Inchies Tips & Advice for Whippersnappers, Ablutionalisationings & Medicalisationings

ADVICE & TIPS ON FUTURE AILMENTS TO COME

I’ve given myself a challenge here… Where do I start?
Well, I don’t want to sound like a worrywart…
But you may like to put this guide on a wall chart,
Get prepared, to wee-wee, bleed a lot, and fart?
To the wet room, with ablutionalisationing, we’ll start…

Well, getting your clothes on and off, will be a work of art!
The socks removal will hurt in every leg part!
Pants and PPs, shirt and hat off, you’ll be knackered,
By the time you start teeth cleaning, paddy-whacked!
Then the toothpaste to extract…
Peripheral Pete causing shaking hands, distances inexact…
Toothpaste on your chin belly and feet… it’s a fact!

Nasal clearing, avoid catching the new pustulation…
And shaking hands, need careful manipulation…
Stabbing up the nose can cause a concussion!
Due to the dying nerve-ends neurotransmission!

Then the eyedrops, they miss each time, despite my best attention,
Evolve drips anywhere but the eyes; to the mouth, via obambulation,
Oh, while I think about it, you’ll have to have a fundoplication!
Shaving’s the next job, which always causes apprehension!

You’ll cut yourself several times, no need for overreaction…
The Brut aftershave serves as a blood stopper medication!
Mind you, it stings, you’ll swear in protestation,
It’s just another necessary daily ritualisation!

Then comes, the dangerous part, of showering!
It’s no good fearing, and cowering…
It must be done, like an everyday thing!
Dizzy Dennis arrives, you stop the soaping…
Then drop the loofah, bend in retrieving…
Hit your bonce on the powerbox, your heads now reeling…
Loss of balance sometimes, a usual old folk feeling…
Then you often find yourself falling…
But getting back up is more appalling and galling,
Usually, you’ll drop things again…
But, to avoid any more pain,
You’ll kick it away, then you may start talcing?
Till you stub your toe, then start cursing!
But there are more things yet, that will be paining!

No mirrors in the wet room, I mention tactfully,
For fear, you’ll see your flabby midriff’s rotundity,
Which will bring on the depression, for a certainty,
You’ll find spotting your reflection, rather dismally,

Little Inchies Fungal Lesion will need ointmenting,
Especially if it’s been leaking and bleeding!
The certainty of agony needs acknowledging…
Some think this procedure, is bestiality, brutality…
I can tell yer, I don’t think about affectionately!
And I don’t tackle the job exactly bravely!

Arthur Itis knees to be Phorpained, to lessen rheumatically,
An easy enough task, although the limbs can get greasy…
It’s the Phorpain Gel, the box says it’s liable to flammability?
Still, a good massage and rubbing in seems to work easily.

MedPhorpain

The Germoloiding of Harold’s Haemorrhoids is a pleasure,
Always effective, instant relief, this ointment is a treasure!
But you can’t buy it when on a Special Offer…
Full price, cause the makers, want to fill their coffer…

You’ll be able to get a cream on the NHS, Anusol, but it’s crap,
And you’ll need to wear sunglasses and a hat…
Use walking aids, hearing aids, spectacles, blind as a bat!
Cataracts, Glaucoma and Saccades will be begat!
I’m getting mixed up here, where was I at?

I named Accifauxpas, to such incidents as the above,
Having digits etc. bruised, and cut, you may not approve,
But incident rates will never improve…
As you grow decrepit and old, it’s the truth!
There is no way to make things accident-proof…

I named Accifauxpas, to such incidents as the above,
Having digits etc. bruised, and cut, you may not approve,
But incident rates will never improve…
There is no to make things foolproof…

But there is a way, to ease them and help make them better!
You don’t believe me? I can hear you mutter!
But clean the wound, Give it a Germolene smother…
As antiseptics go, there is none betterer…
It soothes and cools wounds with no palaver…
Keep a tube in the first aid box, it’s a good manoeuvre!

You’ll lose any skill you had at handcraftsmanship,
Sewing, darning, woodwork, sculpting, or need a replacement hip,
A new knee or two, a mechanical ticker, ready for the crypt…
So when things start to fail and collapse, don’t lose your grip!.

Don’t look back at the days when you were nonhandicapped!
Or even when you could risk being back slapped,
Or when you were capable of being able and schlepped…
It’s important for you to be able to adapt!

You’ll only compare things, with now and then,
Your mental and bodily decline, remembering girls like Gretchen?
Your confidence, comparative memories, do not enrichen!
In fact, they have been known to bring on depression!
Recalling the romances, victories, how many were they, ten?
Your first fumbling grope – can you remember who and when?
The Auntie who always bathed you… you were happy then!
But such days will never return again…
Have you still got love letters, written with a pen?
The name of your very first kitten?
Or the first dog by which you were bitten?

When your life was considered to be sublime, Utopian…
Some details will be embedded in your brain, unforgotten…
But many of them inspire things you think were rotten!
Actions and decisions that were taken by you; were you forgiven?
Or like me; having Thought Storms of guilt and derision?

There is an ailment that can free you from making many a decision…
Vascular Dementia Doreen, she’s good at memory suppression,
Also, she jumbles up numbers and dates, like a statistician…
Or mayhaps, more like a politician?
That reminds me, the Dentist and Optician…
Appointments to cancel, that’ll cause derision,
Is it a pediatrican or maybe a metaphysician?
I might be better off with a dietician or magician?

Cataract Surgery is my latest thing worrying,
Two Phacoemulsification operations or something,
Then Glaucoma operations in both eyes…
Then there’s Saccades procedure right eye,
But worrying about it is not very wise
Seeing an assessor on 3rd May waited five months, irking,

So by the time you Whippersnappers get to my age,
The NHS will be a memory, but you should manage…
Unless there is a world war again, violence is savage!
The private owners of the hospital will add a surcharge…
£200 for a bandage, £30 to be unbandaged, if you haemorrhage…
£50 a pint lost, and for cleaning up there’ll be an added charge…
An entrance fee if you have to use the triage…
Visitors will be charged, £35 an hour on average…
£40 a cup of tea, £60 for coffee, £40, for other beverages…
Medications, an Aspirin at £35, according to dosage…
Visitors can have a variable-priced massage…
Grizelda £45, William too, either-way Brenda, £200 with frottage!

I think I got carried away there, sorry!

Inchcock Today: Tues 5th April 2022 – Introductory Ode!

Inchcock Today

Introductory Ode!

All Inchies’ plans, hopes, desires get obliterable,
All of the wishes and prayers fade; it’s unfixable…
In a crowd, he’s always the one that’s unnoticeable,
Thought-Storms, wild ideas become pestilential…
His handwriting is now virtually untranslatable,
Voices, alarms, so many to Inchie are unhearable,
Problems are increasing… not many are solvable,
Friendships, chinwags are all uncultivatable,
As seeing lip-reading with Cataracts is not doable…
Vascular Dementia Doreen has ruined the potential…
To do anything that is enjoyable or cherishable!

Inchie should get a medal for being so confusable…
He’s given up socialising, he’s no longer compatible,
Inchies depressions are no longer confineable,
Hell, they are not even logical or describable…
He tries to talk seriously, his views are uninfluential,
Inchies common sense is turning surreal,
His neurotransmitters are no longer connectable…
To the brain; so too falls and shakes he is liable…
But hopes of a cure are almost non-existent… Sniffle!

Yet he can have hopes, some of them substantial,
But why he bothers is just unanswerable…
Will he feel better when his eyes are done; its arguable,
Cataracts, Glaucoma Saccades, are treatable…
But will Inchy love long enough? Life’s a raffle…
For 25 years now, he’s been totally tea-total,
He never thought he’d persist and be capable,
See? Summat he got right is detectable!

On past City & QMC visits, he became reflectable,
Hoping those he awaits will not be fatal…
He’s waiting on dates of five procedures at the hospital,
Will soon come about and be arrangeable,
But he’s not too hopeful and not getting flappable…
He’s more worried about the logistics; will he be able…
Which can do him no good and be detrimental…
That’s another thing he needs, treatment dental!

He fears arranging things transportational…
A carer to stay with him, which’d be pleasurable,
After the 3 procedures, stay for 24hrs – is this possible?
What’s the procedure: is it cost credible?
I don’t know why I wrote this; it’s grammatically unpublishable?

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

Tues 5th April 2022

03:30hrs: The now, usual for the last four mornings anyway, jumping awake to the tormenting sounds of the Thought-Storms, driving me into instant confusion, began.

I reckon the storm lasted for about three minutes, then faded fast. No idea why, but happy about it!

Even getting out of the c1966 recliner and up to catch my balance was easy-peasy! Three-limps with Metal Mickey to the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee Bucket) and took another reluctant wee-wee. Without any PM (Pre-Micturitional) or CM (Cessational Micturitional) dribbling. Things looked hopeful to me for a better day in the offing? Until…

I soon learnt that Peripheral Neuropathy Pete had replaced the Thought-Storm as the primary ailment. Although, right Cartilage Cathy was assisting in making hobbling a smidge difficult. But I’m not complaining; this knee pain and wobbling leg were a pleasure to put up with compared to yesterday morning’s Dracula Depression. Yes, I was feeling much better already!

Emptied, cleaned and disinfected the bucket and had a wash of sorts. Then, returned the NWWB to its handily placed position. Just in case things change with the bladder, off to the kitchen.

The view from the kitchenette window was very similar to yesterday’s beautiful picture.

I took this photograph. Even if it looked like yesterday.

As I opened the window, the wind caught me out. I moved a little with the camera and knocked over the knife block! I managed to catch it without any harm or injury, and only one knife fell out of the block! I was trying not to get into a Smug-Mode, as history has taught me that doing that can prove almost fatal! At minimal a foretaster of something else going wrong, at least! I made up two waste bags and placed them near the door. Got the kettle on and made a brew of JS Extra Strong tea. And off to get the computer going.

I kept getting messages telling me to put a disc in the F: drive, which had been there all along. The SD card reader refused to react again. So I left the card in to see if it would later on. I occasionally responded by giving the SD card a soft jingle – but it made no difference. Hey-ho!

Carer Richard arrived. He soon got me sorted with the medications, alarm-alert battery checks and looked at the supply of drugs in the drawer. He had to shoot off. He gave me a bit of a natter, though, bless him. He didn’t look too good this morning. Hope he’s going to be alright.

After updating yesterday’s blog for a while, I made another brew. Glengettie this time, and I tried the new ‘Just Milk’ in it again.

I’ve no idea if anything in it is different to normal semi-skimmed milk; the writing is too tiny for Cataract Kathleen to make it out. But I have to say that it lets the flavour of the tea come through without masking it, better than any other milk I’ve tried. As I got back to updating the blog…

The need for the Porcelain Throne interrupted me. As I casually got up and grabbed Metal-Mickey, the urgency of the need snowballed, and it ended up with just making it in time, after a panic, rush and quick hobble! Hahaha!

Not exactly as smooth as silk, and it was accompanied by different pains areas this time, despite the evacuation being semi-soft. All over in about a minute! No bleeding, stinging or hurting from Harold’s Haemorrhoids either. As I was cleaning up after the event. I realised that it may well be my having a second vegetable meal in three days that made things uncomfortable and nearly caught me out? Back to chips and a pastie with tomatoes tonight!

Made another brew, Thompsons Punjana this time. Oh, I am spoilt for choices with great tasting teas! My best four are, from the top: Glengettie, Thompsons Punjana, Co-op 99 and JS Extra Strong Brown Label. But there is little between them. All great!

Made a restart on the updating of yesterday’s blog. At long last, I got it done and posted it off to WordPress.

Sphygmomanometerisationing began. The Boots machine returned slightly better figures this morning. The SYS has gone down from 169, 161, 159 and now to 157. My blood pressure is going in the right direction! And the body temperature is so very nearly on target again, at 34.8°c. Good!

Back to the wet room, no waiting this time, first songs and I was off. Hehe! Bubbly is one word to describe the evacuation this time. Almost frothy? Not a lot, no bleeding and no pain!

I replied to some Emails… well, the one. Hehe! I did some Facebooking catch-up. Starting the WP Reader viewing and…

Mr Nice, from the flat above, launched into some clanging about.

I spent a long time trying to get this post started. The concentration did a runner, and so many mistakes were made and had to be found and corrected. I imagine I’ve missed some; there were that many! The top Ode cost me a few hours of disheartening faffling about.

It was well into the afternoon when I got up to here with the scripturising. I like that word; I expected Grammarly to tell me it was spelt wrong. Oh, sod it, it just told me belatedly!

Better get some nosh sorted out then.

Took a photo of the Chestnut Way end car park. Just to see how red-van-man had parked.

Even with the Cataracts, it caught my eye that the popularity of car colours on the front spaces. Grey, black and white seems to be in fashion here at the towers. Disabled ones, perhaps?

I got the nosh all sorted out. Fishcakes with mushy peas in them, imitation fish sticks, tomatoes and some reasonably decent chips. Dessert and milk roll bread. Rating: 7/10.

Fell asleep watching something or other on the TV. Two hours or so later, ♫ Oh, Susan ♫ chirped from the door chime, and the evening carer arrived. An obviously experienced young chap, not seen him before. Good at the job, sorted the medications and came up with a solution to dropping the tablets and regurgitating without noticing. The Carer suggested taking them one at a time. Good idea, I’ll try that! Thanked him, and off he went.

As I checked around to make sure no taps or lights had been left on and all was safe – I saw the view from the kitchenette window. It was beautiful; I got the Canon and took this photo.

Then, a programme, well, two consecutive ones, were shown on the same channel. I fancied watching them both and got myself settled with a bottle of spring water, the wee-wee bucket nearby, feet up on the chair in readiness to enjoy them. I fell asleep at the first set of adverts and woke up two hours later to catch the finishing credits for the second documentary! Hey-Ho!

Inchies Friday Diary: Festivities, gaiety and other fibs! Hehe!

Fort Thomas News Exclusive!

After several years of collecting scientifically challenging reference books, Professor Billum and his partner HRH Lisa, who are now stuck indoors due to the snow, are tackling the job of reducing the number of books in his basement library. He hopes to make room to expand his laboratory and thus, make more room for his medical experiments. Inchcock (rear) said; the task is phenomenal.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Inchies Friday Diary
Jollities, Festivities, Gaiety and other fibs!

I fang you! A decent kip for once; I reckon I only jumped awake about six times overnight. Not good, of course, but better than the preceding three evenings efforts.

By the time I’d clambered tottering dangerously out of the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly-beige-coloured, not-working, haemorrhoid-testing, rickety recliner and caught my balance, I realised how evil the eyes were this morning. So, first job the drops, let them settle, then put some of the sprays on them. After this, they were no worse, and maybe I imagined it but seemed a little better than when I woke.

The ablutionalisationing was tackled first, even before thinking of making a brew of Glengettie tea (Worrying that?). It might be the fact that each time I woke up during the night, spongy emissions of wind were evacuating out of the rear end, and Reflux Valve Roger was sticking a bit, then bursting forth, painfully for a minute or two? But, I felt a little stinky, I thought – mayhaps the rear end emissions were going on while I was asleep?

I got inside the wet room, and the mind meandered off on its own. I got the shower going! Boing! I totally forgot what the time was, and after getting the teeth done and shaving with only two tiny minor nicks, thus assuming a Smug-Mode… I still didn’t recognise what I’d done at that time, and I merrily whistled (Which is getting harder each time I lose another tooth) and sang gayly to myself as I started doing the medicationalisationings.

MedPhorpainWhich soon put an end to the Smug-Moding, whistling and singing! As usual, I got the potentially most painful job of cleaning and creaming Little Inchies fungal lesion out of the way first. Agony! There are no pain or problems with the Saccades eye drops, Harold’s Haemorrhoids cleaning and creaming, ears oiling, or Arthur Itis Phorpain gelling.

As I was about to increase my level of smugness, it dawned on what time it was… and I’d just used the noisy shower – Guilt overerflowethed!

A Carer arrived, name? Erm… Gorrit, Cassie! She was to take the laundry for me on Fridays, starting today. I had got the bag and capsules softener all ready for her. She did the medicationings, and I treated her to some nibbles and a drink, and off she went.

Onto the computer to finalise yesterdays blog and post it. A message came in on the mobile, it was from Iceland Foods… Ah, I hear you now asking – Why did the pillock have another order from Iceland? The silly old goat had one yesterday?

Ahem! Well, that would be due to my Wednesday and Thursday’s Whoopsiedangleplopping. I made some cheesy potatoes for Richard and got his visiting day wrong. So, I gave them to Valerie, who came. Then Thursday, when Richard was calling, I made another dollop of cheesy potatoes for Richard again – then, I had no potatoes left. Hahaha! So I made a minimum order for today to get some more spuds for myself to have. That’s about right, I think.

The rain started to fall, but not too heavily. Then began to get a little threateningly darker out there.

I took this picture from inside the balcony, too wet to open a window.

Shortly, the Intercom rangeth. The Iceland delivery had arrived. I pressed him in, and I hoped it would not be the same driver as yesterday, or he might think me a bit of an idiot having a dirty-great big order, then another on the following day. He’d be right if he did, by the way!

He carried the bag of spuds separately, only two carrier bags, and he took them into the kitchen for me. Haha! I wish the bloke yesterday had taken the eight bags into the kitchenette for me.

I thanked him and let him choose which can of plonk he fancied, and off he trotted with a cheery farewell.

I’m glad I remembered to get the drain-unblocker. Not a lot to sort out this time. I got some cheapo Beef Jerky to go with the freebies to make the minimum order. Oh, and some Cadbury mini rolls.

Sister Jane rang, or did I ring her? One or the other. Dementia Doreen again. Total blank on what we spoke of… indeed am I thinking of yesterday? Sad, innit?

I then rang Obergruppenfürheress, Warden and Ballet Dancer, Deana. Not seen her for a while. The gal was at home. She’d tested positive for SARS-CoV-2 and had been isolating. She hopes to be back on Monday. I said I was ringing to let you know you hadn’t collected your treat bag this week – now I knew why! Said they would keep until Monday. Haha! Nobody tells us owt, do they?

And an hour or so later, the door chime rang out its’ ♫Oh, Susana♫ chime, and in walked Carer Valerie. She had collected my washing for me, and she’d brought it up to me. Bless her cotton socks! She said she’s made sure they were dry enough for me.

So, I got off of the blogging and sorted out the clothes. By gum, that bag holds a lot of stuff. Hehe!

I got in a pickle, found the coat hangers, put some on the door, and spent a good while faffing about. Then realised I was not doing this in a planned, smooth way… Hahaha! 

I meant to put all the rousers together on a rack and jumpers shirts on the other.

Which seemed like a logical thing to do.

However, Dementia Doreen had other ideas for me. I ended up with a mixture of trews and jammies on one rack and trews, jumpers and shirts on the other. Ah, well, at least I got them hung so the creases can fall out a bit.

The toploftical, unforthcoming, ascetic, eremitic, aloof, sniffy attituded Herbert had been giving me some tapping on and off for an hour or so. Now, he’s just gone into Turbo-Tapping and Banging mode! What a Git! Mind you, let’s not forget my Whoopsiedangleplop with using the shower early in the day? The difference, I think, is snot-bag superior Herbert enjoys doing it on purpose?

I made a rare mug of Thompsons Punjana tea. As the rain stopped and the sun fought its way through to shine on Inchcock Towers… well, Woodthorpe Court then. Hehehe! I grabbed the Canon camera and took this photograph of the view.

Then the hungers-pangs began, and my desire for some more cheesy baked potatoes overcame me. I got up some steam (I was starting to feel a bit weary) and started to prepare the third on the trot (4th Counting Carers Richards and Valerie’s) Cheesy Baked Potatoes meal!

Cheesy Potato Nosh – Flavour Rating 9.3/10!

Note: Only the four half spuds? No, not self-control; I made eight and kept three to cool and have later on (Cunning?). I would have had four, but I dropped one when putting it from oven to pot – it splattered onto the floor and a slipper, which both needed attention, cleaning sorting out. I may have muttered something along the lines of “Oh, bother?” Then, I feasted on the meal, put the tray on the Ottoman, passed wind and belched… and Flake-Out-Time!

Herbert started clanking and clunking away again, and I woke to his mechanical overture. Hehe! Pig!

Luckily it didn’t last too long this time. And I drifted off again. To be woken by the tune of “♫ Oh, Susana… ♫ chiming out. The evening Carer had arrived. She was in a rush, so no chinwagging was permitted on this occasion. Off she trotted, bless her.

I spotted the meal things on the Ottoman, and I took them to be washed and put away. Noticing the lack of wonderful sun-setting after three days of gorgeous one, I stood and had a perusing of the evening sky. I realised that even with the absence of the usually vivid colours for the last few days anyway, there was still a beauty to be beheld.

Getting daft or soft on my old age, or not?

I went onto the computer to work on the blog and visited Facebook, the TFZ and Winwood Heights sites.

Went on CorelDrawing; Herbert was doing the odd banging about, so it was not until gone midnight before I got my head down; off I went and slept a bit better, only about five shooting awakes.

ODE OF THE DAY

Wants (Peace) & Not Wants (Herbert)

Cataract operation, before it’s too late – appealing!
A friend with time for long chinwagging,
Someone who doesn’t hate or finds me appalling…
But I don’t blame them, and that’s a bit galling!
One tablet to stop my shaking and trembling…
The ability to once more try cartwheeling?
The willpower for me to stop earwigging,
A better than Warfarin pill, stop the haemorrhaging,
But most of all, I’d want, after some deep thinking…
The end of people, domineering,
And those who go around sneering,
Those who cannot care have empathy are non-obliging…
The know-alls who go around rubbishing…
Rushing, superior in outlook, verbally scathing…

Compassionless animals, one lives above me,
Above my little independent living flat, you see…
I nicknamed him Herbert, and he’s not trouble-free…
He makes noise at all hours, sometimes the whole day,
He’ll start again today, I guarantee…
He acts superior, and nonchalantly,
But, the things he’s roisterously making go to charity…
The housing officer says no cause to moan, apparently,
So I won’t, or might lose the flat, alackaday!
So untouchable Herbert will carry on noisily…
He’ll keep waking me at night, arbitrarily,
I must resist responding early morningly…
What can be done redeemingly?
Two wrongs don’t make a right, seemingly…

KEEP SAFE IN THE SNOW
Keep safe all of you, affected by the snowstorms please,
If you can, avoid driving and soirees,
Polish your ottomans and tallboys?
And for even more joys…
Try canned beans and saveloys?
Sew the missing button on your corduroys?
Have warming wine delivered by Pomeroys?
Play great music, possibly by the Beachboys?
But don’t contact the killjoys!

Inchcock: Out to feed the ducks

A few years ago, before the onset of the awful Coronavirus onslaught and his latest disabilities, Inchcock used to get out and about. To feed his beloved Mallard Ducks at Arno Hill Park Lake. Taking the safe to feed them pellets and seeds, the old fart was in his element. He was even attempting to learn the quacking language from the Mallards! It gave him someone to talk to, not any humans, naturally.

So looking forward to his day out, he rose early to ensure everything was done and readied on time for him to catch the bus. Took a while to find his keys and bus pass. It did not go well…

——————————————————————————————

05:00hrs: He woke and was soon up and getting on, carefully carrying out his essential ablutionalisationings. Really, he should have got the message and not bothered to go out today. Things did not go too well!

One of his top front teeth cracked, cleaning them. The traditional cut shaving, well, three actually. Nasal cleaner bottle dropped and broken. Banged his head on the sink when he dropped a razor as he bent to pick it up.  Little Inchies fungal lesion started bleeding in the shower.

A late dizzy spell, and he cracked his shoulder on the shower-power box. Things were not going well!

Medicationalisationing the fungal lesion on Little Inchie was particularly painful and brought a few naughty words from the old chap. When after thinking he’s won, the bleeding started again, he cursed with an unexpected venom! He forgot to turn of the heater in the wet room. Going back in to use the Porcelain Throne later, he realised when thereat hit him as he entered the room – stubbing his toe against the creases, feared sock-Glide-Glenda. Things were not going very well!.

However, being used to these many Whoopsiedangleplops and the more frequent  Accifauxpas, he soon felt his old chirpy self again after stopping the bleeding and taking his medications. Then he hoovered the mess up. Not looking very good for today?

He put the computer on to check the times of the buses. But Virgin Media and Liberty-Global top dog Mike Fries had failed yet again.

As Inchcock got everything he hoped together and was moving into the hallway on his way to the door… the wheel fell off of his Walker-guide trolley!

Unfazed, Inchcock retrieved the fallen wheel, and as he picked it up, it somehow morphed into about ten or twelve pieces, then fell on the newly hoovered carpet! Now he was fazed!

He’d missed the bus, of course. Spent the hour swearing, cursing and picking up the bits from the wheel. But it takes a lot to completely destroy Inchcocks spirit. He decided to walk without the guide (having no choice if he was to visit and gossip with his mallards). He set off, full of renewed anticipation for an enjoyable trip on the L9 bus and getting some pleasure from mother nature and the mallard ducks.

A note on the bus stop pole pointed out that service will not be operating today due to roadworks. Back to normal tomorrow. Not a good start this!

Inchie dropped back down into a sort of semi-moroseness, tinged with a high degree of pissed-offeredness! The clot thought perhaps he could go to the Nottingham canal to feed the birds, like the previous week? Then it clicked in; the fool would still not have a bus to use to get there either! What an absolute moron! Things were getting to him, now – Not good!

A Dizzy Dennis visited while he was pondering what to do – followed by a worryingly strong ‘Mind-Fog’, and he sat down on the bus shelter and went into a few minutes of daydreaming mode.

Finally, making up his mind. He’ll climb up the steep gravel footpath into the Woodthorpe Grange Park and have a search to see if he can see any of the wild ducks and hens that frequent it. Mayhaps he thought, I can visit the garden centre as well. Cheered a smidge now, he set off up the hill and began to peruse the woods and paths. But no signs of any wold life, the wasn’t many humans either, but that didn’t bother him.

He legged it down the avenue to the Garden Centre and Tropical Plant House. It was closed! This was not a good day for the old codger, and an iota of self-pity was brewing!

He hobbled around painfully as Arthur Itis kicked off in both knees. Resolutely searching for the wildlife birds. Of course, he had no luck, well, no good luck! Now lousy luck… that was in good supply, and about to get crueller, too!

His Nokia 100 virtually antique mobile phone burst into life, and he dropped it as he fumbled to get at it before it stopped ringing. He didn’t! He fell as he bent to pick it up, fortunately landing in some unstinging nettle bushes, which also cushioned the belly flop fall, right on the epigastrium coeliac plexus (I looked that up to sound clever, Hehe!) which started off Reflux Roger along with Arthur Itis. He had to crawl on all-fours to get to a tree stump, to haul his overweight, blubbery, lardaceous, wobbly-bellied body, back up onto its feet. Cutting his shins as he progressed. It was now a worserer day than ever for the pitiful old goat!

Now, almost a physical and mental wreck, he decided to make for home. Thinking he’d take a shortcut via Winchester Street, as all the aged-whimp wanted, was to get back to the flat, take some painkillers, use the Porcelain Throne, clean up his injuries, and make a good strong brew of Glengettie tea, with dunked shortcake biscuits!

Hahaha! Of course, his plans were stymied; they always are!

The road was blocked off – he might have worked it out earlier when he read the cancelled bus notice, but there you are. To make things worse, it started to rain, and his brolly was still in his broken-wheeled walker-guide trolley back in the flat! Thick as a plank, Inchie!

He did resist crying, but only just. After taking a marathon walk around the park again, he arrived at the lobby doors, wet, in pain, miserable, bloodied, and totally discouraged with life! He’d fought his way through the woods, bushes, rain, the end car park and back to the flats. Showing worrying signs of losing it… Jabbering on to himself and having a distinct twitch in his right eye now… not to mention his trousers being so wet and heavy, his braces were not holding them up far enough.

Once Inchie got inside the dry and warm lobby, the lad immediately began to cheer up a little! History should have told him not to bother!

Residents had gathered in the lift lobby – in vain hopes of one of them working. This just shows not only the stupidity but the banality and hopelessness of Inchcock’s everyday existence! Of course, with the day has been going so wrong, he should have known better than to allow thoughts of semi-contentment and hopes to rise.

Yet astoundingly, the dripping wet, frustrated, injured Inchie wasted no time in legging it limpingly, painfully slowly, up the 24 flights of concert stairs, towards his flat. (Desperate measures call for desperate actions!) He was urgently in need of the Porcelain Throne!

At the flat door, he fumbled about, still dripping wet; he gained access and almost bounced off of the walls in his rush to the Porcelain Throne. Whipped off his wet trousers and protection pants and plonked himself down on the pan… the evacuation began immediately, and it was all over within about a minute. Inchy just sat there, breathing a sigh of relief. Which was tempered by the cleaning up and medicating that needed doing next.

The wet (possibly 85% rainwater – 14% wee-wee, and 1% blood?) PP’s first, they had to be rung out, packed up in plastic bags to later go to the waste chute.

Unbeknownst to Inchcock, Little Inchies fungal lesion had burst open in the tumble he presumes. So that was medicated straight away. The neighbours always know when the Betamethasone cream is applied to the fungal lesion, the loud Argh, and Bloody hells give it away. Inchies day is just not getting any better, is it?

New PPs on,  Piles of clothes into the laundry box. Rubbish bags were taken away.

He found a letter that had been delivered when he returned from taking the waste bags to the chute. It was confirmation from the Council that I am not going to get any attendance allowance. This really rubbed it in for Inchie – Hence his day continued in its ‘Let’s Annoy Inchcock Mode!

Too weary for making and eating any food, Inchie got down in his £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly-beige-coloured, not-working, rickety, incommodious, grotty recliner, in search of Sweet Morpheus.

He was still waiting for sleep or at least rest of some sort, about two hours later.

Some thunderclap music from the yobboes on Woodthorpe Park having a party started up. Heavy Metal brand, Inchie thinks.

So he got up and went on the computer to start tomorrows blog off…

And…

Not one of his betterer days!

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Part of the Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe

Impure Inchy – Thursday 4th March 2021 Diary

♥ TFZer Actresses on stage! ♥


Thursday 4th March 2021

Spanish: Jueves 4 de Marzo de 2021

23:40hrs: I removed my over-flabbily-bellied body from the c1968 recliner and utilised the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee Bucket). A short sharp affair, with a lot of CMD (Cessational Micturition Dribble) to follow.

No messing about, I got on the computer to create a template for today’s blog. Starting with doing a few graphics on CorelDraw. But, I didn’t get too far, the call to the Porcelain Throne arrived, so, off to the wet room. Incidentally, Cartilage Cathy was a lot kinder to me this morning.

It seemed to me that the daily PTDDSB (Porcelain Throne, Daily-Domination-Stakes- Battle) for supremacy in the evacuation was a close thing. Still, a comeback from Constipation Konrad had curbed the rampant messy tendencies of Trotsky Terence for once! So, I had a go at the crossword puzzle as I waited for things to kick-off. Just as yesterday, I didn’t solve a single clue! (Well, I’m consistent, if not capable. Hehehe! The movement started slowly and stayed that way, but no pain or bleeding, and as I said, it was a lot less mess to clean up. I still had to refill the tank by hand though, I think the problem is the fluffy too-thick toilet roll paper.

Back to the grahicalisationing, I went. Then made-up and started this template. Which took me ages to get this far with. Then, I went on to update the Wednesday Diary, at long last. I got it updated fully, emailed the link and went on the WordPress Reader section. Which I enjoyed considerably. Pinterested a couple of photographs, the read and replied to the WP comments that had come in. Some witty puns and quips came on this Thursday.

I was about to start collating the advance templates and realised the hours had shot by; it was time to get the ablutions tended to. As is usual with me, I got into the kitchen and got myself sidetracked once more.

I decided to get the hand-washing done first. But and however – guess who had left the hot water tap (faucet) to run cold? Yes, pickle-brain Inchcock had struck-again! Gawd-blimey, I this far too often! Hence decision had to be made (another Inchcock problem area!) My EQ told me there nothing to do but press on handwashing boiling the water in the kettle and saucepan, for more Whoopsiedangleplops were on their way! He also called me a name, a naughty one!

So, the half-hour or so handwashing exercise took me nearly two hours! Not to mention the scolding of two fingers fetching the kettle to the sink… Oh, I’ve said it! It’s a good job that I was in a slightly better mood today! I washed the long-sleeve jumper, the jammie-bottoms and the pair of long bamboo diabetic socks. The washed ones from yesterday were not fully-dry enough to put on today, so I got a couple of 100% short-ones to adorn after the ablutions to wear.

Then, as I checked the dryness of the other things that were hanging above the kitchen window, with perfect-timing, Peripheral Pete went into an involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dance routine! This caused me to drop the coat-hangars and the washing I had in my hand. Belt Cathy Cartilages knee against the floor cupboard, and hit my head against the heater getting back up again!

I made a start on moving the stuff back into the cupboard, but soon lost interest!

My new found emotions of satisfaction, semi-contentment and renewed hopes sank without a trace! I took some painkillers and moped my way to the wet room, leaving the clothes where they had fell on the floor, and swearing a little still, got to the wet room, totally uninterested in what I was there for! Pissed-off would be a quicker way of putting things!

Had I been aware of what was waiting for me, I wouldn’t have gone in! The worse Ablution session in months!

Ablutionalisticalisationing Report:

  • I realised there was no hot water to be gleaned from the sink tap for shaving! But felt sure I would manage using the hottish water from the shower-head without any bother (What an idiot!)
  • Have you ever had to keep going to the other side of the wet room, and with Peripheral Pete shaking me about like a good un, repeatedly, bring the shower-head, which only just reaches the sink, and spraying the tepid water all over yourself and the room? It’s not easy! The cleaning up afterwards wasn’t either!
  • The de-nasalising went well. No water needed, you see! One dropsy only!
  • The teeth-cleaning had a bit of discomfort.
  • Then the shaving began. I had to keep emptying the sink of the water that went too cold, turning up the thermostat, and dial, to get as hot that I could from the control panel, but it wasn’t scorching enough, even then.
  • The whole shaving job was farcical in the extreme. Although having said that, there were only five dropsies! A few little nicks and one cut under the chin. One the throat, two in the neck-hole, and one on the cheek.

I got belated Health Checks done next. The Boot’s, made in China Sphygmomanometer’s SYS reading was fantastically low! Grrreat!

At least I think it is; hang on, I’ll check on Mr Google later on.

The in Hong Kong produced, Chinese Harpin Xian Di contactless thermometer reading was, I think, a smidge high, but well down on yesterdays worrying high of 37.9°c – 100.22°f.

Since the side-effect-ridden AstraZeneca Covid-19 vaccination was given to me a week last Saturday, SYS has also been higher, its the lowest reading today than for ages. I think I might be getting confused here, between the SYS and the temperature? Well, fancy that!

I found an NHS site on Google, where you can put in your reading for SYS and DIA, and you get an instant show of where you stand on the chart, with a black cross! Proof that I was right to worry when the SYS went up to 180 five days ago, well, that was well in the red area!

Gotten Himmel! Look at the time! What happened, where did it go?

I’d better close down and get my pre-planned, easy, tasty (I was well wrong there!) meal prepared. I’m afraid the beautiful looking Iceland bought tin of tomatoes was terribly bland, tasteless, watery. Savourless and unappetising. These Don Holio chopped tomatoes needed a warning giving-out about them for anyone unlucky enough to buy any. The Sainsbury crispy smoked ready-cooked bacon slices were very fatty tasting as well! The last of the sourdough bread saved the meal. A flavour-rating of 4.5/10 was granted. Reluctantly to a degree! Eurgh!

However, and leaving the pots in the sink in cold water to be cleaned when I have some hot water again, in the morning, at first, I was well-pleased that I was in time to watch the channel 11, Tales of the Unexpected episodes.

I stayed awake until the first set of commercials, and Sweet Morpheus visited me, and off into the land of nod I floated.

And slept for four unbroken hours, which was so nice! Ahh!

Inchy with the Squinch. Saturday 6th February 2021 – Diary

TFZer Mary Out dining!

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Saturday 6th February 2021

Spanish: Sábado 6 de Febrero de 2021

01:00hrs: Woke, no wee-wee wanted? I was in a somewhat vague haze to start with, just went with the flow… sort of.

Up caught my balance, and off to the kitchenette, and made a brew of Glengettie tea. Then back into the main junk room with the mug, and got the computer on… but not for long, an urgent message from the innards sent in haste to the wet room and Porcelain Throne.

And what an odd session it was! I got settled, and the movement began at the slightest effort from me. It slid out painlessly, undemandingly, smoothly and pretty quickly, too! No signs of a struggle, and absolutely mess-free!

Add to this, that there was no bleeding whatsoever; and for a while, I thought I must still be laying on the uncomfortable, c1968 recliner, and dreaming that this was happening?  Amazing!

I got the updating all finished and posted the blog off. Sent the email link. Went on Facebooking catch-up. That cost me two hours, but I do love it so. But today, I have got to get a few templates done, I’ve none left to use!

I made a brew of Thompsons Punjana, and the second call to the Porcelain Throne arrived, and very urgent too! In fact, an embarrassing leakage arrived before I got settled down on the Throne. (Shame and self-loathing time!) The flow was stickier but still painless! Soon over, and left me with a filthy gooey mess to clean up on the floor, Throne and myself! This put me galvanically into Depression Defcon Two-level! Cleaning up again, took me yonks.

The Subconjunctival haemorrhage eye was stingy just a bit, no real pain as such.

I read and replied to some WP comments, got CorelDraw on to upload photos, and then made a strat on graphic creating, for the template making. This is going to be a mammoth job.

First things first, though, a wee-wee, washed and made a mug of Glengettie.

The view from the kitchen window had acquired a beautiful red tinge. So I took this picture of it. Not very good, but of course it was the Canon Camera being used.

I made the tea and used the Evolve Hypromellose eye drops, I had leftover from the last time the blood vessels burst. I struggled just like before to get the stuff into the eye, and lost a lot of it down my face. I wish the hospital people would have told me how to put them in, cause I can’t get the hang of it. I’ll recheck the eye later on, but now, back to the CorelDrawing.

Stretching to use the picker upperer to retrieve a dropped letter, I had a tumble and clouted my head and right shoulder. Henceforth things are using photographs as reminders and details remain sketchy until I seemed to come back as I was making a brew. The intercom flashed, it was the Iceland delivery, that I’d forgot all about coming.

Took the bags through to the kitchen, I do recall being aghast at the green potatoes in the large bog of potatoes delivered, and struggling to get the things the freezer as it meant bending down, which was currently very painful.

Feeling unwell, tired and only really want to go back to sleep?

I think I did some CorelDrawing, but not much is there as I type this, in the morning.

I stopped everything, to go and get the ablutions tackled. But was just not up to it, the head was spinning, the shoulder and head aching, and I just sat down to rest.

Not sure how long for, must have been a few hours or so. I constantly got up, checked lights, windows, faucets etc., I couldn’t get top sleep, and the Thought Storms were rampant, getting no rest at all.

When the door chimes rang out.

I struggled with surprising difficulty to the door, it was the postman, who immediately showed concern over how I looked and inquired if I was alright, “Would you like me to call you an ambulance?”

He delivered a letter and a parcel.

I think Sister Jane rang. All confused.

Just what I needed in the envelope, a multi questionnaire from Nottingham City Homes to be filled in. I’ve already got the two NHS ones, the monthly passing and BP one, and Covid-19 to fill in, and can’t face doing them how I feel, Humph! The box was the Amazon Dettol that the tracker tells me will be here Monday.

I left everything and sat down again, and stayed there for hours, getting up only for wee-weeing occasionally. Eventually nodding off.

I woke about 23:00hrs, feeling horrifically unwell, but not poorly-sick, really. I got some nosh made. Didn’t eat much of it.

Then got the computer on to finish this post, and let the mind stew as it was going to anyway.

Inchchcok – Tuesday 22nd September 2020: Not such a bad day today… I’ll pay for this later, mind!

TFZers, in Space! ♥

Tuesday 22nd September 2020

The Republic of Tatarstan: 22 сентябрь, сишәмбе

04:00hrs: I woke, still tired after a much-broken sleep, determinedly resisting any silly thoughts of getting up. Then remembered the Falls Team and Iceland delivery had to be prepared for. As I lay there, belly almost hanging over my knees, still resistant to any physical activity, the need for a wee-wee arrived. And, it was a close call and bit of a struggle, getting myself out of the c1968 recliner, to the bucket in time!

Unfortunately, the PMD (Pre-Micturition-Dribble), caught me out this morning. Darned good job I had the PP’s on! There was probably more pre-dribble than wee-weeing, it was of the MSAOS (Mini-Sprinkling-All-Over-Short) variety. So, off to the wet room, cleaned and sanitised my body and the bucket. Then I needed to use the Porcelain Throne.

As I settled on the throne, the innards-controlled evacuation started straight away, grindingly-slowly, and painful it was too! Some liquid with this one. Streaky blood, but not a lot. Washed-up again, and changed the PP’s.

Off to the kitchenette, and got the kettle on, and took a Nikon picture of the morning view. I could see the cloud cover in the darkness.

Getting the teabag pot opened, Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters caused me to drop the lid.

No problem for an organised person like wot I am, I got the short picker-upperer, leant down to pick up the lid, and clouted my mouth-chin on the corner of the counter! iI may have uttered something like, ‘Well, fancy that’, Ahem! Then as I was straightening up, I knocked the lidless pot off of the top, and my beloved Glengettie Gold teabags scattered all over the floor! I wasn’t going to risk bending down again, so I used the long plastic brush and dustpan to sweep them up, and put them in the bin. Fighting back the tears. Haha!

Then had to go for yet another wee-wee. This one was the same, an MSAOS (Mini-Sprinkling-All-Over-Short) type. Rewashed.

Back to get the Health Checks done. The photograph that I took of the Boot’s sphygmomanometer readings hid the DIA reading, so I added a seven to the picture. I pretty confident that’s what was on display, but it has been known for me to get things wrong. Hahaha!

The stick thermometer had a good reading today, 35.6°c, the highest its been for months, methinks.

Took the medications, but I nearly had another Accifauxpas opening the tablet pod. A spot of luck there actually, they shot of and all landed on the tray. Smug-Mode-Adopted!

I got some mini-potatoes in the slow-cooker, and mushrooms in the saucepan, both with a little drop of the delightfully tasty, Squid vinegar to let them marinate. I’ll turn them on later, if I remember, of course. You should try this thin sauce, Mmm! 

I got the computer booted up, and had to make a template up first. Then, I could hardly believe it, I had to go for another wee-wee?

This one was a little more forceful, but not much, and the PMAD (Pre-Micturition After-Dribbling) did not catch me out this time! I waited for a moment or two afterwards as well, just in case of any after-leaks. By, gum, I’m getting the hang of this wee-weeing in old age, now. Hahaha! But it can be bothersome when one has to record every visit. I did the updating of the sheets of NHS’s Bladder-Bowels movements and details log. It is a palava.

Got an email and text message from Iceland. They gave an expected time of arrival for the delivery and told me to see the email for changes they have had to make to the order. So I had a look, they had not got any bleach available. No problem with that, I was only building up my stocks anyway. Fair enough!

I realised I had not yet sent off the Monday blog, but didn’t want to get halfway through and the delivery to come.

I got the ablutions carried out. Not one of my easier ones. Dropsies galore, toe-stubbing, cuts shaving, cleared the floor cabinet top with one swoop of the towel! However, the ankle and feet look there usual ghostly white, but the new ulcers seem to be dying off

The delivery arrived shortly after. I got the carriers into the kitchen and sorted out the fodder. It looks like a lot in this photo, but most of it was Christmas gifts for me to hand out.

Then I had to nip back for another wee-wee, the trickles again. Tsk! No pre, or post trickling, though this time.

Made a brew, I’ll get around to drinking one soon, instead of letting them get cold repeatedly!

I had a wash and updated the NHS Bladder and Bowel movements log.

Then I phoned Sister Jane and Pete, it was a lovely chinwag, but I lost connection at least three times, and Jane rang back, bless her. Just goes to show that even when you have new mobile phone, like their new £1,175.59, Samsung Galaxy Note20 Ultra 5G, Sim Free Android Mobile Phone Mystic Black phone. That comes packed with a pretty exciting spec list and that’s before you even consider the included ‘S’ pen. But if the network coverage is crap, it ain’t going to give a reliable service! Hehehe!

Not that I’m jealous of this, of course. Or their Lottery wins, Pools wins, being left a fortune by an unknown distant relative, etc. Ahem! Hehehe!

Twas nice to get a chinwagging in. And hear that Pete is coping with all his cancer treatments. Jane told me his hair now reminds her of Worzel Gummage. Hahaha!

I spent a long time in preparing the nosh tonight. With so many dropsies, I laughed at myself so oftern, and didn’t get all het-up like I mormally would have. So that was good; it may have been cause of the natter and laughs I had with Sister Jane?

The stew of sorts, a packet of beef in gravy, I made some extra Bisto and added it to the dish. The mini potatoes were gorgeous, the mushrooms not so good for some reason. But it still got a flavour-rating of 7.5/10 from me.

The plan was to take the dishes to get them washed, then settle to watch some of the Dr Who DVD, then search for Sweet Morpheus. This dishes and tray remained on the ottoman until morning. (Idle monkey!)

I kept nodding off for a minute or so, repeatedly having to rewind the DVD to find where I’d nodded-off. I gave up, and was asleep within about half-an-hour or so.

Zzz!

Inchcockski – Thursday 2nd June 2020: I avoided another psychasthenia. Phew!

The TFZer Keep Fit Gals!

Thursday 2nd June 2020

German: Donnerstag, 2. Juni 2020

02:35hrs: Although the night had been entirely free of any wee-weeing, it started the moment I stirred into mock-life! I painfully fumbled my extraordinarily exorbitantly, excessive-sized wobbly body and dangly thin limbs from the £300, second-hand, c1968, broken by my brother-in-law Pete, recliner. My Xyrophobia suffering, over amour-propred Brother-in-law Pete, when he was searching the flat while I was in the hospital with the Stroke, and taking my valuables, and took a rest. Fatal! He could not resist the electrics and got out his screwdriver and toyed with them. Now, the recliner no longer works!

I caught my balance, got the walking stick, and made my way to the unused overnight, GPEB (Grey-Plastic-Emergency-Bucket), for what turned out to be a WOPT (Weak-Orange-Painful-Trickling) mode wee-wee. It took a while to get started, during which it dawned on me, what a great sleep I’d had! I reckon five-hours worth. Smug-Mode-Assumed! I left the GPEB where it was, cause I had a feeling that it might be needed again, now that the flowing has started and I’d Christened it.

Off to the kitchen, I limped. The volume of the ‘Hum’ was excessive this morning. Yet, when I opened the unliked, unloved, hard to clean, thick-framed, rain emitting, danger-to-old-folks who cannot see out and below cause of the ridiculously wide ledge, photographer-hating designed window to take these shots, it got even louder!

I got the kettle on then, but I had to nip back to the bucket. A total change this time. The bladder had complete absolute, omnipotent control over the power and flow. And boy, did it burst forth! An LHLB (Long-Hosepipe-like-Blasting) style. Surprisingly, with no pain at all? The colour had even changed back to the cloudy grey? I got the hands washed and back to the kitchen.

The readings on the hemadynamometer were looking fine today. The body temperature was showing up as 74°c.

Unbelievably, I then had to go back for another wee-wee! It was of the same model. I noticed later when I went in the Diary photo album, that the results compared to last Thursday, were very similar.

Washed and wiped again, and back to the kitchenette. Made the mug of Extra-Strong Assam tea, and took the medications.

I concentrated hard, as assiduously as was possible on getting the updating of the Wednesday blog done. This is because, as I settled to start working, Saccades-Sandra and Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitter’s were behaving themselves.

I shall not keep mentioning them, but persistent and variable types (from the WOPT (Weak-Orange-Painful-Trickling) to some BOASSA (Blasting Out-and-Suddenly-Stopping-Abruptly) modes of wee-wees pestered me for hours! Too frequent to mention them all here!

I achieved my goal, and with the ailments still being kind, I made up the template for this post.

I decided to get the thin quilt in soak, ready for cleaning later on. I’ve no idea what’s going on or what I’m supposedly doing at the moment! I keep changing between tasks and forgetting what I was doing! I got the quilt washed, and left it on some fabric freshener in the sink.

I sent Jane and Pete an email, asking how Pete was going, as I hadn’t heard from him for a bit now.

Then, made a start on this diary. But, Saccades, Dizzy Dennis and Nicodemus all came to life at the same time, and progress was stunted. Saccades-Sandra eased off first. Bless her!

I went to make another brew, and have a wee-wee. The day was dawning now. And I managed to take a decent shot of the skies, that I thought looked so beautiful. But a haze soon appeared afterwards, obnubilating my nephelococcygia fun. Tsk!

The landline chirped and flashed. It was Brother-inLaw Pete ringing in response to my email. He sounded in reasonable spirits considering. He is to go into the City Hospital today. For further tests and permissioning for his trial tests on a new treatment for his melanoma. I was glad to hear this, especially that he is to go in today, at 10:30hrs! He’s part of a chosen few patients for the trialling of the treatment. We chatted for a good while, and my EQ picked up on his determination, and good spirits, that hid a fear. Naturally! 

I intend to take a picture of the City Hospital from the window at 10:30hrs. Even though the mist is now falling. With the lad being a bricklayer, and having lived and worked in Australia for some years, his stripping off to show the girls his muscular body so often, might have encouraged the poor devil’s cancer. Fingers crossed, and I think he’s doing the right thing in going for experimental trials, good for him!

I’ve placed all of the photographs taken of the City Hospital this morning. 

The final one went with a Good Luck Message sent through the ether for Pete. I bet Jane’s at home worrying, I’ll call her later on, try to perk her up a tad.

It’s a good sign that the mist cleared just in time for me to get a decent shot or two in.

I’ll email one to Pete when he’s out and back home, as a reminder, of good news I hope.

The ablutions are now overdue. I got the things needed and others ready to use, and hobbled without too much bother, to the wetroom.

As I got the towel off of the airer to take in, I managed to clout the back of my right hand on the heater, snap the alarm wristlet band, and knocked the heater over, catching my toes against it as it fell. Then to add insult to injury, I hit my head against the frame of the door, bending down to retrieve the towel! Grobbleknangles!

Today’s ablutions went aleatorily well! A few dropsies, there will always be them. Toothache Thomas was not happy. However; no shaving cuts, no walking into or knocking anything over. As for the showering, ready for this… only two dropsies! Fair enough, the medicating part could have gone better, yet still only two accifauxpas! I was well pleased with how it went!

I got the light-quilt out of the bowl and got it on the flat airer to help it dry off. By Jiminee I was going well! Took the evening medications early!

Then I decided on the meal for today. Red potato battered fritters, Surami sticks, tomatoes, the last sourdough muffin, buttered of course.

Then I set about sorting the last bag of so-called fresh peas podded, and in the saucepan ready. I found a lot more useable peas than in yesterdays bag. However, Dang, dang, dang… Dang! Morrison had given me some extra meat with them. It’s in the second photo, but I doubt you will be able to spot it. A maggot floated to the surface of the sweetened water in the pan! Humph!

The bottom picture shows the pea pods I had to reject unopened and throw in the waste bin! Good old Morrison’s! They short deliver me the baking trays, then give me a bonus with their rotting garden peas. I could spit! I got the maggot out, and checked all the others for interlopers, rewashed them, and returned them to the saucepan. Isn’t life a sod at times! I might grill it later. Har-har!

I sorted the waste bags out, filled the three-wheeler with them, and took them to the waste chute. I noticed the Anticoagulation and Deep Vein Thrombosis clinic test results, INR, had arrived. 

When I got back, I checked them. The lady from the Doctor’s reception last night with the new doses didn’t tell me the INR level was down to 1.7! Blimus and Bejeezers, I might be back on the Enoxaparin injections soon! Still, I’ve got plenty in stoke, or even stock, now.

I went on Facebooking, WordPress Reader. Link sent off. WordPress Reader.

Started the Fodder preparations. During which I found this pill had dropped on the floor! Whether it was a Furesomide, Beta-blocker or a Codeine, there was no way of telling. All three of them look so similar to each other. I cleaned it and took it. Huh!

Got the nosh on the plate, and into the recliner to nosh while watching some Law & Order episodes. The battered red potato fritters, the fresh garden peas (and perhaps the odd unnoticed maggot), the mature, stinky, tasty Stilton and Marmite cheese, piccolo tomatoes, gherkins, surimi sticks, apple, lemon mousse, and some seedless grapes made up the plate. Taste Rating: 8.5/10. Dived into it, leaving nothing on the plate! 

I went to get the pots washed. Returned to the rickety, c1968 recliner, to watch some more TV with the feet up on the swivel chair.

The mangled ugly imitation Howard Hughes uncut toenails getting worse and more painful every day!

Spared a thought about Brother-in-Law Pete. The new chemotherapy preparations will have started by now. I expect him to have nurses fussing over him, and the usual for him, Private meals, a TV supplied, headphones, Sky channels etc. and so on. Makes yer sick! But I’m not jealous! Hehe!

TTFNski!

Inchcockski – Tues 30 June 20: No sleep, Blood Test, Fire Alarm, Stubbed Toe and dropped a mug of tea, Paramedics on site, Morrison mess with the order. Humph!

TFZers Ballet Stars ♥

Tuesday 30th June 2020

Sinhala: 2020 ජුනි 30 වන අඟහරුවාදා

23:25hrs: No sleep at all, Sweet Morphious, denied me by being woken up repeatedly; callers, Toothache Thomas and Anne Gyna, all successful in ensuring I got no rest. Groggleknockers!

I decided to give up! I edged my colossally-stomached, wobbly-torsoed body and skinny-dangly legs, out of the £300, second-hand, not-working, c1968, rickety recliner. Off for a wee-wee.

Ah, things were better this time! A bit more force and less spraying. Still the green-grey colour, mind.

Off I plodded to the kitchenette, every step taken was an example of coping with pain. From the toes and feet! (A little sympathy prompting there, sorry about that!) The late-night view was difficult to photograph. I had four goes on different settings before I got a shot that was as close as dammit to what it looked like in the viewer. This one was with the Aperture Priority selected. The Night Panorama that I tried produced a black picture only?

I got the kettle on and did the first of the Health Checks.

The sphygmomanometer results were the best for ages! SYS 136, DIA 64, Pulse 80, and the body temperature was just showing up as low. (It does that, it goes from the reading to high or low, when I am insensate and not quick enough to get it out of my ear-hole to have a look, Hehe!) Ah, well!

I took the medications and made a mug of Glengettie Gold Tea. On the first sip of the brew, I started hiccuping. Two-hours later, when I got around to writing this, I was still hiccuping! I hope this did not bother Herbert above me, for they were loud and vicious disembogue’s, irritating, almost non-stop!

So annoying and frustrating! I tried the drinking of the luke-warm tea from the opposite side of the mug.

I shouldn’t have done that! Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters failed at the wrong time, and I dropped my mug and created a picklement for myself! Bugglesworthlessness!

On the light at the end of the tunnel search: The miracle of it hitting my left knee and depositing some hot tea, down the leg as mentioned above, then bouncing off of my knee, and straight into the waste bin, pleased me! Amazingly the mug didn’t break (that’s twice I’ve dropped it in the last three days), and the mess was minimal because of where it came to rest. So, the cleaning up was more straightforward, and the foul language was not so severe as it might have been! A smidge of good luck there methinks!

I cleared up the mess and went to make another mug of tea. I got the pork shoulder steaks, with new potatoes in the crockpot cooking. I added sea salt, Light Soy sauce, some pork gravy granules, and seasoning. (Too much methinks?) I’m not sure how old the gravy and seasoning is, but it still hadn’t dissolved two hours later?  Have I viliorated my meal planning? Having a feeling that this is not going to have a happy ending, and my EQ backed me up.

The day is breaking now! I updated the Inchcocks Photos widget on the blog. Replaced with all Winwood Heights people now and then. I updated the Monday post. WordPress Reader. Next, on to the Facebooking.

The wee-wees had decreased. Anne Gyna had eased off. Toothache Thomas, the feet and toes continue as the main pain-donators. Haha!

Then, the Phlebotomy Nurse, Christina, let herself in the flat. She’d been pressed in by someone in the foyer. Didn’t half make me jump! Hahaha! A good job, I’d taken the wash and shave early, and had some clothes on! Gawd that would have made her jump more than her arrival made me! Pity, she was in a great rush again, that’s why she had to come so early. She still managed a bit of nattering while she took the blood, Bless her cotton socks ♥.

I felt a bit peckish, and I went to get some biscuits and made a fresh mug of Glengettie tea. Dizzy Dennis kicked off while making the brew. Humph! Two hours later, I limpingly meandered off to get the Ablutions tended to.

Ablutionalisticalisationing Report:

  • The need for the Porcelain Throne arrived. Much easier than yesterday. Not so messy, and far less painful! Only two dropsies.  
  • Toothache Thomas made cleaning the teeth a grindingly, agonising job!
  • The shaving had a few clangers involved. Cuts were in fashion this morning. Several of them, but every one of them was tiny, yet bled a lot more than usual.
  • The Shaving dropsies just might have been a record. I lost count of the times the Jenny-supplied picker-upperer was used! Razors about six times if I recall rightly, the foam and the After-Shave bottle I used to stop the bleeding.
  • The medicationalisation went better than usual, though. Only dropped Harold Haemorrhoids cream once, the Germolid the same! I did come close to losing the Olive-Oil-dropper, but I kept control. Smug-Mode-Adopted!
  • The deodorant, Saccades Sandra Spray, and room freshener were all dropped several times! Humph!   A final fling, as if to put it. Hahaha!

The knees looked much better, and the leg veins were shy today. Oh, I’ve just noticed, I’m no longer Hiccuping!

Off to check on the pork in the slow cooker. The seasoning I’d added, had still not dissolved? (I must be careful and make sure everything is safe before I make it into a stew). 

On closer inspection, I found that the pork shoulder was already cooked, and was soft. The potatoes were still hard. And I’d forgotten to put the mushrooms in the mix.

No problem, mind you. My absent-mindedness, paramnesia, and blank-spells were ion existence before the stroke. It’s just that since then, they have taken up permanent residence within the grey-cells! As with the Peripheral Neuropathy and Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters, they are a part of Inchcocks make-up nowadays. I took out the pork and some gravy and added them to the saucepan with the peas.

As I was pondering on whether to take another picture from the unwanted, unliked, thick-framed, thick-framed, impossible to get at to clean (without risking life and limb to use the step ladders), letting the rain in, new kitchen windows. I put the kettle on to boil again, the flats Fire Alarms sounded.

By the time I got to the balcony and opened the finger trapping end window, that also lets the rain in, well, they all do, the first of the tenders responding arrived. Followed a minute later by the second vehicle.

The crews strolled into the foyer. Judging by their casual and ambling approach, I took it that they didn’t expect the alarm to indicated there was a real fire. After all, it must be three weeks or so now, since the Winchester Court Fire. Longer since a Woodthorpe Court one. The crews were on their way home within five minutes. Thank you, lads!

When I nipped onto the balcony to see if the chaps had departed, I took a snap through the window of the end of Chestnut Walk. I didn’t want to risk injury opening the lethal metal spring clip window again. No, that’s wrong. That window is just impossible to open, too tight. The maintenance men tried for me five months or so ago, and they couldn’t do it. It was when they came to look at the plaster breaking up on the ceiling of the balcony. Naturally, they have not been back.

I opened the left end window that one works! To take the 2nd shot in the other direction. The picture looked pretty with the oh-so green trees.

Then onto CorelDraw to do some graphics.

Oops! Time for the mobile shop, it’ll be here in twenty minutes. So, I put Computer Cameron in Sleep-Mode and got the wheels, cash and down to the ground floor… well, that was the plan, anyway!

A new system has been set-up for the lifts again. Sensible, but time-consuming! As it is, we are only allowed one resident in a lift at a time. So, it can be a long wait to get the elevator at times. Now, we can only one lift, the right one is for residents & Visitors, the left one is reserved for Construction Workers Only. As I say, understandable, but so frustrating.

The Construction Workers lift kept coming and the door opening, repeatedly. I leant in, and pressed the ground floor button, then pushed the call button (Which works for the nearest lift). The Workers lift kept coming back up and tempting me to be naughty, but I resisted! This happened three times. Would I make it down in time to catch the mobile shop? Dang, dang, dang… Dang! Hehehe! 

By the time I’d got down to the ground floor, the electronic sign informed me I had a minute to get outside before the ETA of the shop.

Luckily, it was a few minutes late in coming. It was nice to have someone to natter to, even from a safe-distancing way away.

It was windy out there, one gal had not got a jacket on either. Brr! I took this picture while awaiting my turn. I got some bits, about three, the chap had not the other three items I fancied. Can’t be helped!

As I said my farewells and got back into the flats, it dawned on me how much I’d spent to buy this few items? I purchased four tomatoes as well. Had to tell him that two were rotten and gone soft. He changed them for me. Well, the chap is new to the game, and a life-saver at times, so no complaints from me. He was a used-car salesman before the danged Coronavirus arrived. His missus doesn’t come out with him anymore, here is the entrepreneurs’ story link: Car Salesman starts Mobile Shop.

Josie came in behind me and insisted I take a pint of semi-skinned milk for the one I let her have on Friday. I said, “I don’t use semi skinned, I prefer to use whole milk, but less of it.”- “Why did you have it in then?” – “I kept it in reserve with it being long-life, just in case” Anyway, she forced it on me. Hehehe!

We got up to the flats, and Josie held the door open for me to get in with the trolley, bless! I got in with the bits bought – £6 something for these. The apples were of particular interest. The label read, Product of France. The apples look tasty, so I got one out to nibble. The stick-on tag on the fruit read, Grown in New Zealand. I took a couple of the seedless grapes to try, and noticed there were a lot of bare fruitless stalks! Hahaha!

I’m getting a smidge tired now, nearing my usual nosh and head-down time. But, I need to stay awake for the Morrison delivery arriving late on. So, back to the CorelDrawing for a while. Hello, a phone call coming in, I hope it’s Sister Jane to tell me how she and Pete’s coping.

Nope! It was the Morrison delivery man Julian, saying he might be arriving early. So I saved the work, turned off Computer Cameron, and got ready for him arriving. I took a peep outside to see if I could see the van…

I thought at first, it was the Morrison van. But on a closer look, I’m afraid it was the Emergency Ambulance. Oh, dear! 

A few minutes later, and the fodder arrived. The chap put the carriers in the hallway for me, I thanked him, slipped him a can of G&T, and took them through to the kitchen and stored them away.

Well, they made a right mess of the oven trays I’d ordered. They charged me for 1×2 large trays and sent just one (Crushed) individual one! And 2×4 small trays and I didn’t get any, but the label that goes on them, was in a carrier? I’ll be so glad when I can get out and buy food for myself. Humph! The two packets of sweet potato pancakes were one! I was all confused!

And muggings here thanked them and gave him a treat! Frangleklops!

I got the stuff put away, and got the meal served up. At least this turned out alright. Made even tastier with the two Sourdough muffins dipped in the gravy! A stew of sorts. Onions, mushrooms, pork shoulder, all overseasoned with Soy sauce, Balsamic vinegar, tasty juices, canned potatoes and garden peas.  Flavour Rating: 7/10.

Got the washing in the bowl to soak overnight. And down into the £300, second-hand, rickety recliner, in search of sleep. Which surprisingly came sharpishly.

The landline flashed. I hazily of mind, struggled up to answer it. It was the Doctor’s surgery, with the new dosages for the Warfarin, from the Anticoagulation, Deep Vein Thrombosis Unit. Tue 2½, Wed 2, Thur 2½, Frid 2½, Sat 2½, Sunday 2. There was no number for Monday? Unless, in my half-awake state, I missed it. Which is a possibility? The next blood test is in on Tuesday 7th June.

I wrote the figures down, thanked her, and climbed back into the none-working, sickeningly beige-coloured, c1968 recliner. In search of Sweet Morphious once more.

This time with a lot more success!

Apart from several disturbances to have wee-wees. (All of the RPD (Reluctant-Painful-Dribbling) variety, I must have got, ready for it… six hours kip in between! Great!

Inchcockski – Sunday 28th June 2020: A mansuetude lingered amidst the mayhem, today!

TFZer Pattie ♥

03:30hrs: After waking and nodding off again several times, I forced myself to activate the brain and limbs (I needed a wee-wee!), and rose from the depths of the slowly disintegrating, £300, second-hand c1968 recliner.

The stomach where the tea spilt onto last night, was tender, the feet agony the moment I got my weight on them.

Off to the wet room, for the most sprinkling and spraying release ever! I had a job to see that much of it had reached the porcelain at all. But, on the bright side, it made me clean the WC tank, seat, floor cabinets, the floor itself and the handwashing sink. Also, various parts of my body. Christened this one a VSWAO (Viciously-Spraying-Wildy-All-Over) wee. You’d be surprised at how much had sprinkled on the arms and upper torso, too, I was!

Took the medications, and remembering yesterdays nightmare Accifauxpa, I very carefully, nervously made a brew of Glengettie Gold tea. I managed it without any further dropsies, scolding of my body parts, or injury! Phew!

Waiting for it to brew, I took a shot of the morning view. Then, imbibed the morning medications, and back to the wet room for another wee-wee. Which was of the same VSWAO mode as the first one was!

I got the Health Checks done. The SYS had come down at last. The earhole temperature of 64°f seemed fine enough.

Then I got Computer-Cameron going, and did a graphic first, then on to updating the I Saturday post. About three hours later, I’d got it finished. Then I emailed the Link. Went on the WordPress Reader. Then Facebooking. Shoulder-Shuddering-Shirley was in a good mood with me!

Still no need of the Porcelain Throne heavy-duty usage needed, yet? Off I trudged limpingly (Oh, the toes!) to get the ablutions tackled.

Ablutionisticalisationing Report:

  • The terrible Toothache Terence was triggered, cleaning the teeth.
  • The shaving took such a long time, but I was extremely wary after yesterday.  However, no cuts whatsoever!
  • The showering had few repeated dropsies. The shower gel bottle (3), the showerhead It’s a miracle it hasn’t broken yet? (2), the flannel, and the back scrubber (4).
  • Dizzy Dennis visited me towards the end of the showering, but thankfully for only a couple of minutes or so.
  • The drying off under the wall heater went almost perfectly! (Smug-Mode-Adopted!) Not a single item was knocked off of the floor cabinet (Honestly!)
  • I did make a Whoopsidangleplop when getting dressed, well a couple. I clouted my knee on the WC as I lost balance getting the trousers on. And then, putting the shirt on, I hit my right knuckle on the edge of the door. But nothing serious.

I sorted out the waste bags. Five small bags were taken to the waste chute, and the gigantic blue recycling bag had some stuff added to it. Far too big for the minuscule opening in the chute, so I can take it down to the caretaker’s room in the morning.

Back to the apartment, and a message came in from Iceland. Another round of my getting addled and disconcerted, dementia or memory loss, call it what you will. But I was convinced I’d ordered it for next Monday? Anyway, it was due to arrive in a few minutes! Sad, innit?

Minutes later, the intercom rang but then stopped after a few seconds. Now I was confused. If I got down to have a look, I might miss whoever it was of they rang back. It turned out to be the Iceland delivery driver. The chap said he had other deliveries in the block, so rang each one to let them know he was here.

He put the good through in the hall for me, I slipped him a can of G&T, then got the bags into the kitchen to sort through them.

I made a mug of Thompsons Punjana to drink while getting the things away.

I started off with the frozen stuff. Far too much to fir in the freezer! So I did mean to order these for next week? Sadly, some throwing out of food was needed to get the new stuff fitted in. By the time I’d done it, there was another bag ready to go to the waste chute!

Then, on to the fridge and fresh food bags. Mushrooms, orange juice, pork shoulder steaks. Some of what I am sure will be uneatable Morrocan tomatoes, the last lot were. The mushrooms, well-covered in nutrient-rich compost! The wholemeal rolls, crushed flat, as only Iceland know how to do. Kitchen towels, potatoes etc. Next bag, endless cakes?