Tag: Stuttering Stephany

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SUNDAY 2nd AUGUST 2026
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Topsy-Tervy Today
Shortened due to time lost with the blood pressure issue. Not a lot… but being the dedicated young rascally lad that I am, I started this blog as soon as it was possible.
Monday morning at 04:00hrs.
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Short but not sweet, I fear.
So many changes, so many new problems. So far behind with everything. So many phone calls; Doctor, INR, and Cardiac blood, British Gas, so many unsolved issues…
Oh, that’s for Monday. Tsk!
I may not be back, Humph!
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Whoops, missed these last night.
BP Check results. When the Carer left, I called 111 to ask advice on these high readings. According to the list the nurse made me, so high should have been a 999 call.
I rang them and told them I’m feeling unwell. She put me through to another department. I answered the questions. And they sent an ambulance to check me out. I feared the very thought of going back into the hospital. I’ll try to cut this short, as it is now 19:30hrs on Monday.
Q&As, many tests, and they gave me a leaflet thingy, telling me not to do BP tests until after the Carer comes, as the ticker and blood tablets are given in the morning. I thanked them, apologised for bothering them, and they were packing up their tackle when one got a phone call.
I was whisked off. Many tests, much sitting around waiting for the results, and I got a lift back home.
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Near teatime, but I’d thoughtfully told the Carers not to call at lunch or teatime, and I’d ring if kept in, back to some out of sync & timing events.
Sorted waste.
Early view
Feet with the longest toenails ever
Bit of fat around the ankles.
Disappeared by morning.
Potatoes, Curlies & Stilton, with a mini pork pie.
TTFN.
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Friday 31st July 2026
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A Little Moan & groan to start… Sorry.
I/ve had a few days of bad depression; I sometimes get to the stage when I lose interest and despise myself for doing so. Take it as it comes. But not this week.
My invented helper, , has not visited for ages. Although maybe I created him to help me cope? This indicated to me that I have lost interest in all my failings, flundering and fearsome unsolvable problems. I can go on as long as there is money to pay my direct debits… Little things like electricity, rent, etc. Then what?
My problems in tackling problems are not something I want. The Dementia is getting worse; no question. I cannot do something one day and can the next. Obviously there is more to the effects. Like remembering what has and hasn’t been done. Many folk in my position have these and other problems to cope with. How come this morning I can write things like this? Yesterday, another example, both bad days for depression?
I loathe myself for dropping, walking into things, forgetting things, but most of all, my inability to get to the bank to sort money out. If I go, it will cost a fortune that I don’t have; my balance is that low. Taxis & Carers to go with me, likely to be £60, based on what I have to pay for taxis to and from the QMC-A&E when the Catheter blocks. (Why they sent me to A&E is unknown.) The nurse told me to get a taxi as it would be quicker than an “ambulance.” And classed as a medical emergency. I arrived at A&E, and it took 4 hours to be seen. During which, the Catheter remained painful and blocked;  Then he could not get the tube back in on two tries, went to another office, and it took that man twice to fit it in. I’m missing chunks out from here on, after seeing the waffle I’ve already put on.
Last time I went, the taxi there cost more than usual, and I did not have enough to get one back. I got no guides or facts given about frequencies of changes. Or how to undo and refit the tube collection array on my leg. The only thing said was: do not let the array fall loose! It fell off the following morning.
I’m due a visit to the Nuthall Hospital in August. But will not be able to take a Carer to answer questions. Hopefully I can get a lift from Easy Link, if their bus does not break down again like last time. 

So, you see here approx’ 15% of my problems. Huh!
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I gorrup at 06:40; (depressed without cause) The first thing I noticed was the night bag on the floor, in the same position it was when I got my head down. I cannot recall being woken up overnight. No acidy tastes in my throat, so no seizures had. Yet I felt so tired and worn out!
There was plenty of urine in the bag as well. I got the BP tackle out and left the night bag on the recliner, and did the BP tests. BP high; BP was 170/70, pulse 68, Temp 35.5, blood 95 high, 78 low. Had it much worse these last three weeks. I think this is why Matron took a photograph of the Excel recording sheet with her.
Ah, Matron, my only hope to get in a home.
Matron said that it is getting harder to find space.
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A most rapid sudden requirement for the toilet arrived. Nothing new about this, this last week. I think it was a fourth first-morning visit on the trot, and I barely got there in time; my excrement suits itself when it wants to evacuate. A Trotsky Terence job again.
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I emptied the night bag and returned to the recliner to record the reading. You’ll notice in the photo above that the urine in it was bright and orangy. Minutes later as urine began to flow… Scarily, it was mostly blood!
That got me worrying. The very thought of going to the damned uncaring QMC A&E deepened my depression and frustration. Not to mention the £30 or so that would be needed to get there and back, for the taxis.
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I started to get things ready, paper towels and glasses put in the three-wheeled walker as I got it from the balcony. Got the trousers and jumper out. Could not get the shoes on, but managed to get a pair of slippers on. I was going to ring DG. Realising the Carer’s due around 0800hrs, and decided to wait for him so he could get my proper outside shoes on for my feet, and help with the trousers. 
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I got a giant potato in the crock-out while waiting, and cleaned up a bit, and did the teggies. When I got back to the room, I noticed the urine was now much lighter and much less bloody. Another flipping mystery! But the joy of not having to go to the A&E briefly visited me. Great!
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0800hrs, the Carer arrived. I did not mention the blood problem for fear he would ring for an ambulance.
Medications: Porphyrin pain in the shoulder and neck.
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I got today’s grusone daily Ode created; I’d sunk back down again in spirits, self-pity had to be avoided.
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Then caught up with finishing yesterday’s post. But throughout the day, my concentration was once again cognitively weak. Easily sidetracked, disoriented, warped at times. None of these was helped with the eyesight getting worse. I’ll be glad to get one of the eyes done; when? No idea, waiting for the summoning appointment to arrive. My mind was the second concern today. 
The Bank situation being the top one.
I’m missing .
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Checked the overcooked potato in the crockpot. I overcooked it a little when I say little… I mean a lot. Tsk!
It’ll have to be eaten mashed.
Or maybe roasted slices?
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I went onto the balcony; the heat hit me when I opened the door to take some cloud and sky shots. No signs of rain amongst them today.
The floor greenery is going yellow and brown out there.
Still look beautiful up in the sky though. 
But the lack of rain and too much heat is destroying the greenery all around. 
The end of the car park, which usually had wet mud slides from the Woodthorpe Park behind us, looked bone-dry. The lawn bit is now 80% destroyed. Sad! I imagine the wildfires may spread to more areas when this cooler spell returns to hot weather.  
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Chicken sausages, boiled, sliced and then baked potatoes; with Teriyaki sauce. Tomatoes and some raw garden peas.
Taste Rating: 7/10.
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Short but Welcome!
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My last photographic adventure,
I thought I’d caught an alien invader.
Come to see Europe’s raging wildfire?
I had a minutes-worth of Ataxia,
Did they bring weapons, armamentaria?
“‘Twas the light bulb’s reflection, “I get dafter!
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Last night’s meal left me with digestion,
How did it taste? A Good question,
My rating was 3.5 out of 10!
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TUESDAY 28th JULY 2025
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06:30hrs: Bounced out of bed, removing the night pouch as I jumped over the wheelchair and did a few minutes of shadow boxing, as I hummed the National Anthem.
A hundred or so press-ups later, then some squats and toe touchings, and I needed the Porcelain Throne…
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Alright, I’ll start again then…
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I begrudgingly woke up with bladder pains of the flowback nature. My immediate thought was: Shit! I’ll have to get a taxi to the QMC A&E now. Naked, I instantly started finding problems before checking first. 
Another £30+ in taxi fares, then a wait of four-and-a-half hours like last time, waiting to be seen. Blood and urine bursting out through the fungal lesions on my sadly shrinking minuscule, battered mini-pinkie… The embarrassment, frustrations, and a mega-depression to cope with…, then realised there was nobody to help me get dressed! I’d have to go with the clothes in the walker-trolley, and a dressing gown on. 
I checked the night bag to find I’d left the smaller day bag on overnight! That was the problem giving me the backflow to the kidneys. I emptied it straight away, and slowly, after emptying & taking an Oxycodone.
I noticed my eyesight was much worse this morning, put oil in the ears, and drops in the eyes.
Then all the other unsettled, unsorted, not solved issues came flooding in. Oligarchal British Gas & Virgin Media. CorelDraw, the bank farce, Neurology, EENT, Nutall Hospital… on and on these worries worried me. 
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Some bother with the Carer this morning. I was in a right bad, gruff mood, and I kept finding things for him to do each time he sat in the recliner to use his mobile. I told him yesterday that we would go down on his longer call to get the keyboard I can see. He went through each of the clapped-out keyboards I had and found one that had packed up yesterday. Got it going, but it is still too much hard work seeing it in such a worse state.
I suggested we go to the computer shop to get a replacement; then he told me the man rang him and said he had no lit-up keyboards in stock. Doubts showed their faces, but I said we would go to the shop tomorrow. Then get some spuds, then call at the opticians to explain that I had a seizure at the pre-op meeting at the EENT, and had to wait six weeks to get another appointment; that was for two weeks later! Then we can catch a bus outside the opticians back to the flat. If I have time, he said.   
I got him to mop the kitchen floor; it needs it nearly every day, with me being barefoot. Got him to clean between the fridge door; it was filthy. He returned to his mobile in my recliner. I asked him to check the dates on some food in a box behind the chair. Five minutes later, he was back sitting on the recliner, mobile recording.
I asked him to clean between the cupboards in the kitchen. But he just watched me do them instead. I did a decent job too. Then realised it was me who did them. I asked him to sort the dates in the fridge, and he said, “I’ve done enough now”!
So, I was busier than before he came on his second hour-long visit. Which meant that when he arrived for the 16:00hr medicine call, I’d barely started this blog!
I used to love doing the blog. I was so weary, foofy-eyed, and frustrated that I let him do his usual: more time spent on his phone than doing anything.
Which tempts me to accept the offer from the lady to be Carer for me, and get rid of the pathetic young Carer I’m stuck with. No problems with Misra, but he calls on me less often, and Carer Ejaz doesn’t call at all now.
I still sense an ulterior or hidden truth about the way I’m being treated. Shame.
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Sister Jane rang me, but I was at my lowest ebb in years at the time. I may have been less than appreciative, forcing a thanks for calling as I put down the phone.
Feeling ashamed and guilty.
The last time my balance was as low as this,
would be around about 1966.
I can’t write anymore.
I’m a gibbering wreck.
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I’m hoping that Carer Mirza comes tonight.
He did not come; another vote in favour of
getting rid of the Carers altogether.
Without the help of Mirza & Ejaz,
it’s just not working. I cannot see it working, and I cannot afford it. I need intervention from a safe source, PLEASE!
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Carer in other room as I prepped the meal.
Mizra would help me when using knives, knowing I drop and lose grip on things later in the evenings.

Dropped the mug Jenny gave me last time I broke one, grabbed at it and clouted my knuckles on the counter edge and missed the mug, which shattered on the floor. Carer appeared and got the mess cleared for me.
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I wondered for a moment if my plea to go into a home is proceeding or has been rejected? No communication re the situation. But with the crisis in Social Care and the NHS, I can understand if it is being refused.
But I can’t go on much longer financially, or emotionally, with the cost of the Carers, and the bank statements not being looked at yet, weeks after they arrived and I informed the relevant people. The Warden and the NCC Procurement. No communication re the situation.
Understandably, methinks, but it still makes one think about an existence amidst billions, and feeling useless, pathetic and abandoned.
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Sourdough breag, bacon, fresh peas,
potato Curlies. I ate the lot!
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