Carer Richard, Odes & Diary

CARER RICHARD

He goes the extra mile to care for me!

ODES

Richard goes the extra mile in looking after me, you see…

He’s called paramedics to the hospital he dispatched me.

Found me on the floor, lifted me up; and I’m heavy!

He’s reduced the effects of my Whoopsiedangleploppery!

After giving me my medications, if he’s the time, to which I agree…

We sometimes have a bit of mental verbal buffoonery,

Monday, checking the dates on medications, was he…

Richard saw on the stove my pan of Chilli,

He suggested a new way of cooking, which sounded good to me!

Told me with cheese on top, it would be very tasty,

So, I made some that way later and could not disagree,

It tasted better than a well-cooked sosatie.

Ate it, felt sated, down the chair – I’ve not got a settee…

But with my feet up, I settled to watch the footy on ITV…

Half-time, I went to make a brew of Glengettie tea…

Getting the cup and washing up the cutlery…

Oh, dear, the innards suddenly rumbled – but only weakly…

The rear end just started to emit things terribly…

I rushed to the Porcelain Throne in a hurry… but I was too late!

Banged my shoulder on the door frame going in, mate!

What a mess; I was in a right mucky state…

Cleaned things and me up, new aerated PP’s on, to alleviate…

Sad when one has an uncontrollable trip to defecate…

At least the shoulder I didn’t dislocate!

Out and back to the kitchenette for the brew,

And immediately another churning, another release was due!

Back to the Porcelain Throne, I almost flew!

A bigger mess this time, sticky goo!

Good job, I made it in time, I can tell you!

Cleaned and washed, and back on the flaming loo!

After five more Throne visits, each one causing ballyhoo…

Things settled at last; in future, Chilli, I’ll have to eschew!

I’ll have some home-made beef stew,

Oh, no beef, summat else will do…

Ah, the Vegan beefburger tonight; the risks should be few

Hoping there’ll be no trouble with the residue!

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

All fine that night, I woke up feeling refreshed and pert,

This morning as I stood up, the Haemorrhoids hurt,

The borborygmus rumbled, and to the Porcelain Throne I stumbled,

An hour later, I’d passed at least six times… my spirits crumbled…

Each evacuation was a close call, as I rushed and fumbled…

My poor piles were stinging and battered; they itched!

Uh-oh! The last one sneaked out early; I had to ventilate…

It seemed the pong was worse by a hundredfold,

Finally, I got the escapees under control…

That leaves Carer Richard this morning, who needs to be told…

A warning of his recipe given, especially to the thick & old…

That eating it, diarrhorea would be empowered!

Richard arrived, I told him of my Chilli agony, and he was unflustered!

Laughter flowed from the lad, totally unhindered…

No guilt, no shame… Never seen the lad so cheery…

He suggested I get a new nappy!

Hahaha!

Inchcock’s Make ‘Em Laugh Series

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

I’ve never ever seen Richard laugh out loud and so hard! I think his mood was as near to schadenfreude as one can get. Even amid my agonies and Trotsky Terence’s having a hay-day with my innards and the Protection Pant stocks running desperately low…, it cheered me up to have made him so happy and contented. It did as much good as any medications.

With a possible hint of epicaricacy creeping in there… Hahaha!

Last evening’s photographicalisations were, to me, some of the best I’ve managed to take. How the shaking and shuddering (apart from the right shoulder Shuddering Shoulder Shirley) had suddenly dried up was something of a minor miracle? However, as I was closing the windows after taking the pictures, they kicked off again, off course. But a nice two first-time shots? Ah, the rumbling innards have started off again, out of the blue. I made a speedy as I could lunge for the wet room, wary of Trotsky Terence’s grip on the innards. The evacuation was the smallest in days and more than capable of controlling. I remained sat where I was on the Throne and got the crossword book out. I was not going to get caught out like I have been so many times recently by needing another release minutes later. About five minutes later, the second lot came.
I had a shave and shower, and the ankle ulcer in this photo looked like a luminescent inner core? At least it did to my cataracted eyes. But it looked to the eyes as usual? If I remember, I’ll ask the evening carer to have a look. (I forgot to, Tsk!) . The body temperature was acceptable again. That’s several days on the trot, so things look good there. Shaking Shaun caused me to drop the thermometer, but it still works; phew! The Sys was still highish, the DIA lowish, and the Pulse was AOK! Overall, I was tempted to go into Smug-Mode, but I remembered last week… I declined! That was when the SYS went up to 174 for one day, then down to 123?

I had a look at the food situation in the fridge. There seemed plenty to do me over the weekend, and the freezer was pretty full, so I decided no food order was needed until next week! Yes! I made a decision…me! I made one in 1968 as well, you know. Then made another one! I had a long chinwag with the family. Gave each one a mini cuddle and had a few words with each of them. ♥ All donated by e-friends, Lisa, Pattie and Marie; thank and bless them!

I had a walk down to the ground floor, using the lift, of course. And started to have a hobble the length of the three blocks of flats, to come out from Winchester Court and hobble along Chestnut Way back to my beloved Woodthorpe Court… but… An urgent need suddenly needed! So I doubled back and got to the Throne in time to avoid any Accifauxpas or Whoopsiedangleploppery! Which was good!

Washed and got a snap of the end car park taken from the balcony. What happened with this terrible photo? I took it without thinking through the glass; I didn’t open the window. Wot a pillock! So I did a better shot from the other end of the balcony, of the view towards Nottingham City Centre, two miles away. Then got a late nosh sorted out. Veg & pickle balls, with added caramelised onion chutney, tomatoes, chips and my beloved raw, fresh pod peas. I had three little marshmallows for my make-do dessert. I would have had some yoghourt or lemon mousse, but Iceland and Sainsbury’s didn’t have any in stock – Grumph! 

So, there it is! A day of misery, defeatism, joy, laughter and utter confusion- just a typical day for Inchcock! Cheers!

Inchcocks Thoughts – In Odes Issue 13⅓rd

In Odes, not good ones… but Odes!

The number of humans on this earth is 7.87 billion at this time…
On the global internet, the users add up to 4,321,740 and 9!
So your chance of your blog going viral is fine…
But don’t expect it, as I did, then found a steady decline!
I hope you do much betterer with thine!
My last one got two likes and comments; one was mine!

It’s Doreen Dementia and Liberty-Global I blame,
It’s fun to me, but it’s all money… a shame!
Their service is as much off as on, and it’s a game…
Farcically, ownership Liberty-Global disclaim!
Telling the call agents not to ever mention their name!

Liberty-Global owns Virgin; the boss should resign!
For Mr Fries knows not what he is doing…
Or though maybe he does, he makes money fine?
It’s overpaying mugs like me that he’s screwing…
His bosses think that everything is fine…
With Fries shadowy, manipulative money moving,
All on paper, mist and mirrors… this profit maker-divine!

A gorgeous gal wanted me in the early hours of this morning…
Of course, I knew that I was probably dreaming,
This very fact, I found a little perturbing…
She insisted on closer, passionate probing,
To my delight, she was acquiescing…
We were soon manipulating and bouncing,
She was ready and asked for another trouncing,
No problem for me, and I began eagerly disrobing,
But my performance, I think, was unconvincing…
Surely she should have been rejoicing?
And as her knickers, she was replacing…
I attempted some more romantic seducing…
I found it embarrassing what she was saying…
“I’ll not call again; there was no pain – Where’s this leading?
I’m just glad I was only dreaming!

I thought the visit before was on the wet side…
But this evacuation was even more undignified
I failed to get there on time, my aim was wide…
I cleaned things up, taking it all in my stride,
In doing this, I felt an iota of pride!

Cleaned, refreshed, but I went from Jekyll to Hyde,
As I started to get things all antisepticised…
I dropped the Germoloid after it had been applied…
And trod on it, swore, and boy, how I did self deride!
The contents squirted all over, and my frustration intensified!

But this Throne visit had yet another downside to it…
Leaving the wet room, I misjudged the width a little bit,
Missed hitting into the frame; I gave myself a little merit!
Stubbed my toe on the airer; fell, hitting under my armpit!
All this cause I urgently needed a flipping sh__!

Thought Storms Erupted

The Thought-Storms erupted, irking, they attacked,
Insults, fears, and failures were lurking and squirted…
Self-loathing, diffidence, vacillation were not appreciated
New worries, old ones, insecureness… amalgamated!
It’s Thought-Storms like this that are most hated!

The cause of the forebodings could not be authenticated,
For reasons, causes, I waited and waited, breath abated…
Nothing was solved, understood or elucidated…
The logic-testing thoughts, endlessly circumlocuted,
My mind was failing, nervous and bloviated!

My resistance was worn down, crumbling, it wilted…
My own thoughts could not be filtered…
However, slowly the tormenting mind vegetated,
Which was good; the brain needed to be rested…
Along came a new wave of dichotomies to be wherrited!

Inchcock Thought Storms – In Ode

The Basement Laboratory at Crowell Towers

Designed & Created to be funny & get a smile or two!

With this morning’s (Wed) bleeding problems…

and the computer ones, too, by the time I got around to making time to think of what to do with today’s blog; the day had almost gone. However, I was determined to get summat sorted out to publish.

So I got a graphic that I’d started long ago, of HRH Lisa and Lesser Red-Spotted Professor Billum, in their basement laboratory, and titivated it, adding some, that I think amusing bits.

I hope you like it.

The Basement Laboratory at Crowell Towers

I added myself visiting.

Hope it goes down well! 💚

Advice For Whippersnappers – Part 26⅙th

Advice For Whippersnappers

Part 26⅙th

Oddities whippersnappers may encounter, like leprosy,
An honest politician (Joking!), or water on the knee,
Have ten children; some are yours, at most three!
Go to Scotland for the whisky and to find Nessie…
Soon realise your sanity is becoming an absentee!

Cuddle up to and grope a gal, all nice and cosey…
Sweet words are shared, things getting lovey-dovey!
Then find out her name is Arthur and not Rosie…
No need to feel embarrassed, daft, or dozy…
Fake an excuse, rush off, and send him a posey!

One day you may become an abductee!
The kidnapper demanding lots of money…
Before he’ll think of setting you free…
But no one will pay; you’re not famous, yer see?
He’ll likely keep you as an adoptee!

You’ll eat strange foods, & plain foods, like onion bhaji,
Liqueurs, cannabis cheesecake, and beetroot coffee?
Pickled walnuts, fingernails, and chocolate garibaldi…
Even if financially up a gumtree…
Try anything, as long as it’s free!

Will you be an owner, manager, or employee?
Mayhaps a hippy with long hair and a goatee?
Drugged up to eyeballs, living in a fantasy?
Marching against bombs and nuclear energy…
Just like your Mam and Dad did in 1953!

No need to use a snickersnee or machete…
Wounding or killing is plain bizarrerie…
It could be you’ll need a necropsy?
All through greed and your bellicosity,
Finish now, with hatred and animosity!

Keeping on the straight and narrow takes fortuity…
To hide your weaknesses and frangibility…
We’ve only one life each, not an eternity
Staying honest and non-aggressive shows dignity!
At St Peter’s gate, of wrongs, you’ll need deniability,
It’ll be no good pleading for mercy, circumstantially!

When it comes to things financially,
You must avoid showing credulity!
Moneylenders, Bank managers, show crudity…
But do it to start with using misleading civility!
Muggers and robbers take your cash with audacity!

As you get older, you’ll go much more often for a wee-wee!
With little warning, you’ll rush to the WC…
But, you won’t make it in time very often you see…
I know, cause every day this is happening to me!
It’ll dribble or torrent, with no controllability…

The protection pants offer little comfort to me…
But less protection, as I increase my bellies adiposity…
Struggling, Little Inchie gets stuck in the zip… agony!
I wet myself; wetter than if on a water-skiers jetty!
It bleeds, I cry… this is ageing – it’s not very pretty!

Inchcocks tries to Make Them Laugh in Odes Series

Inchcock Today: Alto-Ego’s Confessions In Ode

Sunday 3rd April 2020

Inchcock’s Confessions In Ode

Written By Alto-Ego Inchie!

Ode to this blogger, he’s a harmless old bugger,
With an awareness of life that gets floppier,
A self-hatred that grows and gets klutzier,
And a body, getting ever fleshier and wobblier!
A memory that is no longer a memory…
A brain that adopts ideas much loonier!

A cancerous bladder, getting ever leakier!
A sex drive that gets measlier and measlier…
Dead as a dodo, really; even his memories are foggier!
Bending downs is not easy; now he’s got paunchier,
He could do with a hearing-aids amplifier…
Today, his many wee-wees were a lot splashier?

His sanity and logic are much less secure…
His cataract and glaucoma eyes, his to endure,
No signs yet of any operations, that’s for sure!
He doesn’t believe he’ll live long enough for a cure…
He’s searched to find someone he can nouriture…
But he’s given up now; why? He’s not sure…

Mind you, he’s not looking to arrive at his cloture…
That’ll have to wait a bit, his final sepulture!
For a while, at least, though, life gets squalider…
Inchcock’s never been tops or an orchestrator…
Although he was once a bus conductor…
There’s one thing that would give him pleasure!

This’s important to him… before his foreclosure,
He doesn’t want to be richer or shrewder…
But summat, that goes against his very being & culture…
Not experienced before, it will put him in rapture!
To get something right, just once – before his departure!


Part of the Inchies Make Them Laugh-In-Ode Series

Inchcock: Thoughts on Imbecilities – In Odes

Thoughts on Imbecilities

Vascular Dementia Doreen and the Thought-Storming,
Memory-loss, mind blanks, can be mentally disturbing,
At times depressing, troubling, often gruelling…
Alto-Ego and Inchies brain, arguing, duelling…
Sometimes the mind needs a rest for refuelling,
Here are some of the traits revealed, comedic and appalling!

Arguing with Alto-Inchy…

Conflict often starts when in the wet room, ablutioning,
I’ve only one mirror; I use it for shaving in the morning…
Or with mind-blanks, sometimes, it will be in the evening,
I hate him; he’s superior, nasty and criticising!
This Alto Inchie… the other me… can be baffling…

Mayhaps I need a neurologist or Psychologist visiting?
I hear sounds from the past, traffic, songs, bugling…
Although usually, we are deep in mental brawling…
Me, the one who ends up depressed and caterwauling…
Yet occasionally, Alto-Ego, becomes less insulting?

I suppose I need some form of help, some counselling?
Yet I don’t believe anything can stop my mind from crumbling!
Physically Peripheral Neuropathy Pete can be disabling,
The Stroke ensured I shall forever be struggling…
The Cataracts, Glaucoma and ears are much more worrying…

Yet some days, incredibly, I seem to be coping?
I find that I am actually optimistic and hoping,
I can sort out bits of concern by disentangling…
The feeling guilty for my self-pity, by realising,
Others are worse off and alone too… Humbling!

Stop and Ponder…

The Thought storms may suddenly go into mothballing…
I stop in the front room – it needs cleaning and sorting…
The brain tells me I require mollycoddling…
My fears and depressions certainly need muzzling!
Priorities need arranging and some actioning!

But it’s not easy for me, detail classifying, pigeonholing,
Forgetting, misplacing, quarrelling amidst the schemozzling…
Fears, worries, flash into mind… like anchovies shoaling,
I feel my sanity at times is stumbling on its way to failing,
Do you think the NHS will do mind-surveilling?

Mentally Distorted

I see the view via photographing,
What do you see? Well, according to me…
Somewhere out there; Some folk will be contradicting,
Or a poor sod in the middle of a bankrupting…
A family, communally banqueting?
A Monopoly player cheating?
Someone undoubtedly shoplifting…
A lamb in a field might be bleating?
Or emergency workers, fire-fighting,
Drug gangs, selling, abusing…bloodletting?
A politician… bloviating!
A news reporter, reporting?
An illegal immigrant deporting?
A lucky sod having sex… luxuriating!
Someone up an alleyway, urinating?
First-time home-owners, decorating,
An old age pensioner… constipating!

A Dour Sunsetting

A hard-up family, regretting Brexiting?
A hustler, planning, hornswoggling!
A fiddling bank manager… calculating?
A mugged pensioner, capitulating…
A murderer being freed to kill again – Sickening!
A baby going through the pain of castrating?
A young couple learning about cavorting!
Another freed murderer, celebrating?
A Hari Krishna member chanting,
A water worker, chlorinating?
A Nottingham pick-pocket circulating,
A Politician: World war circumventing?
A pair of gents, cockfighting,
A Policeman, machete and gun confiscating?
Jews and Arabs coexisting?
Ah! Now I’m getting into the land of dreaming…

Bad Parking!

.The Red Van Man – lousy parking…
Parking properly, he’s not contemplating…
Maybe he has not got the ability?
If so, parking without conformity…
Blocking fire engines in an emergency?
He should get a cautioning?
Ah, now I’m remembering…
Private land! So no legal prosecuting…
I’m not surprised; at the laws failing…
They free murderers to do more killing!

Dangerous!

Look at these perfect results above, contrasting…
To yesterday, when the SYS was rising…

Oh, dearie me!

The temperature was ever more declining…
34.1°c, but I’m only witwantoning!

Angel Julia

.American Carer Julia, her kindness is unremitting,
She had another call to do, so not much nattering…
Whenever Julia calls, I find it thrilling…
When Julia leaves, it is somewhat saddening…
For she cheers me so, she’s pleasant, patient and Caring ♥

Lip Smackingly Good!

Do you like the look of the meal above, my dining?
No meat as such, but fish-sticks, without fish in?
The taste of them was breathtaking…
Not too sweet, oven chips, no frying…
And I’m not lying, the most satisfying…
Truly tasty, there’s no denying…
A treat to the taste buds… gobsmacking!
Harry Ramsdens Chip Shop style, well-worth trying!

I find things today are moral-contaminating,
Not that I’ve done much in the improving things contributing!
I’ve drifted along, weak-willed and no consolidating…
Done my bestest to be kind and temper-moderating…
Welcomed, greeted folks, by my bridge building…
Do no harm, I did to help for others, aid-orchestrating…

Now disabilities, old age, vascular dementia I’m getting…
I keep falling over, but not fainting,
Struggle with my ablutioning,
Tried not for others to be abnegating…
The eyes and ears problems get no alleviating,
Let alone actually obtain any treating!

I’m aware of Dementia Doreen; I need sanity-auditing,
My thoughts and intentions… are not completing…
Use of the brain is nowadays complicating,
My decisions, fears, desires are self-conflicting…
I do little to deserve any respect or congratulating,
The Thought-Storms are ever congregating…

The mind seems to be mentally contorting,
The physical side doesn’t stand reporting…
Even taking a wee-wee needs coercing!
From logicalness, I think I’m distancing…
Any paperwork is confusing and inconveniencing!

Memory, or lack of, mind blanks, have me cursing…
I need help, mayhaps a little nursing?…
No, perhaps some rejoicing, romancing?
I may get by with some reminiscing?
The brain has little left for downloading!

Inchcock’s Make ‘Em Laugh Series – In Odes

Sunset Thoughts In Odes

“Oy, Inchie…

“Wot?”

“Wot yer doin’ then?”

“Watchin’ the sunset!”

“Wot for? It ‘appens every night, yer burke?”

“I know it does, yer grumpy git! I photograph it most nights yer know…”

“I know that I am a part of yer ain’t I?”

“Then why ask me wot I’m doing then? You drive me to my homebrew, Ooh!”

“I dunno, just to piss you off, I suppose!”

“Sarcasm from you always flows…”

“Do you know, we’re talking in prose?”

“Go on then, let’s keep it up, see how it goes?

“The Carer will be here soon, let’s see who loses the odeing, you know?

“Just look at how the dying sun still glows..”

“I bet you’d get a better pattern as a Filipino?”

“I hear out there, they drink cappuccino?”.

“Do you like Pizzas from Domino?”

“What’s that got to do with the Ode, dumbo?

“Sod-all, you’ll soon be back on the Vino…”

“You’re in a barmy-mood? Why don’t you just go?

Cause I also want to see the sun’s dying glow!”

“I’m not having that; you a naturist? No, no, no!”

“That’s not nice, do yer want your blood to flow?”

“Ah, but you can’t hurt me physically, though!”

“Not my style, but I can send you loco!”

“Ha! I’m already bonkers; you’re too slow!”

“You are a saddo, fatso, and have no gusto!”

“Go on knob-end, tell me summat I didn’t know!”

“Well, the sun’s beginning to go…!

“I wish you would go; you damage my ego!”

“Why do you have to live on the 12th-floor in Council flats? Can’t you afford a bungalow?”

“Leave me alone. You’re always digging at me; you’re making my anger grow…”

“In the flat, it must be like the Alamo! Waiting for death, in agony, another coffin-seeking Bozo!”

“The Alamo? Well, my life seems to be connected like an imbroglio…”

That much, I understand and know…

“I don’t get out much, so?”

“With your luck, if you did, someone would stab you with a stiletto…”

“Or you stay-in, and old father time will soon say, time for you to go, cheerio!…”

“You being a defeatist would mumble, Righteo!”

“You may even ask him, is there time for one last bacon sarnie, with sourdough?”

“Have yer done? Taking the piss and having your fun?

“Aha! Pillock that didn’t rhyme. I’ve won again, I’ve won!

“Rollocks!”

Part of the Inchies Make Them Laugh-In Ode, Series

Odiously ‘Orrible Odes on Ageing

Inchcocks advice and tips, for whippersnappers who think they will live forever, in diabolical ode. You Won’t!

Be Prepared

It’s essential that you prepare, cause nobody else will care…
Unless you’re loaded, with plenty of cash to betroth, spare,
Have you spent it? Holidays, big car and you’ve safaried?
I’m just explaining how it will be for you, not to be morbid…
I don’t mind if my tips are not absorbed…
All a part of living is death, don’t be worried!

Oh, and there’s nothing to say that you should be hurried!
You may find that you could later, yourself bedrid…
You’ll need help if yer on yer own, and feeling dogeared,
Paying for Carers must not be feared…
New ailments will by now have reared…
You can expect this; it’s normal, not weird!

The family may call to help, your bank balance cleared,
Your reputation may diminish, become smeared…
Help might be harder to get; tell them you are disorientated…
You’ll make them a beneficiary, you’ll be genuflected!
They may make you a brew, say you’ve been neglected…
Then you may die of poisoning… they’ll be suspected!

If you own your own house, but not if it’s rented…
You’ll be treated well, as is to be expected…
The not seen for years crowd will be attracted…
Looking for the Will, but it won’t be protracted,
It’s essential to avoid them becoming malcontented…
Pick your times when to tell them you’re demented!

Them topping you, at all costs must be prevented,
Promise each one a little extra, don’t get resented!
Unless, of course, death will make you contented…
Tell them you’ve sorted their money, all consented…
But, remember who you’ve promised, you may get assaulted!
Or, at minimum, your face resculptured!

When the Doctor tells you, the end is anticipated…
You may wish they’d told you later, waited…
Unknown relatives calling will be prompted,
Is his name Keith, Tim, Richard or Ted?
Not that it matters, cause you could soon be dead!

Ailments Roster

Stroke, Cataracts Diabetes: To Be Added

In my young days, ailments that were lurking,
Were Polio, Double pneumonia, & getting a caning…
Not that I’m sorry, but of all, I was ailing…
We didn’t have to put up with too much burgling,
Sore throat, toothache? Meant saltwater gurgling,
We knew nowt about Cocaine or methamphetamine!

In my teens, there were very few ailments troubling,
Of course, romance took precedence; ah, romancing! ♥
I got into it, even went to the nightclub, dancing…
But I broke my leg one night, and I was only waltzing!
For Suzie, should I try dancing again? I was dithering…
But she left me when the Twist arrived, very belittling!

I met a gal from near Berlin… who really got me going!
Grizelda her name, big lass, solid-built and liked her gin…
But she had to go home; I was lonely again…
Oh, sorry, from the subject I am straying…
Not precisely an ailment, but I got shot while working…
Made redundant, unfair, and I wasn’t shirking!

Then the ailments started coming, flooding…
Duodenal ulcer, Arthur Itis, needed a new heart put in!
Reflux Roger, eyesight failing, and I lost my hearing…
Sadly, that was the end of motorcycling,
So I bought Robin Reliant, though it was exciting…
Sat in a car park, a lorry hit me, anger was igniting!

Then peripheral Neuropathy was diagnosed…
Got shot again, then made redundanted,
Life started backpedalling…
But you can learn from my failing!
It’s no point in wailing…
Life is never plain sailing!

When I had the stroke, then I started wailing,
Hospital four weeks, then a home for the ailing…
For five weeks, it was appalling!
Things got worse, they lost my washing…
Gave me no food one day; everyone else was noshing?
I don’t think I’ll ever again go abseiling?

Weeks later, the eyesight faded more, blurring?
Went to see the optician… revealing…
Cataracts and glaucoma in both eyes, they so sting…
Saccades in the right eye never heard of this thing…
The NHS said there is an average of 48-weeks waiting!
Nothing much-going right, or compensating…

Weeks later, I went virtually deaf, hardly any hearing…
In either lughole… both channels were wax-filling…
Since which, four times a day, the olive oil dropping in…
The left worse than the right, ‘Grumbling!’
Not hearing my doorbell tune ringing…
Not the telephone’s ding-a-ling; this’s frustrating!

I took a tumble in the shower, ablutionalisationing,
You’ll get to accept these; they are a part of being…
Doddery, not having yet mastered the walking stick.
Fears and worries will need camouflaging…
Oh, and shopkeepers will try over-charging…
Or more likely short-changing…

With the arrival of Vascular Dementia Doreen coming…
Means problems with organising and remembering…
Dizzy Dennis, Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley bothering…
Thought Storms, your brain will need defragging,
The kettles broke, and the toilet is not flushing…
Hopes for the future, you’ll find languishing!

Sock-Glide-Glenda

Sock-Glide-Glenda, to be used after ablutioning!
Very good for bodily parts mutilating…
It can be avoided by not going out, staying in…
But you’ll have to go out to get your medications and gin?
I can assure you, in Sock-Glide-Glenda executing…
You’ll be injured, cut, bruised or exsanguinating!

I solved this painful problem by hibernating…
In the flat, the brain stopped activating…
No perambulating or hobbling… boring!
Although Carers called, to do the medicating…
Some of them like a little chinwagging,
I look forward to the talking Carer’ visiting!

So, Whippersnappers, this you must be expecting…
Keep your wits about you, when Glendaring,
Germolene, plasters and Phorpain gel nearby waiting,
A blood blister, cut, or bruise can really sting!
Worse if you have a boil or carbuncle erupting!
These odes are just tips; I’m not instructing…
Just future problems for you, detecting…
Please don’t see this ode as floccinaucinihilipilificating!

Overview on Inchcocks’ Life

I’ve led a super-fun life; I’m not complaining,
Lived life to the full, wind, sun or raining…
I’ve had so much sex; it’s been disorientating!
Earnt a fortune – I don’t mean to be drum-beating,
I’ve had battles but can’t remember taking a beating…
I’d got through life with faith, honesty and collaborating,
Oh, there’s just one other thing…
This last verse was all me fibbing!

Part of the Inchies Make Them Laugh Ode Series

Inchcock Today: Ode to Sanity – Part11⅒th

ODE TO THE THOUGHT-STORMS
Inspired while Inchy was waiting for the action to start at his mornings’ Porcelain Throne visitation. It took a while!

The Thought-Storms on the Throne are getting nastier!
No respite, the evacuation stopped halfway, I got edgier…
The questions came at me; it couldn’t be crappier…
It’ll be a while before the pain stops, and I feel any happier!

Any logic in the Thoughts couldn’t have been scantier…
From the fear of loneliness, Putin, and questioning Santa!
Should I have a mug of tea or a can of Fanta?
The Thoughts mingled became silly and schleppier…

Hopes, then worries, self-pity, to pathetic fear!
Strangely, after so many years, I fancied a beer!
The brain was making me feel dizzy, oddly queer…
The nose began to run, and it got even leakier!

My confidence in coping died, I became even qualmier…
The Thought-Storm was driving me balmier…
I noticed that my stomach looked lardier…
And Little Inchies fungal lesion got itchier?

The Thought-Storms had me by the jugular…
I tried to fool them and acted jauntier…
Talking to myself, battling the brain,
I couldn’t move because of the evacuation pain!
The whole situation became worse again…
When Neuropathic Pete got me shaking, jitterier!

I knew that later on, things would calm down, likelier…
Suddenly the room felt cold, much parkier…
I even began to shake and shiver?
Gawd, things were getting nigglier!
I felt I was going even loonier!

The evacuation flowed again, which made me panickier,
Should I give a push, or leave it, which would be riskier?
Then the Thought Storms got even bolshier…
And the room felt like a fridge; it got so much chillier?
Was I still in the recliner dreaming? Or going crazier?

Then for once, I got luckier…
I stood up, feeling pluckier…
The evacuation ended alright,
As I pushed with all my might,
It had been a struggle and fight,
I’d won, no bleeding, I felt leerier…

For the Thought Storms stopped then…
As stubbed my toe on the tungsten…
I don’t usually appreciate the pain often…
But the Thought-Storms stopping was a gem!

Part of the Inchies True Make Them Laugh In Ode Series

Inchcocks Odes to Why? Part Two

♫ Why does my heart go on beating? ♫

♫ Why does the sun go on shining,
Why does the sea rush to shore,
Don’t they know it’s the end of the world,
‘Cause, she doesn’t love me anymore, Yes…
Why do the birds go on singing,
Why do the stars glow above,
Don’t they know it’s the end of the world?
It ended when I lost your love…
I wake up in the mornin’, and I ponder,
Why sod all is the same as it was…
I can’t understand; no, I can’t understand
How life goes as crappy as it does…
Why does my mechanical heart go on beating?
Why are these eyes of mine fading,
Don’t they know it’s the end of the world,
It ended when you said, “Sod-off, goodbye!”
I often wonder, apart from Little Inchie, why? ♫

Why Am I So Soft & Gullible?

Even as a young man, I was presentable…
But, I’ve always been jealous and resentful,
Gals thought I was a standby rather than a desirable…
But my wallet was in demand… and easily emptiable!
My heartstrings were unendingly detachable!
Why these failures? It is seemingly not diagnoseable.

My hopes and dreams were terribly squashable,
I’ve always been a soft touch and deceivable…
Looking back, I find it hardly believable…
I’ve gone from cute and cuddlable,
To a failure, always, who’s always defeatable!

Thus, it must have been in my past life…
I must have lived a terrible life…
Not like this one full of strife…
Bet I was cruel, took many a wife…
I should come back a newt or other pondlife!

Why Are Liars, Usually Politicians?

Well, that’s obvious! To keep themselves out of trouble!
To save them from bursting their own financial bubble?
They overclaim all expenses by at least a tankful…
They welcome Covid cause there’s no time to be able…
For anyone to inspect their expenses table!

Why Have Aliens Not Landed Yet?

Oh, bejabbers, they may well have already; it’s verifiable!
They beam down airily…
So no spaceships to see,
So their landings are not watchable…
They interbred with the powerful, starting with Blair…
This may sound to you ununderstandable…
Their original plan was to make us all vilifiable!

Intending to use mind control, somnambulistically!
Naturally, they all mind-melt and speak multilingually,
They soon spotted how humans communicate clumsily…
Using missiles, tanks, napalm, and mercenary armies…
Killing ourselves off with starving… very silly!
We are killing ourselves off, although it will be bloody!

We tell our people not to smoke or use a narghilly…
Not to eat fatty or sweet food, willy-nilly…
We do have variability but very little tranquillity…
We intercommunicate bolshy, cruelly, not friendly?
We lie, mislead, cheat, mostly circumlocutorily,
Many aliens planet folks have visited Earth, spookily,
It’d be a lot more, counting the imaginary!

Why Are More People Going Potty?
Answer: Alto-Egos, Id’s and Chakras

Alto-Ego-Inchy: No doubt about the answer to this question…
But it’s a long one, which calls for honesty and a confession…
I’ve studied this query for years; it became an obsession,
Since the Roman invasion to England’s 1867–1869 recession
I was in the body of a chap called Adrian…
Wall builder, I think, a stonemason…

The effect of Alto-Egos, Id’s and Chakras, combined,
Control our allotted specimen, usually a human,
Occasionally a half and half, unknown, with a warped mind,
But we can handle and master humans, aliens of any kind.
I am the truth, reality… I rarely speak what’s on my mind…

We Alto Egos go on for years, the insane is our possession,
When the human snuff it, we move on to Sherlock Holmesian…
To torment another losing it, sad foccinaucinihilipilification,
Alto-Egos, Id’s, and Chakras rule we’re not Antichristian,
We are not Czechian, Australian, Midlothian or Arizonian!

We roam the Universe to torment the deserving,
Deserving meaning one demented, their mind flailing,
Fair enough, we do some deducing, defacing and coercing…
But only of the brain, physical problems are not out kind…
Like with Inchcock, no wonder he’s going out of his mind!
I’m actually getting to feel sorry for him, I find…
But don’t tell anyone, it’s a bit embarrassing…

We Three unknown, misunderstood missionaries, are King…
Humans will never understand us unless they are tripping,
Our tasks, as laid out for us, to stop anyone helping…
Give pain, frustration, depression with maintaining…
If noise bothers Inchcock, we make sure it is piercing!
If he leaves the tap running… this is called interfacing…
We keep him busy with something else; I can’t help laughing!
Then the hot water will be cold, so no showering…
Little things like this make out job so satisfying!

 I fang You!

Part of the Inchies: Make Them Laugh, In Ode Series.