INCHIE TODAY: Saturday 11th March 2023

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Heck of a shock here today! The NHS input site advised me to ring NHS 111 starlight away, So I did!
But they were too busy and told me to visit the NHS 111 site. So, I did.
An hour later, I filled in the questions asked & guessed at the choices made.
Sent it off and was told someone would contact me later. They are very busy, and this may take some time, be patient. So, I did!
I went to make a brew, and the telephone rang – I was surprised I heard it in the kitchen, but, there you are, I did.
Answered many questions and had to guess at a few. The nurse had an accent, and the kine was not good, so it took a time to review all the needed details. Ultimately, she decided that the SYSs 128, and 119, with respective DIAs 57 and 59, were okay? This despite the NHS monitoring site telling me it was Too Low and to ring 111?
Don’t feel too confident about this. But then again, it’s unsurprising; they are the lowest readings I’ve ever had?

Well, the lowest B~P readings ever, advised to ring 111 – told to go online, spent ages sorting required details. Told it was okay. And earlier, this above when I woketh up. Similar farces these two. If the blood in the wee is level 6 or 7, I’m supposed to ring 111 – Ha!

I was woken up (Didn’t get settled until around 04:00hrs) and was woken by the arrival of Carer Sam. I was half out of it, having just been stirred reluctantly back to life. Think we had a chinwag, and Sam took the washing nada waste bag on her way out. Thank you.

Porcelain Throne visited, cleaned up the kitchen, dropped the milk bottle, and stubbed my toes again. The brain was not too interested in being creative and went on strike a few times when I got nothing done whatsoever; just seemed to sit here thinking but not knowing why or what of?

The yes were still bad, and concentration as well.
Dizzy Dennis, The Kathleen Catheter tube, and Anne Gyna all gave me bother of some sort. I really was only half here for many hours. Scary!  Sort of light-headed, I suppose… mind you, I still am now seven hours later.

Lost the camera but found it a few hours later, hidden in front of me to the right of the computer – How the hell did I miss that?

Liberty-Global Virgin Media went down.
I made a brew and fell asleep for a while…
A while? Four bloody hours!

Carer Jo-Anne arrived; I was still a bit vague about things.
After the gal left… Ah, it was Jo-Anne I think that tool the washing? I could be wrong; of course, it has been known.

No sunset tonight. Boo!

Found the camera.
Lost the eye drops.
Sadly no chance of any sunset tonight… Sob!

Took early evening shots.

A couple of hours late, these…

Very little snow left now

Then got the soup and put the potatoes and soya bits in with it,
then the seasoning. But could not find the mint sauce?
Are a lot of things disappearing today?

Looking okay to me.

Blogging for another hour or two.
Got about ten minutes’ worth of work done, Huh!

Carer Ayowoke arrived. The first time I’d seen him. Nice lad. He gave me a roster for next week, no Carer Richard in it! I asked if he knew anything about Richard, but he did not know him.

Did some more effort on this blog, but I still can’t get my head around the
NHS telling me to ring NHS 111, and then eventually, telling me to log onto the web with NHS 111. After having to log in all my details, telling me
that the Blood Pressure figures were okay?

I got the nosh on and served up.
Another part-canned meal.
A can of Asda Chunky Lamb & Vegetable soup.
Couldn’t find the mint sauce to add to it,
I think maybe it may have gone out of date? (Spit!)
Added vegetable stock and some Pertranic,
Cooked & sliced potatoes, just one finger knick!.
Soy bacon thingies added; the final bit…
Wholemeal rolls for me to dunk and dip!
And soon, I’d demolished it!
Eating every morsel and bit!
Flavour Rating: 705/10.

The late Carer was Carole-Anne.
Still no .
We had a mini natter & laugh. Refreshing!

acci-whoopI woke up as my ginormously flabby body hit the floor!
Landing conveniently on my bottom, but rather, unfortunately, the burst open .
It was the mess of sorting things out that got to me rather than the bleeding itself. Handily, it was almost easy to get me back up on my bloated feet and legs… The first job was to check .
I placed some paper towels inside the Protection Pants first, then looked over the pouch, grippers and tubing. All seems to be still attached.

Off to the wet room, giving the door frame a mini shoulder-charge as I went in. That hurt more than anything else did. Hehehe! I didn’t fret about this being half asleep; I expected that ,   and would cause me some problems.
Even joined in with an . Only a little one, but enough for me to knock the Germoloid, Daktacort and Savlon creams off of the floor cabinet. Then after the haemorrhoids were treated… the always ‘Painful-Job’ of Cleaning up and ointmentationing !

 After a multitude of Argh! – Ouches, curse words and loathings, and a moment of ‘Why Me Mate’ emotions, it was done.

REFLECTIONS

I was amazingly calm and physiological about things… at least, I think I was? That’s probably not the word I should have used?
It could have been a sign of my acceptance of the circumstances or my rotten luck?
I may have been sick to the back teeth (mind you, there’s only one of them left in the mouth now) of hearing myself moan and whining on about my inabilities, ailments, frustrations, Accifauxpas, Whoopsiedangleplops, eyesight, hearing, Cathy Catheter pains, shortage of pouches, and the seemingly never-ending Bladder-Infection. Being bald, overweight, Duodenal Donald, Little Inches Phimosis and fungal lesion, Peripheral Neuropathy, having two strokes, being shot twice, scared shit of going in water.
Now, there’s the , and the 80 40 0 lurgy. The palpitating of the mechanical ticker. The almost persistent No help attainable for things like the computer and letters that are either too small or complicated for me to hear, see or understand? This will, I assume, be due to the attention gleaned of…
.

But I don’t complain…
Hahaha!

INCHIE TODAY: Friday 10th March 2023

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No night bags all week, so I have had to empty the day bag overnight a few times. Hey-Ho! Then off to the most popular room in the flat, the room. Another battle is to encourage the evacuation product to evacuate. Haha!

The carer arrived, got the medications sorted and had a little chinwag.
Then… back to typo the again.
on the way back to the , with still in command.

Got some Apache potatoes in the crock-pot after removing the growth shoots, of which there were dozens of.

AGAIN!
Getting fed up with this.
Surely thinks, being so solid as they are, you’d expect
the visits to be less often, not more?

Made a mug of Glengettie… and took these snaps below.

I enjoyed watching the man and his tail-wagging dog.

Got on the computer…
What was going right… well, nothing was real.
Memory blanks for words and happenings. Distractions via the agony of the  tube in poor little Inchies!!! I think this may be due tri the lack of night pouches. The nurse did say it was important to put the night bag on as it gives the day bag a chance to flow, getting rid of the infection as it did so. That makes seance to me, but no bags have arrived yet.  They certainly won’t arrive at the weekend, so the stinging pains look to be contended with a little longer. Then the pain from the evacuating product causes more bleeding from . Of course, agonising pains mean nothing to me whatsoever.

Back again to the Wet room.

Fancy that one of the Enoxaparin needles was bent. Still got in the mould of elephantine stomach both times safely.

Youngsters were spotted trying to make a snow slide for their multicoloured plastic, whatever they were called.

Got another reminder from Severn-Trent!

By gum, the snow’s cleared mighty fast?

Aha, it looks like we might see sundown shortly.

Back Again!

The sunset began earlier than usual.

The sun was going down so fast…
It seemed like just ten minutes later…
In the first of these shots, just caught the last glimpse of the sun as it disappeared from view.
The sunset was all over, just some reflection from the disappeared sun. Not sure if reflection is the right word… can anyone help, please?

Carer Josef arrived, we got the medications done and
had a little natter. Which I enjoyed

Carer Jo-Anne – no night bags. Ah, well!

Closed down the computer around midnight and got some nosh sorted

Apache potatoes (7.2/10)
Imitation Porkies (6/10)
Orange tomatoes (8.3/10)
Sourdough rolls… (7/10)
Lathered with delicious Flora Soya butter. (9.2/10). (For Billum in Ohio)
The average score is beyond my skills at the moment.

I enjoyed it, and emptied the 7th-level rated urine coloured.
pouch.

I took this wobbly, blurry shot of the pouch as I emptied it.
A bad photograph. Due to my bending and shaking and bad eyes.
The colour was, as I said, top,  worst graded 7.

Nightie-Night!
Well, Good Morning (04:00hrs).

INCHIE TODAY: Friday 3rd March 2023

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At certain times today, I was with it -ish!
But not very often, really.
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The night bag this morning. 5-6 on colour patch.

Blimus! This is the day pouch an hour or so later.
Full and bloody – or bloody full. Hehehe!

Two more hours later, this!.

Carers table.

Bad photo of right foot.
But it is better than yesterday.

Evening shot of the sky.

Evening shot of the sky, slightly lower.

Down a bit more…

Down to the car park.

Now you may be wondering where all the details
and other photographs are?. So am I!
I remember having problems with the computer last night. Seriously disconcerting. It was so bad that I had to force close the computer and reboot it again. I think as this was done, It was Carer Jozef that arrived, and I moaned and groaned at my luck a little. Sorry, mate.
Worse was to come!
I’d lost six hours of CorelDraw work. The Ode, photographs, header cartoon graphics, and what was saved were virtually too hard to find, as they seemed to have been saved all over the hard and external storage… I was furious!
But defeated. I turned off the computer, hoping to sort it all out in the morning. Then took the evening shots above and got the stew made.

Well, not stew, more a can of soup, to which I added a mass of soy imitation bacon bits and a load of baked mini-cubes of potatoes.
Along with the traditional for me, tomato passata, liquid smoke, BBQ sauce and salt and vinegar.
Despite my so low mood, I enjoyed it.
Flavour Rating: 7.8/10.

Worran ‘orrible day!

INCHIE TODAY: Monday 13th February 2023

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Lots of hassle today – what about I cannot say yet.
combined with Doreen Dementia’s and Sweet Morpheus’s ploy to ensure my getting very little sleep, a dark depression brought on by the day’s events that I will reveal later on in the week; I am at the lowest point in the contentment stakes that I’m been since, well many a year.
Another cut-short thought circumstances beyond my control (I’m getting a lot of these days lately) in detail diary I fear.

According to my notepad, I got up at 04:00hrs, failing to sleep again. After getting the kitchen mopped and making a brew and Carer Richard arrived. Still looking a little under the weather; bless him. I hope he’ll be alright later on. I tried to cheer him up a smidgeon.

Took this shot of the foggy morning…

Stayed misty all day long.


Went to refill the one-litre water bottles from the cheaper 2-litre ones… Whoopsiedangleplop! The cat shot off of the bottles, hit me in the middle of my forehead, and generally soaked me and the floor as ~I dropped it, and it spun around on the floor, liberally distributing two litres of water.

Mopped the floor and put the togs in the laundry bag.

Had a visitor and got all agitated afterwards.
On the Computer.
Carer Sam arrived to do the checks and medications.

Then four lines of scribbled notes happened, and it said it was 13:30hrs. No idea what I wrote, but @I must have been stressed to write that bad, even for me. Hump!

Seems I took a picture of the Chestnut Way car parking.
And somehow missed it?

I went back to the computer to get Sunday’s blog completed.
Took the above shot through the sliding windows and balcony ones.

Says here that ~I was feeling drained again. Not sure if that meant tired or I emptied Cathy Catheter’s Pouch.

Remembered that the Blood ~pressure has to be taken four times a day now. I created the graph near the top and put it on here later in the evening when I felt so tired.

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Had a nosey about what to eat, and I ended up with a Sweet & Sour Noodles pot. I’ll not try them again.

Carer Kara came to serve me. Medicines and safety checks. Nice to see her, she doesn’t come very often… well, as I’d like. Hehehe!

I was fighting off falling asleep – Marvellous, innit? Get yer head down, and you can’t sleep, give up, get up, and you try working on the blog, and you’ll fall asleep in the computer chair! Not only that, you knock a bottle of spring water off the shelf, and Back-Pain Brenda kicks off when you bend to retrieve it. Fed-up? Me?

Fed-up, I may have said that already, I went to put the kettle on, and what a moon was showing up in the early night sky – Grrreat

Just look at the two-tone colour of it!

The last two above were taken much laterer.
Not so good, are they?

Carer Richard arrived as I was making a pan of stew… of sorts and dishing it out into a bowl. Richard kindly waited for me to finish this before , and gave the medications when the meal was readied. He left me with the tray balanced on my bulbous belly – checked the taps etc., and took the waste bag on his way out.
I ate the rather sad as-it-turned-out meal. Got the pots washed, and with the four-pronged walking stick, Metal Mickey in my hands, I went to lock the front door… well, it’s the only external door. Hehe! ,

Back into the second-hand, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, microorganism-microbe producing, gungy, moth-eaten, beige-coloured, non-working, bacillus encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, c1968 recliner.  

And Zzzz!

INCHIE TODAY – Sunday 29th January 2023

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Inchies Ode Today was inspired by Timothy Price Photographer extraordinaire and Jolly Good Cyber-Mate

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It’s been an… erm, er… well. an interesting month so far.
I’ve been given a rubber wristlet for DNR (Do Not Resuscitate). A Diabetes rubber wristlet. These will decorate my wrists along with the On Warfarin, Allergic To Clopidogrel, Hard of Hearing, and the new last week, Dementia alert bands. The Cataract – Vision – Impaired one has not arrived yet.
I’ve checked the box of the options on the Doctor’s letter. In answer to the Question: Where Would You Like To Die, at Home or in a Hospital?

Now after the initial rushing me into the hospital when I woke up with blood coming from Little Inchie and the Haemorrhoid-ridden rear end.
 I think this was four weeks ago. The Paramedics took to the QMC, A&E.

Where the medicos must have forced two gallons of warm water down my throat to get the wee-wee flowing through Little Inchy, as opposed to Catheter Cathy’s Contraption. I had the catheter put in and taken out about six times, which for me with Phimosis and the Fungal Lesion – not to mention having the smallest willy I’ve ever seen (I’ve seen ten-year-olds with a bigger one than I). This is why the in and the outing of the tube were so painful for me. And it really was testing my pain limit… mind you, it still is at this very moment. I was on the computer and listening to the new tenant’s TV blasting away upstairs. (I assume. He or she might be getting the flat sorted, which accounts for the occasional clunks and thuds. Herbert Mark Two? Haha!

No problem, though; I’ll get used to it. Just take out the hearing aids.
They did bladder scans, and some on a big machine. But gave up and sent me to the City Hospital Urology Department. Patience Ward Two.

Where Patience was at a premium. Urology was just as baffled as the QMC staff were. They had the catheter in and out over the next day, at least eight times; despite gulping down at least two gallons of water, getting to use Little Inchie for wee-weeing was a failure. They (Urology) summoned me back to have a… I’ve forgotten what it was called now.

Ah, I’ve got it now (just looked it up on the Internet). A Cystoscopy, a CT scan of the urinary tract, and a urine culture. Still, no reason was found, so the catheter has now been on for about 4-5 weeks. The walk to the Doctor, half a mile at most, took me nearly two hours! I had to keep stopping cause the pain was so bad. I got the surgery, told the Doctor, and hose said: “Talk to Urology”. It’s great to be so cared for, innit?
Anyway, since the tumble I had getting on the trolly at the hospital, week one: I had another fall. Week two: two Accifauxpas. Week three: Just the one; it wasn’t a bad one. Week four: Three tumbles, and two, one seriously,  walking-into-solid-objects. The wet room door, and then the junk room door frame. Which started and produced a , that had me over – but I fell on the two bags of laundry that has not been collected. I’m glad they were days late now. Hehehe!
Today, the wee-wee into the bags seemed a little better. I reckon I’ve emptied the around ten times! And the blood in it was far less than yesterday’s was.
Is there a light at the end of the tunnel? Maybe… perhaps!
The attaching did not take place. No Carer arrived to attach it for me. I believe they were struggling with staffing problems and possibly the hospitalisationing of another tenant. No bother, I kept waking up overnight anyway, and I remembered to check the small day bag each time. Emptied it three times. No sweat!

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With all the nocturnal activities of emptying the pouch, I didn’t get up until 07:30hrs. Little sluggard! The was at bursting point, I managed to get it emptied before any disaster!

arrived as I was making a brew. Got the medications sorted, and he helped me ready the bin bags for him to take. Said how busy he was. Thanked him profusely.

 I left the hot water tap running again!

The pain from Little Inchie was still bad and stayed that way all day & night. and cobblers!

then Came at teatime.

Late morning view.

and later came.

Hyper-One Again.

Mid-Morning views.
A lot of white cars?

Catheter emptying. Nice and like colour this moring.


Magnificent Sunsetting this evening!

Catheter is ready for emptying.
Is that a twinge of blood in there, I see?

Sunset bying down…
Eerie colours changing…
Still beautiful…
A minute later, the last blast from the dying sun…

Looks like a two-tone of blood in the Catheter…
That’s a better piccy.
But look at the blood in it!!!
Argh!

Started emptying it – rich red blood…
Looks to be thinning at the end…
Almost bubbling now? Can you see a cat’s face in there?

Starting to make the evening Meal and, Carer Richard arrived.
He was looking fitter tonight but not a happy laddie. But soon cheered up when he got the new night bags to put on the day pouch. These ones had the plastic grip so you could hang them up. Sorted the medications, and we had a little chinwag. Np putting the world to rights, but we did manage a bit of cheer for each other.

When the night bag was on, the blood started to flow in dribs and drabs.
But, oh so slowly.
The long extension tube often stops the flow, and I feel the build-up in my bladder, and have to shake the blood through.

Richard showed me how to use the Air-Fryer, and he put some alphabet potato letters in it and left to get on with his other jobs.

Fifteen minutes later, the fryer gave out a ping that, luckily, I was in the kitchen to hear. What an alarm timer with one ping, and that was my lot!
The potato letters tasted great, all crispy on the outside.
The spuds I did in the slow cooker. The tomatoes were just about acceptable tastewise (Italian, not good this time of year). And the ersatz mini-franks were surprisingly excellent! Soya based methinks

Got this blog finished and posted off.

TTFNski, EACH!

INCHIE TODAY: Saturday 14th January 2023

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I stirred. Past wind and then blood from . It was a struggle to remove, and finally  I did, & But being the fave heroic, pain-taking, sod-em-all that I am, it was no sweat taking the agony from the Mystery-Rib-pains as I bent down.  , well  Hehe! I stopped crying anyway. There was not much wee-weeing done overnight again.
I went to the wet room on a mission of several natures: To clean up the blood from the legs, pants and jammie bottoms. Respond to the need of the Clean the teeth, have a shave, wash & medicate my delicates, front and rear… but these plans were destroyed completely by the being in charge for weeks of rear-end evacuations, . The seine caught me out big time this morning!
acci-whoop, he kicked off spurting and spraying the porcelain, tank floe and me with his watery gooey, stinking light brown excrement.

Embarrassed doesn’t seem a strong enough word to use for how I felt, somehow. Ashamed? Uncomfortable? No..
. It’s even cringeworthy writing about it. I should have left this bit out, shouldn’t I? Sorry! But it’s how things are nowadays. How my life has dwindled to a fight to do the simplest things is so disheartening. There’s always something to impede the simplest of actions, even threatening to go right.
Appointment either waited on, transport to be arranged for. Worried in case the time and dates would clash when they did arrive. Cataract repair and new Cornea at the QMC EENT Centre. They cannot do the cataract in the left eye until the right one is done and settled. Then there is Glaucoma in the left eye; and Saccade in the right eye… Tsk! I’ll never live long enough to get them done!  I was looking forward to seeing what St. Peter looks like at the gates, as well. Hehehe!
The Coppice, next visit in February. Brain Scans are to be done to find out which type of Doreen Dementia I have.
The DVT Clinic and the Warfarin anticoagulation Clinic appointments have been cancelled and may or may not be reissued.
The Audio Clinic is desperately needed with the satiate of my ears and hearing. The crap, dodgy dentists, I can’t get another NHS one with the state of things with all the strikes etc.
Going back in apparently in a fortnight, as the catheters are not clearing the bladder of urine at all.
Then the Urology nurses will be calling to check on the catheter and give me more bladder scans.
Hopefully, not changing the catheters too often – that’s a damned painful process. Since the urine infections started, when I found blood in the urine and passed it from the rear end, about six weeks ago, I had a change of catheters; 3 times at the QMC A&E, Eight times; in the ward. And four times on home visits by the nurses. Although the pain might be worth it.

The Warfarin nurse will be taking blood to work out the INR level – and that’s well out of target.

The mystery pains in the ribs side and back still need sorting out. I’ve mentioned them twice to the Doctors, once at the Urology and to the Carers here. They are acute stabbing pains that come on when I stretch with the right arm or raise it too high. Oh, and if I bend down…

But one must look on the bright side of life, as Brian said. At least no one has shot me for nearly 22 years. This prompts me to tell you that the Mystery Rib pains hurt more than being shot! But does anyone show interest or concern about the old fool? No!
I got carried away there, didn’t I?

You see, one day, someone will read this blog – hopefully, a neurologist who can help me with the , or heavens above, with the guilty of giving me many a tumble … or not.

Where was I before I lost the plot? Look at the time, blimey! 15:15hrs already. Back to the Diary, methinks. I’ll have to cut this short.

The kind, caring. vampire in the flat above. launched into one of his clunk-thudding mechanical serenades.
Give him credit; he is a good musical noise maker.
Fair enough, he may be impolite, insensitive, disrespectful, snobbish, haughty, pompous, pretentious, uppity, scoffing, contumelious, smart-alecky, ineffable tit-head, but his clanging and banging are ringing out musically this morning. I was nearly sorry when he stopped so soon.

I mopped the kitchen with the speed-mop. This proved to be such a mistake. Trying to mop with a stick in one hand, mop in the other, and stupidly bending and stretching to get into the corners – kicked off the bloody mystery rib pains stagging away, as bad as they’ve ever been, and they kept on for hours and hours. And I still haven’t got around to teeth cleaning, shaving and washing yet!

Carer Kara called – medications done, chinwag for a bit, and catheter checked.

Fourth trip to the throne. Usual Trotsky Terence performance

Two bags of laundry still to do in the junk room. Can’t remember who, Carer Kara or Carer Lisa (guessing here, can’t remember who came, really). But the bags had gone later.

Took these photos in two different modes on the Lumix.
Can’t see much difference in them anyway.

Blogging away for hours… well, a say blogging away; it was more like making errors and errors and throwing in a few more for good measure.
And the were rather numerous, which cost me a lot of time.

No idea why I took this photograph of the carer’s table. I wonder if it was some inspirational idea for a sauciness for some sort of a laugh?
Suppose not.

Almost got caught out again with the new small catheter pouch.
I soon had it sorted out.

The Virgin Internet is far too slow for me and has the odd freezing moment? Not very good at all.

Did I mention the tea and porridge?

Or crap parking?

Milky wee-wee?
No, it’s Dettol, you see.

Better get some food sorted out.
Photo Lost: Due to my leaving the SD card in t
he computer when I took the shot.
But I also blame … and the! Well, why not?

After cleaning the pots and making a brew afterwards, the immediate urge to use the arrived, and I rushed to the wet room…
acci-whoop I did not make it in time. The sticky, gooey, runny evacuation started before I’d got the pants and PPs beyond the mess of the catheter paraphernalia.

I am sick of this happening. Telling the doctors brought no response from any one of them; Doctor’s Locum at the surgery, QMC A&E, or the three Doctors I told when at the .
Now, the Mystery Rib Stabbing Pains got worse than they had ever been before. It was properly painful and came on, as usual, every time the right hand pressed on something, stretched, or was raised.
I suppose the panic rushing to get to the Throne and struggle with the trews must have been too much movement, and this kicked it off?

Arrived, she tried to ring 111, but she could not get through. Which was not surprising for a Saturday night. The winos, drunks, injured gang members etc., would all be blocking up the A&E and telephone lines by now.

Returned for the final call and Night Catheter fitting.
Meanwhile, I had a wash & shave and bagged up some things that might be needed if I go to the hospital again. Then Jo-Anne  and Carer Ty called to see how I was.

I found that if I did not move, the stabbing pains in the ribs were coming less often and not so sharp. Or was I imagining this?

The physical and mental decrepitude. The obliteration of sight, hearing and logic. Combined with a lack of confidence, my ability to fret and worry over everything, and the vain attempts to understand life and people. Combined with my failure to comprehend what and why the hell am I doing here… keeps the brain active, if nothing else. If the brain was not under the control of , and the body ruled by  Ailments such as, things could be better!

TTFNski!