Paroxysmal dyskinesia

Inchy Today: Thursday 10th April 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 
I was once a young, fit, healthy, wise-guy
Girls? I kept out a watchful eye,
With my lower regions, I know not why,
It was harder then, with no wi-fi.
>>>>><<<<<
Life then started to become stunted,
The body aged, it became transfigured,
My sense of balance, weaved & wobbled,
My thoughts came oddly technicoloured.
>>>>><<<<<
Ageing makes you crocheted & crusted,
Arithmophobia, dates, figures & numbers…
Mistakes galore, you feel daunted,
Mental capacity, slowly degenerated!
>>>>><<<<<
After Toileting, the room must be fumigated,
Constipation? Teeth need to be gritted!
Facts, figures? Are at best guesstimated,
Decision making? Wrongly, not at all, or belated,
>>>>><<<<<
Instructions not understood, misinterpreted,
In conversations, words can be misheard,
Burning food, taps left on, safety neglected,
Leg lesions medicated and bandaged daily medicated and bandaged,
>>>>><<<<<
Living in a crime-filled neighbourhood,
No help with the computer – I spit blood!
Impossible to get life orchestrated,
No confidence can be radiated!
>>>>><<<<<
Feeling defeated, doubted, rejected,
All I write needs to be repeatedly subedited,
Self-disgust, self-taunted, vision tinted,
Fears & worries are now ever accessed!
>>>>><<<<<
Dark Dank Duncan Depressed,
Labour in power, as antisocialists,
Starmer, the bleakest Conservatist!
I hope death brings peace and rest,
If so, I’ll be so blessed!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I had much better sleep in the bed last night.
The problem was, I think I’d had nocturnal seizures, possibly. Because the quilt and covers were all over the place, and the pillow was on the floor. Somehow, I’d changed the settings on the bed mover control. It’s hard to believe how I slept at all. I was right at the top of the bed, yet bent forward so much, with a dip halfway down the bed, and the end and top bits raised to the maximum.
I woke up at 05:00. By the time I’d refigured the bed to a faux semi-comfortable position, ready for use tonight or in the morning, it was 06:00- Tsk!
Here I go again, sensing some challenges may present themselves to me this Thursday. Everything was normal, then! Tsk!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I detached the night pouch from the day pouch. I was so concerned with the state of the bed. I didn’t realise the night bag was even on. What’s more, I didn’t have any fauxpas, trips or leaks for the hour when the pouch dragged along, entangling itself around my foot and leg!
Now I was concerned! How did I manage that?
I fear I can only put it down to one thing… are you ready for this?… Good Luck! Now, I don’t say that very often. Especially after the Carer helped me out yesterday. He did a grand job for me. Questions for any God, philosopher or neurologist: Is my luck changing for the better? Will I cope with the shock, or have another stroke? Why did good luck wait nearly 80 years to appear? Will I live long enough to enjoy it? Will it continue? (It didn’t.) Can I get NHS instruction on how to be contented? Hahaha!

Starting with a visit to the .
I was back in control. But once the chunks started evacuating, it took a while for them to stop clunking into the water below. 
More than yesterday’s big dollop!

A stand-up wash. I didn’t have time to shower in case either the nurses or the Iceland delivery came earlier. I strip washed, soaking the feet as I shaved and did the teggies, then moved on to the self-medicating of my problematic areas. Argh! 
Olive-oiled the ears, sprayed MedPhorpainthe eyes, Phorpain gelled the knees and cartilages, and ointmentated each Acne and eczema area. As usual, I left the most painful bit to the end.
I gritted my teeth, cleaned as instructed, heroically pulled the skin back, and squeezed the ointment in a drop. That was bad enough, but I had to massage it from the outside each time. Self-imposed agony! But it was nothing to a man of my calibre, heroism and upper pain limit. I may even have been singing to myself as I massaged it in.

When I turned on the computer, I realised I had a fair bit to do on yesterday’s blog.
It had been the busiest day for years!

As I was making a start, Carer ‘Joe’ arrived. I didn’t ask him to take the socks off cause they were not put on last night. Haha! Maybe I could join a touring fairground group as their Memory Man? Har-har! 
My medications were issued. The lad said something about what he planned to do next week in flats the clean-up campaign.

I pressed on with the blog, but then it got busy again. The delivery came.
Seven carrier bags worth.
I got the fresh stuff away.
4 items unavailable & 2 substitutions.
Topped up the nurses & carers shelf with the new Pepsi flavours that came.
A well-overfilled filled top cupboard.
The danger of falling through the floor into the flat below the cupboard of cans of food. I shouldn’t starve to death for a month or two! Hehe!
Why did I stock up to ridiculous? What made me suddenly panic so over food stores? Am I going mad?
I’m not sure if it’s Peripheral Neuropathy, Cognitive Impairment Iris, Ménière’s disease, Episodic Ataxia, FND, Receptive Aphasia Phyllis, Diabetic Dementia, Absence seizures, or the Myoclonic seizures that may have caused this stupider-than-usual action on my behalf. Would doing such activities that I’ve not done for so long, like cleaning up, wear me out?

I managed to get the blog posted a little later than usual. And the fatigue started to fall.

THE HIGHLIGHT OF THE DAY!
The intercom rang, and I thought it might be the tinned food I’d also ordered from Amazon.
Life lifted, and a smile came over my craggy, aged face. (It does that occasionally).
It was my treasured Hristina, the DVT Warfarin Blood Nurse. The heart beat a little faster, and my Angel was soon in the flat.
I mentioned that I’d run out of Enoxaparin-filled hypos. She said if they need you to start stabbing your stomach 8 times a day, they will ensure you get some. That put my mind at rest. She took the blood for testing, and we spoke of something else, but with my heart beating and eyes so busy watching and listening to Hristina—such a wonderfully calming person and so kind. 🤎

I started this blog in the late afternoon.

Then, the Amazon tinned foods arrived!
I then had to store these tinned meals on the floor!
It’s horrible having a lack of control!

Carer ‘Joe’ arrived and was as aghast as I was at the canned food I bought! No medications were needed. They were, but I forgot to ask for the Peptac and Codeine. I managed to make a brew of tea, and when I got back with it, one of the regular patches was in the regular place on the carpet. Yet I could not find any urine spillages on my legs or slippers. One of the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, grotesque succubae, Whoopsiedangleplops, ailments, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, spirits, Accifauxpas, rent increases, food price hikes, Starmer robbing all we pensioners, and other Fata Morganas, that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind, logicalty and depressions!

Carer ‘Joe’ came on his teatime visit.
Embarrassingly, the pee-time one as well, haha!
He convinced me that it was not urine because there was no smell. He suggested that I may have spilt the catheter, which needed spring water.
He’s got the measure of me now, he has! Hehe! 

Back to this blog. The eyes faded, and the fatigue returned almost instantly. I was so tired and weary.

I foolishly tried to continue this blog. It was farcical and hopeless, so I gave up. So, I’ll be even further behind by morning. Humph!
I’ll try to stay alert enough to get the comments & WordPress reader read.
I’ll make the meal later.

Aha! I caught the sunset.
Not as good as yesterdays’

But fair for me.

I was expecting a last Carer call, but it’s 21:40hrs now.
I’ve probably got confused. Yes, I think I did. Fool!
Carer ‘Joe’ came a little earlier than usual. I’ve just seen the nocturnal catheter pouch on the chair.
I can’t cope with my decline very well. Tsk!

I’ll get the food in the microwave. I made it up in the tray earlier, so it should be ready in the oven in ten minutes. It consists of minced beef in gravy, sliced water chestnuts, pickled beetroots, red onions, tomatoes, garden peas, and a can of potatoes. It is also seasoned with vinegar, Worcester Sauce, and thick sliced bread for dunking. I hope it all goes well. I’ll let you know in the morning!

Good Moring!
The meal looked and smelled amazing!
I made too much. But ate ¾ of it.
NICE!
Into the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, catheter-tube-trapping recliner, to watch a nature documentary. I’m glad to say that I didn’t get to see it.
This was due to my drifting off to sleep.
There were far too many waking-ups, but I did get back off quickly each time. 
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Keep Smiling! Or, not like. Hehehe!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Inchy Today: Wednesday, 9th April 2025

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
ME & MY MATE ARTHUR
We’d go out every Friday night to the Astoria,
Do the twist, jive, waltz, especially with Nora,
That’s when the fallout came with Arthur,
You see Arthur dated with Dora,
I often entwined with Nora,
One night, I caught Arthur & Nora,
Arthur sounded like he was having a dyschezia,
Nora was calling out, Oh, yer, Oh Yer!!!
Arthur dismounted; I gave him a right-hander!
The scrap was a blockbuster, a bloodletter,
With Nora’s support, he fought better…
Bigger than me, and a blacksmith’s welder,
Arthur finished me off; the bounder,
Giving me several cuts and pyrexia,
I was comforted by Dora later,
Dora was a uranographer,
I mapped the soul & body of her,
Then stopped Friday night visits to the Astoria!
<<<<<>>>>>
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Today was my busiest for months.
It is now 16:00 hrs, and I am shattered, tired, worn out, and weary. Glaucoma, Gladys, is affecting my eyesight, as usual. Here is a quick rundown on how I got into this dilapidated state! Hope I can stay awake long enough to get my ablutions and medicalisationings done. And the nurse has not shown up yet – possibly due to my putting the appointment in the calendar for the wrong day, and it should have been tomorrow.

I didn’t wake until 06:00 hrs again, but I did not get to sleep until 02:00hrs. There were fewer waking-ups with neck jerks.

I got the waste bags sorted out and placed near the door. Not knowing for 100% that the nurses would be arriving, I did not do the ablutions, or body medicationing, in case I missed the intercom. Then I handwashed some more socks and hung them above the sink to drip dry. Then, I utilised the Porcelain Throne.
This time, with Constipated Conrad still in charge. The evacuated product came out slowly and painfully, but all in one long, even bigger than the frequent Torpedo. It was more the size of a submarine! Gignormous!
Not messy whatsover!

Carer Ahram arrived. We left the bandage on the leg so the nurse could examine it when she arrived.

I got the kaghoule handwashed (made a mess on the floor ringing & ringing) and hung it on the shower rail in the wet room to drip dry. Painfully!

An email from Amazon said the delivery would arrive today before 21:20hrs. I concentrated on getting as much of the blog caught up with before the nurses arrived or the second Carer.

MISTAKE MADE HERE… WELL, TWO!
Firstly, I spilt water on the floor while handwashing and walked it all over the kitchen, so I thought I’d mop it up. I had a visit from Lost-Balance-Bernard and kicked the bucket, redistributing the dirty water back onto the floor! So, so I thought I’d mop it up again.
Second, I could see the sun coming around, ready to blast through the window, so I decided to hang the thin dressing gown on the rail to protect my eyes.
I knocked a jar of mint sauce off of the shelf, and it broke as it hit the just-mopped-twice floor, catching and seasoning the bandaged & right leg en route!
I was livid with myself!
I believe I was praying and cursing at the same time as having to mop the floor for a third time. My EQ knew something. I swear he laughed at me!

Carer ‘Joe’ arrived as I was cleaning the oven.
He’d got an extra hour today, so he could do the laundry and make space in the front room, as I had been taking tumbles & knocks lately. Damned decent of him. While he was down taking the laundry, I went to check some dates on the food.
MISTAKE MADE HERE…
I dropped a bottle again. I thought I’d mop it up. Gragknangles! Four damned times now!

‘Joe’ started making some room between the chair and my bed so I would be in less danger and bother using them.

He then went down to collect the laundry and helped hang it up with me. We went into the kitchen for something—ah, yes, food date checks! I wobbled a little and knocked a jug of water over.
Gragknangles! Five Ruddy Times Today!
‘Joe’ to the rescue; he took over, bless him!

I was embarrassed, but ‘Joe’ was understanding and calm about things. A nice, helpful chap.

He hoovered where we (well, he) had been sorting things out in the space-making mission.

I then realised that the kaghoule and dressing gown I had on had got soaked on the laf spillage episode. So had to change into a fresh one of each. And then had to hadwach for a third tine today. To wash another kaghoule!

He said he’d be doing the teatime call later on.

I felt begraggled, bewitched & bewildered!

A delivery and possibly a nurse to come yet!
I must keep going if I can. I dare not fall asleep and miss the nurse of delivery. Fed-Up!

I pondered my position and constant bad luck.
I’ve decided that I deserve no better. Will is just as well because I’m not going to have things get any better, now am I? 

Maybe it’s something I did in a previous life?
I was born as Hitler committed suicide!
Maybe I ought belatedly to run for Prime Minister?
Oh, no, we’ve already got Herr Starmer.

As tired as I was, and I know I was tired.
Cause today had drained me.
But thanks to Carer Joe and his amazing help given to me today, I got more clearing up done than for years!
A big thank you is warranted!

I settled after washing the pots up and sat in the recliner from the c1966 second—or third-hand Charity shop bought £300, broken down, catheter tube crunching, dried blood covered, grotty, dirty, and creaking recliner. Expecting to nod off quickly.
But, no! So, I put the TV on. This usually works. 
But no! Then the doubts came over me again: Had I left any taps running? I’m so glad I checked. The taps were all off—but what a view from the kitchenette window! I hastened to fetch Kodak Tim Two from the other room and almost rushed back before the view changed. I loved this one. At last, a decent photo!
Bootiful!

I went back to the front room and somehow manipulated my tired limbs and aching body onto the hospital bed. It took a while to get it into the optimum position, but once I found it, glorious sleep came at last! It was a little broken but still far less than of late.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
A Darned busy but productive day!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

I wish you each lots of luck!

Inchy: Tuesday, 8th April 2025

/ Inchie / 3 Comments

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 

Helpful Note: A shilling was 12d=1/ – now 5p

In my morning slumber, I started musing,
Back to the day when things were amusing,
1963, when sliced bread went up to a shilling,
The reaction of the shoppers were chilling,
They brought some; some they were stealing,
A near riot, on price-rise day proceedings,
Last week, the loaf cost me £1 – shocking!
This week, £1.49! Not reassuring!
Maybe I’ll take up shoplifting.

The monthly cost for gas & electricity…
I’m back talking again of 1963,
Cost 15/- the equivalent then to 75p,
Last month, my payment went up to £423!
Starmer’s stopped our winter fuel subsidy,
Not enough cash for price rises absorbability,
Proletariats, pensioners now in poverty,
Rates, rents, power, costs rising steeply,
Our NHS crumbles, pleasing the oligarchy.

Forcing some to turn to crime, effectively
Eat or heat, food banks, charities competing,
A diet of bread & water? It’s called Xerophagy,
At today’s price of bread & water, it’s alarming!
Families, children and the aged geriatrically,
Is Starmer not aware of the voters’ suffering?
Go shopping today, do it vigilantly,
They’ll be muggers, pickpockets lurking,
Nutters, looking to act adversarially.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Hand Washing.
I’m fed up with this!

Ankles, lower legs much clearer today.

Afternoon kitchen shot.,
THe ankles started the electric shock going later.
Carer Ahram out some cream on and leg bandage,
I can take it off Wed’ when the nurse arrives.

Sorry, not much on today; it’s been a borrowing Tuesday. The prospects for Wed & Thursday are worse than today. I’m not sure of the days, but between Wed & Thursday:
Nurse Caroline ♥ Is calling to do another upgraded Dementia Test.
A DVT Nurse ♥ is calling for extra blood for further tests. The Warfarin INR is dangerously low at 1.6.
The district nurse ♥ is calling to check on my leg lesions and the acne-eczema.
The Urology Nurse ♥ is due to visit to alternate the catheter bag.
I’ve got two deliveries expected between noon and 22:00 hours. Medical & food.
Carer ‘Joe’ is doing the laundry. After that, I have to get the two airers out to dry the washing.

It is late Wednesday morning now.
I’m not looking forward to today.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
TTFN
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Inchy: Monday, 7th April 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

LIBERTY-GLOBAL-OLIGARCHS?
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – WELL, LOOSELY! – – –
Let’s delve into the truth of ‘Hope’, clinically,
To see if it developed from ampullosity,
‘Hope’ to me seems somewhat bizarrerie,
Because finding it is hard for me…
I don’t act belligerently or truculently,
I’m a ditherer, I don’t act confidently,
My Carer say’s I’ve got too much benignity,
I think I’m shy, nervous and cowardly,
There I go off the subject again, you see?
I’ll try to concentrate more, hopefully…
‘Hope’, to me, seems to be, hypothetically,
A forlorn dream, with no reality…
I thought ‘Hope’ would help Inchy,
But I forgot about his mental instability,
His? I’m him! Another drift from verity,
I still want ‘Hope’ & help regardlessly,
Although I see the pointless futility,
Sometimes I consider ‘Hope’, frivolously,
The next time, maybe negatively,
Then back to frustration & hostility,
Yet I still try so desperately…
Then I go all unenthusiastically,
Depression falls, I turn apathetically…
A seizure, a giving way from Cartilage Chloe,
The coming arrival of complacently,
And I ‘Hope’ for ‘Hope’, pessimistically,
Body & mind acting chaotically,
Ménière’s Mini-seizures, increasingly,
I think I must not lose hope, glibly…
I even turned for help to quixotry!
As if to prove my eccentricity,
Or maybe that ought to be docility?
My physical ailments seem a triviality,
Finding ‘Hope’ & help, surely unrealistically,
The Lord made my life qualificatory…
A body and mind, deformed & queachy,
Doomed; never be happy or peachy,
I have had luck! But only quadrennially,
I acted rightly & astutely, well, in 1953,
I’m more hopeful for my sempiternity…
Not knowing where or when, for eternity,
Pray, please, no return ticket awaitingly!
If I find ‘Hope,’ will it also make me lucky?
Finding ‘Hope’, I try so persistently…
‘Hope’, is it mythical? It’s beyond me!
Why is it such a mystery to me?
Is ‘Hope’ biodegradable and sugar-free?
Why is it issued unequally, unfairly?
I can’t get any ‘Hope’, that’s a certainty,
No ‘Hope’ within by boundaries, locality,
I live in la-la land despondently…
And a part-reality, customarily,
Like others ‘Hope’ seeking, despondently,
I collect bills and demands; it’s called scripophily,
Carer Joe sorts them out for me weekly,
No offers of hope delivered to Inchy…
Finding ‘Hope’ may help propitiatingly,
‘Hope’ I get it before my necropsy!
Sorry about this Ode’s nugacity,
Call on me, & we’ll have a mug of tea,
Ice cream and/or chocolate biscuits…
I’d love a chinwag, mischievously!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Got yesterday’s nosh photo to go on!
Well, I think it was.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I didn’t rise until gone 0630hrs this morning. I’d had a long sleep again, broken, but not all that often. I reckon I got six hours in, and that was on the incommodious, uncomfortable, cumbrous, toe-curling, cringe-making, second or third-hand bought from the Oxfam Charity shop, Cathleen-Catheter-Tube-Crushing, hurtful for Harold’s Haemorrhoids, germ-ridden, horrendously grungy, uncomfortable, not-working recliner.
I felt a little perky when I got up and decided to clear the waste bins, etc. I
pictured & emptied the night bag. U6 rating.
Took a snap of the morning view out of the kitchenette window. I was hit by another of the odd seizures where I knew what was happening, but I was unsure why or what.

This was followed by general confusion and an almost total lack of concentration. I coughed, bringing up phlegm, and my voice went croaky. Walking, it was not easy to keep my balance.
Carer Ahman arrived. He showed concern and again wanted to phone for an ambulance. I disuaded the lad, telling him I was going to get in the bed as soon as he finished. I assured him I’d use the alarm wristlet if things didn’t improve after I’d had a kip. I’m sure we spoke of other things, but not what about? He put my diabetic socks on and gave me the medications. I got into bed while he was doing his report on his mobile phone. He also shut the curtains for me as the light in the room annoyed me for some reason. Ahman said I was not talking clearly but mumbling more; I think he said the same Sunday morning. I genuinely hope that this is not going to happen each morning. A third time, and I will have to press the alarm. I do not have the foggiest idea why this waking up and fading is happening. At least it didn’t last for long.

I bade him thanks and cheerio and settled in the bed, adjusting the settings to ensure I was not lying too flat. Comfort arrived. Yes, I did nod off for a short while. Waking up without any neck, shoulder, or leg jerkings. That in itself was nice! I was under the impression that I’d slept for a few hours because I was feeling so much better now. The wall clock told me I’d only slept for half an hour, but it did the trick.
I wasted no time in taking advantage. I went to take another kitchen window photo and used the speed mop to clean the disgustingly dirty kitchenette floor—I hope I’ve not left it sticky again. Then, I took another snap of the late morning view.

I spent ages trying to get the photos on the blog and got most of them on, but it took an aeon!

My beloved tree copse, looking thin still.
Close up of the battling for life leaves.
Even closer & higher, the crows
have not arrived yet?

Much to my amazement, Carer Joe arrived. It was already 13:25hrs! So, I assume that

Arithmaphobia Arnold had me fooled again. Maybe I’d had some non-epileptic seizures? I can’t remember having them. 
Peptac issued, I was thinking of asking for a Codeine, but with Anne Gyna being minimal bother at that time, I didn’t want to give her an excuse to kick off with her mobile stabbing pains, which make breathing a little overheavy, painful & hard work.
The unsteadiness of my balance was lingering but slowly getting less frequent. The froggy-sounding voice remains, but none of the serious stuff.

I wondered if I’d gone into the kitchen with Kodak-Tim-2 to snap the incredible view while the floor was still wet. I went to check. Now I really was confused. It must have been many hours ago when I mopped it up; there is no chance it could still be wet. What a plonker! Still, I took another shot at the pathway I could no longer get into Woodthorpe Park. Spit!

However, now things were getting better, not the croaking voice. Anne Gyna had belatedly started greeting me with her roving pains and breathing botherations. However, my dizziness and balance had improved, and I found myself singing.

Great Balls of Fire! What’s going on here?
Where have I been? What was I doing?
It’s nearly 20:00hrs already!

The Carer will be here anytime now, over the next hour or so, and I’ve not had anything to eat or done the ablutions or medicalisations yet! 
How can this be happening?

Skin on chips, a vegetable and no-meat meat pastie, pickled chestnuts & mushrooms, two wholemeal rolls to make chip butties out of, and salt & vinegar, pepper and  Soya BBQ sauce. (A little too hot for me… anybody fancy a bottle?)

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Chow!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Inchy: Saturday, 5th April 2025

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I had a vision, a flash-forwarded,
It left me feebleminded,
The future was highlighted…
I can’t say I was delighted,
Like when I was trothplighted,
I was tickled and enraptured,
A glimpse of the future I captured,
I saw it on the chessboard…
Then, in the clues of a crossword,
A black rook that waved its sword…
Lands attacked, the vision-clouded,
Those not killed hid or cowered,
The Black King felt empowered,
The landscape, already cratered…
Peace talks are being avoided…
Countries being taken and bisected,
Civilians, children, killed, mutilated,
The fear, the dying, unalleviated,
Families scattered & separated…
Water and power, both disconnected,
The Killing increased, transcended,
We’ll never see wars ended,
Pleas for peace go unrequited,
Those in need are just pitied,
Oligarchs increase profit illicitly,
Supplying arms to each party…
I am sick of this violence, sadly,
I hate the warmongers’ peccability,
East & West spout paradoxicality,
It needs one leader with precocity,
Before we all die prematurely,
Did the Bible-writers, they were many,
Suffer from psychomancy?
Our chances of survival are dicey!
Will Jesus return to set us free?
If so, he’ll need to show I.D.
Or he’ll get deported, surely?
Creating humankind was to me…
The creators Whoopsiedangleplopski!
Hope I’ve not wrote owt incriminatory!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I moved into the circa 1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, catheter-tube-trapping, leg bandages loosening, recliner last night.
Well, at about 03:00hrs this morning.
I’d been getting myself in a proper pickle, making the photos safe for publishing. I got one on, and that was a terrible one.
I got the above graphics to go on. It took me hours. It just won’t take them at all now. A Monster Depression dawned, and I’m at my lowest point in memory. But things got worse…
I gave up and closed the computer.

I snapped the morning view I can’t use and put the kettle on to brew tea. The food was due to arrive, so I took all the bags, including the ones currently stacked near the door, to the waste chute. No problems, although started her tour of my torso routine. Not long after returning to the flat, and as I was cleaning the mug… The Carer arrived, and the second he came in, I sank into a state of… I don’t know what to call it; I started sneezing and coughing, neck and back pains came on, and a brand-new form  kept coming and throwing all out of sync. I coughed a little blood at one time into the tissue. I think that was from gums or teeth, though. The young Carer was concerned, but he carried on, and I told him I was not up to tackling the catheter day pouch change at the moment, which I really wasn’t. Carer Ahram put my diabetic socks on and checked to ensure I had the panic alarm on my wrist. Talk about being foggy-brained, yet I recalled all this on the notepad!

A few hours later, he returned for the second call and volunteered to change the catheter day pouch. He did a decent job of it, too. By the time the lad left, my chesty coughing had eased and lessened, and the neck pain had eased, and Akram checked the taps as he departed.  
ARRGH!
I left the hot tap running, so that kyboshed my idea of doing the ablutions until tonight, when the night heater starts working.

Then I became seriously depressed, deeply. I felt I could not cope and wasn’t too bothered about carrying on. I openly beg someone to help me with the computer again.
The trouble is that I can no longer understand written instructions and don’t know any computer jargon, and I’m getting increasingly confused. 
Particularly with my stupidly leaving the hot water tap on again. I think I’m doing this more often than last week. The nurse may have come while I was out at the Audio Clinic, and I missed her. On the other hand, there are 2/1 odds that I will put the appointment down for the wrong day and/or week, and she might be calling next week. Then again, there’s a possibility that I dreamed of getting the telephone call saying she was visiting me to carry out another dementia test. What do I know!

I thought I’d added a photo to the file, and my spirits uplifted, I tried again with the other images.
Then I realised—I think this photo was from yesterday—that the thought of a photoless blog brought back the temporarily departed depression.

I decided to have an early meal, so half-heartedly. I realised it was already 17:00 hrs. I know I’ve spent hours and hours failing to get the photos to save.
Maybe the seizures did affect me differently and were from the ?

Not feeling right at all. This feels like something different to the usual collection of ailments.

I tried to stay awake to watch the football highlights of the day. I failed!

Another broken night’s sleep, but it was much longer. I must have had 5 hours of sleep!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Beware of Oligarchs!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Inchy: Friday 4th April 2025

/ Inchie / 7 Comments

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – <<<<<>>>>> – – – – – – –
Be aware that in indiscretion,
You may get a mental collision,
Which can cause self-derision,
Messing up your neurotransmission,
And, without your permission!
Ailments have no obluctation,
You feel that they get oblectation,
You visit your neurosurgeon…
Is life a pseudo-hallucination?
All of our lives are in regression,
You’ve lost your retrocognition,
PN, DVT, no prognostication,
Pharmageddon via your medication?
First Diarrhorea, & next constipation,
Confidence dies, feeling a pigwidgeon,
You think your brain’s an odditorium,
And life has got to be ordalian,
Do you feel different? Quotidian?
Is your social life in desolation?
Struggling with conceptualisation?
Are you livelier, antemeridian?
At noon, do you feel weather-beaten?
Do you get afternoon exhaustion?
Is tea-time your kipping season?
In bed, you can’t sleep for some reason?
Is mental fatigue the causation?
Or is it your body’s erosion?
Does the world seem dystopian?
Suffer from sanitary & sanity deterioration?
This is often just an old-age condition,
Do you think an interruption, a disruption?
Have you yet visited a psychometrician?
Does Earth need a reconceptualisation?
Do you believe in reincarnation?
Don’t expect a new life to be utopian!
Holidaying in the toilet or the Caribbean?
Has life been riddled with Damnification?
Was it spent in the lower echelon?
Do you suffer self-expostulation?
Do you know Earth’s nearing extinction?
This is not a joke or effutiation…
On this, I stake my reputation,
Do you feel an antiquarian?…
Well, don’t; it might cause acerbation!
It’s now time for an epiphenomenon,
Use your brain & nervous system…
Admit your guilt, write a eulogium,
Shout from Earth’s highest fastigium,
Humankind’s end is undoubtedly not an illusion,
We’ll all be free of intimidation…
Wars, murders, Oligarchs, every politician,
The greed, hatred and the odium,
Dead, we’ll all be egalitarian!
No way get a world-peace installation,
Well, this is my prediction…
It won’t bear too much contradiction…
Life’s events timewise, socialisation…
Birth, drugs, sex, physician, mortician,
Even if this gives you the impression…
That I’m suffering from depression!
It’s good to see the back of discrimination!
I believe this is mostly speculation…
Of course, it’s all theorisation,
Moulded to bring frivolity & jollification!
– – – – – – – <<<<<>>>>> – – – – – – –

05:20hrs: I rose fumblingly from the hospital bed, trapping the nocturnal catheter bag on the remote bed adjuster, and gave Little Inchie a hell of a tug. This started Inchies’s fungal lesion bleeding; it bled on the quilt, down my leg, and onto the carpet. 
After I sorted out the mess, I went to the wet room to empty and wrap the catheter pouch that had been removed.
After months without a stubbed toe, I gave myself a second one in two days, on the same ingrowing toenail, as yesterday.
Then, I took a regulation photo of the morning view from the kitchenette window. Well, I got two.
This is one of a man and his dog walking into the tree copse over the road, the dog’s tail wagging furiously. A double dose of jealousy affected me. Haha! First, I wished I had a cat or dog for company; second, I missed my beloved, unable to do a daily walk through the copse. (Feeling a smidgeon sorry for myself now.)

Luckily, next, I had just nipped into the wet room to check I’d not left any taps running and found  again. I’d run out of the cortisone cream. So I cleaned it and used some of the Germolene instead. Then, I returned to the kitchen and took another photograph of the broad view on offer.
Red sky in the morning,
Shepherd’s warning!

A bit of a marathon this morning. Bled a little more, I tipped over the bowl I was putting on the floor to stand in while shaving. Bending down to clear up the mess, and
flowed again! I finished shaving and got the PPs on.
I also touched up the Fungal Lesion, using the acne & eczema cream this time. I’d searched the medication drawers and found a partly filled tube of a different name. But it had a use-by date on it of… Hard to believe, I know, that it’s November 2019!

Carer Joe did the first call. I forgot to mention that Friday was the change-the-catheter bag day.

I booted the computer, an spent the nexy three hours farting about trying to get the photos to save to file. I did the first four, and there was no problem. Then it stopped saving. The usual cCleaner routine; I had to do it six times today! That didn’t help. So, I turned everything off and back on again. That proved an idiotic thing to do, well, not that actually, but forgetting to save the ode I was partway through writing was stupid!

At least it wasn’t so bad—up until now, anyway. Things took a dip after the young girl Carer called on her visit.  
I was still trying to sort out CorelDRAW and the photos, and a series of kicked off that stayed on and off for a good three hours. This threw me out altogether. With my concentration gone, I managed to get some photos backed up later, but I had to delete the ones used and replace them with the new ones, so to put it. Now, the only copies left are on WordPress, and they can’t be copied or saved for use on the blog or email. I’m not sure if I was heartbroken, frustrated, or I was momentarily leaning towards suicidal.freezer 08When the Iceland order arrived, I only took one photo of the whole fridge. I didn’t bother taking more because I knew the chances of using them lay within the corrupt power of my old, in-need-of-help, ailing, terminally ill computer.
I got some stuff I can’t remember ordering. And somehow I believed I’d ordered some tinned baked beans and tomatoes, none came. It will be better when Carer Joe starts helping with the food ordering. I can’t be relied on, know it, and am incapable of anything that involves numbers, dates, concentration or logic. 

The Social Services lady rang to ask how the new Carers were doing. Last week, I wondered if there was any chance of help getting me out shopping rather than the mistake-ridden online routine. The Carer said his boss said no chance. But the Social Lady told me they are giving me an extra hour (Still got to pay for, of course) for domestic and/or shopping assistance. Going slowly senile is a horrible thing, cause you know it, don’t want it, and can do nothing about it. I suppose it’s a little bit like my sex life, nonexistent. Hehehe!

Carer Ahram made the last two calls. He was in a good mood, bless him. The communication was complex, but I like the lad. When she rang, I told the Social lady that he’s likeable and willing. Without Carer Joe, I might have cracked up last week. His help was invaluable to me. 

I did notice that when someone came and I put in the repaired hearing aids, I could hear the wall clock ticking and other sounds I could not recognise. Haha!

By the time I finished the meal, it was past midnight. Three oven-baked bacon cobs. This is a terrible photo. I wish I had not bothered with taking it now! Getting this onto the blog took me over two hours in the morning! Saturday’s blog will be a smidge bland. I just can’t keep spending all this time getting the photos saved to file. As usual, the first two went on without a bother. The rest must have taken me hours and hours of repeated failed tries. This can’t go on. I openly beg someone to help me with the computer, please?
The trouble is that I can no longer understand written instructions and don’t know any computer jargon, and I get more confused.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
TTFN
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Inchy Today: Monday 31st March – Nurses Visit Cancelled

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

– – – GRIM REAPERS DELIGHT – – –– – – STARTED WELL! – – –
– – – Calendar Changed – – –
>>>>><<<<<
>>>>><<<<<
– – AXIOMS WARNING ODE – –
I selected my lifelong axioms,
Since which there’s been ablations,
The occasional abstentions…
Some short-lived additions,
After some cerebrations…
Many more reconfigurations,
Now not looking like my intentions,
More like pseudo-inventions,
This gave me mental-contusions,
To mingle in with my confusions,
Did I opt for these delusions?
A list of unwanted dissentions,
Life should come with enchiridions,
With specific instructions!
Beware of HMG’s cacodemons…
Politicians who talk in idioms,
Caution with HMG’s maelstroms,
Dating ovolactovegetarians,
Eating together? Prognostications!
Put oligarchs on your pogroms,
Learn from quinquagenarians,
Fear the con artists’ clarions,
Dementia attacks parts of the cerebrum.
Check for correct reflections,
Fear not Government defections,
They think they’re all phenoms,
Anticipate political desertions,
Believe not their tergiversations,
Recreancies, disloyalties, deceptions,
Their deceit, lies & fabrications,
Codology, slyness & defraudations
This is the same for all Nations!
To survive, you’ll need patience…
Sufferance, fortitude, & resolution,
Armageddon, there’s no solution!
>>>>><<<<<
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I spent the night more awake than sleeping, which is not different from the last few nights, following the massive 5 hours of sleep I got four nights ago.
The mini-seizures returned this afternoon. I wonder where they disappeared to so suddenly?
The feeling of fatigue is still with me. I have kept feeling I need to sit, rest, and sleep all the time recently. Sometimes, I can nod off quickly, but within a couple of minutes, I’m shooting awake again without any tangible. A bit like when nothing had changed from when was with me. No questioning the facts. That was winning the mood stakes again this Monday. What things will be like tomorrow worries me. I’ve got to get up early to do the ablutions, or maybe do them tonight when I should be catching up on my sleep. Might be best for me to leave the nocturnal pouch on until it is near the time for the lift, and make a list of things needed to take with me. I dread having to go all through the process of booking appointments at the Audio Clinic, and then getting the lift sorted for when I’ll have to go back to pick-up to the clinic to pick up the refurbished or new hearing aids weeks later.

Thank heavens that Carer Joe sorted them out for me this time. I’ve got on the list; Cash to pay for the lifts, Reading glasses, crossword book and pen, Bank Card, and remember to take the non-working hearing aids with me with the others when I leave the flat. Oh, ‘eck! I just remembered. I’ve got a food order coming in the morning, too. Well before the lift is due, but I might have to do the ablutions and medications very early in the morning or tonight.
I’m sure I’ve missed something on the list.

I know the chances must be zero, but I’d love to see the lady I spoke with last time I went to the Audio Clinic. I listened to her problems, the lady has as well. I could have cried for her. I think she enjoyed being able to talk to someone non-medical about the problems she is having. Of course, I knew how she felt. She said that she told the doctor about some of the things that were happening, and she was sure the doctor just didn’t believe her. I didn’t get her name or number, but I might be brave enough to ask her if she is there again in the waiting room. She told me it took the medics three years to diagnose it.
I just looked it up on Google; In the UK, an estimated 50 to 100,000 people are affected by Functional Neurological Disorder (FND) in the community, with about 8,000 new diagnoses per year. The annual incidence is estimated at 4-12 per 100,000 people. 
My doctor is in denial about me having it and is putting it down to my .
I waffled a bit there, and now I’m even more behind with the flipping blog! Sorry, I have to rush!

This first photo saved alright, but I lost several others.

Two hours later.

Another half-hour.

After sunset shot. Nice!

More photos off into the ether, and four joined them when they disappeared from the file! Arrgh!
Including the beef in black bean meal photo.

I’m unsure when or why I took this one. The bladder waters. It is possible that it is an older photo that was missed or that it was used earlier.

Worried about Tuesday’s trip to the Audio Clinic.
There will not be much on Tuesday’s blog. This one is already terribly short on photos and detail.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
ODE 2: TIPS (Part 2.143)
Seek not what you fancy,
But what to you is needy,
Definitely owt urgently,
Try to live amenably, amiably,
Things happen accidentally…
Which can affect you mentally,
Living cheekily, cheerily, chirpily…
Sounds wonderful to me,
This ode is wrote circumlocutory,
I’ll let you know about my catatony,
When I read it up in my dictionary!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Hahaha! Cheers Each!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Inchy Today: Sunday 23rd March 2025

/ Inchie / 10 Comments

WHICH IS CURRENTLY IN A TANGLE
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
TODAY
I’m interested in things celestial,
But today, it’s my right leg’s ankle…
And the developing furuncle,
Also, the left kneecap’s carbuncle,
With the boil on my bum, cataclysmical,
Puss drains out, problems cerebral.
>>>>>>

STARMER
It’s time that Starmer abdicated,
Mind you, his lies are articulated,
Labour principles are aborted,
His fibs can all be authenticated,
Pensioners: food cannot be afforded,
It’s time the Fuhrer was audited!
>>>>>>

GULLIBLE
I’m easily conned and dehorted,
Easily get discountenanced,
Being led, dissuaded & dehorted,
Plans cancelled, changed, deleted.
Bullied, dissuaded & deprecated,
Over this problem, I’ve deliberated,
Need liberation, am I denuded?
>>>>>>

ABDUCTION
May I suffer an alien abduction?
Off to a planet with no invitation,
Allowed in, without name verification,
Name? My bus pass my only validation,
I was given a prediction…
Straight out, with no obfuscation…
Everything perishes, utter devastation,
It’ll mean equality for every plebian!
>>>>>>

THE END
Is existence really empirical?
We see what we think is tangible,
Why are we not realistic & practical?
Different views on what is sensible…
Are leaders acting so reprehensible?
Rulers are all epithetical & egotistical,
Wars twixt the different endemical,
We live longer, life’s still ephemeral,
Hell is fire, Heaven is expiable?
Will Christ ever come to be exegetical?
Christian, Muslim, Jew or Evangelical?
Each believes a different Gospel,
Each written by a man it’s impossible,
Town people, Country people,
Tribes people are Earth people,
The date of the end is unavailable,
For most, it will be unbearable,
For all, it will be unpreventable,
St Peter will find us resentable!
– – – – – – – – – – >>>>>>> – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE A GREAT IDEA…
I got on with the cleaning that beat me yesterday. I started on the wet room again with a new, unexpected degree of determination.
I could do the ablutions first and clean up first, just in case I drop anything and make a mess. Logic floating about here… I thought!
Emptied the nocturnal catheter pouch, wrapped it and put it in the bin. It was a seven on the NHS scale; the carer judged it for me.
I settled to try and utilise the Porcelain Throne. But did not anticipate the length of time and agony to get the innards contents freed. I was another massive, bum-splitting gigantic torpedo that finally freed itself. Bled a bit, but I felt better after a day and a half of no movement from the bowels. As I was cleaning my rear end, I noticed bubbles coming up from where the torpedo had disappeared. I’d not used any toilet cleaner or bleach yet. I went to the junk room to get Kodak Tim 2, and they were still bubbling away when I got back with the camera and took this photo? 

At this stage, I was beginning to lose my enthusiasm for cleaning up. I stripped and started washing the body and delicate areas. All went well.
Then, I got the shaving tackle out, dropped shaving foam, and tried to catch it. I lost my balance and crumpled onto the mop and bucket I’d abandoned there when I felt unwell and gave up. 
The painful bit was not being able to get back up.
Serves me right! Humph!.
I had to crawl on my knees, trying not to upset Catheter’s Chloe & Carol or Arthur Itis and being careful not to damage the catheter.
Mission impossible!

I got my muscular, fit, healthy body back up on my feet. But that was the end of my plans to clean the wet room. I wasn’t up to it.

I did a bit on the blog, but Sandra was sending Mini-Seizure and I had to give that up. I momentarily considered going back to the cleaning..

I decided to sit down and recover in 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. Within a minute, Sweet Morpheus accepted my plea, and I drifted into a marvellous sleep and dreamed of Grizelda. The intercom woke me, as the Carer wanted to be admitted. Humph! After Ahram had departed, I tried foolishy to get back to sleep. Really, I wanted to see Grizelda again. No-Go!

Massive Blanks.

I came around or woke up and realised I had not changed the calendar clock yet. Two days now.
So, I changed the clock.

The weather was not good. The cloud was so thick I didn’t see the sun setting at all. No street lights on. Power outage today? And here I was, high in the sky, looking at the darkness, with my lights on to tease those below! Haha!

Very late, I got the meal sorted.
Nordic Bacon and potato chunks.
I put two slices of Milk Roll bread around each chunk of bacon. A lemon curd yoghourt to round it of!
Nice!
The knees are leaking again. I’ll ask the first carer what he thinks about the wound in the morning.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – 💖 Cheers Middears 💖 – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Inchy (Unwell) Today: Friday 21st March 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I’ve never seen an elephant or a zony,
A giraffe, or been to Hungary…
Or why we all live xenophobically,
I know if Starmer gets his way…
Pensioner’s food will be xerophagy!
<<<>>>
Oh, last night’s kip, seizure after seizure!
Accompanied with agony from Anne Gyna,
I was a nocturnal cougher & sneezer,
Sleepless, confused, unwell, a sad geezer,
So bad, I was prepared for my sepulchre!
<<<>>>
Hard to breathe, a cough and an atchoo!
My moving and thinking was so adagio,
What I was or needed to do, I didn’t know!
Nocturnal seizures, I’ve only had two…
Both were in bed. Is it a bugaboo?
<<<>>>
My brain & body needed to be examined,
At first, I felt really succussed,
The carer came, this was discussed,
He reported to HQ, well, he must…
They didn’t mention my psychosis,
<<<>>>
I said no help was needed,
Though I may have been deluded,
Then, the carer departed,
I became far less bothered,
So quickly, I suddenly breathed!
<<<>>>
My dizziness, & balance improved,
With Anne Gyna, I was not affected,
It took a minute to feel jubilated,
Gone, I was, no longer seizured,
Sadly, later, Anne Gyna feasted!
<<<>>>
ADMISSIONS
I’ve blundered, blabbed & believed,
Got angry, annoyed, been aggrieved,
Begloomed, begrimed & becharmed,
Shoplifted, got shot twice, was sacked,
In 1950, I was abducted,
By a neighbour, I was snatched…
I believe her name was Winifred,
A Welsh lady who took me to her bed,
Her groping, I found unmatched,
Her house I frequently frequented,
I didn’t realise what we practised,
But I was sorely satisfied!
<<<>>>
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
After each Nocturnal Seizure, clearing my head and senses was a long job. Balancing was a farce. Anne Gyna was playing ball with me. From getting up, it was a confusing and worrying 4 hours before the Carer arrived. The Carer rang his HQ to report my condition. Eyesight blurred, coughing and sneezing, phlegm coming up, dizzy, and most things that I was suffering from cannot be remembered. I think I was finding it a job to talk as well. At one stage, I spoke with a lady from the Carer organisation. Can’t recall what was said.
Once the Carer departed, my head slowly cleared, and my vision improved after taking the medication. I took an extra Codeine & Paracetamal.
I’ve got photos on the SD card that I cannot recall taking. Maybe the seizures continued with the mini-ones. The day flashed by. I didn’t start this ode until around 15:00hrs when I started the odes.
After this, I may need to give WP a rest.
After three nights of broken sleep, then last night’s nocturnal Seizures, I must try to get some sleep. I realise my thousands of fans will be disappointed, and I apologise to both of you. Hehe!
I’m so far behind it hurts!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

I NEED SLEEP!
Dear Lord, I won’t bellyache.
At best, my life’s been bittersweet,
I don’t mean to moan & bleat…
Three days under the bedsheet,
Mostly in pain and wideawake,
And not a moment’s sleep,
Anne Gyna & Sandra’s Seizures compete,
I pray you to hear me speak,
I don’t intend to offer critique,
Sleep: or ensure I don’t reawake.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Well, it’s time to get summat to eat. I originally decided to have two lamburgers on cheesy-topped rolls. My taste buds tingled at the thought.
I couldn’t have made a proper meal anyway because I forgot to tell the carer not to put the nocturnal bag on yet. I could have made the meal without the dangers of using the walking stick and cooking simultaneously. I got the burgers in the oven; they should take 35 minutes to cook.
Then I returned to the computer and did the Ode To Sleep. Forgetting all about the burgers.
I got a whiff of the burning food!

So, I ate some Cheez-it crackers and nuts as sustenance for tonight.

Photos of the day. In order as taken, I think.
First one.
My beloved tree copse.

Cavendish Vale

CorelDraw problems again.

This might be out of sync timewise?

Green skies, as well.
I’m colour-blind on red/greens, so you
may not see the colour I do.
Protanopia: This is a severe form of
red-green colour blindness where 
individuals are unable to perceive
red lights at all. 
I looked this up on my NHS list.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
After the last two nights of sleeping in bed, the nocturnal seizure stopped any silly thoughts of sleeping. So, after burning my lamburgers, don’t think that this pissed me off and got me all angry and annoyed with myself. I wet back to using the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping recliner, in hopes of nodding off.
Well, it was great! Five straight hours without interruption. Until and kicked off.
Five hours is more than I’ve had over the last three days.
No bother from , , or either of the Cartilages. !

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Flaunt a Fiesta Full of Funny Frivolity!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Inchy Today: Thursday 20th March 2025

/ Inchie / 12 Comments

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I’ve never tried anything Columbian,
Ah, bananas, I forgot to mention.
I don’t need protection but rather a resurrection,
I had some education, though only a smidgeon,
I dislike raptors, but I did have a pigeon,
At my age, they say I am antediluvian,
One’s body & mind go into bifurcation,
Old age is full of exacerbation and aeonian,
Daily activities all have a limitation,
You should see the amount of my medication!
An hour goes by, seeming like a second…
An hour to complete a bifurcation,
Confusion, indecision, apprehension,
You’ll face failure, incapability & denigration,
Just washing, & dressing takes you an aeon,
You’ll gradually lose contact with your cerebrum,
You’ll regularly visit the audiologist and optician,
Have a catheter fitted by a urologist surgeon,
Cataracts, Glaucoma, lasered by a chirurgeon,
Duodenal ulcers, strokes… prepare for perdition,
Arthritis, cramps, & have an amputation,
Dementia, a stroke, seizures, disequilibrium,
Peripheral Neuropathy joins the equation,
FND, deafness, drives you to declension…
There’s no stopping your deterioration,
So, best prepare for things like decession,
You’ll jerk and shake due to denervation,
You’ll not find time for any deliberation,
Your ailments make up a large compendium,
You’ll be prone to effutiation & equivocation,
There’s no solution available, no criterion,
No help, understanding or appreciation,
Mind & body, no communication or association,
If, like me, alone things may seem stygian,
Advice I give without tergiversation…
Best to accept your worsening tabefaction,
After your ultimate ultimation…
Please don’t expect anything utopian,
St Peter will do the investigation…
To decide heaven or hell, without vacillation,
Don’t moan about you being a valetudinarian,
For your sins, don’t expect vindication,
Don’t speak of things with witwanton…
In hell, things can’t be more woebegone,
As they were on earth, you just came from!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
It’s not too bad a day, really. I may regret saying that later! There is no time for too much tonight. It’s another busy day, but I don’t mind because the Anne Gyna stabbings were far less frequent this Wednesday. No, wrong again. They were less frequent than they were on Wednesday. I think I do.
I’m getting tired already. (19:32hrs) I’m just starting this blog. Worralife!
I’ve lost the notepad, so things may be even more out of time sync than usual.

Got up at 04:15. After a six-hour kip! Yea! One page of the notepad I found. Why all the other pages were torn off leaves me blank? Nowt, new there, then!

Ablutions and medicationings achieved. No cuts shaving.

First view shot from the kitchen.

Boy, did the seizures make up for yesterday. I lost about three hours, during which I continued typing away, and when things came back, it took me two hours to correct them. All being broken by being interrupted, and harder to get back into as the mini-seizures returned. I do not usually carry on doing anything when these arrive, just sit staring blankly, they tell me.

Carer ‘Joe’ arrived and fitted me with diabetic socks and medications, and we had a little mini natter.

The carer also coded the night bag contents.

Back on the blog for about three hours, and my beloved Nrse Hristina arrived. ♥..
She took my blood, and we had a few minutes natter. I do love her so. ♥

After Hristina departed, I spent a long time doing today’s ode. Before realising I’d not finished Wednesday’s yet. Humph!

The helpful carer arrived and again assisted me. This time, he called the audio centre for me to try and make an appointment to get the hearing aid mended or replaced. They gave him one for the 2nd of April.
Akmad wrote all the details down for me to put on the calendar.
Then he called Easy-Link to see if they could transport me. I have to ring them back on Tuesday or later to confirm they have a free slot. Thank heavens for the help; without it, I’d have mixed myself and these dates and times up with my Arithmaphobia. Thanks, mate.

Ah, the handwashing of the socks I did earlier.
I hung all the diabetic socks on coathangers above the sink to drip dry.

Views of the Day
Early one.
Afternoon.
About 17:00hrs.
20:30hrs.

I was so tired out while making and prepping this decent-looking meal. And foolishly not asking the carer not to put the nocturnal catheter bag on cause I’d not made a meal yet. This means I was doddering around with Four-Pronged-Waking Stick Willie and carrying the night bag while trying to prepare the meal. Not easy. I don’t know what went wrong with the chips, but they were awful! I couldn’t find a use-by-date on the bag, but maybe they were outdated. I can’t remember even buying them.
The Franks were passable. The cheesy cobs were dry and tasteless, even when I added some Marmite. The Heinz tomato sauce with pickle had certainly, unquestionably gone off! Eurgh!
The mandarins in orange jelly were great!
The night’s sleep had multiple problems again.
I’ll relate these in tomorrow’s blog. (Hopefully, if I do not forget, but I don’t think I will—forget) Suffice it to say that I woke up in a terrible state. 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Keep well, & have a stroke of luck! (Good Luck)
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –