INCHIE TODAY – Sunday 29th January 2023

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 I left the hot water tap running again!

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

then Came at teatime.

Late morning view.

and later came.

Hyper-One Again.

Mid-Morning views.
A lot of white cars?

Catheter emptying. Nice and like colour this moring.


Magnificent Sunsetting this evening!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Got this blog finished and posted off.

TTFNski, EACH!

INCHIE TODAY: Saturday 21st January 2023

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Pandemonium! Everything delaying, interfering and stopping things from getting done. Hence the worst Diary ever. I did get the top bit done, though. And that took until 13:00hrs! Sorry!

The Catheter tubing was causing bleeding again from little Inchies fungal lesion. The Mystery stabbing pains have persisted,  wearing me down

Fait dollop of wee in the night catheter.

Terrible morning view photo.

The light bulb needed changing.
I couldn’t get up the step ladder…
Tall Carer assisted!

Ah, that’s better. Thank you.

Carer Richard’s donated minder whiteboard.
No lift for Monday is available.
The taxi, I suppose?

Cor, the little day catheter bag filled up quickly.

An hour later, again!

Then the wee-weeing stopped?

Evening meal, not bad.
Flavour Rating: 7/10.

Followed by a pot of porridge.
A drop of raspberry syrup was added.

Woken by Carer Carole-Anne.
Who gave the painkillers to me.
And added the night bag to the catheter.
Earlier, Carer Kara tried to get me logged back onto
Internet banking. It wouldn’t let us. She’d not got much time and will try again later. Bless ’em. ♥

Could I get back to sleep?
Well, no, not for ages.
TSK!

Sorry not much on this blog.
Time is so precious…
But, all the medicationings…
Catheter changing and emptying…
Even getting dressed and washed is time-consuming nowadays.
Cooking with one hand and trying to use the walking stick…
The wearying Mystery Rib Pains…
And my wandering stubborn brain…
Fretting and worrying away…

It’ll get better again one day…

Inchie Today: Sunday 1st January 2023

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07:45hrs: My waking up so late… well, I say that, but I’d been waking up all night again, but fatigue got me back to sleep this time. Thank you, Mr Fatigue!
The state of the Carers table caught my Katie cataracted, Glaucoma Gladys and Saccades-Sandra eyes.
After three visits from Carer TY.
A broken catheter, open packs of day and night ones. Loose stablest on the floor under the table. But, I soon lost interest in that… the night catheter was in need of emptying and packing safely in a recycle bag
.
So I did!
Fantastic! The when I bent or stretched were far, far less vicious than yesterday. I got the night bag off without too much bother, got it emptied into the bucket, and took it to the wet room for emptying and disinfecting.
As I was doing this, I felt wet dropping onto my ankle. I’d not turned the close lever far enough… So I did. Too late, of course. Now I had to wash the fo
ot and floor along with the bucket. More time lost! But at least I could do it this morning, with the pains from the infection and the , too, so much easier!
Took the bucket back to the font room for use later on, and got the night bag in the normal bag, then the yellow high-risk bag, and finally, a black bag.

Well, feeling so well now, achieving so much, I decided to use the speed-mop to clean the kitchenette floor.
That was a little more trying, but I managed it. The bending down to pick up pieces of fluff got the back pains going, and I was beginning to regret tackling the fang job… But they soon abated back to just little aching; that’ll do for me.
Got the kettle on, but I did not make a brew. Why? I’ll tell you… A call to the that was overdue! In fact, I had to get a trot (of sorts) on to get to the Throne in time. I did, though, but it was . Ah, back to the pre-infection says mode again. was in complete control. I hope he’s not going to stay in control, or else I may run out of toilet paper if he unloads like that again!
Even more, time was lost in cleaning up the grungy, sticky mass of mess that had evacuated. The water closet had to be flushed a few times; with the help of some water from the sink.

came in while I was making a brew. His approximate 08:30 to 08:39hrs visit, instead of the 50-minute one I was charged for, gave him no time to check the taps and cooker. But he did manage to give me one Lansoprazole instead of two. Asked me how I was, then as I was telling him, he went on his mobile, pretty sure he didn’t hear a word I said. Not on it long, just seconds.
“Have to go now, I’m very busy…” and he did, shouting cheerio see you later… That put fear and dread in me: is he coming again today? He might kill me next time. Then I realised he had not brought a spare night bag as he said he would yesterday… but then again, he was on his phone when I asked home to replace the one he broke. Also, he missed taking the two tiny waste bags that were in the usual place near the door.
When I got back in the room, I spotted loose tablets under the carer’s table. Got the mini Hoover out, but it wasn’t picking up, so I pressed the filter button, and it fell apart. Bit of good fortune, it fell in the waste bucket for me and literally emptied itself. Hehehe!
Now I was in a pickle. Trying to put the pieces of the vacuum back together correctly. Another good hour or more lost there. Tried to use it, but it wouldn’t pick up all the metal foil bits or three tablets that were down there… after all my effort getting the thing back together as well!

Slowly it dawned on me… (Things so that sometimes to me...) it needed recharging, mayhap? So I put it on charge. A simple, often done before, little task. But no… this is me we are discussing. I knocked a pile of paperwork over as I tried to see the blue light on the Hoover to see if it was charging.
I methodically picked them up, and I restacked them on the ottoman. All ready for me to check through them to see what was what in the stack. I decided that the Ottoman was not the safest place to leave them, gathered them up to take them to the book shelving… Need I say anything?
Unbelievable! I was just reaching up to place the documents on the shelf… I felt the well-known mini-shaking in the right leg, followed by an .
The paperwork is still laying dishevelled and crinkled, in the corner of the room near the bookshelf!

arrived, and I gave her a kiss (On the arm, always the gentleman, Hehe).
She checked the wee-pouch, and it had really filled up. So I emptied it into the overnight, now 24hr gey bucket.
Medications sorted.  mentioned the problems with the wrong medications being tendered, taps not being checked, the wrong bag being nearly fitted etc. I do not want to fall out with anyone. But, it was a nightmare the three last calls yesterday and this morning. Took the waste bags not taken by Ty.

I spent many hours (8) doing the blogs.
But mostly getting into a mess with mistakes and hitting the wrong buttons. getting out of situations I don’t know how I got into, turning off and restarting…
Taking a breath here...
Misspelling, using the wrong words, getting into the right state with using Word, getting messages up that I couldn’t understand, giving up, trying again…
Taking a breath here...
CorelDraw keeps freezing for no apparent reason! And coming close to crying!

Arrived. I told her of the things I’d gone through with a certain Carer (Not). Medications sorted out. Carolynne cleared the Carers desk up. Checked on both taps and oven.

Some more for farcicalness on the computer.
Trying to like and comment on the blog from my cyber-mate, Billum, and I got the message above come on the screen. I clicked the appropriate button and found myself back where I started? After the third time, I gave up and then got something to eat.

Not the meal of the year, I admit.
The oven-finished bread and th tomatoes were nice.
The Vegan mushroom steaks were revolting, and for the first time ever, even the potato Rostis were tasteless; well, they were to me. Taste: 3/10.

: Other than it was painful and took me over an hour to get the session done, there were no serious incidents. Washing the pots up and changing the bag was a nightmare with one usable hand.

Arrived as the original Die Hard film was showing on the telly.
At this stage, or of this bit,  seems to be a little foggy. Sorry!

Slept through until rang out from the door chime.

Inchie Today: Mon-Tue 26-27th December 2022

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INCHIES TWO HOSPITALS VISITATIONS ON THE SAME DAY ODE




06:05hrs: After a night of multiple wake-ups requiring a wee-wee, I stirred. Got up with relative ease for me; catching the balance took a bit longer than usual, but I felt fine.
I could smell the wee-wee from the bucket from where I stood
. I thought I’d got to use it and thought I’d better get it cleaned and disinfected before any carers came, straight after the peeing – which didn’t take place… the biggest shock in a while hit me as I looked down at the bucket! But I did notice how full the container was, compared to the average night/morning
I got my glasses on, and that is when it hit me – the amount of blood in the urine shook me.
Also, when I took my leak, the contents of the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket) started bubbling as I pickled into it!  The camera was in the dressing gown pocket, so I took a shot of this.
I needed to use the .
Which I also pictured after taking a no-content evacuation. All that came out was blood and wind!
Now, I was worried!  I checked the back passage as I papered it; there was no blood on it at all?

I took another wee-wee in a cleaning pot, as I thought, surely I’m dreaming here?
But no, it was a colourful medium red.
Now, I was pretty worried! 

From this point, and for over the next two days, I have not passed any urine through Little Inchie without the catheter on. Nor any matter from department. Then again, I’ve only been given food once over the two days, and it was very welcome! Oh, no, sorry, I had two slices of cold toast Tuesday morning at the City Urology Patience 2 ward.
Arrived to the rescue yet again. The lads listened to me, a rarity with certain people, and acted immediately on seeing the blood. Richard made up a bag with a d
ressing gown, slippers and toothpaste and brush, PP’s included.
He waited for the paramedics to arrive and left after explaining everything needed to them.

The ambulance took me on the journey to the Queens Medical Hospital, depositing me in the A&E unit. Where I was placed on a trolley in what I think was corridor A.
My hopes rose, half an hour later, a porter came to move me into corridor H.
The same chap came along an hour or so later. This time he moved me to Corridor C or something. A wider one this time, but still only room for one line of flesh trolleys. I got the Lumix and crossword book out. But it was hard work making out the clues, and filled in answers to the wrong clubs several times, then gave up.
30 minutes later, I made it inside the A&E unit.
Cheered me up a bit, seeing only about 80 trolleys in the main hall – I was getting there!
Mostly drunks at this time in the morning. Ah, Christmas spirit, the main reason, of course!
Moved me into the side room, and they fetched me out again minutes later.
Ah, progress here, I thought!
About to get the crossword book out again, and a lady told me I was going for some scans.
I was taken off of the trolley, given my stick and asked kindly,
“You can walk with yer stick then? It was more of a threat than a question.

He looked a bit rough around the edges, so I readily agreed that I could manage.

They walked me into a cold side room

An eerie room; it stank of depression and vomit and had an icy coldness to it.

A largish area, an equipment stand for the BP taking, it didn’t look in good nick.
A mobile radiator (I think), a roll of carpeting, and a single wooden table with one metal leg hanging off.
I got the crossword book out again, took these snaps, and the biff man returned with a petite but stern-faced female; “Follow us”
So I followed them into a scan room. They spent a good while scanning my privates and belly area.
Then, out into the big waiting room again.
It was a sad sight seeing so many people looking angst, agitated, and generally well pissed off.

Although a few of them seem to have the will to live.

I waited there, back on a trolley, and a lot of medics came to see me over the next two hours. Many asking the same questions… there were a lot like that at both hospitals.

The only sleep I got in 48 hours, I think about ten minutes, was rudely awakened by several nursing staff, all intent on getting rid of me ASAP. I was bundled into a corridor and awaited a lift to the Urology department.
The stockcar driver, I mean ambulance driver, gave me a roller-coaster ride to the City Hospital.
Where I was wheeled to a bed and told to sit on it. I did. And was told somebody will be with you later.
I thanked the lady. Rescued my bag from a be away where the ambulanceman had left it and sat on the bed in Patience Two Ward. First floor up.
A nurse came and gave me two jugs of water, asking me to drink
it all down, and ask for more when I had done so.

So I did. Various nurses, doctors and Mr Men came to see me.
The BP and temperature were taken every half-hour. A blood sample was taken for testing each hour, on the hour. No sleep again!

Then there was the thing that was supposed to make me pass water. Drink it by the gallon, which I think I did, and they took off the catheter. And the guzzling started. Five hours later, they did another scan and put the catheter back on to rid my bladder of urine. An hour later, the catheter was put back in (A  painful experience in and out!) More water guzzling. Scanned again, and the catheter was replaced painfully. (I’m sure the Doctor had a smile come over her lips each time she put it in or out?)

Back in the scanner loop again. Nobody informed me of any of the results. But they were up to the neck with patients in need. I assumed they would tell me later, but no! Mayhaps they’d got fed up with me not understanding or hearing what they were saying? I found out later they had sent all my details to Meridian Carers. Wish they had told me. Just as well, though. I may have gotten the facts and figures wrong. So, fair enough.

They took off the Catheter for the last time to try once more to force out the urine. So, back to the water-drinking marathon.
It didn’t work. A Shame!

They then suddenly arrived at the bed, mob-handed. They spoke so fast, I must have missed 50% of whatever they said; I recall rightly I believe in hearing: Sending you home… Keep the catheter on for seven days and use the night ones? Erm… Night ones? No mention of the new medications or what the unknown reason was. And they took no interest in my telling them I’ve not passed from the rear end in three days now?

They started cramming my stuff into the big BM bag I’d taken with the things Carer Richard had gathered for me on first leaving the house. This all happened at break-neck speed, and a nurse came to them, ‘The taxi’s here!’ Another well worded: Surely you can walk down to get the taxi – meek me; “Yes, no problem!” I was in the right state by the time we got in the lift, along the long corridor and out to the waiting taxi.
Then the trip home was most uncomfortable. The driver, I called him Sterling Mosseth, was not hanging around, and the springs or whatever they are called nowadays were about worn out. Every crack and pothole, speed bump, and fast-breaking en route was painful.

I was not in good condition by the time I got into the flat. But at least the lifts were working. I got in the flat and put the bag down, but I forgot to call the Meridian Care office to tell them I was home.

I got down in the lift, and after opening the door to the link corridor with Winwood Court, I met, coming the other way to my flat, Carer Kara,  Sam, or Jodie. Any names that I get wrong for Carers, I apologise; blame can be put on Non-Carer, .

We got up to the flat. The carer checked out the Catheter. We had a chinwag after she gave me the medication, and a bit of humour crept in. Hurrah!

After she’d left, I went to make a brew of tea. Glengettie… nothing but the best!

And took these two photos of the evening view. The first one I make a pig’s ear out of!.. But was almost on the verge of having a .
But remembered those I took last week that seemed fins on camera.
So, .
did the late call tonight. We got the medications done. Then Richard opened the letters etc., that the hospital staff had stuffed into my carrier bag.
Not easy learning about how you need to set these catheters up got the first time.
But Richard mastered it, all working, and the night ones fitted me.
He gave me a tip, and that was to put the Night Bag in a bowl, then it’s nice and low, and if, or as in my case, when you do have a split bag or a connection breaks, the bowl will catch it! Good idea!
He also warned me that if I come off of them, the fun will start because I’ll still think of the catheter if they are removed; I’d no doubt wee away without realising. Argh! Hahaha!

BrewI had planned to do a bit of work on this blog and get my head down. But, things, as usual, got carried away, taking so long yet still enjoying doing the blog…
After a while, I risked going to take a break and make a Thompson’s Punjana brew.


❶ I went through to the kitchen and got the kettle on.
❷ Made the tea and realised the difficulty I faced: One cannot carry a mug of tea, a bowl with a catheter in it, and a walking stick together!
❸ My keen, alert, logical (Well, it was a year ago) mind soon sorted out the solution to the problem (I thought).
 ❹ I’d simply take the bowl and walking stick to the front room and return with the stick to collect the mug of Punjana… Mmm! I bet you can see the problem even if I didn’t at first? It’s like those training courses at work, innit?
❺ I took the bowl back to the side of the computer, turned to go back to get the mug, and realised this was not going to work when the bowl tipped over… well, it would; still being connected to the catheter!
❻ I did feel a fool! .
I honestly thought what a I was at the time!

Then yet another Whoopsidangleplop, although I’m not sure it wasn’t closer to a , or might be nearer to the point. A nasty one this time. Yet it could have been worse.
As the leg kicked out with its energetic but short-lived imitation of the Oky-Koki.

TTFNski!