gave me a new dosage: 1½ Warfarin tablets each night. Even I should remember that.

Being unsure of myself, I rechecked the templates. I took this shot through the balcony door, and only the fog was seeable. It felt dreary and cold. I checked the kitchen thermometer, and it was showing only 35.6°F. 
Carer Chris just arrived after I’d written his name. Haha!
Meds were issued, and he told me that I’d not put any granules or wash-pods in the laundry he took this morning. Thankfully, I remembered to ask Christopher to put the socks on me. He took them with him as he left.

Going to go on WP Reader before I fall to sleep. Fall to sleep… me!

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Cheery-Bye!

Puddled Inchy: Thursday 26th December 2024

STARMERS FUTURE
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On the humorous side…
I’m not in control nowadays, just a minimum,
Vascular Diabetic Doreen is tinkling with my cerebrum,
Harold’s Haemorrhoids controlling my bleeding bum,
Bleeding from cracked teeth, lips and gum,
Seizures leave me lost and numb,
Uneducated… what’s a quasi-isomorphism?
Between me then and now lies an impassable chasm,
I’ve lost my freedom, thus enthusiasm
But I’m still moderately skilled in sarcasm,
I was fully committed to activism…
I could do it now on a good day, but they’re seldom,
I’m still well-known for my altruism,
Gone are my days of professionalism…
Doing my ablutions? Best described as gruesome,
I fought and beat off alcoholism!
But struggle to free myself from fatalism,
Dictatorship, Communism or Capitalism?
All addicted to despotism and materialism,
Oligarchal, favouritism, federalism, feudalism,
Earthlings will never adopt pacifism…
I view hope for this earth with scepticism,
Why do I bother? I must be dumb,
No wonder I’m feeling so glum,
Will St Peter do humankind’s postmortem?
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0530hrs: I stirred from my broken sleep for maybe the twentieth time and decided to give up on sleep and get up. I was well pleased with the limited hassle I got from Cartilage Chloe as I hoisted my mega-sized, wobbly-bodied torso onto my feet. I felt much better than I did on yesterday’s rebirth into the torture of another day in my Nottingham-located Cell 72… no, flat, flat 72! My balance seemed much better, too!
I pondered on what the day may hold for me. It was a scary moment as my confidentless mind mused merrily over various possibilities and what mode of Accidauxpas or Whoopsiedangleplop would arrive first. I decided to get the nocturnal pouch off the day bag first, then check to see if I’d left anything like taps running overnight again. If I find the hot water tap running this morning, it will be for the third day on the trot.
I got my slippers on (painfully) and meandered to the kitchenette to check the things in there. Much to my relief, I found I’d not left the hot or cold tap running. I got the kettle on and photographed the foggy, dark, dank morning. The light was from some property. It looked a little like it could be the sky, but it wasn’t; in view that couldn’t be seen were Nottinghamian’s dwellings, roads, and streets. Possibly a few burglars at work, drunks still making their way home, muggers lurking, drug deals taking place, and many Nottinghamians, perhaps still sobering up from the Christmas Day party? I made the brew of Glengettie and turned to get the milk from the fridge.
I found I’d left the fridge door open and the freezer one, too!
Which expletive should I use? To reveal exactly how I felt at that moment. Disappointment, self-loathing, frustration, irritation, disquietude, perturbation, self-condemnation, self-commination, blameworthiness or guilt?
I suppose any one or all of them. I chuntered away, swearing silently, lambasting myself. My spirits took another dip when I found that most of the frozen food was no longer frozen, and a puddle had poured out onto the kitchen floor that I had not noticed and had walked all over the kitchen floor.

Mopping up while using a walking stick is not one of the most straightforward jobs. But I cheerfully spent over an hour whistling and singing as I mopped it up.

A few more street lights can be seen in this second photograph of the early but not-so-early morning view from the kitchenette.

Made a brew; I’ll get to drink one soon. I took it to the computer and reset my old-fashioned calendar clock.

Carer Richard arrived. The lad looked and sounded done for after his shift; I was his last call. I didn’t keep him waiting about this time like I did yesterday. He still has two leg braces on and is using a crutch-walker. I did not ask him to put the diabetic socks on for me. Bending does the lad and me no good. I’ll ask a later Carer to put the socks on, providing that I remember to, of course!

After Richard had departed on his way to a much-needed sleep, I had to pay the wet room a visit. I anticipated more trouble like yesterday from a Trotsky Terence session. I didn’t waste a second in getting in there, just in case of any unanticipated droppages before I could get myself seated.
But no! Another reversal in controller this time. Was back in charge! I sat there urging, painfully pushing, to encourage the monster torpedo to move; it got stuck at what felt like an inch of the way out. Refusing to budge any further!
I got the crossword book to help kill the waiting time but couldn’t resolve any clues. A while later, the monster moved. Gawd, it was a whopper! It must have taken a full minute to complete its escape. Massive it was! There was a tiny bit of bleeding from the haemorrhoids. I cleaned up and medicated. Naturally, the mug of tea had gone cold again.

So, I went back into the kitchen to make another one. I took another snap of the fog out there. It looks just the same now as I write this 4 hours later.

I did the morning BP test earlier, which produced the following results. SYS 151 DIA 70 Pulse 72, Temp 34.8 Level: HYPER
I did the evening check earlier than usual. SYS 144 DIA 68 Pulse 74, Temp 34.7 Level: Normal High, better!

I inspected the freezer to see if anything could be risked using and what needed dishing. A costly decision to do that. But better safe than sorry. I left the thawed-out bread and cobs in there; I think they can be refrozen safely. I took the bag of throw-outs to the waste chute and threw them in.
No trapped fingers this time!

Carer Sham called. I hadn’t seen her for months, and I got the feeling she didn’t want to be here (which was natural). But I managed to make her smile once. She was treated as all Carers were at Christmas. She left smilingly anyway. 

What An Amazing Session This Was!
Do you notice the acute lack of any shaving cuts in this photo on the right? Not a single one!
Then, I did the teggies and nasal spraying.
Before moving on to the joy of a good shower, I had to remove the muslin day catheter bag cover from the pouch and leg. 2: I got it off in what must have been a record time; at least, it seemed like it to me. (Although, I suppose there was a slight chance that I had a mini-seizure)
No Dizzies with the bending down, 3 no knocking anything off the floor cabinet, 4 no bruises or cuts. 5 No tearing of the mesh. 6 or accidents with the release valve. Brilliant!
Fair enough, I did tug at the tube stuck in Little Inchie, which caused me some pain… But 7, no bleeding!
I even adjusted the top two straps without causing any pain or harm. 8. Then, turn the shower power on in the hallway and collect the towel from the slow heater.
Turned the shower on. Got underneath the showerhead and carbolic soaped my blubbery-bellied body and ultra-thin bony legs and arms for ages. I wallowed in the shower.
I really enjoyed it!.
Showering was complete, so I set about drying off. First, the catheter contraption. I do that as advised using paper towels, I can’t remember why, but they told me to.
Then, my muscular young torso and bicep-ridden arms and legs.

I won’t bore you with the whole routine. If I did, I might not live long enough to finish it! Hehehe!
The first task was getting the Catheter Contraption back on.
This did not go as easily as taking it off in the first place or anywhere but according to plan. Getting a muslin cover on caused a tear or two while trying to thread the tube and bag through it. . I ended up with , and the
newly grown leg ulcer got a clout as I battled . I banged it against the corner of the floor cabinet. All the bending down set off bleeding. Still, I thought I’d done a decent job in the end with the catheter.
The other medications went alright. Even stopping the bleeding and ointmentating Little Inchies fungal lesion went okay. Painful, but okay!

1400hrs: And just look at the effect of the fog! Can’t even see the Christmas lights put there now. It could be dodgy for the Carers to get in. Or home!


Pigs in blankets, frozen and oven-cooked for 40 minutes. The paper-thin bacon evaporated from the sausage.


They’d left me alone for a time; I’d forgotten about them.

FURRY TWO OF THE WEEK

Dougs furry, Andy.
He’d just got back from the veterinarian.
He’s doing alright. Medication continues.
A characterful cat.
We all love him on WP.

I was weary, closed the computer that I was initially going to go back on, and fell asleep (bliss!) in the second-hand, £300, c1968, overwhelmingly sickening beige coloured, tatty, uncomfortable, wobbly, germ-producing, falling to pieces, food residue-collecting recliner.
I awoke with Carer Chris’s face in mine and a big smile on his mush, telling me he thought I’d snuffed it. Laughter from both parties. Hehehe!
I tried to stay awake to watch the football on TV, but I fell asleep and woke up in time to catch the ending credits of the film that followed the football. Grrr!
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Croaking Inchy: Wednesday 25th December 2024

Not Starmer, naturally!

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I’m not having any Christmas fare,
I’ll treat the Carers & Nurses, to be fair,
Mentally failing, but I still want to be a blogger
It now takes so much longer, it’s a bugger,
I feel I’m no longer a belonger…
I was happier when I was boozier,
I’ve grown burlier, burblier, & less brainier…
Living life like a boondoggler,
A fungal lesion & catheter in my todger,
Dementia is my brain’s orchestrater,
Mild now, worse as I get older…
Beyond eighty, one can become an obiter,
I don’t look, can’t read ‘em, Gladys Glaucoma,
Never wanted excess money or grandeur,
Others notice as you get gimpier,
You may suffer from graphomania,
Ending up a grammaticaster,
I’ll explain why, at the gates to St. Peter,
Ageing: one becomes thinner or paunchier,
No longer a philanderer, you begin to palter,
Concentration and memory will falter,
You become an easy target for any finagler…
Mugger, killer, blackmailer or freebooter,
My turn to become a contradicter…
It’s hard to explain Cacodemonomania,
When it comes to life’s final closure…
Things will be revealed by your claviger…
Be it a God, Planet, Money, whatever,
Inspect your lifestyle, traits whensoever,
To return to earth, you must be a groveller,
And bare-face liar, like Starmer!
And he’s a bound for Hell, Herr Charmer!
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Tim’s Cat’s Greenies Stand-off. I love this one!
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The result was I gave myself a bloody nose by losing my balance as I bent down to open the Catheter Valve yesterday.  Then, while wiping the flow from my nasal holes, I started my cracked lips bleeding. I rather hope that they do not start again today! (They did!)

I woke up very late, enjoying sleep and having a good dream. Hehe! I moved as Richard entered the room, and maybe a few of my ailments did not kick-off. Until I tried to move my bulk about 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. I’ve not felt so bad when waking up for years!

My lips cracked and bled as I tried to speak. Speaking was not easy at first; I was more mumbling, I think. 
Back-Pain-Brenda, Electric-Shocking-Sherida, Confusion Konrad, everything seemed blurred (Glaucoma Gladys?), and, for several minutes, I felt like I was in a permanent-seizure mode. Richard was getting a smidge annoyed with me, I think. Because he was talking to me, but I was not receptive and unable to. I all but went over when I finally got the nerve to stand up and take off the nocturnal pouch. I was keeping Richard from getting home with my faffing about, and I was aware of this. I emptied, disinfected and wrapped up the pouch, and by the time I got back in the room with Richard, I was a different person. As if by magic, I’d regained some perception. Richard issued the prescription medications, and my being more with it, we chatted a minute or two. 

As soon as Richard departed, I got the kettle on. Taking this photo from the kitchen window of morning view. Feeling more myself all the time.
I’d left the blood towels out last night, so I wrapped them up and put them in the yellow disposable hygiene bag after disinfecting it first. To my genuine amazement, after drinking the small mug of tea and getting the computer on, the day bag filled almost to the maximum. In fact, it was the backflow discomfort that made me aware of its need to be emptied again. Not only that but in the jug was nearly 800ml of waste water! I think this happened yesterday as well. It continued to fill up all day, but not as much as this one. In the middle of this emptying, no spillages!

Launched into activity. He’s not a frequent visitor, but he hung around on and off all day, then into the night. I feared, as does happen, that Ted often encourages to join in with him. But not this time. She assisted him while I was in bed later to ensure another nasty disrupted sleep for me.

I didn’t mention this but decided, as it had happened, I would. I had to scoot off to the wet room to use the Porcelain Throne when Richard was here. I was almost casually taking off my dressing gown, and the motion began of its own accord! SHAME AGAIN!
,
It was a damned Trotsky Terence affair as well! I kept Richard longer and felt guilty, but the mess I’d splattered over the mats, floors and my legs had to be sorted out there and then.👎🏻

I collated the waste bags into one and placed it near the front door.  I opened the door cause I thought I heard a noise outside. But no one was there, which is my flat’s usual state. I closed the door… a simple enough everyday activity… Ha! 
I’d hit the catheter day bag, a decent wallop with the edge of the door. I laughed it off and returned to the main junk room to get the computer back on and update the blog. I would think it was about eight to ten minutes later that I realised that urine from the pouch was trickling down my leg! Once more, the sock, leg, foot and slipper had been self-unrinated on with great venom! The one saving grace was that I noticed it sooner this time and saved the carpet cleaning from needing to be done.

Such shame, disgrace, ignominy, humiliation, and indignity!
The Carers are aware of these things, and the Nurses are. But what can I do? It’s going to happen again, undoubtedly. This very fact alone is enough to get me into a depression. Then the seizures are getting worse, unquestionably. Carer Richard found this morning that I’d left the taps running again last night.
I’m sorry I mentioned it now.

When I zoomed in to take this picture from the kitchenette window, I got a sense that something was wrong or not right. Different somehow compared with yesterday’s viewing. I spent a ridiculous amount of time and kept returning to look with the naked eye. Was it just that the sun had sneaked through, lighting up the scene? I’d enough to worry about as it was, but this bugged me. I gave up and got on the computer. 

Carer Suen arrived. We laughed, and I gave her a choice of bottles to select from for Christmas. Painkillers were given, and my diabetic socks were put on.

I went to make a brew of Glengettie and took this snap of the sky on offer. Then, it dawned on me what the difference was in the previous photo.
It was all the cars parked on the pavements on Devonshire Avenue to the left in this repeated picture. Ah, yes, all those families at home enjoying Christmastime! 
Jealous? Me? Don’t be so ridiculous! Ahem!

I read on the web the list of meals that the prisoners were having in Nottingham jail over Christmas and the New Year.
Jealous? Me? Don’t be so ridiculous! Ahem!
I’d better get my Christmas meal started.
Not as good as the criminals’ meal,
But I’m not Jealous… oh, no!

Imitation fish sticks, potato chunks, sliced bread with a bit of Marmite. Followed by a pot of jelly with three small pieces of satsuma in it. Very nice! This year, for Christmas lunch, inmates at His Majesties Prison New Hall will get to choose from Moroccan vegan roast, Salmon & dill fishcake, Roast turkey with pigs in blankets, and sage and onion stuffing with complete trimmings. Christmas pudding  (vegan option), ice cream, Swiss Roll or banana & custard. For free, of course.
It makes me feel guilty about having my massive feast.
Jealous? Me? Don’t be so ridiculous! Ahem!

Carer Victor did the last call.

I got into bed and drifted off into a nagging, ever-waking sleep. I gave up and got up at 05:30 hrs.
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Sayonara

Dhoti Inchy: Tue 24th December 2024

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Are you aware of this Starmer? Silly Question!
As if the Pensioner Killer would be interested!
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I’d liked to have been cleverer, astuter,
I was too busy being beaten up, & my tutor!
Then, I may have had a better life’s agenda,
Whatever is the difference between a proton…
(Not the car), and a neutral nucleon,
I think combined, they make a neutron?
Career paths that I did consider…
May I have written a book or been a surgeon?
Been a scientist, physicist or an inventor?
A scholar, maybe even the Prime Minister,
But I’ll soon lose that desire, seeing Starmer!
Remember the 11-plus, I failed that quickly,
Did I blame this on my angiocardiography?
Well, no, I had that 50 years later…
Or on the girls, who made me droolier?
The blonde-midget they used to call me.
I was about as tall as anyone’s knee,
That, I can blame on my descendency,
Uncle Arthur was only 4 foot three,
Auntie Muriel was even shorter than he,
But I grew to mind-blowing 5’3″,
Had humour and agility, also an alienability,
My failing academically drew hostility,
From those in authority, friends and family,
But the sneering stopped one day, abruptly,
I fell into the canal, in which they threw me!
I worked from 1960 until the first redundancy
That arrived when in security in 2003,
Life consisted mainly of failure & discomfiture,
I started in a house that had little furniture,
Now, in my flat with dyspraxia, & dystaxia…
Apnoea, acrasia, apepsia & aprosexia,
Determined to reach a state of ataraxia,
As I eat my meal of chips & Golonkowa…
And think of ways to terminate Starmer!
Well, someone should; he’s a pensioner killer!
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A Messy, getting-nowhere-fast day.
21:00hrs before I started this main blog.
Seizure Sandra has been busier than any other time.
Luckily, at least up to now, they have all been short (but frequent) episodes. DVT Warfarin Angel Hristina called unexpectedly. It is always a welcome, wanted, satisfying experience. ♥ Carer Cloe did the first call. Then, the second, as well, a domestic visit. Carer Sam did the middle call. Carer Christopher just finished the next-to-last call. Well, it gives him something to eat and drink. Hehehe!
With all the breaks throughout the day, I got more confused and blundered about making errors. Then, trying to sort them out the first time. This did not succeed on one of the problems, let alone the dozens I’d made). I’m going to have to rush this one from here on; sorry if any cock-ups are missed. Otherwise, I’ll never get to sleep again and never catch up on the lost head-downs. It makes things more complex with a lack of scribbled notes, and those I made are not fully legible. Here goes.

Terrible, sad, bad shot of the urine bag.

ABLUTIONING & MEDICALISATIONING

The leg and ankle ulcers looked a smidge inflamed.
I got the bowl out to stand in to soak the plates of meat and had to use the WC first.
Yesterday’s Trotsky Terence’s comeback was short-lived.
Constipation Conrad was back in charge. But to the disappointment of Harold Haemorrhoids. I made a few slip-ups with the razor in my rush.
The Medicationings were made a mess of. Most of them. The groin area was cleaned a little too enthusiastically. But I stopped the bleeding eventually. Then, stupidly, I did the same on the one ailment that’s the most painful anyway, Little Inchies Fungal Lesion. I lost some of the red stuff on this wet room visitation. Plenty of plasters and bandages, though. As I dried off, I felt more blood coming onto my chin. I checked in the shaving mirror and saw that my lips had cracked. They hadn’t been touched or hurt before this. Of course, now my mixed-up Doreen Dementia-owned brain has seen them; they have been irking me all day.

Got the waste bags sorted out.

Made a start on the blogging.

Nurse Hristina arrived, the highlight of the day!
The Carers called one after the other.
I was lost as to what I was going to do next.
Chloe, then Chloe again—bless her for doing the Domestics. She found that many food items in the fridge had one day’s life left, and a couple had to be thrown away. My overflowingly full fridge now looked more on the bare side! The photo taken had dematerialised and was lost in the ether!

The urine was getting a little lighter in colour—good! It was also flowing well. This shot was taken 25 minutes after the previous emptying and contained just under 800ml.

After Carer Christopher called.
I took two shots of sunsetting.

Back on the blog prepping.
I took some snips of Cartoons to use later.
CrelDraw was incredibly slow! Oh, dear!

I pressed on, but it was taking so long. Could I continue? CorelDraw froze, and WordPress seemed to stutter at times.
I keep saying I need help.

Two later snaps of the evening sky.

Not so good.
.

I had to give up.
Tired out and annoyed at things.
I’ll make a meal.
I’ll catch up in the morning. Unless The Grim Reaper calls, but that’s only obvious.
TTFN.
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Nearly midday in the morning. Lots of disaster-mode events kept me from doing this earlier.

Tuesday Continued:
After a decent nosebleed, after I’d stopped to get summat to eat. The tissues burst open the cracks on the lip, stopping the nosebleed and opening them up!
They didn’t pour with blood, but stopping them took me ages! They would start again within minutes whenever I thought I’d stopped them. Humph! 

The intercom rang. I thought it might be an unknown carer, but I could not hear what he was saying.I went out on a hobble to see if I could find him. I gave up and hoped I’d done right in admitting the chap. Later, I went to lock the door and saw a packet not there before on the radiator. I think some meds from the chemist had not been delivered earlier. I wish they had called to inform me.

2140 hrs: Carer Chris arrived as I was plating the meal, so no photo was taken. It was a good one, though: beef in black bean sauce, roast potatoes, and extra seasonings.
I drank a bit of blood when I was eating the meal.
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