Toothache Tiffany

Inchie Today: Fri/Sat 1st-2nd May 2026

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Woke up feeling fairly good, and got the kitchen floor mopped. Straight after finishing this, I got a stand-up wash, shave, teeth, and medicalised where I could reach. Then into the front room to sort the bins into one bag…
DARNED TROTSKY TORRENTS DIAHORREA
For the whole day & most of the night!
First Call: The torrent came as I was standing up to go to the Porcelain Throne. Mess number one.
Second Call: Five minutes after getting back to the room and taking an antidiarrhea pill. 
Mess number Two: At least I didn’t have to hand-wash my clothes this time, but the floor, porcelain legs, foot and lid needed attention.
Third Call, at least I made it in time. More liquid than ever. I thought things might be getting calmer.
Fourth Call: As Carer was here. No spillages, but the stomach started to rumble and grumble, and I faded.
I decided to just sit down and not do anything else, but I did not want to fall asleep in case of another splurge came while in the land of nod. Also, I had a food order on the way. that I did not put the time of on the calendar.
The Nurse arrived to rebandage the leg. Seconds after she left, off to the Porcelain Throne again.
Fifth Call: Un-Rotton-believable! I cannot understand or know why this particular orgy of foul-smelling, all-but-liquid excrement lasted so long. How was all that still in by innards after four lengthy evacuations? No wonder I had suffered from stomachache permanently. How is this possible?
I wouldn’t say I felt actually poorly, as such.
Tired out, with aches and pains, and, to make things that little bit more uncomfortable, I had to put on the large protection pants to help catch any early escapes from the rear end. Thus, hurting Little Inchy as the pants trapped the tube in the Catheter, and the fugal lesion started bleeding.
Sixth Call: I was convinced things were beginning to ease off this time. Same liquid structure, but just one spurt, and it was all over.
Seventh Call: Obviously, I was wrong. This noon visit was yet another Trotsky Terence Torrent.

Each of the first 12 or so visits to the Porcelain Throne meant pain, cleaning up the wet room, and painful medicationings. I was growing weaker as the day dragged on. I gave up counting them here.
At a guess, 10 more followed up to 17:30 hours, and heavenly peace prevailed!
But I was incapable of concentrating, all I wanted to do was stay awake for the food delivery, sort it, and get myself some sleep… Please!
I began to think that I may not have ordered one after all. Yes, hard to believe I could forget something, I know. (Sarcasm Crept In?)

The food arrived at 19:30hrs,


Got it stored away, and realised that in all the time taken, I’d not had a call to the Porcelain Throne!

The dream of sleeping became a reality.
At least a possibility,
But it became a futility…
I got in bed, feeling so sleepy…
Off to the Porcelain Throne for me,
Diahorrea; will I ever be free?

Yet another visit, I made it in time. Still, I dare not get back in bed, so set myself down 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. Where I had to get up from another half-dozen times in the night.

Not one of my best days.
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Slightly eerie morning?
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Through the balcony windows
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Straight ahead from the kitchen window. With the sun coming up from the rear left.
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To the left, a little bit of sunshine on the right.
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Slightly to the right. My much-missed daily walking through the tree copse. New pathway up the hill to the right of the battered but beautiful trees. coppice. Ah, so sad.
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To the left again. I was trying to snap the police helicopter, but by the time I was ready, it had gone or landed in pursuit of some low-life.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Moody view taken later on by Carer Ejaz, of the front car park on Citrus Way.
While I was busy on the Porcelain Throne.
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Memory Photographs
Taken from my flat window in 2018 during the modernisation of Winwood Heights. Consisting of Winchester Court, Winwood Court, & my Woodthorpe Prison… Court.
Taken in 2009.
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Due to my getting Carer Ejaz & Carer Mizra calling on me. They were sorely missed.
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Inchie: Tuesday 28th April 2026 = Computer Assessed, Not Good!

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Worra Night!
After eating the meal of the day and really enjoying it, washing the pots and visiting the Porcelain Throne, I unfortunately suffered an Accifauxpa and didn’t get there in time. But it could have been worse; it has been many times this year, and it only took me about 15 minutes to clean things up.
I decided sleep was next in line for my attention. I seemed to have fallen asleep quickly… I felt I had when waking at 02:00hrs, again in desperate need of the Porcelain Throne. Not wanting to risk another accident, I fumbled my way out of the bed and hobbled-hastily to the wet room.
A darned close call, I only just made it. Where all the evacuating little, short dollops kept coming from, I don’t know. I cast my mind back as the plop-plops kept coming. I only ate my favourite nosh, cheesy baked potato. I can’t recall such a reaction to these before. To be on the safe side, I got down in the £300 second-hand shop bought, c1966. moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, Catheter tube trapping, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not working recliner. To enable a swifter reply in case I need to go again. 
0315:hrs, and I was off again to the Porcelain Throne. I got there more swiftly this time. No accidents.
When I got back to the recliner, I almost felt another follow-through trying to make its way down. I could not get to sleep again now. I sort of just waited for the next evacuation warning to arrive. It came at 06:00hrs. A lot less passed this time. Thankfully, I got there in plenty of time. I pondered, I do that sometimes, you know. Was the cheese in the baked potatoes out of date?
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The day brought forth some challenges, not of the rear-end evacuation type. Attilla the Carer, Rachid did the first two calls, so my low mood was set. The feet and toes seem to adapt much more easily at first. Three toe-stubbings in the first hour put an end to that bit of pleasure. I partially opened the balcony curtains, and when the sun comes out, I have to close them. Bright sun doesn’t suit Cataract Katie or Glaucoma Gladys. This snap came out as it looked. A medical delivery arrived. Concentration was bad when I got on the computer. But I reckon it was less bothersome than yesterday morning. 
I did my best to get the Monday blog finished before the computer man arrives. I pressed on, making mistake after mistake, and I don’t know how long it took, but I got it sent off. Fearing that many cock-ups will be in the finished blog.

I took another shot through the balcony windows, dead excited about this blog, innit? Hahaha!

Carer Rashid did the next call. Nothing much happened; if he can ignore me, I can ignore him. Haha!
After he’d not too soon for me, gone, I got the kettle on.
And the intercom sounded. I was overjoyed!

The Computer Man Cameth
Less than a minute later, Carer Mizra came in behind the computer genius Andy. Who spent a long time asking questions and assessing the state of the computer for me. Mirza conducted the communications. After much effort from Andy, trying to install the two-terabyte external hard drive in the computer. At least I think it was a two-terabyte-sized one. The old computer would not let him transfer anything from the other drive to save space,
Mizra ran out of time, so no time for me to have an assisted shower or to get the laundry done again.

Andy ended up asking if I wanted to use this machine as it is, with slightly more memory, but not a lot, or do you want me to source a suitable used one with Asif, that will cope with CorelDraw, which has very little space left to do much. I said I’d go with his recommendation. The goal was to get a new computer. Fair enough for me. So, be it. Bank Balance considerations, of course. Andy will report the needs back to Asif. Closed the computer down.

As Andy left, I realised that the Catheter pouch was overdue for emptying. So, I emptied it. Haha!

I’m feeling a smidge more hopeful now that Andy’s been and sorted this computer out, and I agree with his decision that a new (second-hand, refurbished) machine would be the best option for me.

The legs, feet, and toes were all looking better when Ejaz took these snaps, which I put together, but not very well. Looks like a mangle of limbs, the way I did this, manipulating. Hehe!

Frank arrived with some treats that Jenny, my angel, had sent for me. I gave him a small box of stuff for the Charity or handing out. Had a little outing with Frank, a lovely couple of neighbours who I am very proud to have as Guardians & friends. Bless them both. So understanding and helpful. X I’d made a meal earlier, I’ll not eat all of it, after the feast from Jenny.


The computer went down, died!
The landline stopped working!
The TV stopped working!
My heart and interest in living went into hold mode. My first actions, apart from panicking, were to try to think about what I was doing or did wrong that caused the catastrophe in the first place. Or had Andy missed something earlier? The chances were that it was my error, a mistake, or that I accidentally caught a dangerous, fatal combination of keys. As I have one in the past. Causing all sorts of problems due to the dying neurotransmitters.
They warned me there was no treatment, saying they cannot mend damaged nerve ends, and it will slowly get worse. They were right.
I thought I’d give it some time before trying to restart the computer, in case it was doing something all technical in the background.
I picked up the landline thingy, put it down, and it made a tone. The mystery deepened.
I had no idea for certain of what I did with the TV to get it back on. Turned it on a few times, and it turned itself off. Got it to stay on, displaying a No. Connected sign. Then pressed the TV button on the remote control, and the TV closed down again. I pointed the remote at the scary, threatening Virgin box, and the red light turned yellow. Then tried again to start the TV, and dropped the control thingy. Got the picker-upper and retrieved it, to see that the TV had come on?
I prayed that getting the computer back would be as easy as that. (It wasn’t and didn’t!) 
In the past, when launching the computer, I’d get a ‘DoS’ message telling me to press ESC for details. This would bring up a dreaded blue screen. Press Enter for options. Another blue screen says to press F1 to start the computer. This has happened each time I’ve opened it for about 3 years or more now. 
But not now… The black screen opens, but pressing ESC does nothing. Also, I could not turn off the computer at the button, had to switch the power off. I kept repeating this pattern, so many times and for so long. Not knowing what else I could try. Each go was met with failure.

No sleep tonight. Mind on the verge of exploding. self-pity, futility, anger… Mostly, the sour, blood-draining effects of Deep, Dark, Dank, Depression Darius.
And to think, I had gone up into a high a few hours ago when the computer was sorted…
That didn’t last long, did it?

Heartlessly, I put the meal in the microwave. It looked okay, smelled okay, but after feartily enjoying Jenny’s treats, combined with the Computer problems, I just couldn’t eat more than a few spoonfuls. I couldn’t get to sleep either. I scribbled down the times I got up to try to restart the computer. 

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Inchie Today: Thursday 16th April 2026

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A mixed day. visited a few times, but after each visit, he stayed all night when the Catheter stopped flowing again in the evening. Backflow pains are so bad, with me having none of the new pain medication to fight them. Just to throw another spanner in the works, Anne Gyna was having a right go at me through the night. Needless to say, sleep was at a premium. Insufficient to meet the demand needed for me to be in any state to face getting up in the morning. Note: I don’t say “waking up”- that’s a no-go if I can’t get to sleep in the first place. More frustrating was nurse Maude saying there was nothing they could do about it, or Little Inchys fungal lesion, which has grown in size since her last visit. So, I did my best to adopt a ‘Grin & Bear it attitude. Not very successfully, I’m afraid. I kept repeatedly trying to push the tube further in, and guzzling so much water that I’ll have to order more tomorrow. Just to boost those in hand in the hallway. Just in case this becomes a regular occurrence. I’ll try ordering some soda water as well. and drink one between each bottle of spring water. If the painkillers arrive, I may cope a little easier with it. It’s even worse tonight, with Anne Gyna stabbing away as well. Oh, I fear I was using a lot of naughty language each time the surge returned. Luckily, Duodenal Donald is not active at the moment… oh dearie me… should I have risked saying that? 
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On with the Tale Of Woes: I woke, rose and got the night Catheter off; it had an amazing 650ml of urine in it and was a fair colour. I drank a litre of spring water to try to keep the flow going, and it worked; the pouch was filling up again. Made a brew and visited the Porcelain Throne. I almost casually meandered wobblingly partway to the wet room, the last stretch an Arthur Itis bothering fast as I could rush. Verbally asking things not to come too soon. Whoever I was talking to obviously did not hear me. Cleaning up after the 3-second watery evacuation took me ages.
That was a great start to the day, then!

I meandered into the kitchen in my freshly adorned slippers, protection pants, kaghoule, and dressing gown, and got the kettle on, taking this snap of the morning view. Nice!

Carer arrived as I was struggling to start the computer, sat down, and used his mobile phone. Then gave me the medications at the computer chair and asked: “You want Tea?” I explained, ‘Not now, thanks, until I get the computer on properly.’ I was going through a different routine of trying all 5 methods available, but in a different order, and I don’t want to lose where I was with it. Two minutes later, I asked for a mug of tea and got bikkies to dunk in it. No answer. I repeated my request, but it was ignored again as he was on his mobile. Annoyed, I said, “I don’t like to disturb you”. In a louder voice, “I’ll get the tea myself!” And I did. He meandered into the kitchen… “I do that!” And he did. Then went back to his mobile phone. He emptied the pouch and recorded the volume, and went back to his mobile.

Corel Sodding Draw was playing up again, so I had to shut it down at the plug, give it a few minutes and reboot. Had to redo the work I’d done that hadn’t been saved, and do it again. Then save it as another name. Having to delete some stuff again to make memory to do so. And still I’ve not heard anything from the computer man Asif arranged for.

I got some pod peas done and in the slow cooker to have later with a tin of soup, maybe. The fridge is still getting soaked in water, and I’m a bit worried about this.
Sorry here, but time has beaten me again, a few memories I recall and photographs only form here, or I’ll never get caught up. Not that I expect to, anyway. But no… I love doing it, even into the early hours.
Tried to save CorelDraw work… Not enough memory! So had to delete more stuff to make room again to save the CorelDraw graphic. Fed-upedness-Fred dawned to keep company.
Closed down everything, and went to get my teeth done, a stand-up wash, a shave, and medicated. Carer Ezra arrived as I was finishing. He cleaned my back for me, got me dressed, and slippered. Did a body check as he dressed me. Medicating Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley, and Fractured Knee Frank. So nice to see Ezra or Mizra arrive. Caring lads. I turned on the computer and the TV just to take this photo. I got a blast of pain from the urine flowback as Ezra left. Worried without the new painkillers, if it’s another no sleep just pain night, I’ll be a wreck in the morning, and if the flowback continues, I’ll be in a bad way. I pray that the Doctor will send me some heavy-duty painkillers, especially with Anne Gyna being troublesome as well. Cragnangles!
Missed this snap I took earlier today. The pain is affecting my concentration. Genuinely fretting about it kicking off so early in the day tonight. I must stop moaning, I lose my followers, they must all be fed up with it… I’m fed up with it. I apologise to both of them.

Had a seizure or two today, this one just after I’d taken these two, rather decent shots of the evening sky, well, I thought they were. Hehehe!
Even the skies seem pissed-off lately. Still beautiful, mind you. The end of days is coming. No point in denying it. The way the world is going, these days indicate, no, shout it out.

Carer Mirza called. I’d got the nosh all ready to cook, so that saved him some time. Painkillers, well, not really Paracetamol, imitation painkillers given.

Easy Meal.
Can of veg soup with a packet of fresh peas added, and some light soy sauce. Milk roll bread to dunk, this was very nice.
Now, Friday morning, at 07:06hrs, I just paid my fourth visit to the . Why? You’d have thought eating a can of vegetable soup could affect the rear-end so violently?

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Inchie: Wednesday 15th April 2026

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A lot of things were missed on today’s blog. Again. Time utterly defeats me. If it gets any busier, I’ll see if I can go back to working. Luckily, I managed to keep the snaps I’d taken. More snaps today, fewer wafflings, other than visitors and the results, and a little bit of moaning (Of Course).
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The events are out of sync, sorry.

Falls & Recovery Team member called.
Took a look at the wheelchair after our Q&A and assessment. She will refer me to someone, can’t recall who, for getting some help with the leg and foot grips so I can use it. This would be wonderful if it could happen. Great. Other things that took place have drifted into my mind’s vacuum section.

Morning snaps from the balcony.
The Kodak Tim-2 is now taking almost square pictures. I’ll ask a Carer if they can sort it for me.

Carer put one of the replacement letters on the keyboard as it had worn away. See it? Hehe!

Suddenly went dark.
Took this one through the window cause of high winds coming up. Got a bit of reflection from glass.

Then the sky brightened so quickly.
Then it darkened a bit again.

Nurde Maude arrived to examine my lower-front Little Inchy fungal lesion. She thinks the cut has grown much larger, which may be causing the problems with the Catheter not working. But there is nothing they can do to solve the issue. I thought that afterwards it might be best to use the pouch on my left leg? The Nurse sent a message to the Doctor to see if the strong painkillers the hospital gave me, the only one that has any effect when the bladder-flowback, Shaking Shoulder Shirley, Annr Gyne, or Kidney Keith kick off. Twice this week I’ve had three of them at the same time. Not nice! So I pray they will supply me with some more of them on the NHS prescription. Please!
Think I’ve made another mistake here… it was Nurse Maude who referred me over the wheelchair.

Confusion not only continues, but affects me so much more often since Monday; it has got worse.
I got in a tangle while working on the week’s blog templates; luckily, Care Mizra arrived and sorted me out. The Arithmaphobia and my eyesight is getting worse by the day. (Moan, over) Well, this one. Haha!

Jenny came to see me with her niece, or was it yesterday? Lovely lady anyway. Jen brought me a lemon cake, which was lovely! WE had a good natter. The Nurse arrived, and they had to go.  They went without the bag of bits I was giving them for her charity. I decided to take them down to Jenny’s flat, to save Robin Hood Frank coming up. There was only one lift working. Managed to get there, and Frank took the bag, we had a sort of natter & laugh. Getting back up, I had to go down to the ground floor and back up to the 12th floor. By the time I got back in, I found that Anne Gyna had paid me a painful visit.

Back on the computer, needless to say, but CorelDraw gave me a lot of Duodenal Duncan pangs.

Then we had some rain.

Carer Ejaz did a visit. He’s a good laf to me.

Misra did the last call, he spread some bread for meto have with peas, beetroot, mushrooms, potatoes and a chicken leg with roast pork on the bread. Slurp!

Washing the dishes, I dare not leave them for Carer Rachid to do, even when he makes me a mug of tea, he leaves tea stains on the cabinet top and front.
I took these shots of the evening sky,

The first effort was accidentally artistic
The second was better.

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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!,
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 it 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.🤎

Inchie 17th to 29th March 2026: 11 more days in hospital. Mega Depressed!

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Today’s ailments in charge, and I believe enjoying giving me pain, the most uncomfortable are: Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley in 2nd-second place, well below my so-painful newly developed one. Going by the name of, currently anyway, Cracked-Rib-Craig. Later in the day, Crack Rib Craig’s pains tripled. Carer Ejaz called ICC & was advised to call 111. Which he did. As a result, an ambulance is on the way. These were the 11 days in 2 hospitals and 5 different wards: utter frustration.
Ejaz could only stay until the paramedics arrived; he had to shoot off when they arrived. I asked him to contact Paul with the details via email, and showed him where the link was in the Excel Contact listing to pass along for me. That was a comfort, stops folks from fretting at my absence. I suppose. 
The ambulance men were also in a rush, and asked me to leave my big coat and not to take any sticks with me as they would only get nicked. I was in no state to argue, but paid the price when I realised I’d left my camera, mobile, card and cash in the greatcoat. Naturally, in all that time, with no pen, pad or contact, the only person who tried to contact me, not surprisingly, was Jenny, My Angel.

We got to the QMC, and I joined an estimated 34 trolleys in the A&E corridors. Someone came shortly to diagnose me, and I was wheeled ahead of the corridors on a trollied patient’s stretcher straight to the cardiac PET team in a side room. I only managed to catch a few readings, but a smidgen concerned, at my blood sugar showing 4.5. After some of the sickly sweet bottles were forced down me, and off the scan, then the X-ray rooms. Then I was moved into a Geriatric Neurology Ward. In the evening, after scrounging a pen and a paper towel, the readings I noted were 169-68, 8. Blood oxygen 92 71. Apart from the blood sugar at 2.6 now, I thought I’d be okay and on my way home soon. 

The chest pains got worse, though. The deep breaths they asked me to take on the second visit from the cat team were the most painful to date. 
Overnight, many regular checks were taken, but… the blood sugar did not increase despite the clumps of sweet water it was, and sugary drinks were taken.
The next day, they moved me to the Geriatrics, Blue ward. I had visits from the neurology, Cardiac, and Warfarin-INR checks, which I was sure would be okay, because they have been for weeks now, not NO! The INR returned as 1.2; my target was 3 to 3.5. This prompted them to start giving me Enoxaparin injection in my tummy. The nurse who gave the first one to me left a large blood spot and asked if they are usually this big. I explained that the Enoxaparin was injected in a downward direction and the full length of the needle was not fully in before she injected it. She looked agaog. I did them myself after that one. Here is a snap I took when I finally got home. I’ll explain why later. I got home many days later to take this snap just before midnight, of the original injection. It’s been weeks since I self-injected, but I can remember how they told me to do it. A smug mode sneaked in amongst the frustrations. Haha!
Then, the 24-bed Geriatric Assessment Unit (GAU) was launched in July 2024. (4×6 Beds wards What a nightmare. Little knowing what was to come later. I reassess it as not a very good experience. Hehehe!
But this was my most confusing period. After the 2nd day in there, things were beginning to feel easier, and the blood sugar level was up to 4.8. Don’t laugh, but I cannot recall which department the next Doctor was from. He pointed out the bruises from the blood tests, which two days earlier were bright, were now fading very fast; my pallor was ghostly, and I needed some specialist investigations. Also, that morning, my BP was 187/63, temperature was down to 25.0, and Blood Sugar was back down to 2.6. I think she was a diabetologist. Anyway, I was stuffed with orange juice, more rock-solid lumps of cake, and sickly-sweet boosters. The next day, I was transferred to the City Hospital. By then, Toothache Tiffany had started to kick off, and my urine colour was a 7 for the next three days. Each time I went to the loo, which averaged five or six visits a day, a frame supplied to get there, there was blood on the gown from my external haemorrhoids, every time. Then, whatever it was called up the bum to get samples, photos and cream applied. The outside ones were the more painful. I suppose,  due to all the lying on my backside for so long. The INR slowly rose a smidgen, showing the benefit of the prefilled 9-foot-long hypodermic syringe, inserted in the belly, times a day. Obviously, that was a joke; it wasn’t that long or anywhere near it, just felt like it. I believe, for some unknown reason, I cheered up a little that day and wandered into another of the mini wards, Yellow. And started a chinwag with two of the people in there. I called on the last two days as well.   
Then the night shift ignored every call for help from men needing to use the toilet, empty their catheters, or drink. I found out why: from my bed, I could see the outer door and some of the staff coming in with coats over their uniforms, carrying takeaways. As soon as they’d noshed it, a nurse returned to the bay. He reminded me of Sonny Liston, but didn’t speak as much. This was another bad night because, apparently, as Dave from Yellow Ward told me, the TVs were being repaired, and it was terrible listening to them with the hearing aids in, so I took them out. But forgot to open the battery compartment. They ran flat. Plucking up the courage the next day to ask if they had any, a nurse who had not responded to my attempted forms of wit before, yes, yes, I’ll get you some, and returned minutes later with a pack of eight, for free! The tinny cracking coming from the night watch lady’s desk and the chap in the next bed’s TV. The atmosphere improved when I had a visit from the Cardiac and Warfarin folk, who told me that if all goes well with the next set of checks, they would be able to sign me off! I hoped for the best, and my parole would come through in the morning.
The diabetic tests, well, all four were much improved, and he said he’s signing me out later that day. Oh, the Joy! Getting back to see my Jenny Angel before she goes on her trip to see her Chesterfield relatives with Frank. Great! How hoopefull and stupid I was to think it would happen!
The Neurologist then gave me the all-clear. Bags of new medications to sort out. New painkillers, back on the Morphine again, but by gum, they do work. Others that they may have told me what they were for or not, but you know me. The only certainty is certainly a matter of credence, rather than factuality sometimes. My rare doubtlessness is misunderstood credibility. I think?
Some, well, masses of paperwork to get help with. I won’t bother Jenny or Frank until they get back from their break. That was the plan… Dang dang, fang Dang!
I was due to be parolled at 1030hrs the following day.
I nipped into Yellow Ward to tell the lads, and got back into bed, ready for my vegetable balls in gravy, onions & courgette medley meal.
Dare I say it, I was feeling chirpy! Yee-Ha! But as I was enjoying my meal, a nurse informed me that the Neurologist had not passed for parole! Sob! I may have got the department out of sync here? His results would be known in the morning. If they are good enough, he will sign me off. We felt they would be, and encouragingly, they told me I’d be leaving in the morning, lift arranged for 1330hrs.
Very early in the mornings, a nurse was getting my carrier bag and keys out of the locker, and I just knew it was good news. And, it was! All cleared! But again, a new course of medication to be sorted, and three bags of medications to add to take home with me. So many things to take in at once.
I enjoyed the online. shower of the hospital visits, as I did the earlier one shave they let me have.

Saturday: Full of joy and hope, after the shower, they bunged my things into carriers, cleaned my bed for the next victim, then moved me into the Departure lounge, to await the promised lift home in plenty of time for the 01330hr lift. And, only two escapees to go, me and an old Scottish chap. At 1500hrs, a lady rang to see where the lift was. It’ll be here shortly. 
1600hrs: She rang again. It will be here at 1700hrs.
The poor Scottish man decided to take a taxi, which was not an option for me due to Chloe & Carol’s cartilage in my knees. I did mention that DG supply a larger type of taxi that Jenny Angel uses. But I could not remember the name of it. And she called again. It will be here by 2000hrs.
Not surprisingly, my confidence was low, very low. The room I was left in was so cold. Medical staff kept walking through it in a back room, the smell of poo permeating into the room as they left again. 
There seems to be another call to them, that the City Hospital did not want to give me a lift, cause it was the QMC’s job? So sayeth the computer lady.
All I had on was a hospital gown, and it had not been washed for 12 days. I started sneezing. That brought back the rib pains as I waited. I found a crossword book, but without the reading glasses, I could not even have a go at that. Then, I wonder what I will find when, or if ever, I get back to the flat.
I think it was nearly ten o’clock when the ambulance arrived. The tension was sensed immediately in the two ambulance personnel, stand-offish at first, I thought, but how I felt after an 11-hour wait, mixed with the worries of what I would find. In the ambulance, I used my humour to force them to communicate. By the time we got back to the flat, they asked if I could manage with the walker and bags to get up there. Ahem! As we got into the lift I let my fears pour our and told them that British gas sai9d the metere will stop working unless I supply them with a read,  and it me £26 for the tow failed calls to them to explain we do not know how to read the meter, finally the human we got to0 talk to, spent an hour telling Carer Ejaz how to read the meter, but the coloured buttons where no on the box. He emailed them photos, but eventually she asked me if I wanted an engineer to come and look at it. I replied Yes, please, that would be marvellous! 
No one came, now threats of turning off the power!
They mellowed when we got in the flat, and they saw the great stack of mail delivered while I was in the hospital, 9 letters that need reading and reacting to. The Bank, City Council, and two medical ones were amongst them that I recognised. Then I opened the carriers. As you see, loads of new and old medications.
Paperwork that I cannot read must be baffling to anyone without cataracts. How can I rely on someone to know enough to be confident to sort them for me? I’ve already got boxes, some opened, some not, of Catheter Caroles Contraption, medication all over and under the Carers table, and the prescription medical stuff has spread into another drawer. Recognising the new will be risky with the Morphine and antibiotics. Which am I to keep taking, which am I to stop taking, if any? This could be a dangerous situation. And the poor Carer has to
He keeps to his timetable and does not even get time with the extra time to catch up on anything.
A Social lady said that Age UK can provide help with shopping. That would be grand, but they said that last time I was in the hospital. I’ve heard nothing. I’m all het-up now again. It got worse. I had to throw away all the fresh food in the fridge that was out of date, except the cheese. I lost the plot there, back to couriers at home. They asked me to press the alarm alert, and I did. They told the operator who I was and of my returning home. Then, something I’d been looking forward to so much, a good, strong mug of Glengettie. I got the kettle on and noticed that the slow cooker had been left on for 11 days, with cracks appearing, and it was bone dry.
As if all this was not enough for suicide, the Bank had blocked my account. Great, if anyone does come to help with the shopping now, I can’t afford any. Who can I get to go to the Bank with me, after helping me find the problem and if one, a solution?
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To think, yesterday all I was looking forward to was getting home to see Jenny & Ejaz. I think my mistake was asking the nurses to update my situation. I think this morning at around 0800hrs is the next call.
So, nobody had checked on the flat! ,

I got this update done up to here. It’s now 0620hrs, Sunday morning, and I’m in a worse state than ever.
Which indicates that Ejaz didn’t call once to let Paul know the situation, or do a safety check.

Mind you, he was in a rush when he’d called the ambulance. My fault.

I’m not sure I’ll be able to do a blog for a while, so much to get sorted, and I just don’t know if I’m going to react, medically, over the situation.
I can see things still not getting done, Oh, dearie me.
Now I may lose Grammarly and the internet connection, not to mention the landline and mobile.
British Gas is still telling me the meter is being shut down? Not my fault. Carers have tried their best to help, but the amount of money it costs when they put them onto AIs without the required “why are you ringing” list? Cut you off three times, and you have to pay the connection fee and ridiculous per-minute charges, not to mention the Bank wants to see me.
That’s another thing, who can I get to go with me to the bank meeting? Last time I had to take a Carer with me… the problems are too much.
Thanks for reading this pathetic winning crap.
Away for 11 days… what do I come back to… I’m so sorry. No point in moaning, I know. But I’m getting deeper into a maelstrom of uncontrolled situations. None of my fault, I believe. This makes things worse; I still need of so much help that is not coming.

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I’m turning into a blubbering, worry-wracked
nervous, incompetent, incapable waster.
Just mentioning the obvious.
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Something’s gotta give…
CHEERS
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Yours, Inchie The Defeated.
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Inchie Today: Thursday 19th March 2026

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06:15hrs: The rib injury was bad to start with. Large intakes of breath, coughing, laughing, all hurt. Pouch taken off. I took a snap of the morning kitchen view.
Any of the following may be out of sync, for vagarity and confusion spread their wings. Until , when the electrical and technological problems all arrived one after the other. I panicked and rang Jenny, my Angel, to ask her to please call the computer man in the morning. As per usual, her logic and understanding were perfect. She read the stress in my voice. Calmly telling me to turn everything off until morning and try again. Which I did, and it came back on. Albeit with different, too small icons that I struggle to see. At least now I can cross my fingers (well, I can’t actually, but I can figuratively) and see how it goes.
Thanks to Jenny. 🤎

Whatever is under my man breast that appeared yesterday, the top picture taken by my Carer Ejaz, this morning, showed a great improvement, and the bleeding had stopped altogether. I can’t say the same for the rib cracking. This remains a blinding, blooming nuisance. I can’t see any bruising at all. But when it happened, I was bending to retrieve a dropped remote, and felt pain and heard a sort of grinding noise. I think it must have been a rib causing the problem. It is the same today (Fri), the slightest bend, stretch, even when I press down on the walking stick it hurts. Yet not moving, sitting down, unless I stretch my arm out or up, there is no bother? Which is excellent, because I’ve got a Little Inchies fungal lesion going through agony as well, from the refitted Catheter tube.  
No more moans, I promise: well, I’ll try. Haha!

Belatedly made a start on Wednesday’s blog. Talk about a backlog, I’ve got an ever-increasing backlog of backblog blogs to do. 😄

Carer Rashid changed the leathery, crocodile-like legs. Well, more ankles now. Foamed them and rubbed in ointment in the cracks.

The sun broke through as it rose behind the prison, offering me a photo opportunity. Oh, prison? I meant to write block of flats. Or did I?

Ejaz was pleased with how the hand injury was now healing and was now awaiting the scab to fall off.
He offered to pick it off for me, jokingly, of course.

Then the computer froze!
First, as I was in CorelDraw, which often does this to me. I knew it would not let me save the work I’d done. Depressing, more time lost! I could not close the programme either. Cursing and praying it would come back on, I turned off the power. 
Gave it ten minutes or so, and rebooted.

Opened CorelDraw… message told me this file is not saveable – you can work on it, but not save your work – something like that. So, I closed it again.

Then I turned off the computer properly and restarted Windows. What a mess. All the widows’ desktop icons were so minuscule that it was impossible to identify which was which. All off again.

All on Again. The icons were even smaller this time. I upended CorelDraw, this time it opened the last edited without any warning messages… Ahahaha! Great.
An hour later, all the things became unresponsive, bar the mousse, but clicking on anything on the CorelDraw page produced various different, some never been seen before options, but never the binding box.
I decided that I’d close CorelDraw down, and ring Angel Jenny to ask her to call Asif, the computer man, for me, as this problem, or I should add solution, was well out of my reach. I opened Google to search for advice…
ARRGH!
I could not input any text in the search bar at all!
Clicking to open programme icons, nothing!

I turned everything off again and walked away.
I was distraught to say the least. Angry, Frustrated, Sorry-for-myself… pathetic really.
Depression grew even stronger now. I felt so low, and yet I took two photographs as I wandered hobblingly around the cell… no… the flat.
My mind went from raging to almost crying, and a loathsome self-hatred joined in. I felt what I was, I’m afraid, so sad!

Later, after a good while of musing and confusing myself, I returned to the computer. I knew it was not going to work, yet still I gave it a go. Huh!
This time, the desktop icons were all over the place, and still too tiny to identify. I tried Google, Notepad, Corel ’rotten’ Draw, and MS Word. And the screens started to shudder a little. But this could have been due to Galucoma Glady’s, Cataract Katie, or my being in such an uptight condition, my Neurotransmitters. Turned everything off yet again and left it. 

I called Jenny 🤎 to ask her to please contact Asif for me. The connection was not good; I struggled with the fast speech and an echo on the line.
I think Jen advised me to turn everything off, which I had been doing for the last three hours, Hahaha! Jenny said she leaves hers off overnight, and it can come back on in the morning. I felt so tense, so I decided to do that and try it in the morning.

To keep my mind off of the computer, I got the meal prepped. Ejaz called and served it up. But it feels all wrong eating with someone sitting there on their mobile phone, making a report. Nothing wrong with it, but for years I’ve lived and eaten on my own, and the habit of eating while watching a TV programme is part of my way of preparing for sleep, I suppose. Also, I forgot to take a photo of the nosh.

After finishing the meal, after Ejaz left, saying he would lock the door for me, bless him, I went to wash the pots, and just had to take these snaps of the latter part of the sunset.
A warmth emanated from the view, with maybe perhaps including a hint of a threat? 

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Can it get any worse?
Have I been given a curse?
Why am I penning this verse?
Cause my problems are diverse?
BrainStorm, thinking in Morse?.
Who can help with my annoyances?
Starmer, Einstein or Zeus?
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TTFN
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