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Ode: A BUSY VISITATION…
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Marvellous day, my Social Lady and Jenny in the flat. Jenny was brilliant in how she recalled things I could not. I struggled a little with my hearing-aid-less listening, but attentive Jenny jumped in as I struggled to recall names and events, or understand what was being said.
Some big changes are coming in the wind now, and thanks to the Social Lady and Jenny, I think I grasped most of them. It was lovely, and I appreciated everything suggested over the long visit. Cheered me up no end!
I hope I’ve understood everything. I felt that I did anyway. But I thought I understood what the bank told me. But I managed to get that all wrong. Carer Ejaz to the rescue.
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Catching up on this Friday; so far behind again. Humph!
Still, with things taking the turn they have…
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Time for snaps only, sorry… Oh heck!
I’ve not uploaded the snaps for this blog yet!
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Gorrum done… Friday, Tsk!
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No work on the blog until 14:00hrs; only two blogs to catch up on now. Too busy. What happened to the thesis, ifthat’ss the right word; of retiring and taking it easy?
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Top to the left – Bottom to the right
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Brekkies, a rarity for me
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Food Order; Not a rarity!
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Early evening
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Late evening
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An annoying night after a
wonderful Thursday day.
The dang Catheter began
to play up, with the
dreaded backflow.
I coped with it, thanks to
the magnificent day I had.
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Busy day again, but since this is being made up three days later and I can’t read my own notes, I put on some funnies from the past. Sorry.
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The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe
Inchy: Thur/Frid 22-23rd October 2026
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THURSDAY 22nd OCTOBER 2026
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Early delivery
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Drain Unblocker; Not for eating.
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Chips shop chips; for eating
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Bottled water; for drinking.
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Morning Sky
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Evening cuppa – Glengettie, of course.
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FRIDAY 23rd OCTOBER 2026
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Must sort out the bed rubbish.
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View through the balcony doors.
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Aha, my knee wound scab finally fell off…
Looked a little like a seashell,
Tuned it over…
This side looked like a seaweed crisp with a covering of semolina on the other side.
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I’d had little bother from the back pain today, until about 13:00hrs. Moved from the computer chair, and it was like the first time I developed Sciatica. Such pain from the right side of my back, and shooting down the right leg each time I stood up, sat down, twisted my torso, or even gently bent down. It’s the same now, 18 hours later.
Remembering the agony I went through last time, I took a Shortec®, Oxycodone Hydrochloride painkiller, hoping it would do some good. It was like last time; I laugh, I cough, stand up, sit down, it hurts. And using the right hand to carry the walking stick also makes the agony burst into life. Still, there you go. All a part & parcel of Inchies Tales of Woe. Another thing that worries me is the bladder backing up. There are a lot of white clumps of something from the bladder, and I have to manually squeeze the tube and shake sediments/incrustations through the tube and into the bag before the flowback pain. I’m sure others are suffering with this? Poor devils.
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Warning Signs (When to Get Help)
Contact a Doctor immediately, or seek medical care if you notice any of the following:
A: A fever or chills. None!
B: Severe, sharp, or worsening pain that does not ease with repositioning. C: No urine output in the bag or a suspected blockage. D: Heavy bleeding or large blood clots in the urine.
This year I’ve had Catheter-wise:
A) Urinary Tract Infections (UTIs): Six.
B) Blockages: Four.
C) Bypassing: Two.
D) Bladder Spasms: Two.
E) Catheter-Associated Meatal Pressure Injury (CAMPI): Downward traction or pressure on the sensitive tissue at the tip of the penis (meatus), causing local tissue injury, and fungal lesions, bleeding, and jets of urine to shoot out through the lesions. Five times.
F) Urethral Trauma and Strictures: Forceful insertion, poor technique, or long-term friction can cause bleeding, inflammation, false passages, or scar tissue (strictures), including failed re-entries. Dozens of times!
G) Urinary & Local Signs: Cloudy or foul-smelling urine, blood in the urine (hematuria). Usual for me, regularly.
H) Strong or frequent urges to urinate, penile discomfort, and painful bladder. Lost count!
I) Systemic Signs: 1. High temperature 2. Shivers, fever, chills? 3) Fatigue. 4) Confusion. (3&4 Everyday)
J) Prostatitis & Prostatic Abscess: Infection can ascend into the prostate gland, causing swelling, focal inflammation, or abscess formation (risk is higher in diabetic men [Me!]). (Twice)
K) Epididymitis & Orchitis: Bacteria can travel down the vas deferens or ejaculatory ducts to cause painful swelling and inflammation of the epididymis or testicles. (Ah, yes, once. I had one testicle the size of a grapefruit, the left one like a peanut!)
L) Urine leakage (bypassing): Urine flows around the outside of the tube due to spasms or minor blockages. (Oh, yesiree! Usually when I’m in a hospital waiting room, on a bus or in a taxi)
K) Meatal irritation: Redness, crusty discharge, or mild pressure injury at the tip of the penis where the tube exits, causing penis and hairs to meld together. Painfully. Every bloody day!
L) False passages: Accidental tears or alternate channels created in the urethral wall during difficult insertions. (Repeatedly!)
M) Rare Long-Term Risks: Chronic inflammation over many years can theoretically raise the risk of metaplasia or bladder cancer.
Well, that was a delight to read.
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An Inchie-Catheter-Inspired-Ode
To encourage flow to the Catheter,
From the cancered bladder…
No, sorry, the cancered prostate, my error,
The Catheter is a cruel taskmaster,
I wish they could fit a turbocharger,
Plus, of course, Mr Burham advised…
Food and drinks will be limited,
Storm Austen viciously hits England,
Power may go down, cut off tap water,
Rain, wind, maybe a thundershower,
Stay indoors, wrap up, bugger the weather,
With wildfires, riots, wars so popular,
Trumpelstiltskin, still wanting Canada,
Suicidal world-ending A.I. technomania,
We may all catch trichotillomania?
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Worra Grest Nosh this one was! Nothing
like the original one I started prepping.
I got the timing wrong on the original;
misread the minuscule cooking tips on
the outer packaging. I’ll tell you all the
involved.
I boiled the potatoes and peas together. Well,
I well-overcooked them, really. Turned
the oven on to heat up while I separated
the peas & spuds. Got some mint and salt,
rubbed into the overcooked potatoes.
Putting the vegetarian pie in the oven, I
dropped it and made a grab for it, ending
with just the pastry lid in my hand, the rest
of it splayed down my dressing gown, over
the Catheter, down my leg onto the floor.
(Ahem!) I laughed heartily, muttered
summat like, “Well fancy that!” Dusted myself
down, cleaned myself, the floor, and whistled
contentedly as I got a smaller pie, round vegan
pie from the fridge, and put the dish in the
microwave to keep the spuds & peas warm.
The lid of the other pie in the photo, copied
the first pie’s lid, and fell off!
If I recollect properly. Knocking a bottle of
soy sauce off of the counter as I did.
On the plus side, it did not break… however,
it did land straight on my ingrown toenail.
I smiled to myself and started singing, well,
hummed the Shadows Wonderful Land hit.
🎸Ding, ding, ding dum-dum de-ding 🥁
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Then I washed the dishes and watched ‘Heartbeat’ on TV, getting up several times to take shots of the night view below, in chronological order. (I think)
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FINAL THOUGHTS ODE
Thursday & Friday were both a bugger,
Although I could say summat other…
I knew it’d be bad; I’m not a soothsayer,
A good day? I don’t have a prayer,
My tunnel’s end? lightless, it’s darker,
Whoopsiedangleplops, life gets yuckier
Good fortune, success, can I get luckier?
Physically wrecked, mentally unstabler,
Hopes, dreams, faith, plans all wither,
Options, choices, decisions; no, I dither,
Carers that I can’t afford, I’m no viveur,
My doing this blog was once a saviour,
It helped to satiate my verbomania…
With my mind affected, I feel crazier…
Seizures, dementia, now an Alhziemer,
Deafness, cataract, TBI, and glaucoma,
Figures, facts, reality getting vaguer,
Contentment avoids me, gets rarer,
Time to get things done gets shorter,
Be prepared for when you get older…
Your attitude when you were younger,
May change, and also your behaviour,
Some turn huffier, pricklier, snappier,
Crotchetier, crustier, curmudgeonlier,
Decaying memory, so a bad timekeeper,
Surlier, gruffer, harsher, maybe ruder?
Then, like me, every day will be a bugger!
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Inchie Today: Mon/Tue 19/20th October 2026
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MONDAY 19th OCTOBER 2026
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I was in the midst of my last horrible dream; I was trying to jump from a wooden string-roped bridge into the water below. Not worried about going over at all. But the odd things that kept interrupting and kept me from diving in were endless. Some I recalled the moment that Carer Andrew came in and switched the light on. I tried to stay with the dream, and I don’t think I responded to the lad very well. Well, you wouldn’t when a pink gorilla came from the trees and shouted that he is an Alziemers councillor, and started towards me on the rickety tied-on wooden planks, shaking the bridge all over, and this made me change my mind, and I decided not to jump after all.
I think, well, I’m almost sure that earlier an alien alighted from a dome-topped mini spaceship, laughed at me, calling me a whimp, and tasered me. Climbed back into his tiny ship, turned, put two fingers up, and said, in a squeaky voice, ‘Cheers, Dumbo!’)
Vague, broken memories of other dreams lingered for a while, and then I realised Andrew had arrived when the light made me jump and forced me into a semi-responsive state. I greeted him, and he didn’t look happy. Why? I wondered if I’d been doing the somniloquy stuff again when he came in. Last week, when Inram did a teatime call, and I’d fallen asleep in the computer chair. He laughed so much when he woke me. He told me that I was talking unintelligible gobbledygook and was using a fair bit of bad language, but laughing as I did so. Of course I didn’t know if I was somniloquying this morning, but I might have been. Young Andrew did not seem too impressed with things. Haha!
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Another horrible day!
British Gas called me; I found out why: Jenny, my Angel, had contacted them. The bloody mobile phone of mine. I so hate it. It doesn’t ring when anyone calls, and I can’t hear voice messages. BG showed 8 missed calls (which grew to 19). And 11 missed calls. Ejaz contacted them, and I had to give my email, name and address. While doing so, the bloody mobile disconnected. TWICE!
Ejaz spoke with them; they said they would have to get back to me in a few days to prove who I was… WHAT?
I began to be frustrated and mega depressed, and didn’t feel very good.
I tried to get some of this blog done, but then the Catheter started flowing back- the pain! So I took a Codeine and Morphine.
Agony, but to make things worse, I then took a mild tumble. Not feeling up to much.
I’ll have to stop here, sorry.
I was already worried about the visit to the Audio Clinic, and getting things sorted as far as I could, but felt even more out-of-it. Then the BG farce, and bloody mobile. At one point, I was on the bloody mobile, and the landline and the intercom rang at the same time. I reckon that helped me take the fall. The sodding intercom wasn’t working again; I had to go down three times to see who it was, and each time no one was there at the foyer door. Now I know I won’t have time to catch up on this blog, a chance I may have to go to A&E with the Catheter problem… the Carer to be asked to help me get dressed. Will the Catheter… Enough!
Might get this a little caught up tomorrow…
Ha! Just remembered I changed the delivery time for the food to between 21 & 22:00hrs, so sleep will be a more urgent need than whatever it was I was going to write, but I’ve forgotten it now. If my bladder backs up, I might ring the District Nurses? I’m fed up. 
A near-noon photograph from the kitchenette window. Very few photos taken today; I’m afraid they’re scarce, indeed negligible. However, that is due to cock-ups and failures on my behalf, but the main culprit was, without a doubt;
British Gas: oligarchs with the worst complaint record of any of the 20 active domestic energy suppliers supplying the UK! So many indecisive, detail-seeking, and rejecting phone calls made and received today.
There was no time to even start this blog!
In fact, and I’m not joking, it is now nearly midday on Wednesday 21st October, when I started this blog!
To make things worse, it took more time and was, frustratingly, mentally crippling, as Tuesday was as bad as Monday was for time and dwindling finances! I had no time to get any blog done, and with so much short, pathetic sleep, my body forced me to get some on Tuesday. When I was sitting at the computer, I couldn’t get myself mentally together to try to make a start… I did scribble a few notes, forgot to take the camera with me; I was so…
But I’ll get to that later. (I hope)
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British Gas
Here to Solve!
The lying Oligarch, communicatively confusing,
sourpuss, and AI, off-putting, rigmarole-ridden, sending us around the houses just to reach a human, although I question that at times, awkward, two-faced, off-putting, disconnecting our calls. They give us numbers, direct us to another company that, judging by their pissed-off voices, tells us to keep telling people to ring us, and we have no connection with British Gas! No doubt in reply to a management instruction, in a vain effort to reduce the amount of complaints by making sure we can’t get through, and giving out dates for service maintenance or repairs they have no intention of keeping?
I suppose you think that I am getting annoyed? Piqued, cross, aggravated, disgruntled, exasperated, irked, irritated, nettled, and upset with British Gas’s lack of honesty, cheating, misrepresentation, equivocation, deception, fabrication, fibbing, falsification, fooling, deceiving, deluding, hoodwinking, conning, tricking, bamboozling- are you? They are the most deceitful, underhanded, deceptive, chicanery-ridden, unscrupulous, devious, artful set of customer (non) service givers I’ve ever known. Bearing in mind, I have suffered similar avoidance & evasion tactics to suit their own measures from Virgin Media and HMG Customs & Excise. (I lost those battles as well).
Having tried all of the above, and failed.
Makes British Gas Customer Service ineptitude far worse (or superior) than that of all the other Oligarchs, guilty parties, and companies put together.
A company that exists to sort out people’s complaints against power-supplying companies will not help anyone using British Gas for electricity; see below.
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CEO Chris O’Shea: total pay package £4.73 million
A Genuine letter from British Gas Oligarchs to an elderly customer… Mrs Nightmare is not her name!
I’ve got to stop on this subject.
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Photos taken during the day.
Sweet & sour with egg fried rice.
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Sunset snaps
Last one
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TUESDAY 20th OCTOBER 2026
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DISAPPOINTING DAY
Little was achieved, compounded by the failure at the Audio Clinic, which at first seemed great but left a lingering threat of terrible things, like needing to telephone my Doctor, a challenge much feared nowadays, with the possible result being taxi fares to get my ears de-waxed. My Doctor told me that although she had cleaned the hearing aids, there was still so much wax in them that she expected the Cerumen to block things up again in a few days.
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PRE-DURING & AFTER THE VISIT
I spent an odd evening and night,
Nodded off in the chair, woke feeling shite,
Just had a seizure, became a somnambulist…
For 4 hours in the chair I’d slept,
Realising, quick as a sulphite,
Twas the end of my sleep tonight,
For tomorrow’s, to Audio Clinic…
The thought got me in a panic,
Things to plan, & with my Attention Deficit,
Details, timing, my brain went bicentric…
My mind resisted, went all abulic,
Wanting things to go right, I’m apophenic,
What to take, have I got the schematic?
Painkillers for knees & shoulders rheumatic?
Hospital Transport arranged, ‘ecstatic’!
Trouble is I’m so amnestic,
Expecting today to go all tragicomic,
I think my plans will turn out theoretic,
Lovely people at the Audio Clinic,
Surely, they’ll make me hear better,
Then I can offer them a douceur,
My offer in thanks will be sincere,
A Clinic? To me? More a sacraria.
But today, it was scarrier,
Tell you more later.
Later came Andrew, my Carer,
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The lift arrived from the hospital,
Two drivers, one short, one tall,
Got me there without a fall,
Into the crowded waiting hall,
Cram-packed, space available minimal,
No one spoke, well, said little at all.
As all awaited things audiological,
We got sat down; Andrew did squibble
When I stood up for an amble,
Cather bag was slowly filling,
Been there a long time, I wasn’t caring,
My name was called; we were led in…
Soon she hearing aid mending,
Then my ears investigating,
She said both ears need olive-oiling,
Said do that, twice daily,
She frowned, and said earnestly,
They’re working now, as you can see,
Expect another blockage, & quickly,
You must phone your surgery,
See if they do wax removal…
If not, you must pay for it privately,
Costing £50 an ear is normal,
I agreed, querimoniously,
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Then we left to ring for a taxi,
Then I started to get a little angry,
At the route taken, costing me…
I said, “Where are you going, matey?”
And this taxi cost was mounting,
I’m using GPS; where should I be?
I told him, pensively,
We got home eventually,
It was as much as going to the QMC!
Got up in the flat, Andrew and I,
I wanted, needed a mug of tea.
Thus today did not go satisfactorily.
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Bed, sleep seemed an attractive idea; but no!
I’d rearranged the food orders for late in the day.
The first one at 17/1800hrs, the second for 18/1900.
Carer Mirza called me; always glad when he calls. I planned to get down for 1630hrs to let him in, but I got stuck scribbling notes about the day when the intercom rang. I went down, but no one was there. I thought it was later than it was, and the wardens wouldn’t be able to let him into Winwood Court. I went back up to the flat and found him in there. To my pleasure, they were here because he’d arrived earlier than usual. Good job, too!
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Boiled two large spuds, cut
them in half, and added
some smoked vegan cheese
on top of each slice, and
they tasted Grrreat!
Lip-smacking good!
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First food delivery arrived early
Second one a smidge late
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Done for, fell asleep after washing the pots.
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WEDNESDAY 21st OCTOBER 2026
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Woke up after four hours’ sleep, with the upcoming acid reflux filling my chest, up to my throat, mouth and nasals. I was well disoriented. The Carer came in. I can’t even recall who it was, but I sensed I’d been hurried too much given the state I was in. He kept asking what painkillers I wanted. He then disappeared into the WC for ten minutes. No problem. He departed, and I sorted the bins. I was still not fully compos mentis. But thought things 
were becoming clearer. Still a bit vague, though. I then put some garden peas in spring water, some light soy sauce. I plan to add sliced potatoes for later.
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I looked at the Carer’s medication table and instantly thought, “Well, this needs some sorting out!”
But forgot about it when the intercom rang for the fifth time, and I had to shoot down to the lobby to let them in.
No one was there, for the fourth time. When I said shoot, a more appropriate word would be ‘hobble’.
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The mobile battery died. The computer would not start up. Nor would the TV. The intercom failed every call. The kitchen hot tap is dripping. The kettle went bang… but still works? I tried to count of many things I dropped, but lost track; there were so many. Ah, I found a loose page with numbers and details of some of them that I could not find or dropped: Saucepan lid, tea bag pot, pens (3), picker-upper (2), camera, mobile (2), hearing aids, toothache spray, Olive-oil dropper, water bottle (3),
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Carer Raj did the long call visit, hah! I’ll say no more; he’s a big lad, and doesn’t take criticism well.
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I thought this was an Iceland fresh cake, but it turned out to be frozen. Still, it looks like I’ll get some fresh Cream & Lemon store-baked ones from Morrisons next Wednesday. These are for my Angel & her hubby Frank, as a little thank you.
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Afternoon view before the rains poured.
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Inchie Today: Tuesday 13th October 2026
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TUESDAY 13th OCTOBER 2026
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0525hrs: I woke up, smelled myself, and got up without any delay and went to the wet room. No, no, no! I’d not poo’d myself; I just noticed I had bad B.O.
I also noticed I had regrowth on my chest & a bulging tummy of freckles and tiny 
bursting pimples. The Carer took a snap of them later.
Then the call to the Porcelain Throne developed, with an added gurgling rumble; so I had to move quickly!
Emptying the pouch, I saw the dreaded signs of another bladder flow-back coming.
More of furry bits of the blasted Prostate, which tells me problems are brewing.
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Banged into the ottoman on the way back to the front room. Another bruise on the knee, and the scab from the previous knocking into or over something.
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PROBLEM ONE: I got 3 emails saying the Catheter contraption spares are to be delivered today. With the intercom still not working and no signs of it being done, I decided I had to go 
down yet again to the lobby to await its arrival at the start of the two-hour window given to me. So, I did! (Old photo used), since I didn’t take the camera.
After and short wait, the van arrived. The driver was not in a good mood – my EQ advised me to be kind to him; he was definitely tense over something. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to; I got his vibes, poor chap. Back up in the flat, he put the box in the doorway; I thanked him and shot off.
PROBLEM TWO: I foolishy bent down to lift the box, and took it through and onto the bed, for the next Carer to sort out for me. As I bent again to place the box on the bed, Snap! My back went! The agony continued for several hours before the blessed snapping-back into position came while I was sitting on the loo! I can’t complain; this is the first time it’s gone in… well, at least 6 months, if not longer.
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Ejaz came and checked the contents: nocturnal pouches and day pouches, both with T-tap closures, day bag straps and Catheter top strap. Insert the tubes and vital pain-gel into Little Inchie before inserting the new tube, or when changing the whole contraption. I think they now realise and expect, as I do, that I’m going to get flowback agony again and need it released more often than ever. I think the fluffy bit coming out in the urine is because it’s bound to block it again eventually. I cringe at the thought of the pain I get when this happens.
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PROBLEM THREE: I wanted to call the Surgery to say the INR Warfarin test was not done yesterday. I also wanted to speak with them about the text message saying I have to go to the Surgery or hospital to have it done tomorrow and that I must take a Carer with me. I wanted to explain the problems with taxi costs, Carer costs, and that I can’t get extra calls without a few days’ notice anyway (Basically).
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I emailed Jenny about my problem. (She’s so knowledgeable, and I always ask her for guidance, which she gives freely 💗.) She advised me to email the Surgery. So, I did!
I bothered Jenny again, and she gave me links to find out why the message was blocked. I clicked…
Ah, now I know. Thanks, Jenny💜
Found this at the bottom of the page…
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BOOKING AN APPOINTMENT if you dare!
Couldn’t Be Simpler (I lie!)
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CONFUSING PROBLEM FOUR: Still unsolved.
Complicated too. A phone call: I received it from the Doctor’s Surgery. They said they had arranged a COVID injection, gave me a date, and they would do it at the flat. Great so far… It got me in a tizzy when she added, “We couldn’t arrange yesterday’s Warfarin INR blood test.”
“So you will have to come into the surgery, or go to the QMC hospital to have it taken”.
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I was stunned. A semi-panic started to grow.
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Then, in the early evening, I got another call from the Surgery. They asked if the Carer was there. I told her she’d just missed him. Asked me to make sure they ring the Surgery in the morning; it is important. I said I would.
But of course, I might forget. So I wrote on the whiteboard: “Carer: Please ring Surgery this morning”. Well, he might see it; it’s written big enough.
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I detected a lot of furry bits of Prostate when I emptied the day bag. Not a self-assuring thing to find. I must pass this on to the District Nurses when they come.
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I was getting irritable with things and myself. It’s a bloody good thing that I had no idea what was about to happen tomorrow. Although, with my luck, does it matter?
I gave up on starting this blog. I was so fed up, frustrated 
, and greatly depressed. Not to mention how tired and confused I was of today’s events. I turned of the computer and went into the kitchenette to make a meal.
My version of a vegetable curry. I put a can of ready-made veg curry (J. Sainsburies) in the pan. I added a tin of garden peas, then some chopped water chestnuts.
I found a carrot in the fridge, sliced it very thinly, and added it to the pot. Seasonings added: mild curry powder, soy sauce and a splash of teriyaki sauce.
Fingers crossed. 🤞🏼
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I emailed Jenny back, and while the meal was cooking, I took the boxes with the padding to the waste chute. Coming back to the flat, my right leg gave way without any warning (shaking) or time to prepare. But no bother, I threw myself in the corner of the recessed lift doors, and avoided going down on the hard floor or having to press my wristlet alarm. Mind you, they wouldn’t have heard me anyway at that distance. The bigger bonus was not going to the hospital to be ignored, then mauled. Plus, 
no damage to the Catheter or leaking! Yes, a bit of good luck there! No doubt! Back limpingly to the flat, and took a snap of the view from the kitchen window
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Then, tucked into the meal nice and early. Slurp!
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Carer Prem arrived as I was washing the pots. A good lad. He removed my diabetic socks, fetched the torch which had had its solar panel in the kitchen window through the day. Got it in my dressing gown pocket. Asked if I’d eaten, pain killers given, and did a Catheter check.
Took this Snap of the same angle as the earlier one. I’m not getting on with these new Kodaks, disappointed.
Then I got things ready to sit down and put on the TV. 💤
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My mind wandered back to the last QMC Visit.
My Catheter was getting blocked every 2 weeks. District nurses are finding it harder and harder to get back in; the pain increases with each attempt. On the last try, they could not get it back in, and the bladder was filling and, oh, so painful. I was told that this is a medical emergency (as if I didn’t know). I had to go to QMC A&E. I had to get a taxi to A&E for future blockages. More spending, reducing my dwindling funds. Jenny said it costs about £15 each way. I had to go to QMC straight away. Carer Ejaz was in the flat and got me dressed.
Got me in the taxi; off I went alone. I had to use coins to make up the £30. Traffic lights out, roadworks… it cost me £25.40 just getting there, so I didn’t have enough dosh to get back. At the A&E, I booked in. The receptionist looked up my details and asked, “Which Carer is with you, Ejaz or Mirza?” I told her neither, as this was a medical emergency, and I can’t produce a Carer with 15 minutes’ notice. I couldn’t afford one anyway. “Why do you pay for them?” I had no answer.
I sat down. I was called for a BP and Q&A session by a kind nurse, then sat down again. Eventually, a man came out to collect me, and I waited in another waiting room. Signed in and sat down. Then the most embarrassing thing happened: the fungal lesions on the penis started spraying urine and blood into my PP’s, and I could feel it going down my legs into my shoes. I’d taken a roll of kitchen towels and tried to hide in a corner while I stemmed the flow. I asked an attendant where the WC was. She said if I left now, I might miss my call. I quickly explained my problem. Told me the WC was near the Q&A entry doors where I came in.
I struggled with the walker through the corridors, sweating and fearing the blockage and leak might take me over. Got to the bog, found it unoccupied, and went straight in. The floor was completely covered in an inch-deep liquid; there was no soap, no toilet rolls and no paper towels.
Hobbled back to the room I was in, got lost en route, recovered, and the attendant told me I’d missed my call, to sit down again and wait. The urine was still trickling out, and I’d used all of my kitchen roll, as a Doctor came out & called my name.
He took out the old-fashioned Catheter and tried twice to insert the new hooked one, but failed. This boded badly for the future. He got on his phone, then took me through the corridors to another room and a medic, a Mr Someone. He was just getting his coat on to go home, so was not exactly in a jovial mood. Even he took twice as long to get the tube back in. He shot off. Apart from telling me not to let the sticky pod which held the new tube array on my leg come off. No tips on whether or when there was a schedule change, when maintenance visits would happen, or what types of pouches I should use. I felt a little uncared for. But that soon changed when I hobbled back to the big waiting area with my walker; by a bit of good luck, I spotted the lady who took my BP six hours ago when I arrived,t and gave her a quick version of my problems, including not having enough money for a taxi. She said I’ll be back in a minute; take a seat. (I did a lot of seat-taking that day) She returned to tell me she had arranged a lift for me. Minutes later, lift drivers came and put me into an ambulance. Being put in first indicated I was going to be dropped off last. Thanks to the kind nurse, I got a free late lift home. Bless her 💜 after about nine hours overall being out of the flat.
I printed this again. Hehehe! Sorry.
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Stayed up until 03:00hrs to get this done
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Inchie Today: Monday 13th October 2026
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MONDAY 13TH OCTOBER 2026
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START TO THE DAY
I stirred at 0620hrs, feeling rather perky; that lasted a few minutes while I climbed out of the hospital bed and did my balance checks… Then hastily hobbled to the Porcelain Throne.
Although I made it in time, seconds to spare before the torrent blasted out of its own accord. The pebble-dashed bowl, combined with the stink, and worse, cleaning up of the mess, took me ages.
During the morning, follow-ups were frequent.
I kept a note of them on the pad. When Ejaz arrived, I took this snap of the visits paid. All the same style.
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Carer Andrew arrived. His usual self again. On his phone and ignoring me as I spoke to him. Medications given; pain cel slapped on my back, onto his phone. No body check. No Catheter contraption check. Or Barrier cream checks. Not that it mattered much; Carer Prem did them all on his shorter visit last night.
Very frustrating, and I’ve heard nothing of the request to have the three good lads service me. At times like this I’m tempted to cancel them altogether and struggle on my own. But that was a stupid idea. They have me figuratively by the balls. Only when the three good lads call do I cheer up, but, of course, they don’t call at all later in the week or over the weekend. I’m paying a fortune but not getting the service they say I’m getting.
Unglefrogwonglingisations!
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I was pressing on, then Ejaz arrived; great to have him talk about what needs doing, and caring too.
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As he left, the dreaded confusion came over me like a blanket of unhappiness. I was incapable of doing much at all. My own thoughts were hard to gather and form into any kind of logic. I gave up on the computer and hoped to get some used cartoons later to make up for not waffling of much of usual.
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Inchie Today: Tuesday, 25th August 2026
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TUESDAY 25th AUGUST 2026
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06:35hrs: I stirred back into ersatz, pretend life. Wriggled and rolled a little to test out which ailments might be the most painful, in my effort to dismount the hospital bed and get my nocturnal Catheter pouch off. The outcome was rather less than expected. The new magic neck pain, the discomfort of the day Catheter tubing, and Anne Gyna were the only ones sensed.
Colin Cramps and a few seizure aftertastes, which had been waking me up so often overnight, had dissipated altogether. Nice!
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I managed to get up, sort the pouches out, and do a safety check of the flat for taps left running and fridge/freezer doors open. Then got the kettle on. Doing these little tasks, I had to make three visits to the Porcelain Throne in 15 minutes. Constipation Conrad in total charge.
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Carer Andy arrived in a perky but reluctant mood. Medications were issued, but we could not find any codeine tablets. We both searched through the medical prescription and Over-the-counter medicine drawers. Andrew said he had informed his head office about them. I got the waste bins into one large bag. It’s still there now (2040hrs).
Carer departed, and I had another dock-hard, Haemorrhoid-tearing visit to the Throne.
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The expected delivery from Morrisons arrived. I tell you now to get the embarrassment over quickly; Today, I made super-cock-ups with the food orders. Arithmophobia and my stupidity are what I put the blame on. Maybe Premorbid Cognitive Impairment, Inchie. I was utterly disgusted with myself. The idea of doing an order to cover three weeks seemed so clever at the time. All three came on the same day; Today! Understandably, people complain about my stupidity in doing the things I do. But I simply cannot help it; in a way, it is not me doing these and other daft & dangerous things. But I still do them. Now Morrison, then came Asda, and finally the Iceland deliveries! It hurts, frustrates and annoys me doing them. No particular depression, just self-loathing.
I’d prefer to not mention them again, please. Thanks.
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The new Warfarin INR blood results came in the post; that was quick. New doses confirmed.
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Carer Mirza visited. Checked LV house content problem, and I called Complex Warden Deana and asked Mirza to talk with her about the lower cost of NCC insurance. Not sure what happened. Just had a seizure while writing this. Memory Mangling Malcolm? Mirza fitted a new Catheter on the right leg this time.
He then took the laundry down to the laundrette. Then he mopped the kitchen floor for me.
Then went down to put the clothes in the dryer. Did the safety checks and hoovered up. Checked the drawers to see if the missing Codeine tablets were there, but no.
Then he went down to collect the laundry.
While he was out, more food arrived, and I was having difficulty getting all the canned food on the top shelf of the double cupboard.
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I got the shakes while reaching up to put the cans on the top shelf and knocked about eight of them off onto the floor! Some bounced of the hard-top counter, but one of 
them, a can of new potatoes, took the more direct route, via hitting my right shin, then to the floor.
At this point the self-cursing started, as Carer Mirza returned with the washing.
He cleaned up a 
scrape wound and put some Germolene and a plaster over it. Saved the day again. Mirza did another grand job of caring for me today.
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How did I take this photo with no camera?
Well, as soon as Mirza departed, Amazon delivered the camera. I can’t photograph it, but I’ll ask a Carer later to take one on his mobile and email it to me. Like any other childlike 81-year-old with a new toy, I decided to set up and use the new camera. As recommended by Carer Ejaz: “It would be a good idea to get the same model as before; otherwise you’ll get in a pickle with the new contraptions and workings of a different one” Very good suggestion, mate; a wise idea. Thanks!
So, after setting it up but entering the wrong date and not remembering how I set it in the first place, I gave up and got on with taking some sky-cloud shots.
Here is my first effort…
Almost square shape?
Nice views though
The trees are begging to look greener!
Caught the balconies on this one.
Then back to try and set a wider
view for the snaps.
I attempted to read the instructions…
Writing was too small
So to change, on the fly…
Aha, I cracked it…
Can you see the animal’s head?
General Degaul in this one?
The worms?
From the kitchen window, this one
A smug mode developed.
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I mentioned that I do some acts almost like a remote control, unthinkingly, and I told the Doctor at Haywood Hospital about this trait acquired months ago.
Well, me making this a great dollop come mound; this agglomeration, hodgepodge of a gigantic meal, is a perfect example of what can happen when something in my head tells me not to bother and to press on. Worrying.
It consisted of Mushroom pâté, chicken lumps, tomatoes, carrots, garden peas, soft cheese, curly fries, pork & pickle mini pies, cheese & onion bread, cooked beef, gherkins, and potatoes!
Needless to say, I could not eat it all, and must have binned two-thirds of it. I recall eating all of the mushroom pâté, the peas & carrots, the bread and the potatoes.
Then washed the dishes, etc., and moved on to an ice
cream cornet & lemon curd dessert?
Then put the TV on early to watch the Nottingham Forest match against Leeds Utd. (Sister Jane called to remind me it was on ITV). I stayed awake up to half-time, and the adverts came on. Zzz! Waking up in a seizure a couple of hours later, still TV on and the volume louder… Sorry, neighbours. I think going into a home might help me; I’m not coping well.
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Inchie: Sunday, 5th April 2026
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The first thing I recall on waking up was 
. Seconds later, I realised I was virtually shivering with cold. I knew something was wrong to feel this cold as I saw this morning’s sunshine blasting
through my cotton-thin, tattered-edged curtains, their hooks missing from the balcony. I took off the nocturnal Catheter pouch, got a hold of 
and went over to 
investigate where the cold was coming from. Taking this snap of the view… through the wide open balcony door! No wonder I was shivering, I’d left the doors open and been sleeping in the nearby aged, grotty-looking, c1966-made, charity-shop-bought, horribly beige-coloured, £300, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, non-operational, acne-giving, virus-breeding, rickety, easy-to-fall-out-of recliner. I closed the door and found that I had somehow lost one of my night socks. I needed to get warm, and, conveniently, the need for the Porcelain Throne arrived. I limped into the wet room and put the heater on. Got sat on the raised plastic seat, and wallowed in the warmth from the convector heater on the wall. It took mages to get the evacuation underway, but as I was warming up, I didn’t mind it at all today. I was convinced after ten minutes of urging and pushing, the Constipation Conrad would be in control. But, no! Although the first torpedo clunked into the bowl, immediately followed of a Trotsky Terence-like 
performance of splattering, stinking, watery mass flowed. The torpedo was dark brown; the follow-up was orangey-light brown. It cost me half of a new toilet roll, and an awfully long time to clean things up after the event.
I tried to get back to sleep by adding an extra-heavy quilt to the other one. But Ejaz rang the intercom to get admission. We did my Health Checks with the sphygmomanometer, blood tests with the Pulse oximeter, and measured the temperature. I think they were slightly better than the previous few days, but still in the High Category. Medications provided. Teeth were tinctured. Earholes olive oiled. Then Shuddering Shoulder Shirley was Salved. Harold’s bleeding Haemorrhoids were Germoloided, and Little Inches bleeding Fungal Lesion was anticepticated. That was the only one that tested my pain level. Arthur Itis and Cartilages Kloe and Carole 
were Pornapain-gelled.
The back, amazingly, did not need any medicating… that’s a first this year. Then, while I was brushing my teeth, Ejaz made me a mug of tea; he’s getting better at it lately. Supplying me with some bikkies to dunk in the mug. Going through this every day can get a bit wearying. But thanks to Jenny’s help, I have longer visits on some days, which stops my blogging, but it is of great assistance when Mizra or Ejaz does it. They know what is needed and do not ask me what I want all the time. They, I think. appreciate my neurological problems and how they affect me, memory-wise, stuttering, and loss of balance. The others even leave me to bend down. Which is a bit galling when they do that, while they are on their mobiles doing reports, I assume.
After bidding Ejaz Cheerio and Tara, I took a decent snap of the view from the kitchenette window. Then had to pay another visit to the 
. This was almost a copy of the first effort of the day. More time lost. Glad that I’m well stocked up with toilet paper! For a treat, I’m using an Andrex roll between each of the terribly thin, cheap rolls.
I’d like to work out what’s happening with these dual activations of both Trotsky Terence and Conrad Consitpation-like evacuation on the same visit?
I hoovered the hallway and kitchen. Well, it’s not a Hoover, is it?
It is an Akitas cheapo version from Amazon. I can’t be accused of being high-class, educated, or a snob. Hehe!
Common as muck would be the best epitaph for me. When they bury my ashes or whatever they do, I’d like a plaque on the wall or put in the press. Perhaps something along the lines of:
“He came, He failed, and he went” Haha!
I think I saw some rain falling as I took this shot through the balcony windows. The door chime chimed, and in came Carer Ejaz, on his midday call. We checked the second Health Check figures were recorded correctly on the Excel log, and I was in so little pain, just took two Paracetamol. Good that!
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As Ejaz was getting ready for Porpain-Gelling Shaking- Shoulder-Shirley, he noticed that I must have been scratching away at the still showing scars on my lower left arm.
He put some Cetreben cream on it. Advising me not to scratch at them again, or they will never clear up or disappear.
Google’s opening was still hit-or-miss. I just kept trying a different icon for the same action until one worked. A different one responded to being pressed 
each time. WordPress was not so jerky today, well, at 02:45hrs, anyway.
This keyboard is getting harder and harder to see with its tiny letters on the keys, and faded off-white ones at that. I’m hoping for the best when the man calls to check the computer out, I think on Tuesday or Wednesday. Mizra made the arrangements for me when we went shopping on Saturday. I loved that, getting out to an actual shop and seeing what I was buying beforehand. I hope not to buy food online anymore. With all the mistakes I keep making, getting help shopping is invaluable now. I hope it continues weekly, please! Hehehe!
Cor blimey, the sun had dipped!
Then the rain came again.
Inchie Today: Friday 3rd April 2026
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Apart from not finding my reading glasses, 
it gave me pain,
, and being desperate to get to the … Oh, and instantly worrying about whether the computer will be working, 
I woke up in a reasonable frame of mind. I had to drag the nocturnal Catheter bag along as I hastened to the wet room, messy!
were then tackled. First job was removing the might pouch, emptying it, wrapping it and putting it into the yellow waste bag.
I tackled things in a different order today.
I washed the legs I could reach and moved the Catheter Contraption to the left leg. Medicated some strop bleeding areas, and did a body scrub.
Then back on the WC, in time to catch the follow-through from the last passing. Better take one of the anti-Trots capsules, methinks.
Then did the teggies, and on to shaving. 
When I’d finished all the shaving, I found not a single nick or cut!
Carer Rachid arrived. I asked for help dressing, but got none. He stood there as I had to bend to get the things on his mobile, filling in details I assumed.
Off he trotted, as I was getting the computer on. Same as the last three days: since the Google update came in, it’s taken me several tries, using different methods of opening Google, to get it to come on. Rashid watched and suggested the new icon, which was the only one I’d not tried, and it came on after a bit of flashing. I lost far too much time. I got carried away when I found an old word list and started to update it. I reckon it took me at least three hours to get it done. Then, I used it to create part of the Ode of the day.
By then, the next Carer arrived.
Then, I had a mini-seizure, I think, that lasted for about two minutes at most. But could I recover from it and regain my concentration? No! I gave up on doing the blog and put the computer to sleep for an hour or so, to give myself time to recuperate. I fell asleep.
When I got back on the blog, I had photographs on the SD that I had somehow forgotten about taking. Confused would be the most innocent word to use.
Carer’s table, I think I’ve got these in order.
Bubbly clouds, love them!
I took this one to remind me to ask a Carer how to clean the new electric shaver, last Monday, Ahem!
Now, this one below I do recall taking & why.
During my confused period, when I put the computer to sleep, I went to make a mug of Glengettie tea.
I was actually surprised to find my balance off when I returned with the mug to the computer desk.
Why? I’ll tell you…
Instead of picking up the walking stick, I’d carried the tea-bag strainer in one hand and in the other the mug of tea! I think I laughed out loud when I realised. Partly at getting away without a fall or tumble, but mainly about my stupidity in doing so in the first place.
Just goes to show I have to be careful, rest and have a sort of R&R time after a seizure.
The sunshine broke through, and I went to take a snap of the view on offer from the kitchenette window. I took no chances. I put on the old prescription sunglasses to avoid any temporary blindness that can occur from Glaucoma, Gladys, and Cataract, Katie.
As I stretched out of the window to get as decent shots as I could, … what’s the word I’m looking for? Oh, yes… ARRGH! The Catheter bag fell down the leg, and
blood was lost.
It didn’t half hurt. So, off to the wet room to get the Germolene medications.
Delicately, and gently, I disinfected it… words like, Whoops, Careful Inchie, 
Ooh! and Ahahaha… were used, amongst a few others, and uttered. Got the ointment on, readjusting the failed strappings.
I had a check on the Evoxaparin blood clots & curds on my stomach. They are still bright after all this time. Good old NHS.
I searched again for the reading glasses, but they were mysteriously unfound.
Naturally, all a part of the
mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, & spirits. Not to mention the Fata Morganas that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited sanity of mind. Also, Receptive Aphasia Phyllis, Paroxysmal dyskinesia, Episodic ataxia, Ménière’s disease, Dark, Deep, Depressing Darius, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, Nicodemus Neurotransmitters Dying, Glaucoma Gladys, Stuttering Stephany, Lymphorrhea Legs Leslie, Premordid Cognitive Impairment Iris, Cataract Katie, Sandra’s damned seizures, Back-Pain-Brenda, Arthur Itis, Cartilages Chloe & Carole, Fractured Knee Frankie, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley, Unwin’s Unguis Incarnates Ingrowing Toenail, Reflux Roger, Replacement Mechanical Aorta Valve Victor, Diabetes Doris, High Cholesterol Christine, Hydrocephalus-Hilda, and Catheter-Contraption-Carol.
Night Time Sky.
I feel that the colouring of this shot
should remind me of something.
But what it is escaped me.
The daily meal. Waffles, seaweed, with
no-fish fish sticks, cheese bread, and
seaweed crisps.
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Inchie Today: Wednesday 1st April 2026
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Yesterday’s Nosh Wot I Forgot To Add
Pretend Fish Sticks: Soft on the teggies, nice and sweet, easy to eat. Crafted Blue Stilton Cheese: Terribly disappointing lack of bite! Tsk! Pickled Beetroot: Sarnies: Made up got me by Carer Mizra. No butter butter, and soft goats cheese… tastier than the Stilton was! On Milk Roll sliced bread. Tasty!
Followed by a pot of Orange jelly, with a couple of pieces of mandarin in it. Again, tasty! Some tomato ketchup to dip the cheese sarnies in.
A Worthy Score of 8/10.
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The day was littered with mistakes, harassments, failures, high blood oxygen & count levels. I have no choice but to miss out on many of the incidents; there were that many, and I just ran out of time again. I’ll try to keep the good, the bad and the ugly in. Haha! And do my best just to tell how it was without moaning.
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I woke up, hanging part wat out of the bed, the bedding looking like it has exploded, and all twisted, some on the floor, and believe it or not, some over the top of the door. Puzzled? I was, too! I disentangled myself from the covers, and felt the need for the Porcelain Throne coming on as I got my feet on the floor… well, on some more quilts on the floor. 
I made my way to the wet room, again with the ncturnal catheter bag being dragged along behind. No time to sort the bag out, though; for the evacuation began to flow… this time I was so lucky. Firstly, it was a Trotsky Terrence flood that escaped involuntarily and too soon. 
I was not in the seat nor even over it when the torrent splattered out from my rear end. Has to clean the floor, WC, floor cabinet, my legs and feet, and the stink was almost dangerous to one’s health. By the time I was putting the gown in the sink to hand-wash and disinfect it, I was tired and in pain from bending and stretching to do the cleanup. Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley, Back-Pain-Brenda, and oddly, Toothache Tiffany were the main pain-givers. I’d done all this with the nocturnal pouch still attached. But Lost-Balance Belinda was not too bad at all, considering.
Along came Carer Dilon. I asked for the back and shoulders to be Phorpain-Gelled. No reply, he just did them. Then we searched for the glasses again. Dilan likes a good ferret and a rummage around, Hehe. But we failed to find them. I had to do the alert alarm battery check, putting on Dilan so he might remember next week. He was getting ready to leave when the District Nurse arrived. She had come to check on my 
Catheter Contraption, Fractured Knee Frank, my right leg’s Lymphorrea Leslie, and my testicles and bottom.
She was not happy with the state of the day pouch.
Two pretty views from the kitchenette window were snapped.
Getting the computer to open Google took three tries today. I fear the worst.
Then I started another search for my warm red socks. Every room was searched, including the hallway. Naturally, they didn’t come to light. Tsk!
Carer Mizra called, so glad to see him come, as well. A caring lad,
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Inchie: Tue 31 Mar 2026: Problems increase – Solutions decrease. Humph!
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I did not get around to starting this blog until Wednesday night. You will read why, if you are brave enough to read the reasons listed below. Haha!
If I ever get Wednesdays finished, you will read of me knuckling with Carer Mizra in celebration. No kidding… one of the many outstanding worries has been removed. I’ll not let on yet as to the reason, for my rare moment of joy, laughter and glee. Hehehe! For I have a lot of the miseries of Tuesday to record yet. The frustrations & failures… usual sort of day then.
Oh, did I mention that I lost my reading glasses? Not that it matters to Left Eye Gladys-Glaucoma, or right eye Cataract-Katie. Tsk!
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I woke up. I know that, ’cause when I got out of bed, I stubbed my toe on the walker. Removed the night bag and headed to the Porcelain Throne. For the first of many visits today. This one was a failure. I went to Hoover, the hallway, and the front room, but couldn’t find the charger. Ejaz or Mizra are my compensation for having bad 
eyesight. One of them will find it, I’m sure. Carer Dilon arrived. I told him of the difficulty I’ve got seeing without the eyeglasses. Med’s given. The Nurse noticed the Catheter bag was nearly full and asked if the Carer had checked it this morning. I said he was just about to. He produced the wee-wee jug and emptied it. I sprayed the disinfectant on his gloves, the Catheter nozzle and in the jug. After a 
quick but fruitless search for the glasses again, she said, “You’ll find them when you’re not looking for them. Let me know where they were!” A lovely smile 
offered, and off she trotted. Followed by Carer Dillon. I undertook another hunt for my Hoover’s charging plug. I searched all odd places that I was sure would prove a failure. 
Where oh where could it possibly be? A good question, but no success followed my best efforts, and looking in even odder places, fruitlessly.
The right shoulder, my back and Fractured-Knee-Frank all seemed a little less painful. I soon appreciated that this was down to the Oxycodone+.
I looked them up on Google. This is what it revealed.
Oxycodone+ is an opioid medicine used to relieve severe, debilitating pain.
It is not usually recommended for the treatment of chronic (long-term) pain.
Oxycodone+ is only available with a prescription from your Doctor.
If you stop taking Oxycodone+ suddenly, you may experience withdrawal symptoms.
There are challenges associated with taking any opioid medicines, so make sure you take these medicines exactly as prescribed by your Doctor.
If you are concerned that you are becoming addicted to or dependent on Oxycodone+, let your Doctor know so that you can get help. You can also call the National Alcohol and Other Drug Hotline (1800 250 015) for 24/7 support and treatment information.
Continue to take Oxycodone+ for as long as your Doctor tells you to. If you stop taking any brand of Oxycodone suddenly, you may experience withdrawal symptoms.
Oxycodone+ 30 mg is a high-dose, potent opioid with significant side effects. Common reactions include severe constipation, nausea, vomiting, profound drowsiness, and dizziness (I’ve had these two for years now). also headache. Serious risks include fatal respiratory depression (slowed breathing), addiction, severe low blood pressure, (Mine has gone higher?)
The higher the dose of Oxycodone+, the greater the chance that you will get side effects.
Do not take any other medicines to treat the side effects of Oxycodone+ without speaking to a pharmacist or Doctor first.
Serious side effects: Sleeping disorders, vertigo, Confusion, and muscle stiffness.
Genital itchiness or rash.
Oh, I’m glad I looked it up. Hehehe!
But it is working a treat so far.
Carer Ejaz and Mizra have both identified that my balance is much worse than usual. Both of the lads are urging me to use both sticks or the walking frame.
Bless them both. Best if I do not mention the other.
ANOTHER DISASTER! 
The computer started showing a graph of needed repairs. Usually, I leave this until activities are showing, save work done, turn everything off, give it a good few minutes, and restart. Not over-technical, is it? Hehe!
The Blue-Screen-of-Death filled the monitor! I resigned myself to this. I’d was just sort of expecting it for a year or more.
I could not get anything to work at all, adding to all the work I’d lost. Then, having a mini-seizure with a series of shakes after coming out-of-it, I should have been heartbroken and suicidal… really, I ought. But, no!
Disappointed and frustrated, yes.
But a strange acceptance of the situation, almost comfortable with it. So many things are going wrong again. I cannot spend any money or get any. Little things like rent, Grammarly, WordPress, and Asda are cancelling my order. No chance of getting Asif to look at the computer when no cash is available to pay him.
I knew I was going to be in trouble even further. But knew of the mass of medication on the desk to my right was available. At that time, it was not angst or fear affecting me; it was just the only way to go. No fear about it. Then I remembered what Jenny said last time I spoke with her on the phone. She really is My Angel.
I pulled myself mentally together, as far as I could anyway, and tried to start the computer again. No chance. But I kept trying… several attempts, turning it on and off again… Google opened! But I could not get into any of the programmes or apps. Give up? No, I tried yet again. This time, when I clicked the Google icon, it appeared for a second and then disappeared three times. I turned it off and, one last time, readied myself for the end of my computer, RIP.
Astonishingly, everything Google loaded all the apps and icons as usual, albeit they were minuscule, and could not be made bigger. Then a box appeared and disappeared within seconds. I’m sure it read something like ‘Google (something) has been updated’
Well, bugger my lugs! All was working again, although a little slower than before.
Mizra made a call; he and Ejaz are nice lads. He gave me the painkillers, then rang the bank to try and get to the bottom of why the card was frozen. Then we got an email telling us it was unfrozen and now active. Because Mizra checked on a couple, Grammarly and Norton, and both were still unable to access their dues. Of course, the usual AI waffle to get through, 0355 number, so that will have cost me about £2 a minute, plus a connection charge. Mobiles can cost up to £6 a minute! When the robot had eventually finished saying ‘I’m sorry I did not catch that (8 times), and went through a lot of passwords, favourite this or that… Mizra got to talk to a humanoid! When I needed to give permission for Mizra to speak on my behalf, I had a witty, sarcastic quip ready, but chickened out. I thought Mizra had explained things clearly, but the humanoid kept asking for confirmation of the answers given. I heard him say, “Ah, I can see what happened… then he asked Mirza to wait a while… It seemed like an hour, but it was obviously not. He came back and said the card has now been cleared. Mizra & I agreed that, with Dilan being told the same yesterday and it still being blocked, we’d wait until tomorrow to check. A wise decision, considering the bank’s failings before.
I relaxed a little; nothing to do but wait now. Mizra will check again tomorrow evening.
I called Angel Jenny, hoping to ask her to get in touch with Asif to give him the go-ahead on the new computer… realising, as I dialled, that, with the lack of money and just a £10 note, this would not be a good idea. We nattered, somehow that gal settles me when I’m all uptight, it’s a gift, a gift from an Angel.💟
I made a start on Monday’s blog at long last, and was making decent time with it…
ANOTHER DISASTER!
Typing away, and when I pressed for a Cap G, lines and lines of Craig ccc CraigCccccCraig filled the entire page! Well, that was the end of a short life for the fifth time, of an Amazon cheapo plug-on Keyboard. I turned the computer off again and back on, tried typing G in MS Word, CorelDraw and Google, all filled up with lines and lines 
of Craig ccc Craig cccCraig.
I had a look at the first abandoned Amazon cheapo keyboards. All with the keys printed incorrectly, except for the first black-and-grey one, whose key numbers were so small that I found it difficult and time-consuming to use. By now, I had to try i
t again to see if it worked, and it did. With my eyes getting worse than ever, it’s so hard to use. At times. near impossible!
The Carer’s times are now varying a lot. I had asked for a list of their ETAs as a guide. All these changes are getting me out of sync and confused.
Ejaz came this time, nice to see him again. I’ve got this on my reminder pad: 152 – 233 13. I wonder why?
Carer Nizra did the last call. Helped me cook a meal. The computer had long been abandoned.
Medications, and left me eating in the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping recliner.
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Afternoon Shots I missed, Tsk!
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🤎 Can’t finish. Eyes are too bad. Cheers each.🤎