Inchie Today: Tuesday 3rd January 2023

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06:00hrs: Woke up to find myself shuddering, flapping, and threshing about in the c1966. charity shop bought, second-hand, wincingly grotty, beige coloured, not working, crumb-covered from the nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, virus breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, recliner! Boy, that must have been some dream or nightmare I was having! I can’t recall a single thing about it, mind you.
I soon realised that the evening catheter pouch was in need of emptying.

So, I rose precariously (balance not so good) and emptied it.

Off to the kitchen. lovely view out there this morning. But the wind, when I opened the window, made me glad to be indoors.

I  abandoned plans for making a brew and went off to the wet room to get the ablutions sorted. I don’t think I got any cuts at all shaving.
However, when it came to cleaning my rotund, flabby-bellied wobbly, stomached body, I did hit problems. As expected: Cleaning around the inserted tube of the catheter protruding from Little Inchie… I don’t think I need to say this, but… the Fungal Lesion started bleeding! This necessitated the Daktacort ointmentationing to be done. After just a few oohs, argh’s and more fruitful words of agony, I got it finished. No bother to me, of course. With my gigantic pain-tolerance level.  I stopped crying and moved on to other areas in need of similar treatment. and then got some of the eyes drops in roughly the area of the right eye. (But not a lot).

Then, the big challenge – Getting dressed. With the right arm still painful when I stretch or bend, the Mystery Sharp Stabbing Pains in the rib cage, right-hand side, and now at the back as well, of the torso, his usual warning signs of an imminent due, leaving me virtually one handed to get the clothes – which is not easy using a picker-upperer as the same time!
But I made a fine job of it. I put a plaster on the cut finger, laughed off banging my knee on the floor cabinet corner when I lost my balance and applied some Germolene on the bruised head.

Arrived as I was making the much-belated brew. (It went cold). Issued the medications, and he laughed when he said: “Now drop ’em!” Hehehe! Put my socks on for me. Fitted the replacement weekly Catheter pouch. We had a natter, and bade him farwell.
I visited the , messy again, and almost black in colour this time – from the Karki of yesterday?
On the computer, Norton did a scan. Answered the mass of comments that had come in on WordPress… well, one.

There I was, sat, sitting at the computer and I realised that my right foot was warm and wet!
Yes, the pouch had been running the wee straight through, down my leg and into the slipper!
I dropped the trousers and got the bowl to stand my right foot in to catch the urine, which of course, I could not stop the flow!
I threw the sock in as well; that’s not going to be used again! As the bowl started to fill up, I rang Meridian to ask for help. Tina said she’d “Pop up to see you (me) later!
Both trouser legs had been soaked, and my socks and slippers – all of them had to be thrown away.
Not having a lot of luck here, am I?

Oh, What a Calamity!

Arrived shortly after. Got it sorted for me. A different style of open-closure thingamabob fooled us, a press-through instead of a tap on the new pouch. Hah, well. Shame about the slippers, socks and trews having to be dished. But not as bad as it might have been, because some new slippers are being delivered this very day! Via Amazon.

Warfarin, DVT nurse Hristina ♥ arrived, and I explained about my being told to consult the Doctor about my leaving off the Warfarin before the Cystoscopy Procedure.
Hristina rang the surgery, explained everything, and they said they’d ring me back later on. Great!

The Sherington Park Surgery rang.
Told me I had to ring the hospital to find out about the Warfarin. This is the hospital that tells me to ring the Doctor?
Farcical doesn’t come into it!

Came. Telling him about the problem with the Warfarin and thought I’d better ring the DVT Clinic, as they control the Warfarin and arrange for the blood tests to be calculated. I got what I thought was the telephone number for the DVT clinic from the web, but it turned out to be the Queen’s Medical Switchboard.
She would not put me through and told me to ring the Urology at the Nottingham City Hospital – This is the hospital that tells me to ring the Doctor?
Ty took over the phone and got the number of the Urology at the Nottingham City Hospital. He’ll ring them tomorrow, but he is too busy at the moment to do it. Ty brought in the laundry and deposited the bag in the front room for me. Checked taps. But did not watch me taking the tablets… I thought I may have kist in through the missing teeth, but we could not see any under the cupboard. Off he went, saying he’d see me later.

So, more hours lost getting nowhere! I’m so frustrated and am still unsure of what to do about the Warfarin dosages.

Finally got the Monday blog completed and made a start on this one.

I got the laundry hung up and put it away. But the stretching and bending brought back the calmed down stabbing pains again. I’m not happy with these mystery pains! U just hope they are connected to urology problems and not something new ailment-wise. I’ll give you an idea of them… ARGH!

I could do no more now. Uncomfortable with the pains, tired out. Pathetically mega-depressed and irredeemably frustrated! Sorry for myself, I suppose? Let’s face it, nothing much is going right for me, is it?

Repeated catheter bag emptying.

I’ll get something to eat, methinks. No bread, no butter. A few chips, gravy, Ah, well, that’ll do.

Took a snap from the kitchenette window, showing my spare 3-wheeler walker on the balcony.
Also, the gravel path I used to be able to get up on my walks through the tree copse. So sadly missed.

My bread and butterless meal was thoroughly enjoyed.
I forgot to photograph it, so took one of the empty bowl after the food was demolished. Hahaha!

Woken around 2125hrs, as arrived. I was still half-asleep. Richard got the night bag attached to the day bag and the pouch in the grey bowl. I’m sure we had a chat about something – likely me moaning about not being able to find out about the Warfarin leaving off… Yes, I think it might have been.

Evening All!

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!

Inchcock Today: Tuesday 18th October 2022

COST OF LIVING
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I was deep in the Land-of-Nod; burst forth from the door chime, I wriggled with embarrassment in the £300, bought eight years ago from the second-hand shop, Harold Haemorrhoid testing, repugnantly beige-coloured, bleak, crumb-containing, virus-breeding, acne-giving, rickety, none-working recliner0 Realising I had not unlocked the door, I rose up onto my feet, a little too quickly and, fell back down into the recliner, and poor old paid the price, as they started to trickle out warm blood into the Protection Pants. I was well pleased I had them on!
Even poorer, Car Richard has to wait so long for me to get to the door (Sorting the piles and new pants on); I thought he might ask me if he could have a shave. Hahaha! He’d waited that long to get in!

Things were hectic, and so much going wrong; I didn’t even start this blog until Wednesday. The many problems start here, but will be in the short form to save time, else I’ve never gotten around to doing today’s blogs started either!

Richard seemed in and out quickly today, but of course, I was and got more confused as the day went on. Humph!
After Richard had gone (A lot of writhing on the memory pad about Richards’s visit, but was unreadable).
Got the Health Checks done.
, and got dressed, mostly in a haze. I found a few later on.
Mug of tea and started the Ode for Tuesday. (Which, I’ve only just finished 05:00hrs Wednesday Morning!!!

The doctor phoned: Told her of the Paramedics and the Gyna. Lansoprozole Capsule to be increased straight away, 15 to 30ml. She told me to call the Surgery reception and book a Face to Face meeting regarding the results of the Severe Frailty Test. It sounded like an order from Hitler and had a tinge of a threat in it? Hahaha! The problem now; is to get hold of ILC (Independent Living Coordinator), Oberstgrüppenfuhreress, Warden and Primo Ballerina, Warden Deana, to ask for help phoning. Also, is the left arranged for the Covid booster jab?

So, I rang Deana to ask about the lift first, and hose said she’ll ring Easy-Lift… is that their name?
To ring me back, must remember to ask her to call the wack to make a face-to-face meeting.

I took the photos on the left here while making a brew of Thompson’s Punjana tea.
A lot of vehicles parked up this morning.

I have a bit of a possible Memory Blank here. What bit of writing there is on the notepad is ridiculously deciphered, scrawled and unintelligible.

I vaguely recall going to the Porcelain Throne for a second time, but have no idea; how things went.

The next thing readable on the memory prompt pad was that the intercom flashed
It was the Asda food order that had arrived.
Five substitutions; one was sent back, Chicken sauce for BBQ?
Most of Richard’s treats had arrived.
Beef in black bean sauce.
An eight-pack of tangy Cumberland sausages. Glad I got the belly pork for Richard; I know he said how much he liked them, hope I got the right flavour.
The Lemon Soya desserts look interesting; they have a long date on them, so I’ll eat the vegan lemon yoghourts first.
The new 7-Mediterranean Vegetable sauce with basil came, but I have doubts about my decision to try this one. Just a feeling that I’ll not like it?
Had to make do with BBQ sauces of brands substituted that I’ve never tried as well.
A feeling I’ve eased my money here!

The bag of small potatoes didn’t look too fresh.
I’ll try them tomorrow, all being well. But I’ve my doubts over how fresh they are and will last? I’ll ask Richards, if he comes, to check the dates for me.

Got the things stored away in the fridge and cupboards. Drank the cold tea.

And meandered into the balcony to take a snap of the end car park again.

Wowser! The spiders from somewhere had been busy.
I took a close-up view of the car park. Three vehicles, one parked perfectly and two not so perfectly. Hehe!

Then, I foolishly took out the SD card from the Lumix camera and put it in the reader to download later.

I took the mug to be washed. I’d left the window open, and I must have had 40 or 50 meat flies of varying sizes in the kitchen Heck of a time-consuming effort to get rid of them!

ILC (Independent Living Coordinator), Oberstgrüppenfuhreress, Warden and Primo Ballerina, just married Warden Deana phoned to say she had arranged the lift for the Covid booster on the 20th, and the Diabetes Riverside for the 28th, Bless her cotton socks. I asked if she could also call the Quack for a Face to Face meeting for the results of the Frailty Assessment on the 24th. She kindly said she would come up later.

Then, my bugbear, as it is to thousands of other idiots who unknowingly joined Virgin Media: Before Liberty-Global, led by the smoke & mirrors, number-crunching, blurring of facts & figures, hocus-pocus, nod & a wink, mumbo-jumbo, misleading $23.6m a year, plus bonuses and an expense account salaried Mike Fries bought-out Virgin Media. And has done such a clinically-perfect job of destroying the previously good reputation of the company by proving does not have the know-how or qualities to get a signal to Nottingham for a whole day! In fact, LIBERTY-Global Virgin Media goes down diurnally! Today three times, for a total of approximately four & a half hours! Sad, pathetic! But of course, I believe there is a larger reason for this miserable performance. Chicanery, double-speaking and thaumaturgy-practising financial manipulators such as Fries is bound to have another plan that will make even more money for Liberty-Global. That is, if Virgin Media last long enough. Or maybe that’s part of his underhand scheme and design for them to go bankrupt?

ILC (Independent Living Coordinator)  Oberstgrüppenfuhreress, Warden and  Primo Ballerina, Warden Deana, and ILC (Independent Living Coordinator) Generaloberstess, Ice skating champion florist and Warden Julie arrived. Without their help, I’d be in the right pickle & mess! ♥

Sinead arrived; I was half asleep at the time after having to close down the computer after Mr Fries’s inability to get a signal through to Nottingham again shone miserably through… I’d nodded off! She is a lovely gal who always cheers me up when she comes. We had a natter and laugh about nothing and everything. I insisted on nibble giving, in thanks. Sinead took the waste bags with her when she left. I do appreciate a few minutes to chinwag and laugh with the carers, you know. But I can do I not push it. Went to get a meal started, and I took this rather decent snap of the evening view.

Aha! I got the meal cooked, but not without an of sorts, and a realisation that the Asda brown cobs were unbelievably crap!
The thing that pee’d me off most, though, was when I put the NoMeat meat slices in the oven, I thought, “Ah, that’s an idea; I’ll spray some olive oil onto them as I put them in the oven.”
Not a good idea; I discovered it too late! When it came to taking out the NoMeat slices, they had seemingly welded and concreted into the oven tray! There followed a series of & , what literally amazed even me; and I’m the famously unlucky one, but I was amazed at how many came within minutes of each other!

I burnt several finger ends chiselling out the NoMeat from the reluctant-to-let-them-go tray.
Put the tray in the sink to soak and realised that the black coating on the tray had lost lumps of whatever it was painted on them. I thought I was rather cunning here and put the slices; well, they were bits by then in the microwave to keep warm. It took me ages to get the bits of black stuff off of them. Still, a !
Wrapped up the burnt-up, misshaped tray in a few bags and put them in a big waste bag to go down the chute in the morning. As I turned back towards the sink… It only lasted a few seconds, but was enough to have me over!
I’d learnt from past tumbles in the kitchen that by far the easiest… no, least painful way to get back up is using the front of the sink with both hands and hauling myself back onto my feet that way. So I did!
However, as I struggled to heave the body mass up, the left hand slipped and went into the sink with the dirty water, bleach and soda in it I’d used to try and clean the tray with. If you know anyone who would like a partly-disintegrated pyjama top or bleach-shredded bottoms, let me know, please. !
I ditched the pyjamas, wrapped them up in two bags, and then into a larger one to go to the chute in the morning. Humph! Reset the timer on the microwave that was keeping the slices warm; they looked passable on this check.
As I was changing into new PPs, I smelt something not right… I’d left the beans on the heat in a saucepan!
Into the kitchen and added some citric acid to the beans, with some passata, crenellated, and stirred the beans to break them up. Burning the same two fingers that I burnt in the oven tray! Cleaned and applied some Germolene.
I managed to salvage some of the beans and sauce. But had to add another small can and mixed them in. Got the meal served up, and it didn’t look too bad. I thought I’d done a decent job of rescuing things…


Until it came to eating it. Instantly, at the fork spoonful of the beans – I’ve never tasted anything so foul in a long time!; Then, kicked off, quickly followed by .

I think some bleach might have found its way into the brown cobs as well!

I put the meal into a small bag, then a stronger blue one, and then in a black bag to go down to the chute in the morning. The morning Carer is going to get a shock, Hehehe!

As I checked the kitchen to make sure the taps and oven were not left on, the sink and floor had been cleaned up, and the window was shut too!

I got down into the c1968 recliner, in need of rest, if not sleep!
But, no! was showing no signs of allowing me to nod off!
Turned on the . I suppose because of the calamity with the meal, I had no option but to respond each time by worrying about things like, ‘Did I check the wet room sink?’
‘Is the oven turned off?’. ‘Did I take the Peptac?’ Where did I put the camera?’ ‘Did I close the balcony windows?’ ‘What day & time is the Booster for?’ What’s that noise I can hear?’ ‘Did I leave the heater on in the wet room?… on and on they flowed, and I meekly checked for whatever the concern was every time one came to me.
Not only did I tire myself out with my tramping into every room in the flat and back to the £300, second-hand, musty, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, cringingly beige, crumb-covered, not-working, rickety recliner. Constantly for what seemed ages. But in the process, I got a , and walked into the doorframe, setting off!
It reminded me that I’d mentioned to the Doctor on the phone about all this malarkey. I’m glad I did but did she listen? She said not a word about it when I mentioned it to her.
Then the arrived. At least for a while, I stopped getting up to check on things. How the mind seeks out so easily the slightest things that you have any concerns over is distressing. Well, the fact that one can’t stop them is more annoying!
Then, another arrived in the brain… ‘Did I lock the door?’. So off again to check… I hadn’t, as it happens – so I did! 

On the way back to the recliner, I espied a late night sky I thought worthy of photographicalisationing. So, I did.

The Lumix was in auto-mode as I took the picture. It made the photo much more bright and light than it looked to my eyes.
Back into the recliner, brain-drained and so tired-out. However, the had at last departed… Now my mission was to get to sleep before the ing started again!

Which I did, Hurrah!

Inchcock Today: Wednesday 21st September 2022

WEDNESDAY’s POLITICAL CARTOON

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03:40hrs: Another shooting awake, the arms jounced, and slowly the brain woke up as well. The only thing it was interested in was my hastening to the Porcelain Throne. So, I did!
No injuries or Accifauxpas en route; I got settled in the regulation position, and the evacuation began. I should think it was 80% putrid air and 20% of watery kaki-coloured liquid, with a few bloblets of the expected stuff mixed in.
Not too messy it didn’t spurt out. No bleeding.
Again, I thought, well, I’m in here now; I’ll get the ablutions tended to. most another bit of the left back double molar again… I don’t know how it hasn’t all gone by now; the number of times I lose a chunk of it?
I took extra care with the shaving this time. A couple of tin nicks, no bother.
Ah, there were some difficulties here. The Germoloiding of Harrolds Haemorrhoids went perfectly smoothly, with minimum pain of any sort. Then, the Phorpain gelling was more or less in the same style. Then, for some reason, the applicationing of the
Daktacort can only be described as horrendously painful. I stopped as soon as I felt that much pain in such a delicate area. And went to fetch the magnifying glass to see if I could find a use-by date in the tube or box. Nope, couldn’t see one anyway. I went to the medical drawer in the kitchenette and ferreted about for another tube. None left! I must ask Richard or Deana to order some for me.
A smothering of Germolene in place was tried. Totally-ineffective. I dare not use what bit of Daktacort that was left in the tube, so threw it away.
Then, the Danger of the Day, so far, had to be faced. 

Of course, I wasn’t worried at all; a heroic man with so many ailments is not going to let a plastic-coated finger-crunching, blood-letting thing like metal Sock Glide intimidate me. Well, more than suspected!
I got through it and got the socks on. A plaster on the trapped bleeding finger was all I needed this time. Freshened up my wobbly short-overweight body with antiperspirant spray and aftershave. Got dressed and tackled the next job, the .
Back down again! SYS 137. DIA 72, Pulse 78 bpm, and body temperature a good return at 34.3°f.
Back in the High-Norm amber area. I suppose a being shown is okay?
The second lowest rating I’ve ever recorded! Now I shall be looking to get in the green soon… Hehehe!

Was banging about above early again, around 06:00hrs. He must be making things for Christmas pressies early, mayhaps? Come think of it, I reckon he was noisy late at night and early mornings this time last year? I may be wrong, of course. ♫ It’s not unusual for Inchcock to be wrong… ♫

I got the computer on, and many comments on my blogs were received. It was from Bill, so I answered him. Off to make a mug of Thompson’s Punjana, and I took this morning shot of the view from the kitchen window. Not exactly awe-inspiring, is it?

I went back to the computer and checked the Emails.

Morrison and J Sainsbury’s had set a list of their substitutions and not available goods in today’s orders to be delivered.
Not good, is it? Still, I can give away the Tikka substitute; Deana might like them. The tomatoes should be okay. It’s funny how they always send dearer than the original substitutions.
JS had done even worse than Morrisons; that takes some doing. Same thing, dearer substitutes.
But they failed to tell me that the cheaper chilli cans I’d ordered were going to be substituted with a lot dearer ones! Humph! Anyway, I started to get things stored away. The Imperfect Tasty Strawberries were one for Deana and one for Francis, who I hope she’s back from the hospital by now and feeling better. I’ll ask Deana later.
Ah, my treats to myself here! Vegetarian shepherd’s pie, roast potatoes, veggie pasta, and sliced potatoes (well, it cuts back on chopped fingers!). Seasoned fresh cut chips as well… Oh, and a new one to me, Silky Butternut Squash Risotto; no idea what it will taste like, but without trying it, I’ll never know. Did you see that? Words of Wisdom… from me! Hehehe! Beefburgers and pot noodles for Carer Richard. Some individually portioned sticky rice pots and substituted No Chicken Tikka Masala with rice. I tried the one I ordered cause I knew I was okay with sweet & sour sauce. But I’ve tried Tikka before and did not like it. Are J Sainsbury staff told to select lousy substitutions on purpose? Is not sweet & Sour Chinese? And Tikka Indian?

At least they didn’t send me a pot of brown shoe polish this time. I’m not joking; I ordered potato cakes once and got a shoe polish pad!
Still, the owner has just lost a family member, the Queen. So, say no more. At least Morrison’s managed to deliver my favourite ready meal of all time. Roast Vegetable Risotto. It’s cracking tasty! I always put just a drop of BBQ sauce with it. And the packet of mushroom risotto I had yesterday, I think it was, was grand.
This is a loaf got the Wardens, cause it keeps fresher longer… someone told me.
I got some brown cobs for me from Lord Sainsbury: J Sainsbury plc is the parent company of Sainsbury’s Supermarkets Ltd, the third largest chain of supermarkets in the UK, with a 16.4% share of the market.
As of 2021, the largest overall shareholder is the sovereign wealth fund of Qatar Royal Family Investment Authority, which holds 14.99% of the company. It is listed on the London Stock Exchange and is a constituent of the FTSE 100 Index. The chain’s annual report shows that chief executive Simon Roberts picked up £2.8 million in bonuses for the year to March 5, on top of his £878,000 a year salary and other benefits. His mammoth pay deal includes a £1.7 million annual bonus and £1.1 million in long-term incentive scheme shares. Shame no one there knows the difference between a Chinese meal and an Indian one. Just thought I’d mention it! Not that I have anything against the Indians, they have my greatest respect and admiration. It’s just that their food does not sit well with me. Where was I?

Oh, yes… These were some of the giveaway items. I bought a few trays of fluffy rice. I just thought Deana might like one to try. Hope she likes Tikka.
She did call later after I’d got everything put away… Ah, something else I forgot to mention… A pack of six 1 litre Spring Water was delivered today; luckily, it was the first thing I moved into the kitchen from the blocked by food doorway. I felt the leaking water running down my leg onto the carpet; I then dropped the bottles when I got into the kitchen. What a mess I got into, and cleaning it up was no fun!
I lost the plot there… Sorry.
I put the flowers on the trolley, ready for when Deana or Julie, or both, came to see me about the lift for Friday.
Richard told me Deana would be calling today to see me. Which she did.

She told me she’s arranged for the lift on Friday to be for 10:00hrs So, hopefully, I can get to the B&M store to get some of the canned drinks that the Carers took to. I got some last week… no, a fortnight ago. But they all went first, but  I just cannot remember what they were called. When I see the cans, I’ll know, He says… Hehehe!
Onto the computer to make a start on this blog at long last.

♫ Oh, Susana… ♫ Hello, who’s that? It was Esther, after her six-week break visiting her family in South Africa for two weeks, that turned out to for four more. Can’t blame her! She’s calling tomorrow to do the laundry. She asked for a pen so she could write a note to another customer and post it through his door – I made sure I got the pen back this time! Hehe! 

I believe the sudden fatigue is coming back again now. 14:00hrs?
I’ll get a vegetable risotto in the microwave and add one bay-sized fluffy rice after three minutes, so they are ready at the same time. A drop of BBQ sauce will be added after cooking. This week I shall try harder to avoid any burnt fingers or dropped items when struggling to get the lid off of the trays.
The foods were both nearly ready. I made up a pot of Idaho instant mash with bubble & squeak, adding some extra-strong grated cheese and a quirt of my made-up to the bottle of liquid salt & distilled vinegar to the pot. Added a mini-pot of lemon mousse to the tray and got into the recliner to feast!


I had a cough and thought I saw some specs of blood in the tissue, well, the paper towel I used.
The meal was cooling as I checked the nose and mouth. Nowt to fret over, but puzzlingly all the ulcers in the gums seem to have erupted at the same time. I didn’t realise I’d got so many pustules in the gums. As for why this happened, I remain, as ever nowadays, confused.
Finally, I began the feast, ’cause that’s what it was, and even though I’ll let it cool more than I meant to, it was delicious! A Taste-Rating of 9.3/10!

I put the tray on the Carers desk next to the £300, second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously grungy coloured, Harold Haemorrhoid-testing, easily-falloutable from, unfit-for-use, not working, recliner. And drifted of with a satisfied stomach into a wonderful – but short-lived, dream-filled sleep.
♫ Oh, Susana… ♫ chimed out and brought me rudely to a state of semi-wakefulness. Blow it; I can’t remember her name now. Humph! She apologised for being late and mentioned how rushed she was. She soon got the medications sorted; and, with what seemed a reluctance, ask if there was anything else. There was, but she seemed so pressed I didn’t mention anything. A nice gal, I told her to pick a treat on her way out.
I think I was about to nod off again when I remembered I’d not locked the door. So, I locked it


Turning back from locking the door, I thought I’d have a look through the spy hole – which proved near fatal. Hehe! I twisted my back as I turned again, setting off poor and, at almost the same time, stubbed my toe on the three-wheel walker guide wheel… but I’d not finished yet. Oh, no!
Cursing my bad luck under my breath, and went into the wet room for a wee-wee and apply some Phorpain gel to Shirley. And walked into the doorframe, hit the shoulder, stopped, and automatically pee’d in my PPs, and I felt like crying. But I resisted it, after all being the heroic, stoic, brave, strong young man that I am…
At least Bladder-Belinda’s sudden leak came when I was in the wet room.
I evacuated the remaining few drops of urine from Bladder-Belinda. Stripped off and had a good clean-up. Germoloided Harold’s Haemorrhoids,
And got the crap, not very effective  MedPhorpainPhorpain gel, rubbed into my back as best that I could get at. Surprisingly, the toe stinging started to ease off?
Got some fresh PPs on, the Depend brand that had coped admirably well with Bladder-Belinda’s earlier escaping mini-torrent. was left until last. Because the shoulder charge on the wet room doorframe had set her off shuddering away, but now she had calmed down.
It took me so long to sort things out that by the time I was leaving the wet room, the and , were of little bother now.
Of course, now I had to rely on to get me through the doorway without any . Easy-peasy! I think that when I go going into the room and the light blaring at my eyes is why there are more walk-intos than when leaving the wet room?

A momentary Sherlock Holmesian conclusion there?Haha!

I got settled into the c1968 recliner seat…
Tired out, with Thought STorms to compete,
My mood was just a tad downbeat,
Thought of the Risotto… that was a treat!
Cramps now, in the fingers, legs and feet!
I must be getting closer to the scrapheap,
Losing my battle for peace and sleep…
My life seems full of things grossièreté!
Don’t know when, but I got nodded off alreet…
Dreamt I was on holiday; it looked like Crete?
2:55hrs, I sprang wide awake. Did I oversleep?
Asleep only five minutes, I could weep!

MORNING ALL!

Inchcock Today: Short Diary & an Ode

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SATURDAY 23rd JULY 2022

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I rose, mentally weary and physically so tired. Sweet Morpheus has been unkind to me for a few days. Not much sleep at all.

I pottered about, starting many things and drifting merrily off to such others. Not many saw completion or fruition.
I found some photos that were supposed to have gone on yesterday’s blog. Last night’s meal. A veggie dinner and veggie ice cream, not that the brain was clear enough, but I think it was nice and tasty. I gave the memory an 8/10 score. Apart from the beetroot, which tested my loose teeth. Which reminded me, I must remember the Dentist’s visit on Monday!
arrived and sorted out the medications. I noticed when I opened the new bag that some of the same medicines had shorter-dated packs at the bottom of the drawer. Of course, there were only a few that I could read the date on, thanks to the Cataracts. The carer soon got me sorted. Didn’t want any drinkies or nibbles and left leaving the waste bags in the hallway. I didn’t think to ask her to take them; a new gal is not up with the system yet. Nervous and weary, but nice enough, bless her.
It was a bit colder this morning, a lot, in fact.
I took some photographicalisations from the kitchen window.
Then went on the computer – that was it; I spent around eight hours doing odeing and never got around to starting this actual blog!

Had a shower, shave and a sh… well, we’ll leave that bit. Not that it was a bit. A Constipation Konrad controlled session. Firm, painful and in the end, a little bloody, Harold’s Haemorrhoids suffered.

Then realised I’d not done the Health Checks yet. So I did!


Yet again, an overall lower than ever before result! Phenomenal

I started on an Ode for the top of this blog. And it took me hours to get done. Mind-Blanks! Kungleturds! My efforts were accompanied by Herbert’s mechanical and metal cacophony concert.

Nearly tea time now. It won’t be long until the evening carer is due. What happened to the time?

Mind you, every wee-wee was followed by  , and Little Inchies a few times, which cost me a lot of lost time. I’m still tired, is slowing me down now. I’m struggling with using CorelDraw. The keyboard keys blend into each other. Grollocks!

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My daily walk through the tree copse mattered…
If I tried it nowadays, I’d be devoured…
By various ailments pains, again and again…

Can’t get up the hill or down in the subterranean…
Would it help me if I took some cocaine?
Or a few more Codeines for the pain?
I’d likely end up an addicted crackbrain?
Better not think of doing this then…
Should I be eating bread that’s multigrain?
I hope the cataract is done soon, my vision to regain…
Oh, dearie me, I need the Throne made of Porcelain…

Bloody Constipation Conrad; he’s barbaric!
I lost blood from the piles, trapped something in the seat of plastic!
The rock-hard evacuation nearly sent me ballistic!.
Sorry, I mustn’t be so melodramatic…
Little Inchies fungal lesion bled; it’s only miniaturistic,
It’s no use me being all nostalgic,
Or far-seeing and nostradamic,
And I’m not getting into a tizwas or panic…
Even with all my ailments, and now I’m osteoarthritic…
I intend to learn how to be optimistic,

Being depressed has been making me feel sick,
As do people who call me a prick…
For having such a tiny man-dick…
Bullies, gangs, fiddling MPs, Doctors charlatanic…
I find these scumbags are lowlife, oxymoronic,
They concern, bother me, even if I’m thanatognomonic,
Dementia Doreen, toys with all things mnemic…
Dates, appointments, names, days… it could be hilaric…
But with me, there are other things to make me feel despotic,
Peed off, humiliated, and depressogenic…
I’ve forgotten what they are; because I’m a schmendrick!

Yet I used to be known as being hyperdynamic,
I’m so fat naturally; I’m not bulimic,
I don’t see the end of mankind as cataclysmic…
If there is a God, our actions must have made him sick…
If St Peter wants to send me back to earth again… Horrific!
One failure is enough for me; that would be so dramatic.
Unless he assures me this time, my man-worm will be pythonic!
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Turned the Computer off and thoughts of food developed. But there are not many choices fresh-wise, and I’m too tired and shaking to bother too much.

I decided first to take some close-up photos of the ankle and feet. Here they are on the left here. The left foot is getting worse, but the right one with the ulcer is far easier and better looking tonight.

The left toes and foot had lost a lot of fluid. The right one was still retaining a lot of water. Walking remains more like hobbling and a smidge risky when the PN wobbles and shakes come on while getting around the flat.

Ah, off to the wet room. A tough evacuation that almost brought tears to my eyes. Washed up, and I medicated poor old Harold’s Haemorrhoids.
Then back to pondering on what to have to eat. Well, I was not interested in cooking, and the tiredness decided me to have a quick snack. A pot of pot noodles, with extra seasonings, added. Liquid smoke and BBQ sauce. A pot of instant potato with liquid salt, soya bacon pieces and more BBQ sauce. A few sad-looking slices of dry bread to dip into the noodles and wrap up some of the potatoes to make a sarnie out of.
The picture looks terribly sparse, unappetising, a pathetic meal. That is because it was all these things!
Yet… maybe because of Sweet Morpheus’s determination that I will not get any sleep, combined with his success in doing this, I enjoyed the nosh. I think a Taste-Rating of 6.5/10 would not be over-gracious?
Even though I fell asleep eating it! Woke and finished it off and drifted into the land of nod again. I think it must have been a deep one, cause I reckon I was dreaming I was sleeping… and great joy was floating in my mind, peaceful…
♫Oh, Susana♫ burst out from the door chime box six foot away in front of me. It jerked me awake, and Valerie came into the room, and instantly the tiredness hit me again. I’d only been sleeping for five minutes! I was hoping to stay in the recliner while Valerie gave me the medications, then I could nod off again when the gal had finished, but no!
Valerie needed some medications, and I got up and hobbled into the kitchenette to get her some from the medicine drawer.

Valerie gave me the doses, and I had a little natter with her. She pointed out that my Stuttering-Stephanie habit was a lot worse tonight. I’d not noticed? Why I wondered? And stayed not knowing!) I can’t remember if I offered her any nibbles or not? I hope I did. I think I stayed in the chair as she left after I thanked her.
But there was no sleeping early tonight for me. I soon realised I’d not locked the door. So, what with the memory of the yobboes coming in at two in the morning still fresh in my mind, I had to get up and go to lock the door – Not a hard task, really…
However, stubbing my toe on the way back against the clothes airer ensured a minor curse word was emitted, thus, cocking up any chance of getting to sleep early!

After an hour or so, I gave up and put a DVD on. Humph!

Intangled Inchies Diary – Monday 15th February 2021

TFZer Lillie, at her weekend cottage


Inchcock Today

Monday 15th February 2021

Finnish: Maanantai 15 Helmikuuta 2021

05:00hrs: Woke up to pains from Cartilage Cathy, and where Colin Cramps had been having a go at me again, nocturnally! But, nothing, compared to the previous two nights. I drank no end of spring water yesterday, and as Tim Price says, it seemed to have helped! At least I got a few hours kip in, a decent four hours I work it out as.

As soon as I attempted to move my old aching limbs, and flobby-bellied torso from the Grotty, £300, second-hand, c1968, unsteady, not-working, incommodious, sickeningly beige-coloured, haemorrhoid-testing recliner to catch my balance. Cathy and Arthur Itis complained, and the knees were dodgy again, so I really took my time, gingerly hooked the wooden walking stick over my shoulder, and tried to walk to the kitchen, without using it. I got there without any hassle, but, as I mention, I was weary and planning my route near solid objects I could use if I did go over.

No wee-wee called for? I got the kettle on and cracked my elbow on the countertop, and calmy muttered some oath or other – good heavens, my voice was all nasal and croaky? There was mucus wanted to come out from the throat and nose, I got rid of a bit of it. But it was still better than two days ago, just the knees and Colin Cramp’s after-effects were any bothers. I talked myself into an even-keel frame of mind.

I tackled the pre-Dump Health Checks. The dependable, trustworthy, Chinese manufactured Boot’s Sphygmomanometer results were okay. SYS 161. DIA 70 PULSE 90. A good start!

In Hong Kong, the Chinese Harpin Xian Di contactless thermometer returned decent reading, lit up in the green. Of 36.7°c – 98.6°f. A smidge high, but well down on what it has been some days. So, no complaints from me!