Inchcock Today: Friday 25th November 2022

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Best as I could recall, it would have been about five o’clock when I went to put the kettle on to make a Welsh brew of Glenghetti tea.

This Ode writ to show yer the wee-wee rate today!

While doing the brewing,
A mug of tea ensuing,
The bladder continued bubbling…
Took one photo. and off for a peeing,
Washed, back to photographing,
Tea had done brewing…
Got out the milk & off for a wee-weeing!
Out of the wet room singing…
Forgot the tea, did the binning,.
Ah, the tea, which was now freezing,
Still, it didn’t matter to me.
Weeing,
It was not free-flowing…

I could be in the shit; you see! Hehe


Ouzzat! Back-Down to High-Normal!

And, I not long since when taking the shower shaving routine, that my right hanging-sack is swollen and so tender. Humph!
I presume from the effects of the urine infection or whatever it is. As the wee-wee rate was dropping. The swelling and pain started coming and still getting worse. Typical, I get an appointment, then find that I can’t get an Easy-Link bus; the poor devils are out of volunteers.
 It’ll be dodgy on the buses, but I’ve no choice. Finding it a lot harder to see things now, like traffic, walls, kerb, and bus stops, and have to manoeuvre around the 3-wheeler walker trolley. Do you know, I’m genuinely nervous about going out, not being able to see or hear.

About 45 wee-wees later, I’d stopped drinking before going to the doctor and got things ready to go. But if the Carer is any later I may miss the bus… “I may miss the bus!”! You may not believe the farce that took place… However, by way of a cheer, the had developed what a work of an art form is. I felt like it must be a label or something that could be pulled off? Off course, in my condition, there was no way I could reach it anyway – and should I have tried, my right onion bag would have likely burst as I swashed it, getting down to it. Not to mention the agony it would have given me. Hehehe! Believe me, it gave me plenty of chance for the odd Argh! Winching & cursing throughout the day and night!
Arrived, and I asked him if he could help me with getting the does on, Or to be more precise, fasten the velcro on them. TY was happy enough to do that for me. I waffled too much, and the lad forgot to give me the second Omeprazole table, my fault. Treats selected in, on my insistence, thanks. Took the waste bag with him as he left. I wandered of again there, sorry.
Now, it was now up to me to get to the bus on time. And I did too! My left side lips gave a slight curl upwards. Initially, I did, but the Swaggering blossomed.

I caught the 40 bus to go down Winchester Street, get off on Mansfield Road, and catch another bus into Carrington, where the Sherrington Park Medical thingamabob is.
acci-whoop When a lady got on who I’d not seen for ages, I started a chinwag with her. As she got to get off, I realised that we were on top of Mapperley Plains
 Activated, and I got off with her but could not catch her up. I was in a mental flap of sorts, concerned about being late for the appointment.
This kindest lady came to me and asked me if I was alright. I explained my big , and she asked if she could call a taxi for me. Bless Her!
And she did. A taxi arrived in about three minutes and put the trolley walker in the boot and me in the back, and we were soon arriving at the surgery. Phew! There was a decent wait to be seen. Which told me I’d got the timing wrong again. I was proven right later on when the Doctor mentioned how early I had arrived. Tsk!

I told doctor Vindla of wee-wees, how painful they were and only the off sprinkle coming out. Off t the treatment room And she had a look ot the bladder and Shot up the backside to have a feel around. I felt that one! Then something long and cold. I didn’t ask.

Two Meridian gals… I think Tina and Jodie came in as I was sat sitting at the computer, trying to resettle the giant-sacked ball whatsit between my legs. The legs also grew greatly today?
I fear that the photographs I took while out, fifteen of them, many never made it to the SD Card. A message something like ‘This photo cannot be viewed’ showed on the Lumix screen. Huh!

The FARCICALISATIONAL began.
I got wrapped up well, remembered the Sample tube thingy, filled, of course. Hehe!     
I got to the public bus stop, and other tenants joined us there. And a bus arrived within minutes.
I got into the vehicle with no injuries, got sat down and off we went.
My mind was concerned at that time about what and how I was going to explain my symptoms to the Doctor. (I would have checked my notes written earlier… but they were in the living room back at the flat.
We arrived at the next stop, and a lady and gent got on. It’s been so long since I saw them since I don’t get out much, and I greeted them like family and launched into questioning them about how they were getting on. The lady said she was sorry, but they were getting off at the next bus stop. Then a sickening feeling filled my stomach, with a self-hating mode coming on when I realised where we were, going in the opposite direction. I’d got on the wrong bus!
I alighted with the pair, and not a full mode, but it soon became one when I realised the problem I was going to have to get to the surgery on time now.

I crossed the pelican lights to the other side, but none of the buses went to Carrington from there. (I wondered at that moment if this was a suitable name for EasyLink to use) But did not blame them; I more cursed my own luck and Dementia Doreen!
This very kind lady came to me (I supposed I must have looked worried?) and asked if I was alright. I briefly explained my cock-up, and asked if there was a taxi place nearby. Bless her. She got on her mobile and ordered a car from DG for me.
SherringtonThis arrived within three minutes and five more, and we were pulling up at the Sherrington Park Surgery. The sun came out as I paid my dues.

Whoever the lady was To whoever the lady was who helped dave the appointment for me. ♥
I got inside, and when I logged in, the lady in reception pointed to the chairs. (Doctoresse at this surgery for Please take a seat) Which in many ways was such a comfort; because it meant I was not late.
With how the eyes were, there was no point in taking the crossword book (although I meant to, I just forgot to, Ahem!)
I looked through every leaflet on the walls, and there was no shortage, but there were only about four with print big enough to read.
I sat for about twenty minutes: Not easy sitt
ing, you know! When one of your man bits is three times the size of the other one, without trapping or sitting on it. Well, impossible, actually!

Dr Vindla came to me, smiling… that always scares me for some reason nowadays Hehe! The first thing she sails was, “You’re good and early today, Gerry. Let’s have you in…”

I’d got the appointment timing all mixed up again! Shouldn’t really be such a shock with my record, but so many in such a short space of time were worrying me a smidgeon.

I don’t suppose for one second that they bother my uninvited interloping brain resident, Dementia Doreen, do you think?
I’m surprised I don’t have a headache; I bet she’s in there amongst the confused brain cells, throwing a party. or maybe having a revelrous-celebratory knees-up with Alto-Ego?
I wonder how long it will be until my grip weakens so much that I will not care anymore? Jus
t a thought. Well, at the moment, anyhow. Back to the surgery… I strayed well off-topic again there; sorry.
I told the Doc all about my four sleepless nights and the mushrooming, three-time it’s usual size tender right bit in my men’s department. I can’t be certain, but I thought I detected a little wry-smile creep into her expression.
It was off into the examination room for me with her. She got me positioned and ready for her to delve into certain orifices. She said; I’m going to have a feel… (By gum, that took me back in time, Hahaha!) a feel of your Prostrate, which she did. I just lay there in bliss for a minute. Then, another delve into the rear quarters, I sensed a bit of squelching, and then Dr Lona said something, but I didn’t hear what she said clearly.

Back in her room, then spoke again. She has sent an email to the chemist, which I can fetch now, for some MacroBid antibiotics. Do I did. But not until Dr Vindla gave me an appointment with the Nurse – I nearly got excited then. Haha! It’s with Nurse Lisa. For 30th December at 10:30hrs. I wish I’d asked what it was for, not hearing her tell me earlier, but by now, no-doubt Doreen was back in action, making sure that any signs of contentment, peace, or understanding had no chance in hell of maturing. She’s good at that.

For some reason unknown to me why this is the moment that what I thought was a swollen and painful right testicle started to turn into a really swollen and agonising pain-giving testicle! No idea what caused this, but as the day went on, in the morning, typing this, it got worse. I really am in the shit now, and have to walk to the chemist and then catch two buses to get home!
A daunting challenge, that daunted me! Argh!
Got to the chemist, collected the prescription, and had to decide whether to walk into Sherwood or use the bus. Not an easy decision. (Well, none are for me nowadays)
I knew that on the bus, there would be no chance of avoiding injury to Spanish Onion Henry. (I christened him that as I give names to all my ailments) Well, he feels that size, you see, to me. Hehehe!
Knowing that I had to catch the bus from Sherwood. No way would Spanish

Onion Testicle Henry have coped with walking up the steep hill; I decided it would be easier to walk into Sherwood.
There was only one really near-bothersome that happened en route.
When I was passing some of the brand-new Escotters on the kerbside. (
Putting them in that spot must tempt the scallywags to use them on the road, surely?) I had the above thought (Oh, yes, I have thought every now & then, Why I recall having one in Made 1968). I had a few seconds scary . BY Gawd, SOSTH didn’t half sting for a bit. Good job, I didn’t go over. Anyway, I made a tag for him cause I see no signs of him getting any smaller.

Caught the bus in Sherwood back up to the flats and got inside, and must say, although I thought at the time, was painful, it was going to get a lot worse.

I dare not sit down at the computer at first for fear of inflaming SOSTH. So, I got the kitchen floor mopped. A pathetic effort, but it made me feel better for trying.

Then. Tina and Sam or Jodie from Meridian called. To tell me, Richard has spoken with them, and she has worked hard to get the NCC to allow some extra care time and arrange for the laundry to be done at no extra cost. She’s also trying to arrange for Richard – or another carer to go with me on Thursday to the Coppice hospital. That is a worry less; if it’s Richard, the hospital tells me it must be someone that can accurately answer questions about how I have changed in personality. Richard is the only one who can do that. I do appreciate them trying for me. ♥

After this, I honestly don’t know what occurred until the evening Carer arrived. It was not a good visit, a tension in the air as I recall.
I was not given the new double dose of Omeprazole. The Peptac server was left on the carer’s table. And the waste bags were not taken. But I still offered him a treat in thanks. It may have been me talking too much again.

Shortly after the Carer left, my body closed down after I’d taken my third wee-wee in an hour. I . Woke at about 03:30hrs and was soon back 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 again, after taking a wee-wee.
Great, only four awakenings all night to use the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket).
A record that!

Inchcock Today: Tuesday 22nd November 2022

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01:25hrs: Porcelain Throne, a wash, a second Throne visit, got the waste bags sorted out. A couple of wee-wees while I was making a brew of Glengettie.
Got the Monday blog tackled and did it all the way through (although I anticipate a number of errors and mistakes).
Back to the Porcelain Throne again. They were all of a sloppy Trotsky Terence variety and not a lot of it.
As I was getting the Health Checks done and making the graph… and I am sure that this would amaze and stun you… But the internet went down!

Difficult to apprehend, I know. A man earning now, $26.8 million a year, plus bonus and shares, who buys Virgin Media from Mr Branson for so many billion. 24 billion, I think it was
And can’t even get a service to Nottingham that is even slightly like a reliable service?
You have to admire the number-crunching Smoke and Mirrors money manipulator.

Of course, it’ll be mainly jealousy at how much he is earning. And can’t do the job right… innit?
Also, he must be a cunningly lucky man. He’ll know the few bosses of Liberty-Global above him, and no doubt fear of his spilling the beans on them ensures that Fries keeps his job? That and the back-handers they must be giving to the financial regulators. Just thought I’d mention it. 

I thought the wee-weeing was bad now, but little did I know what was waiting for me overnight!

I got my head down and tried to relax and recuperate.
But five hours later, Mr Fries, Liberty-Global, Virgin Media had not returned Internet was not on again.

Slept and woke for an hour, with no interest, and a totally confused brain caused me much misery. At 08:00hrs, Carer Shekiel came. Nice lad, we had a natter, treats in thanks, and he took the waste bags with him.

Noisy neighbour Herbert kicked off with his concerts of noise. At least they were different this time. The usual tap tappings, intermingled with the odd cappella serenade from his drilling tones.

I reluctantly started to fo the Health Checks again
Not so good today, back up in the Hypertension-3 Red Zone. The SIA bringing a rather high figure. A shame about that.

Although I did this okayish, my tiredness and weariness returned. And my concentration was all over the place. I turned off the computer and sat down in the £300, second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously grungy coloured, Harold Haemorrhoid-testing, easily-falloutable from, unfit-for-use, not working, recliner.
All a part of the mysterious nature of Woodthorpe Court, with the ghosts, wraiths, spectres, cacodemons, apparitions, and other grotesqueries that haunt the hallways and lobbies, searching for Inchcock; to curse with bad luck, create ambiguities, abstrucities, perplexities, misfortunes and botherations, to scare. worry and confuse me!.

My mind was all over the place. I was hoping that ILC (Independent Living Coordinator), Oberstgrüppenfuhreress, Warden and Primo Ballerina, Warden Deana, Or ILC (Independent Living Coordinator) Generaloberstess, Ice skating champion florist and Warden Julie would find the time to get me some help on the ultra confusing instruction from the Mental Status Hospital. Even the address is confusing me.
Hazelwood House, ‘The Coppice’, Highbury Hospital, Bulwell, Nottingham.

I spent the rest of the day in the recliner; in fact, I spent 12 hours in the chair. The wee-wees slowly increased in frequency and got more and more painful, with less flowing each time!
As I said, no sleep again whatsoever.
I felt cold all night, a feeling that someone kept walking over my grave.
I made an ode in the morning for the Wednesday blog about this.

At 01:25hrs, I must have had 80 wee-wees! The total passed, would not have finked a tea mug! I started using the WC after this, hoping that it may encourage the rate of flow. It didn’t

Then I suddenly felt the cold more. I took off the jammies and put the dressing gown in the laundry bag. Then bot a thick bobble hat on my head, got a jumper on my torso, and a jacket on top of them. and a thicker pair of trousers on, and some socks… Boy, was that painful!

The rest, indeed even some of this, indeed repeated, I think, on Wednesday’s blog.

The Worst Night Ever!

Descriptive Ode Coming Tomorrow!