Roger Reflux Valve

Inchie Today: Wednesday 17th June 2026 – Teriible start ot the day!

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MUST BE THE WORST DAY EVER – UP TO NOW
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LOUSY NIGHT – CRUEL MORNING
Managed a few moments of sleep, kept waking up in a right peed off mood. Just needed sleep, but the demons and evilf-fieindly bad-luck-bringing thoughts of my own concoction seemed unbeatable today.
Rising from the bed and hobbling my way to the nocturnal Catheter pouch on the floor near the recliner, my right leg gave way, and once again, as yesterday, I was fortunate enough to lean towards the chair to land semi-softly and injury-free. 
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I was still sitting in it, and trying to nod off again, as the intercom chined out its “Oh, Susana” tune. The knee gave way as soon as I stood up, and by the time I’d got to the panel to admit the Carer, it had closed down. I waited a few minutes to see if they had been admitted or would ring back, then returned to the recliner, expecting the Carer to come in. “Oh, Susana”, rang out again. This time, I got to the box a bit quicker and in time to let them in.
Carer Mizra appeared, did a body check, and creamed or gelled the areas in need. Shoulder, back and genitals. Then Mizra got the medications issued.
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I was pleased with how the new computer was working. When first opened, both external drives were accessible! But, of course, within a few minutes, they had disappeared. Back to normal, then. The hour-and-a-half Carer visit didn’t happen, the same as yesterday. 
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1) The computer, specifically CorelDraw, froze as I clicked export for the Cartoon to go to the file to use here.
2) I could not close down by the regular route. So had no choice but to turn off at the power sockets.
3) But I could not get the computer to reboot.
Nothing but trouble since paying £850 plus fitting to get this computer, and I could not find his telephone number!
But knew that Mizra had it, as he liaises for me.
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4) Carer Andrew made the short midday call. I asked him to ring Mizra and ask him to call the engineer. No reply, so I don’t know if he did.
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5) While he was here, I tried a couple of times to get the computer back on, but both attempts failed.
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6) I found the Carer lying in the hallway on his mobile.
I thought he’d gone. I asked him again to contact Mizra for me. No response.
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7) I did get the loading to go as far as the opening label screen, but this one usually comes up first… so it was not a surprise when the ‘Working Circle’ appeared and the mouse arrow showed on the screen. It stayed like this for over an hour! Demoralising!
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8) I turned everything off at the power again and lost the TV signal in doing so, and heard a series of Beeps coming from the hard drive.
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9) All off again. TV was not affected this time.
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10) This had to be my last try. I was so downhearted.
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11) Then, I got a telephone call from a something navigator, from the Doctors Surgery. She mentioned a meeting with advisers I’d been invited to via email. There was a vague memory, but nothing certain. The lady explained it was about sorting people’s needs out, and the best way to do so. I jumped at the chance. I think she said someone would be calling to arrange a meeting.
Linda, I think her name was. I mentioned my wish, if possible, to go into a home. In hopes of relieving the tensions from getting nothing sorted, with problems being added almost daily, which challenges my sanity,  health, and my ability to cope.
12) Today is a good example. The early tumbles. The computer is playing up yet again. No hot water. 4 weeks since my last shower or shopping assistance. Adding to the Banking, British Gas, Virgin Media, the new Catheter’s lack of information or instructions. No help was given with managing procedurally.
13) Do I carry on with a weekly day-bag change? Is it safe to use with a nocturnal pouch fitted?
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14) Not that I could put photos on the blog, anyway, both camers are broken!
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14) Now, my prime love/hatred, the new computer, cannot access CorelDraw or Excel. So, there are no graphics or photographs that can be used. Other than any already in the WordPress gallery.
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15) I rang the District nurses for help on how to manage the new Catheter, who told me to contact the QMC. I went on a little about the situation I am in.
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I then rang Jenny, who rang back. But I was not really with it t the time, in fact, I had a nasty seizure after making the call, mind blank. Extra confusion.
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16) I received a call back from the nurses while still a little out-of-it. I was asked if I am really interested in going into a home. I think I took this opportunity to get my thoughts out, and they will ask Matron Jackie to see if she can get the ball rolling. Brilliant. Cause things are getting worse here now. Problems increasing, solutions decreasing.
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Movements from the rear end started again today, all in Constipation Conrad mode. A bit of blood each time from the haemorrhoids. At least no accidental evacuations with Conrad.
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I’ll have to do only the Ode. Oh, it’s been such a busy, annoying day; I’ve not done it yet.

I suspect this blog holds ampullosity?
Changing moods bring ambivalency,
Spent most of the day crestfallenly,
Spent many sessions self-critically,
Problems showing no curability,
Concentration, showing a deficiency,
Hopes, needs, logic, all seem to disagree,
Depression increases, diurnally…
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Is life, like a politician, an effigy?
Not realistic, no ecclesiology?
What happened to youth’s excitability?
80, first time owing for your electricity?
Into the mist, goes you equilibrity,
No more mental or physical euphony…
I used to hope for an epiphany…
But life now proves more euphuistically,
I also dreamt of finding eudaemony…
I got this depressing ennui!
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It was once suggested by Dr Neurology,
To help me electroencephalographically,
But that was in September, 2003,
Then a stroke, TBI, and Cancer hit me,
Dr Neurolgy again saw me in 2023,
Sometimes I can think with clarity…
I hasten to add, this happens rarely,
Then my mind goes wanderingly,
Mind blanks can hit anytime, lastingly…
or for a few moments, mysteriously,
Moments too, of great falability,
Frequent occasions of mental obliquity,
With unstoppable times of neurotomy,
Hoyrly changes to me nimiety,
Dementia turned me flibbertigibbety,
Duodenal ulcer, hernia, verbal nugacity,
But can I face the nitty-gritty?
The crux of the problematic matter?
Slowly but surely going détraquée!
I’m now an ace at dontopedalogy,
Few teeth left, crinkled skin, pilgarlicky…
Had enough of life’s woes & mallarky,
Being as I don’t want to sound sarky…
To avoid moaning and negativity,
I blame it on my pfropfschizophrenie!
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Lack of control, of happenings & events,
My ever-changing consciousness,
From unawareness to utter cluelessness.
People I talk to will see/hear a difference…
No in-between, Depression or High Horace,
Decisions to be made, I’m on the fence,
Knowing danger, what’s my response?
Forget; as it dies in my memory disperses,
Involuntarily, to my memory burners,
Lack of control, of happenings & events.
Make life a struggle, that’s so intense…
Worries, problems, Catheter, fears…
Self-hatred, incapable, many mental fratches,
Solutionless, can’t batten down any hatches,
I hate my changing moods & responses,
Often say things I find erroneous,
Mostly to myself, & of course Darius,
Important dates, numbers, emails…
Texts, etc., that no one can solve,
Fade away, making me feel injudicious,
I used to think that life was so precious,
Now it’s approaching worthless,
New computer, camera, faith, & hopes,
All kaput, I feel so inefficacious,
Really, my outlook is hopeless…
I hate my changing moods & responses.
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I’m Struggling!
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 TTFN

Inchie: Tuesday 16th June 2026

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oozed a warning to me. Not a precise indication of things to come, as they would have been from the voice in the head. Vague in details, other than I will not like of cope very well with problems, whatever they may be. But positive that things will take a turn for the worse in the morning, certain of the timing.
I think that my absolute, assured definiteness that they will arrive as the occupant of my cerebrum (Premorbid Cognitive Impairment Inchy), as revealed and kept reminding me throughout the day, grounded the possibility that whatever these events might actually be, they will happen. Thus encouraging short, frequent visitations from . Which were great, though it was confusing why I should appreciate the change in outlook and, somehow, guilt-making.
Which may have prompted me to do nothing else for the day, other than updating and renewing from scratch Word-Lists that this new computer keeps finding impossible to reach to use! Then, minutes later, it finds them, then, as another of the multiple Virgin Internet failures, they are unfindable again.
I realised after hours of catching up on them, I’d saved them to the same location, ARRGH!
At the very moment I recognised this and swore and cursed a few times, the virgin Internet connection failed for what must have been the 20th time… and I had to start all over again. By the time I’d got 20% of one ending completed, early evening, it had stopped visiting me altogether.
Adding the fact that the hot water tap had stopped heating around 17:00hrs, when it should have started to heat. I had to use the kettle and the slow cooker for hot water. again. I decided not to bother shaving, too risky for spilt or fropped hot water – But I found that the cooker had not been checked, and when I moved it to clean it, I burnt my finger ends. No problem, I had plenty of cold water to use, which prevented blisters from coming up.
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By then, I was not interested in making a meal, as I was more concerned about what   or I would be expected to face in the morning.
I’ll feel like a fool if nothing happens. Hehe!
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I mustered up a rather sad meal. Pickled vegetable salad from a jar, three bags of crisps, and a one-day-out-of-use-by-date chicken pieces. Threw them in a dish and added some Teriyaki sauce. Fell asleep, woke up with the television still on, and the dish on the floor with scattered bits on me, the chair and the carpet. When I got up to clear and clean things, the right leg gave way, and I tumbled back into the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping recliner. I gave up and stayed there.
Surrounded by vegetables and the smell of the pickle, squashing the spilt food from earlier on the cushions, arms, and picking bits off of the dressing gown.
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Zzzz!
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Ideas mused over, of what to tell the Doctor about.
Seek knowledge of the new bent-end Catheter. District Nurses can’t touch it. I was told to get a taxi to the A&E at the QMC. No other advice.
But how often are they to be changed? Been having flowback &/or blockage every two weeks of two months now. I dread it happening again, especially given that I need £30 each time to travel to the A&E and back. Incidentally, on this visit, the ring road was blocked and not moving; the Fare Clock kept ticking, though. So paid not £15 for this trip, but £25.40, leaving me short of cash to get a taxi back. Thankfully, a lift home was provided.
Treated badly at the A&E when the spraying shot out of the penis down legs and on clothes – had to ask for the WC to try and stop the flood and clean myself up. I was sent through the passageways back to the WC at the door that I’d come in from hours earlier. No toilet paper or towels available ans it was flooded. Luckily, I had taken a roll of kitchen towels with me in the walker trolley.
Got back to the unit eventually, feeling a bit better. But had missed my turn. So, another wet-wait. Finally, a Doctor called my name; it was getting late, and he looked very tired. He went to get the new Catheter tube in twice, and rang someone, whom he then took me to see as he was getting his coat on to go home. I don’t think he was too happy to see me.
He looked agog when he saw the state of the bloodied and unclean on the PPs and clothes. He hastened to insert the tube but failed. A low growl escaped him, and on his second try, he gave it some stick, which went in. He spoke coherently for the first time, telling me not to touch the holding patch on the containment array that was stuck on my thigh, very important, he said. No reason given why, but still.
I sat in the corridor, wondering how I was going to get home. Thankfully, a lady came and told me to stay where I was, and someone would collect me and drive me home. The highlight of the day.
Naturally, I was the last one to be dropped off.
Desperate for a wash and clean-up, I found that the hot water tap was running cold water!
At 03:00hrs, I got the computer on (on the fifth attempt), and the pain from the Catheter tube got seriously painful. The appointment with the Doctor took ages. Today, being 16th June, the earliest appointment I could get was for 10th July. Not sure I can last that long with how things are going, or rather, not going, and getting done; and new problems keep introducing themselves.
And, I’ve been told I have to supply a taxi both ways if I want a Carer to go with me. So, that’s £30 worth of taxi every two weeks, whatever it costs to do the shopping, and Escort Carers, whom the NHS insist I take with me. Especially since this seizure and my straying into Mansfield Road in front of a bus. Now the new coudé tipped Catheter fears. The financial, British Gas, Virgin Media signing in, and the Bank problems. On and on they arrive, unsolved.
I can’t carry on like this.
I shall beg to go into a home. Where positive, knowledgeable help might be available.
Cause it ain’t getting none here. Bar, the great advice, help and understanding from Jen. 💗
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Found it impossible to get back to sleep.
Feeling niggly, I got up, knee still dodgy, and painfully tried to clean up the mess.
Didn’t do a good job.
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TTFNski, Each!
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Inchies Monday Ode – 15th June 2026

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Bad day, not much recorded. Anne Gyna, Cathetr and Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley each a bother, and took most of my attention. I might have put on an old Ode by mistake as well. Late on, Dizzy-Dennis paid me an unwanted visit.
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Inchies Ode: Sunday 14th June 2026

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The ailment with the most pain today was undoubtedly . When I had a seizure, as usual, Shirley started shuddering, and the pain brought me back into a world of confusion, with a refusal to grasp anything brain-related. This time, the out-of-itness lasted for well over an hour. Most off-putting.
Also, the balance was all over the place, as if someone had shaken me out of the seizure. Well, I suppose that  did do that.
I know it happened again after a late seizure, and I took a tumble of the delicate kind, aiming for and landing in the c1966, £300, second-hand charity-shop bought, crumb-containing, odour-retaining, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, nauseatingly beige coloured, non-working, virus-breeding recliner. Dislodging the alcohol to remove the patch on my leg, which holds/keeps the assembly, array of connecting tubes together… but now it dangles loosely. And I cannot ask the District Nurses for help. Should I activate the instructions given to me? “Get a Taxi to the QMC, A&E department”, as I had to do the other day? Well, I can’t, I do not have enough cash to pay for a taxi. What alternatives have I got?
Option One: I could wait until a Carer arrives in two hours, ask them to get me dressed and the walker trolley out, and tell them I will not be in for my next two medication calls. Then catch a bus to Sherwood, one to Nottingham, then a tram to the hospital. Which will mean missing the Warfarin, Beta-Blockers and other doses. I’ll likely spend hours waiting; the fungal lesion will spurt blood and urine again. And another day lost. But looking back at my last bus and tram trips to and from the QMC is like a horror story. I got lost. Took a tumble on the tram. Had yobboes bother in the way back in the City Centre. Then I missed the bus stop, and had to walk up the mountainous Wincester Street hill to get to the flat. The Carer called me en route, from my flat, but did not come to assist me, as I struggled with obstinate Anne Gyna and breathing. Option One was not attractive.
Option Two: As option one, but take a bus to Sherwood, see if I have any money and try to get it out of the ATM. Then get a taxi to the hospital, by which time I may have been poisoned by the backflow into the kidneys, before even being seen. Mmm? Not good!
Option Three: Commit Suicide.
In the end, I stuck some cellotape over the crumpled holding patch and hoped for the best.
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She was at her most venomous. I couldn’t do anything with the arm or shoulder without it hurting. I’d cross my fingers if it wasn’t for  twisting my fingers. Tsk!

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Inchie Today: Wed/Thurs 3/4th June 2026 Regular Cock-Ups-Return!

/ Inchie / 12 Comments

The computer came on this morning – Thurs, 3rd try.
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Heartbreaking
A broken Inchie.
Warden did not come back to try to get me into the banking site. Have I got owt left in there or not?
The new computer has scattered more icons and messages than it was intended, which has added confusion for me; I didn’t understand most of them. On the opening screen… I say opening screen; yesterday, I couldn’t even open it. So late at night, when it decided to let me get in, in sleep mode. 
The computer man hasn’t returned despite phone calls; one call was answered, but then went dead. Repeated texts & calls from Carer Mizra, we have heard nothing from…
The One Stop COMPUTER SHOP. Sherwood
CorelDraw not working – Urgent Help Needed. The new computer keeps giving warning bleeps. Unknown Icons have appeared on the desktop. Why should the shop or computer-man come back to try and make sure it works? They have the money. Of course, they could just be too busy. I took this photo when I went to see about getting this not-working-properly computer, which cannot access any of the previously saved work I’d done on almost everything I use. Often refuses to start, but usually manages within six tries. Cuts out so often. Now does not recognise my USB reader or external drives. ARRGH!
I wonder if they are on TrustPilot? No, fancy that.
On Facebook, though, I can’t access that!
Likely all part of a master-con, on Congniscent Impairment and handicapped, going senile old me.
Gullible me, too! I expect the Computerman is overloaded after his holiday. He took nearly two months to get to look at the old computer.
So, time and hope yet. 
A physical and mental wreck. Not knowing drives you mad. In desperation, I phoned the NCC Procurement Sustainment Chief Officer for help. He rang Warden, she rang me, and came later in the week on Friday, 3rd June, to try and sort out why I could not get into the bank site. Did a grand job in sorting it out. But ran out of time as she found that my mobile was wrong. Yet, they send threats and problems to me on it?
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Am I moaning? YES!
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Apart from the fungal lesion on Little Incjie bleeding worse, Frustration Frank being Rampant,
holding me in a deep devouring, stinking, mind-crunching, grinding away at me in a deep well. And not a wink of sleep last night, due to the tormenting, trying, treacherous
having a complete, & full
night of mind-hassling, bringing worries to the fore.
Colin Cramps, Kidney Ken,
& . , … too much! But, the is now getting blocked every two weeks with back matter in the tube from the bladder; causing horrendous pain from the flowback in the guts and kidneys, is the worst physical ailment by far. The three Emails I need help with and understanding. No communication or help about the bank problems. No response, let alone help, over the computer farce. What is going on?
Carers have no time to ring the dentist for my special toothpaste. I’ve let the hot tap run cold for two days.
I’m getting much more confused each day. Although confused is not the word. Nearly out of fresh food, including bread. I have tons of tinned stuff in the cupboards. I’ll manage.
I’m in the right state, mentally.
Help? What’s That Then?
I need it now, please.
My premorbid cogniscence impairment is, I know, getting worse each day. Even at night, when all the problems presented themselves and kept recurring, I’m now certain they will never be resolved.
You should do this, or that. Advice is all I get. No help with formulating and doing it. A year ago, I think I may have coped. As the brain gets more affected, depression deepens when I realise I can’t go on like this… but have no choice. I have, and am ashamed of thinking of it. I’ve never before. Things are getting too complicated.
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I intend, when, or rather if the computer ever works properly, to just do an Ode, cartoon, and the BP results.
This must be the end of my moaning, cause whining and grumbling have left me getting nowhere. Tsk!
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Grim: Aye-up Inchie, still got pains abdominal?
Inch: Here & there, I’m feeling abysmal…
Grim: You’re bad physical and mental…
I could take yer soul today, I’m able!
Inch: Ave yer gorrowt for me arsenical? 
Grim: Good God, are yer feeling suicidal?
Inch: Just once last night, worries were torrential,
Grim: I can take yer soul astrological, to make it botanical,
The Angels do it, it’s all done alchemically,
Inch: I never knew that! Do you do MY life’s appraisal?
Grim: Nae, that’s up to God & the devil,
Inch: That sounds a smidgeon apocryphal? 
Grim: If yer kill yersen, death’ll be anachronical!
Inch: You said I’d die as Earth goes all apocalyptical?
Grim: Ah, I said that to confuse yer, a ferhoodle! 
Inch: No wonder my brains are in such a muddle…
Grim: I like a giggle, talking fissilingual,
The gaffer made me wise, and gnosticle… 
Inch: Well, he made me spend ages in the hospital,
Grim: He gave you a guide interacerebral!
So you can glean things psychological,
Inch: Oh, the voice in my head, Abdul?
Grim: We call him Dementia Michael.
You won’t be welcome if you go suicidal,
Inch: Well, I think I might be too idle…
Grim: You might be made a reaper, it’s possible,
He can make a reaper of one dejected, immitigable,
Inch: Will I need to be meritorious, laudable?
If I do top missen, is being a reaper liable?
Grim: Yeah, but for politicians, it’s Nowheresville! 
Inch: Me bad un missing teeth and pustule?
Grim: Good! make you look like a puckle…
This death lark, no need to get all frenetical!.
Inch: To be honest I feel pretty apathetical…
Grim: You’ll gerra new soul & body, ultimately,
Inch: Is this why my life’s been lived so miserably?
Mental and physical complications, much agony?
IGrim: You’ll snuff it while yer thinking, psychologically,
Inch: Is that good, would it go beneficially?
Grim: Well, it’s best you wait and see.
I’ll collect yer soul and guide you, Inchie,
Inch: Bless yer, that’s good enough for me!
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Inchie Today: Sat-Sun 30-31st May 2026

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Graphicless – Boring – No Photos – Inchie Today
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Saturday
It took me eight tries to open the computer,
and it was bleep-bleeping all day.
More areas are inaccessible for use.
Old photos & graphics are used, as I cannot get access to put new ones on. Is this due to CorelDraw: Blacking out about 22 screen options, and three toolbars are warped. Can’t Import, Export, Save, Save-as,  
I can’t access all the work I did on Friday. Can’t use Notepad to open or save to. All the many hours of work, it (244kb) seems to have absconded? unnatainable. Did a desperate search on the whole computer for anything .txt. They found a few old ones on OneDrive. 
One-page able ending, had only 112mb (last one has 320mb) on it, then I realised why: it was from 2018!

Midnight, and things got worse, Much Worse.I was already a few notches up in the stakes; it got deeper!
And oh, far more frustrating & more painful than ever.

The Catheter blocked again. I tried the usual gulping down gallons (it felt like it) of water to force whatever the black matter is that causes this horrendous pain, but it didn’t work. (Of course). And I had to call the District Nurses at this time in the morning. (00:15hrs). Including this one, that is now four calls for help I’ve done, averaging one every two weeks. Every one of them on a Saturday or Sunday, the day of rest… Ha! Having been battered about so often with all the tube extractions and insertions (14 failed ones last time, I think, t might have been more). Little Inchies’ Fungal Lesion has now gained the Award as one of of “Inchies Prime Pain Pesteration!” More later. Tonight, I found that sitting down was just too painful, and I felt a little dizzy from the increased severity of the surges. of pain. I decided to stand up the whole time, using two sticks, as I waited of the nurses to arrive.
The innards had few areas that were not painful, the kidneys, the back, and Anne Gyna even joined in when I went to the Porcelain Throne. I sat on the plastic seat, and Little Inchy spouted urine out of his teeny-weeny fungal lesion, and the extra pain kicked oPorc failedff again from the recently mauled-over testicles. But as for whether it was a Trotsky Terence or Constipation Conrad, Trotsky was well out of the running, which was what I’d anticipated the evacuation would be. Nothing but wind and little liquid occasionally. And each time I tried to force the movement along, a new, even lower backache kicked in. I decided to take a risk with one of the powerful tablets. Have to take care with this one; I looked it up on Mr Google last week, he said:  Oxycodone is a highly potent opioid painkiller carrying severe risks, including fatal respiratory depression, dependence and Addiction. Accidental overdose. Because it is roughly 1.5 times more potent than oral morphine, it requires strict medical supervision. Conitive & Physical Impairment (Which I already have). It can cause extreme drowsiness, confusion, and dizziness. The UK’s National Health Service (NHS) warns that it can impair your driving ability and warns against operating heavy machinery.
Do not consume alcohol or other sedatives (such as benzodiazepines) while on Oxycodone, as this drastically increases your risk of a fatal overdose. But I took one.
The Doctor’s receptionist warned me about these risks when she phoned me to tell me not to use them unless needed. Fair enough. They are needed, but only for two ailments, if that is the word for the first one? When the Catheter blocks up, and the flowback affects the kidneys, bladder, and lower back, & Little Inchy, the pain is so bad that I have to take them until the Catheter has been changed & refitted. And Little Inchie’s Fungal Lesion is going on the list today; he’s never been more painful. (I’m not surprised, though. Over the last six weeks, I must have had at least 40, if not more, failed reinsertions.)
Little Inchie & his lesion, the worst affected. No wonder the poor little miniature thing hurts so much.
🤔(Little hint for sympathy and help?)🤔Hahaha!
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I wandered off track there, sorry.
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So, there I was in the wet room. The moment I realised only wind was going to escape, I got on my feet to ease the pain a smidgeon. I did, too, but I was getting
visitations, what the heck, I thought, I can cope with pain! This statement just may contain a degree of falsity
As I was leaving the wet room, to my surprise, pleasure, and hope-boosting, I heard the nurses coming in the door. Very quick timing this morning, I’d guess about half an hour after my phoning in. Bless them!
We walked into the room with the bed, and guess what?
The light bulb died! Do I need any more proof of my bad luck? But on Sunday, I had a few more Whoopsies. Well, that goes without saying, really. Haha!
The two nurses had both been before, the lady four weeks ago, and the chap last week. The no-light problem hadn’t fazed them in the slightest; one held the torch on their mobile, while the other, the lady, had her first go at inserting the tube into battered and bruised Little Inchy. It hurt, but not the tube insertion; that was so smooth and painless. It was from Little Inchies fungal lesion.
The Nurse Got The Tube In, On Her First Try!
Fantastic! I asked her if she would put on the Catheter bag with the press release, rather than the butterfly one. “Yes!” Bless her. She even found my torch for me, and she helped me off of the bed before she left. We all bade our farewells, and I had the pleasure of sitting down again. 👍🏻👩🏻‍⚕️🧑🏻‍⚕️
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I made up two bottles of water, got the morning meal cooked, and got down in the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping recliner. 
I got my feet up on the Carer’s chair and put the TV on, not to watch it, but to lighten the room so I had a chance of seeing what was on my spoon or fork as I ate. I hobbled to the kitchenette to wash the pots, and back into the aged, grotty-looking, c1966-made, charity-shop-bought, horribly beige-coloured, £300, chronically uncomfortable, non-operational, acne-giving, bruise-encouraging, spills-stained, recliner.
I remember settling down, and turning of the TV… and blissfully drifting in a dream. As per, it was things from the past, mostly Gtizeld. At the peak of our mutual man & woman handling, I shot awake – Humph”. But was so back asleep, but no more dreaming. I think I had several nocturnal seizures. Each time I woke, an unpleasant, acidic taste lingered in my mouth, throat, and nose.
I think, well, I must have been doing some shaking about during the seizures, never done that before, but I bruised my arms, right ribs, and both of my knees were actually painful.
I’d not got long left to sleep, and the next time I woke, I was determined to get up… 

Late morning SUNDAY wake-up, & get up
I sensed and felt the wet and smell of the urine, which had leaked down my legs, Khagoule, feet, to the floor!
I discovered the Catheter put on had a butterfly closure. I blame this on the physical seizure, along with my Cogniscent Impairment. I must have caught the flimsy, not-asked-for butterfly clasp while in motion during a seizure. 
It was something special when I remembered to ask for a push-through Catheter to be fitted. Naturally, I thought it had been. Now I know differently.
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Spent ages cleaning up the mess. Aggravating Little Inchies Fungal Lesion, Dizzy Dennis, Fractured-Knee-Frank, The Kidney-Kid, Lose-Balance-Brigette, & Bad-Back-Brenda.
Then the stomach started to play up, and I was in a bad way when Carer Ejaz arrived. 
He was a treasure this morning. Didn’t do body checks, but will on his next call. Made a mug of tea, cornflakes brekkie and reminded me to do my teeth, bless him. A nice lad.
When he was near leaving, I got the feeling that I needed the Porcelain Throne, sure it was going to be a Trotsky Terence event. I got to the toilet and had another wind-only evacuation.
I thought I might take a Senna. Ejaz said no, they are only taken at night if needed. I asked him to call 111 to see if any other type can be used in the morning. But this meant he was so late and behind. I felt a little guilty asking him.
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Ah, the days of old are so missed…
Pleasures, women, always pissed,
A social magnet, never dissed…
But these faded off into the mist,
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Things got worse; that’s incontestible,
Before retirement, made redundant,
Had to work in Security, terrible…
Shot twice, I wasn’t capable…
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Ailments came, life got more acerbated,
Had a mechanical Aorta fitted,
Deaf, bad eyesight, knee gets fractured,
Penal lesions, seizures, stomach ulcered.
Cancer, had to have a Catheter fitted,
Heart failure, a stent that bifurcated, 
Enough of this, it’s too complicated!
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Why do I find life so incomprehensible?
Luckily, my depression is not transmittible,
Can be lessened if you’re knowledgeable,
How does one achieve this miracle?
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10 Warfarin, Morphine & Oxycodone,
No one to con you, by email or cellphone,
No need for drink, or methadone…
No pains, frustrations, you’re on your own,
No need for you to moan and groan, 
But where will you find your soul thrown?
GodZone, DevilZone or GoogleZone?
Of course, all this tosh, I just propone,
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Inchie Today: Thursday 28th May 2026

/ Inchie / 12 Comments

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Most of the day went well, reasonably.
Hearing aids to use, painkillers, thankfully.
But turned in Whoopsiedangleploppery,
Frustration, worry, fear, panic, anxiety…
The bulk of these worries were financially,
Last 3 months, bank statements, texted to me,
Each time £1,000 less than the month previously,
I’ll ring, beg for help, but who can help Inchie?
The Tenancy Sustainment Officer, at N.C.C?
Warden Deana was engaged; she’s so busy,
Rang to Security, Safety, Health and Tenancy,
I struggled to speak, being so panicky,
Wrong words spouted, did I sound barmy?
I was losing; no, I lost my longanimity,
Help, from a wizard, or a vodoo-doctor,
A God, a scientist, maybe a soothsayer?
Without help, I do not have a prayer,
Can’t get through my banksite security layer,
They’ve my ten-year-old mobile number,
To which they sent my one-time number,
Yet they send texts to my new number?
As my bank account continues to wither,
AI security installed, it’s no communicator!
Select this or that, what’s needed is not listed!
Independent living scheme Warden Deana,
Responded, she came to the flat, Bless Her…
Two hours trying to log in, then, however,
Due to our utter and complete failure…
To log in, sign in, communicate or register,
And, their AI, or the bank’s customer vilifier,
It came to hometime for dear Deana,
Who did her best, with pleasant demeanour,
I hope I don’t develop toxicomania,
A possibility, if I get any toeier.
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I discovered how bad my arithmaphobia is getting this morning. I checked the email from Mr Kervic. I’d worked it out that the refund was due by the end of April. So I was concerned about not being able to get into my bank page to check it, hence yesterday’s grand effort by Deana to get me signed in, ans she said she would return after discovering they were sending one-use codes to the wrong mobile. Yet they send me the monthly grand total on the correct number? It’s still important that I get this sorted ASAP. At least I can see why, I think, the balance has dwindled so much. Maybe, perhaps.
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It is now well into Friday afternoon.
Not much of a blog, but I’ve done my best.
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Morning misty clouds.
Right Leg Nigel. Battered right leg, Nigel.
Bloated and or shrunk in many areas, 
damaged due to Loss-Balance-Belinda.
Same Misty Cloud a little later.
A spot of rain now.

Now the failed banking hassle hours.
At least Deana worked out what the problem
was. I’m hopeful she will return today after
another bash at sorting things out for me.

I rang Sister Jane late on. She has been diagnosed as having… Wait for it, A Baker’s Cyst. She told me to look it up on Google, and I did. asked me,
They can get nasty, it seems. I took a snip (below)
Two differing types of them are being removed,
I hope Jane does not have to have hers done!
I’ll have to ask her what the Doctor’s plans are.
CorelDraw gone warped. No graphics.

Could be the end.

 

Inchie Today: Wednesday 27th May 2026 – Miracles!

/ Inchie / 9 Comments

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Much better start, Smug Mode Adopted!
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A Wednesday of Miracles… TWO!
First, the new hearing aids were delivered!
Working fine, and they sent some batteries too!
Carer Mizra had to cut one of the tubes and refit it for me. Did a grand job. I wish I could have him more often; he really is such a help. He guides rather than bullies. The same with Carer Ejaz, who helps so much as well.
The second one was when the Carer Arrived… with a box of Oxicodone painkillers with him! Grrreat!
I assume the three missed calls and voice message that followed were from the Doctor or receptionist. But the voice message didn’t record, so it was less of a surprise when it showed up at long last. I’d been emailing asking for some of the good painkillers; 3 times last week, after running out, and no Codiene was left either. A dear friend gave me some of the chemist-bought Cocodamol that helped me cope. Bless-Her-Caring-Cotton-Socks ❤️.
That pulled me through until this morning.
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Arose this morning to see a creamy goo stuck in different places of the night, in the Catheter tubing. And not getting through to the nocturnal bag? This did scare me a bit. The thought of urine backflow entering the bladder and kidneys was enough to set off a semi-panic. Especially if the pains kicked off, and I had no painkillers but the donated ones. The mere memory of the agony I had to go through the last three times almost forced me to ring the district nurses there and then.
But I managed to calm down and concentrate on the problem. I hobbled to the wet room and took off the bag. Made a note of the colour and amount for the Health Check record, and opened the release tap over the WC.
I was impassive about things, mainly because the pain had not begun, so there was still hope. The contents in clumps in the tube reminded me of long ago, when I could… but I’ll not go into that any further. But I did remember dreaming of Griselda last night; I often do this when I sleep in bed and do not fall asleep on the couch. A 1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, catheter-tube-trapping recliner.
The BP was fairish. A bit high. The Oximeter reveals Heart Rate, mine is a little high, and blood oxygen, which was okay. The thermometer reading has been rising steadily; this must be due to warmer weather. Not that I can sense it, I’ve got problems with the cold, not heat.
Some beautiful but sparse clouds this morning.
And the shadows cast as I took this shot from the balcony enhanced an already wonderful photograph. Showing the must-missed Tree Copse I used to walk through, every day at one time. But no longer, now the brain and body are on the wane. Sad!
The Carer took this shot with a Kodak Tim Two camera. Showing injuries, too deep coloured urine in the Catheter bag.
The difference in the shapes and sizes of my legs. The right foot has warping toes and different amounts of swelling on each foot. Not to mention the different shapes and degrees of colouring of the   patterns.
A later snap, taken from the kitchenette window. A rare moment of the sun going in.
AS I was closing the window,
“Oh, Susanna rang out from the door, I poodled to open it.
The aforementioned delivery via Royal Post. Yes, it was the arrival of the new hearing aids. A different sort of plastic from the old ones.

They also added several packs of suitable batteries, for free! Now you see one of the miracle parts of the day. Something got sorted – done!

On Carer Ejaz’s evening call, I took one of the precious Shortec Oxycodone painkilling capsules that I’d been begging the Doctor for for over a week when I ran out of them. And had a Catheter Flowback agony, and a sore Little Inchie after so many failed attempts to get the tube back in the poor little thing. Hehe!

Are things looking up for the disabled, bald, partially blind, fractured left knee, Arthritic, Cramp-suffering, Trotsky Terence suffering, TBI-suffering, cataract & glaucoma attention waiting, Seizures & Peripheral Neuropathy bearing, Diabetic Kidney Disease, Lymphorrhoea, Unguis Incarnates toenails, Blocked-Catheter-Agony, Tumble-taking tumbles, Premorbid Cognitive Impairment, mangled memories, Fungal Lesions suffering, Inchie?

I think there is a minute possibility that his luck may be changing… or mahap getting less severe?
Now, how was that, a near positive response!.

Then I gave up on the blog. I went to my NHS site to order some Anusol and more Oxycodone, and there I saw I had a new message in my inbox. So I manoeuvred by way of finding the list of messages, and this is the new message I’d got waiting for my attention. I tried to find my Hospitalisationings on the site, but went around in circles, ending up back where I started in the first place. I gave up. Even Carer Ejaz has trouble finding things on here.

On one of Carer Mizra’s calls, he emptied the fridge and gave it a good clean up, which was appreciated.
He also had to remove some products because they were out of date.
He also packed the meals in order, longest date at the top, very helpful that was. He also read the cooking times on the potatoes and veg, and I planned a complicated meal to get cooked at the same time, ot two types of potatoes, 2 types of mushrooms, carrots, water chestnuts, & and planned, then prepped my meal, with help from Carer Mizra. Back on the computer, I got carried away and made many mistakes, which I corrected when updating on Thursday late morning. (I think) 🤔
 Of to the kitchen and managed to concentrate, it was that or fall asleep, Haha, and somehow managed to cope with using the hotplate, slow cooker with mushrooms & carrots in, and the potatoes done in the oven. The Spanish ones are in for 15 minutes, then I added the sliced battered spuds for another 15 minutes. Got tomatoes out for slicing when the meal is cooked. Carer Mizra wrote down the timing on the pack sleeve three hours ago. I added a few drops of Teriyaki sauce to most of the ingredients, and it turned out good! (Did I say that?)  While doing the washing up, I realised why I’d used the wrong sauce: I didn’t have any Teriyaki left. Taking the edge off of my enjoyment. I’ll do an Iceland order for next week, and get some in.
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GREAT DAY for Horis & Me!
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FRIDAY TEATIME
New Computer Gone Apeshit!
I cannot save anything to the external drives at all, which is where everything is, of course.
With the bother with the bank, and Deana unable to come back to see if she can manage to. I seem to be able to do emails, but none are coming in, so I don’t know.
I’ve done some graphics, but I cannot access them.
I think I’ve had enough!
Just updated this blog, but can’t do a new one.
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Inchie Today: Tuesday 26th May 2026

/ Inchie / 11 Comments

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Rush Job today. Sorry.
Urine was not flowing.
Misshapen legs.
Lymphwater leaking.
Food Glorious Food! In the fridge
Spuds, Stilton and carrots.
Ready-made meals.
More ready-made meals.
Reserves topped up,
CorelDraw * Grammarly problem.
No idea Worritsallabarght?
PROBLEMS WITH THE LAUNDRY DRYER
Had to spread the not dry clothes…
In the balcony in the sun,
Thinner stuff, okay, hung ’em high.
I forgot about what I thought was a 15g pack of mushrooms. Massive, they were, too. I’ll have to give some away before they go wrinkly. Hehe! Jenny suggested the regular put in in the _______ for folks to help themselves
Could say the thing about me.
Plenty of hassle and annoyances today, but do you know, I’m going to mention any no more…
Well, go on then, while I was putting the laundry away, the Carer told me I’d missed 3 phone calls on my mobile.

Wednesday mid-morning. I got around to updating this blog. Been a busy boy this morning. 🤣

The meal took me ages to sort out tonight, with help from Carer Dillan. I had to cook the chips, fish, and Spanish-style potatoes in the same oven tray. The carrots and loads of mushrooms in the slow cooker. Misjudged it with the carrots, and they were still rock hard, so I dished them. I’ll try again now that I know how long they need in the crockpot. Sliced a Romanian green tomato into four; I do like the flavour of these.

I asked Carer Ejaz on the teatime call to listen to the voice message for me to see if it was about painkillers. But by then I was my usual mind-dead, dead-tired and at the most disturbing period ot Out-of-itness of the day. We both forgot to check the voicemail. I can’t ask Carer Rachid on Wednesday morning; his English is about as good as my Pakistani. 😏 I think he said he is doing all the calls on Wednesday. Hope my new hearing aids arrive in time for me to try to hear the voice message. It may be time-critical, as they had tried to contact me so often, a rare event. 
Life is not working out, you know. I’ve lost 90% of calls from two great Carers, Ejaz & Mirzra. The others are struggling, and I keep forgetting to ask them to do things they forget to do. Like on Wednesday morning, nobody checked my body. No Phorpain gel applied to the back or shoulder; no Catheter check made. No Bank Checks, financial help, no shower monitoring for I don’t know how long since Mirza last helped me take me last shower – 4-5 weeks? I am in suc a confused state when these blokes arrive, nervous sometimes. And of course on the computer. I will have to stop moaning on this blog, and intend to make this my last one. I can’t concentrate on things, forget things, drop things, or walk into things nowadays. And this is going to make me sooo depressed. The computer is taking so long to get used to, CorelDraw, different Windows, and the fonts changing on their own, as AI said, when I asked about and showed some resulting font changing phenomena, which adds to the frustrations. The colour tab with the RGB numbers, the Date Tabs, hundreds of them changed overnight, into an Alien type font. I thought it was just the .cdr files, grouped and ungrouped. So got myself into a state of not getting blogs done, missing them of and trying to catch up, after I’d redone all the date takes, and converted them to Bitmap. It can happen with any font, but always with the Gluten one. Only to find this morning that they had changed again! Hence, it’s another early morning time for getting to bed again. Nothing ever gets done or solved. Get a new £850 quid computer, and this happens!
Things will get worse when the computer man gets back from holiday, and hopefully answers Caer Mizras’ telephone call for help. I’ve written down so many pages of problems I need help with. I must ask him to get rid of all fonts he can on the computer that I don’t need or use. On this new computer, I’ve got almost 9000 fonts, plus variations. I think it said that.
But Andy is a good lad, and warned me I’d struggle.
I hope he doesn’t do what the student did six years ago, when he ruined my laptop while trying to fix it. Gave me his mobile number, took payment, and when I rang him, it rang and rang, but was never answered. Andy won’t let me down, he’s a great chap. I’ve got faith in him. 

I’m getting a lot of moaning done, out of the way for a fresh start? Well, that’s the plan, but, knowing me, the next fault, Whoopsidangleplop, frustrating event, or disaster, will likely be too annoying and frustrating to be ignored.
(Did you see how craftily I sneaked in a few of tomorrow morning’s early frustrations?)
But I’ll try to cut them down. I promise. Hehehe! 😄

Back to the blog. Got carried away again there. Tsk!
Off to make a Glengettie evening cuppa.
Boy, was the rain delting down again. I took these two snaps of it through the balcony windows. As I turned to make my way through the three disabled machines, each one holding a promise of being repaired or demonstrated for me… Huh! I thought I’d better turn over the dressing gown spread over each machine. Not a good decision that.
After turning them over, I made my way inside the flat and tore off the lower scab on my right leg, which naturally flowed out a little blood. I got in and used kitchen towels to dry it off and stop the bleeding. I was well tired now, and dropped the towel, and without even thinking, bent down to retrieve it. My head hit the corner of the Carer’s table when I lost my balance. Can’t even see a bruise, let alone a scar! All that pain without any potential sympathy attraction wound… Humph & Tsk! 🤨

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OLD ODE
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Understanding & compassion received, from My Angel
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Lucky Inchy: Monday 25th May 20216

/ Inchie / 5 Comments

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Another bit of fracas mentally, today. 
The split views on this computer are a smidge beyond my comprehension. If ever I get the time, I’ll look up advice on Google. Or, if the computer is in its do-as-it-likes mode, it might be Yahoo that comes up. Grrr! Hope I can understand the instructions, should I actually find any.
I foolishly, but of course, this seems standard for me nowadays. Started Monday’s blog, forgetting I’d not finished Sunday’s yet. Me, feeling a fool? Of course I do.
I’d better make a start on it. Back later or in the morning.
I’m back, as Arnie said. Getting late now, I’ll do what I can, computer obliging, and get caught up in the morning. At least I’ve got yesterday’s bog done and sent off.
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Monday, so I lose good Carers until next Saturday. I asked him to help me wash my feet. He did. I asked him to make a brew of tea, which he did. Red hot this morning, gave him an iced drink and an iced cream.
I bagged my lower back on the door handle going out of the door. Arrgh! I discovered that the nurse who moved the bed to have his last try at getting the Catheter tube back in Little Inchy yesterday had left it too near the door, and it didn’t give as much room. No problem, I just howled, swore and asked the Carer to see if I’d bruised myself. There is nothing worse than getting banged and it hurting so much, and finding no scar or bruise to show for sympathy. Haha! 😄
I think I have had a few times on the computer. Acidic taste reflux, and I was made so many mistakes, it was taking ages to reread and correct. I hope I’ve caught them all.
Then things got scary, although not as depressed as yesterday, it was still hard going. I suppose I may have fallen asleep and not had the seizures, but I will never know with no one to see me and my  exhibition.
It happened so often.
Something was amiss, cause I could read only about 10% on the scribbles on the memory notepad.
Must have missed no end of stuff off.

In the late afternoon, pain was coming from the Kidney Kid, left side, but not from the bladder or the Catheter area? But bearable this time.
The photos brought back some memories.
A Carer noted, when helping me wash my feet and take off my socks, that the bottom scab came off with the sock and bled a bit. Very light blood, not that I know what this does or doesn’t indicate. I asked him to put a plaster on it for me, which he did.

Apart from the back, Little Inchy was still sore from yesterday’s marathon attempts to get the Catheter back into poor Little Inchy’s lesioned hole.
A flipping good job that I put on the Protection Pads when I did my teeth, shaved and a stand-up wash. I’ve still not had a shower for I reckon at least three weeks now.
I was frustrated with my mistakes on the new computer, took a voluntary break, and put the last of the nurses’ nibbles and treats on the Carer’s table.
I must admit, CorelDraw, so hated, swore and yesterday, I thought I was going to give myself another stroke, was only toying with playing up today, the highlight of this Bank Holiday Monday for me!
Is this good luck? It was a very strange sensation!
In the late afternoon, I went to make up some soup for tonight’s meal. Vegetables with added canned peas and chopped boiled potatoes. Adding Teryaki sauce.
Leaving it to marinate and stirring the dish throughout the rest of the day. Slurp!
Then I took this snap of the boiling-hot sun through the kitchen window. Then this rather pretty photograph shows the front car park, the bottom field, and some of the local Sherwood residences.
Half an hour later, I returned to the kitchen to stir the marinating can of vegetable soup, a feast fit for anyone with a fading bank account, failing health, dimming hopes, no pain medication other than Paracetamol, and depression.
While in there, the sky had changed, but the sun was still getting through; as you can see, it had changed somewhat.
Checked the emails and comments, then heated the prepared meal. Email confusion straight away, need help on that… what don’t I need help with… what do I get help with…
Back in the morning, oh, no, this is yesterday’s blog. I must finish it somehow. I’ll tell you about things in the next one.
Back to Email and then comments and reader, then I must get to bed. I’ve confused myself now.
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Good Morning, Tuesday now and catching up on a few happenings to tell you of.
The evening meal brings a touch of comfort to you, doesn’t it? Usually, this one, now I’m back on canned and packaged foods. It was a can of so-called chunky vegetable soup, with some teriyaki sauce and Bovril added, along with some boiled and sliced potatoes, also from a can. I kept stirring this as it marinated in the microwave dish for a good few hours, and several times over the day. I defrosted some bread to dunk in the juices. It took a while to get the pots washed as I pondered on what score to give them taste-wise. I think I’d opted for 6.5/10, as an evacuational motion began from the rear end. I dropped the dishcloth and pot and tore off my thin dressing gown in my unsteady, disabled stampede to the Porcelain Throne.
SPLURT SPLATT, ALL DONE!
I somehow got part of the premature pebble-dashing torrent on the mat, floor, testicles (don’t ask, I don’t know how), legs, feet, on top of the floor cabinet. Even some specks on the outside of the sink! When cleaning it all up as best I could, I swear there was a greeny-brown sliver of Trotsky Terence’s activities on the wall! I know the spurt started just before I could reach the seat with my bottie… so how could all the areas possible have been affected?
Washed myself up last with Dettol in the water, and realised that the hot tap water wasn’t; it was barely warm. I realised far too late, after spending I don’t know how long trying to make things right in the wetroom, what must have happened.
I hastily hobbled to the kitchenette, to find I was right, I’d left the hot water faucet on when I departed in my semi-panic!
I can usually find the right words without repeating myself to describe any of my frequent Whoopsiedangleplops or Calamaties, but I am struggling now.
Frustration, Depression, Pathetic Self-Pity, and Angst that is bigger than my bulging belly!
Then I spotted that the Catheter was not filling!
I quickly went back to check the wetroom for anything I’d missed, grabbed a 1-litre bottle of Soda water, and added a drop of grapefruit juice as my attention dwelt on this worrying Catheter faux-pas, with fears of bladder, kidney, and Catheter pains starting again. With no decent painkillers available other than Paracetamol. A darned good job tha Jenny read about this and gave me some. 🤎 Better than Paracetamol by a mile, but not as good as the ’ones the hospital gave me for my kidney problems. I found out they had stopped them permanently. There must have been a good reason. But will they restart the Codeines now? Not according to the Carer. Baffled, and in pain! Still, the Doctor may find time now that the Bank Holiday is over to reply to my three email requests for stronger painkillers, sent last week.  
Do I believe this? You decide!

Incidentally, my end-of-life cremation is paid for. I got it through Age UK years ago. I’ve got the details, and then when I snuff it, it won’t cost the Government or anyone to burn me.
Paid Funeral. Baguley brothers.
Prepaid with Age Concern. Now, Age UK No.15511624 
It may be advisable to warn the Obergruppenfürher at the cremation oven that my kidney and bladder may possibly explode in the heat and splatter them with my kidney germs. bacteria, viruses, and parasites. My poor battered bladder’s 
bacterial Escherichia coli.

I’d also appreciate it if someone could give my once-visited Neurologist a message for me, as sarcastically as they can, please: Give him my NHS Number, and say;
Inchie felt he just had to leave his thanks and appreciation for all the help, compassion, and concern you had not shown him during the one visit he made. You remember when he got lost on the way up in the lift? No? He’s not surprised. When you told him to send him a video of him having a seizure, so you could ascertain what type it was, before prescribing any medication. He agreed. This was in November 2025. You failed to give him your email address. He had several Carers ringing the QMC to find the right address. Finally, his Carer, Ejaz, got through, and a Carer took a video of the old, unwanted git in a seizure, and he emailed it to you. November 2025. In no time at all (April 2026), he got a letter from the committee that had seen and analysed the video. Telling him it was not an Epileptic seizure, as he told you at the 7-minute meeting he had with you, do you remember?
No, of course not. A busy, efficient young man like you must be in great demand.
He’d like to remind you, from wherever he’s gone, to be a burden to someone else; Do you recall me (Inchie) saying they were not epileptic fits, cause I was in the same position as I was before going into one?
Bless your compassion, patient care and dedication.
If possible, he will return with a 24-hour pass from St Peter so he can further explain, express how he feels about his treatment, and make some more suggestions.
A druid’s curse, or glam dichenn, was an ancient Celtic malediction. Druids were historically known to stand on one foot, place one hand on their head, and close one eye while chanting vengeance. Just mentioning this.
I’d appreciate that, thanks.
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