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A Wicked Night’s Sleep!
 The Cold Tingles & Electric Shocking Sherida, with a few sessions of brain talking from Thought-Storming-Steve, I don’t think I slept at all! I don’t recall waking up as such. I gave up trying to sleep and unmounted the bed. I took the 
nocturnal catheter pouch to the day pouch and went off to the kitchen to check the taps, cooker and fridge.
Nothing had been left on or running. The fancy nightshirt hanging on the hallway wall looked nice; I might wear it later today. First, I decided to continue with the ablutionalisation and medicalisations.Â
As I stripped off, ready to have a shave, do the teggies and take a shower. I noticed that I had not used the Porcelain Throne this morning. That’s a rarity!
It was rather cold! So, I decided to wear one of the thicker dressing gowns.
As I entered the room, I saw the floor was dirty. I don’t think any domestic help could have come this week, so I decided to get the floor mopped afterwards. Little did I know how long 
it would take. Tsk! Teeth done, I began shaving. Good stuff to stop bleeding that Brute is!
Apart from spraying what I thought was shower gel all over me and finding it was power-cleaning foam, things went reasonably well until I got in the shower. But there’s worse to come. If you had been thinking of sending some pity through the ether, that would be nice. I enjoyed showering… that is, until I moved the broken curtain and saw the water had been sprayed all over the wall, toilet, medications, and cabinet, too. The dirt on the floor had been moved over a greater area now. So, there I was, with nothing on but the catheter contraption and walking stick in hand. A Carer was overdue. So, before medicating, I dried off and investigated the easiest way to mop and clean the wet room. There was no easy way. At first, I got the old mop and bucket out, making more mess as I clambered over to get them from the back corner, But I realised this would mean carrying the mop and bucket into the kitchen to clean them up. So, I got some rags, soaked them in cleaner fluid, and used the picker-upperer to clean the floor. Stopping often to wash the rag, and how I didn’t 
have a fall, I just didn’t know, with the picker-upperer and walking stick limiting my actions.
But it took me ages. And the result was a wet room floor that was only marginally cleaner than when I started the job! I put the flash on to take the photos so it looked cleaner. Hehehe! All that bending and stretching, doing the cleaning, had done me no good, and I still had to get the medicationings done!
I put on a thick dressing gown, went back to the wet room, and struggled to get the PPs on. Then, as I approached the cabinet top with the meds on it… 
Dizzy Dennis hit me, and I tumbled forward, hoping to get my hand on the wall, but 
, gave way, and I knocked an endless amount of medications and 
cleaners on the floor, as I went down. Hitting my nose on the edge of the floor cabinet. The blood flowed down my chin, chest, bulging stomach, and legs and onto the bloody floor that I’d just gone through agony to clean!
Then I had to clean it all again!
The filthy kitchen floor then has to be mopped. But I used the speed mop; it was much easier and quicker.
At long last, I could take a seat before trying again to medicate my nether and lower regions. I put the kettle on and went to medicate ‘things’.
I felt worn out, and it was only about eight-thirty. I did the red patches first, I think. The Harold’s Haemorrhoids. Cartilage Chlo and Carole and Arthur Itis’s knees were Phorpain-gelled. The ears were olive-oiled. Eyes dropped and sprayed. I put a foam tablet in the nose. Barrier creamed under the man-breasts and colossal stomach. Toothache spray was applied. Then, the most painful one. The Ketoconazole (Daktarin) cream on Little Inchies fungal lesion. Always the most painful. But I just laugh it off. 
I got the kettle on and turned on the computer.
Carer Joanne arrived. I told her of my calamities and failures. I had her in tucks. I think people would not believe what is happening to me every day is possible.
But it is! And shortly, there was some more ‘unbelievable’ (bad luck) to come. It was hard to believe, but then, it was for me! During Joanne’s first visit to see me, I emptied the tiny catheter day pouch, and something about the colour and size of a red ant came out and into the jug. What with the cloudy bits that look like fine cotton wool? I’m anticipating a house brick coming out next. Hahaha!
On with the belated blogging!
It was slow work, but it had to be done before I forgot any details. After Joanne’s second visit, things went all out of sync. Dizzy Dennis, Electric Shocking Sherida and Loss-of-Balance-Brenda took turns to have a go at me. Worse than these were the Mini-Seizures. A damned good job. I got the earlier bits on cause hours are missing.
And I thought yesterday was bad!
Carer Chris came; he kindly took the peed-on slippers with him when he put them in the laundry for me. Bless him. He also helped me into the other slippers.
I spent hours on this blog. Then, when it was getting darker, I gave up and made a meal. I took a photo of the frozen potato letters as I put them in the oven. But I forgot to photograph the served-up meal. Tsk!
The Liberty-Global-owned Virgin Media TV took ages to get started. Still, as long as 
Chairperson Mike Fries still gets his pittance of $123,254,000 as Vice Chairperson of the Board, President, and Chief Executive Officer at Liberty Global Ltd. The estimated Net Worth of Michael T Fries is at least $184 Million as of 1 May 2024. Mr. Fries owns over 185,522 Liberty Global Ltd stock units worth over $37,969,951; over the last 11 years, he sold LBTYK stock worth over $22,634,655. And has an open-ended expense account. During the Covid crisis, he received a Monthly Bonus of $1m.
In September 2021, Liberty Global announced the sale of its Polish operations to Iliad Group’s subsidiary Play (P4) for $1.8bn. The transaction closed on 1 April 2022. In July 2023, Liberty Global’s shareholders voted overwhelmingly for Liberty Global to redomicile from the United Kingdom to Bermuda.
Liberty Global Ltd. is a British-Dutch-American multinational telecommunications company domiciled in Bermuda, with headquarters in London, Amsterdam and Denver. Liberty Global operates through the following subsidiaries and shareholdings: ITV plc (United Kingdom) (9.9% shareholding), Platforma Canal+ (Poland) (17% ownership), Sunrise (Switzerland) (100% ownership), Telenet (Belgium) (100% ownership), Play Media, Play Sports, UPC Broadband, UPC Slovakia, Virgin Media Television, Giffgaff (88% ownership), Tesco Mobile (50% ownership), Virgin Media Limited (UK), Virgin Media Business Limited, Virgin Mobile (UK), Vodafone Group (4.9% ownership), VodafoneZiggo (50% ownership), Ziggo, Ziggo Sport, Ziggo Sport Totaal, Virgin Media O2 in the UK, Sunrise in Switzerland, O2 in the UK, Virgin Media in Ireland, Telenet in Belgium, (57.8% stake). The epitome of, and finest greedy Oligarchs!
Just thought I’d mention it.Â
I’m not jealous of Mr Fries, his money, good looks, or lifestyle. His 74-roomed, palatial, nine-acre, swimming pooled, tennis-courted, picturesque $6.2m home. Oh, no! I’m happy enough to live up here in the sky on the 12th floor of a 4-roomed counting-the-wet room here in Nottingham. I can cry, laugh, sing or not, and take tumbles virtually daily. With my crippling catheter bag, failing ticker, dodge cartilages, ailments, Arthur Itis, Vascular Vanessa, Dementia Doreen, Shaking Shoulder Shirley, Seizure-Sandra, Neck-Ricking Nigel, Lost-Balance-Brenda, Dizzy Dennis, Gladys Glaucoma, Acne & Eczema, Axonotmesis, Cognitive Impairment Iris, DVT, Electric-Shocking-Sherida, FND, Memory-Mangling-Malcolm, Diabetes2, and all the other ailments. Daily medicationings and taking two hours and a lot of pain to have a shave and shower. I can appreciate the Prime Minister taking away my fuel subsidy, increasing my rent and taxes, and the 20% increase in fuel cost in October… it doesn’t bother me in the slightest bit. 
Life, albeit within the flat, but my walking sticks help. I’ve got four of them, you know! There’s not one of them that I haven’t tripped over… where was I? Ah! Life is so good, I’m happy, contented… 
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I hobbled into the kitchenette to get the washing of the culinary nature done, taking this snap of the evening sky.
On the left here.
I dried the pots and took a slightly more zoomed-in photo of roughly the same area. Bootiful!
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I’ve had three rotten, wretched days on the trot now,
I got through them, not knowing how…
I fear a 4th, I have to acknown,
Is my lousy luck justice or verismo?
Life is like a permanent strappado,
Can I take another day like this, though?
Yes, I’ve coped, but badly hereunto,
Battling against the Whoopsiedangleplops flow,
Will I return to the beer, LSD & Vino?Â
I think for tonight, it’ll be mushroom risotto,
Either that, or I’ll just get blotto!
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TTFNski, Each!
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while one is asleep. This could possibly explain my bafflement when I stirred. 
joined in the confusing morning equation. As confused as I was, I wasn’t in a depression until the thought storming started, but I was then. Steve harped on and on; The computer problems, the TV Licensing Prosecution, the damned stupid and painful Catheter Contraption fitted, electric shocks shooting up my leg, the guilt of being so inadequate in even needing help to get dressed! Many other things were thrown at me at almost the same time. Things from 70+ years ago, mistakes, bad choices, stupid options that were taken… then, as I was trying to get out of bed, I stubbed my ingrowing toenail toe on the bed support bar. This was followed by a sharp-jarring pain from the catheter tube on Little Inchy, which took my mind off of the earlier depression and replaced it with a sickening ‘Sorry for myself’ moment. Lacking clarity or precision 
The nocturnal pouch was later checked and saved for colour classification by a carer. 
The usual start, with the throne duties first. And what a change there! It was all over in seconds, but a ‘cunning plan’ from Trotsky caught me. I’d cleaned myself and WC up and was getting the shaving tackle ready… luckily I was only a hobble and a half away from the Porcelain Throne when a second wave arrived. I made it in time, but it was a close call. Had I needed to remove my PP’s, I’d have messed myself up. Luckily, if that’s the word, I’d taken the PPs off when in bed cause they and the catheter were causing me such pain.  
I took an earlyish morning snap of the view from the kitchenette window. It was a bit nippy out. Brr! I closed the window, and I started updating yesterday’s blog. But, as usual, I got an idea for today’s Ode and spent ages on it, then almost forgot about yesterday’s not being done. Onto CorelDraw and Carer Chris arrived. Chris got the diabetic socks on for me. Medications were issued, and he mentioned that the catheter conglomeration looked rather painful. He was on the button there! Hehehe! He took the laundry down for me. I hope it returns today; the smaller socks were both in it.
I had a couple of minor seizures, I think, so I gave the computer a rest. And started to sort the waste bins out. As I emptied one, I
 visited, 
, just enough for me to kick the bin over that I’d just emptied Vincent’s contents into! 
came in to do a battery check. We had a little natter. Well
Getting depressed again.
Then I took this one on the right.
Next, off into the balcony.
I limped cautiously back onto the balcony to take a final photo.
BEEF IN STOUT GRAVY
I got the pots washed with one hand. The other was carrying the nocturnal catheter bag in hand. Then I put the bag on the floor and took this snap on the right. It looked ominous, yer peaceful at the same time.
, assured that I didn’t stay asleep for long each time.
to give me a horrible night’s rest! One of the worst nights for months. Tsk!
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throwing the bag around like a football rattle, then threw it back on the floor. Sure enough, the urine flowed. Still too dark, but still. Can’t win them all. 
The photo of the Bottom field and City Hospital in the distance was taken. They’re not bad either, well, alright.
First thing, a sit on the Porcelain Throne, pain, effort, and Oh, so slow coming out. Constipation Conrad is still in full charge. I took another Laxido sachet in warm water later). 
As I put on the gown, I noticed the thick, long catheter tube was in backflow mode again. And even deeper red now! I’d also obtained a new cruise on the left leg. It might have been caused by the top strap trapping the skin. Or not. I didn’t know what I was thinking at that moment. A seizure was on the way, and I knew it. Although how I knew it, I don’t know. 
I made a brew and got onto the computer belatedly. I have no idea what I got carried away with, but hours later, I’d still not started updating the blog. It seems I got some work done on CorelDraw, but not successfully. Spit!
I took this snap of the clouds while making a mug of tea. I’ve already drank three days’ worth of my allowance, which is six mugs, which should be two daily. A twinge of guilt was soon cast into the abyss of the ‘I’m-not-bothered-anymore’ section of the brain. A Dark, Dank Depression fell that instant! 
I could not seem to break out of this downer. 
The miniature catheter pouch emptying went on and on. And it was not a good colour at all.
I took these shots of the near sunset earlier and forgot about them until I found them on the SD card in the morning (Now).
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Despite the lurking and attacking throughout the busy day, computer and camera problems, Seizure Sandra, Dizzy Dennis, and Electric Shocking Sherida, there was an element I’ve not experienced since… Oh, let me think… erm… 2007!
I got the pouch and went through the same routine as yesterday. Throwing the bag around and shaking the ultra-thick tube until the flow restarted and the blowback pains eased. The nocturnal pouch filled very quickly. Once I’d got the night bag off, the farting diddy day bag filled up straight away. I had to keep emptying it all day. The bending down so often upset Dizzy Dennis. But as of now, 17:05hrs, just the one tumble, but I didn’t go down on the floor; I fell in the c1966, ÂŁ300 Oxfam charity shop bought, second-hand, wincingly grotty, beige coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy & dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping, recliner. 
I sensed the blood coming from Harold’s Haemorrhoids and made for the wet room to clean and medicate things. Pain and blood, but no evacuations of anything else. I gave up and started to do my other ablutionary duties. Teggies, nasal clearing, earhole olive-oiling, then got shaving. A few nicks here and there, but I’ve had far worse. A good body scrubbing, no areas missed off. Hehe! 
and the man’s breasts with a barrier cream. I left the painful one till last. Dang, dang, dang, Dang! The Nerisone ointmentating of poor Little Inchies fungal lesion. Now how can I describe the pain when I 
rub it in? Dire, agonising, grinding, yes, they’ll do! 
The list was lingering this morning.
turned up and looked after me; it was grand. She rang the Doctors for me, making an appointment for Saturday, October 6th, for the Respiratory Syncytial Virus (RSV) vaccination. Chloe looked at the catheter mess and rang the District Nurses for me. Someone will come out today to check it over. Iceland delivery arrived while she was here. She helped bring the bags in and assisted me in putting some of 
them away. Bless her. She took the waste bags with her as she left. Thank you, Chloe.
it or tried to spread No-Nutter Butter on it!
rap substitutes will be sent; as for the crushing of the fresh food…
 
Two hours later, as I hope you can see in this photo, I’m glad Carer Sham saw it to prove I was not crying wolf. Sham told me the urine in the day bag was equal to a seven on the NHS chart. The tube was again blocked with brown urine, and the flow-back sensation in the bladder was uncomfortable; I put that mildly, mind you.
The drizzle drop stopped, and I got the Kodak to take this shot from the kitchenette window.
Two sunset photos were taken as I went to check that I’d not left the oven on high and the hot water tap running, too. Tsk! 
Everything is in place; I got the oven warming up for the potatoes. Carer Chris arrived.
Chris took some snaps of me on the computer without me realising while he was making up the medications. I found them on the camera after he’d gone. Bless him. Here’s one of them. I must have been in mid-moan status as I appeared to be grumbling over something on the computer screen. Another cock-up?
The cook-in-the-bag beef and gravy that looked so fatty would be cooked in the microwave oven. It takes five minutes, but I found the nouse to use the necklace timer as I put the potatoes in the preheated oven. I knew that they would take around 40 minutes, so I set the timer on my neck for 30 minutes, and then I got the meat in the microwave. 
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climb out of the bed
Sod, all done, tons to get done.
computer. When am I going to get the shower and shave?
As the seizures eased and the catheter had been emptied for about the eighth time, Carer Chloe arrived. She took this photo of the stupid, harmful, annoying, frustrating, miniscule day pouch fitted.
I apologised for boring her with my moaning and thanked her as she departed.
It seemed to get misty again.
something else instead. I was well peed off with things. That is putting it mildly. 
Took this sunset photo.
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The Carer said this one was a 6 on the NHS scale.
To the wet room. The scab had come off the knee injury from when I took another tumble. The bottom of the leg had gone down a lot, but not the knee area
Constipation Conrad must have taken a vacation yesterday cause he’s back again. Arghh!
When I tried to save the work done on CorelDraw, messages told me there was not enough memory to save the file. Try saving in a different location or with a different name. 
Just look at this later catheter bag emptying colour. It seems more like the colour of weak tea!
I saw the smoke on the horison and took the above shots.
Took a decent shot of the early evening sky.
This is the window I forgot to close and hit my head on when I was prepping a meal.
Then, I took this terrible shot later while checking how the cooking was progressing.
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I stirred into an unwanted imitation existence around 05:00 hrs. It was not the usual bursting awake this time. It was more of a gradual, reluctant acceptance of whatever the day ahead held for me, but not with any hopes or expectancy for anything I would really like or want. That was a bad start, emotionally.
The nocturnal and the day bag pouch it attached to were almost empty. Jiggling the large night bag and spinning it around before throwing it away from me onto the carpet did the trick. A deluge of wee-wee came through from the bladder, through the day and into the night bag. But there was not a lot of it. With flowing so quickly, I thought it would be much fuller. I also thought I could sense some flow-back. But of course, what do I know.
I pottered about, unhurriedly getting out of bed and in a semi-upright position. Off to the kitchen to check that the taps and cooker had not been left on
Had lost his total control. Yet the pain was still there throughout the evacuational activity. Also, it was a mess to clean up on me
Moments after this, I was doing the ablutions, having a stand-up wash and shave… and singing away to myself? Frank Ifields, ‘She Taught Me to Yodel’
I put my feet in a bowl of water with some Dettol and stood in it while I brushed my teeth and shaved. Only one was unseen; it was cut in the neck hole at the back. I dropped the shaving foam, which landed in the bowl and hit the ingrowing toenail on my right foot. I laughed it off, honestly! 
I removed the reserve camera, with which I took most of today’s shots, from the new extension thingamabob in the hallway. It worked a treat. Also, I could use the clothes airer at the same time now to dry my towels. I felt around the plastic to see if anything had heated up overnight, but they all seemed cool.
There was an almost cheery period, then for an hour or so, during which I reverted to worrying about things but ignored any signs of depression. I think it was lurking, ready for a comeback, but I would not let it do so then! I got a large waste bag made up from the other three bins and popped it near the front door.
Carer Precious arrived. I showed him the scars from Cathy 
He took an unintended photo of his own foot
I took a terrible photo halfway through shelling the last of the gorgeous fresh garden peas. I managed to drop no end, but I got three escapees back.
I put the peas into a basin ready to cook later. While I was doing these, there were no signs of Dark Dank Depression Duncan.
I forgot to ask Carer Precious to take the waste bag with him. I added a small one with some clothes no longer needed, I can’t get into them nowadays, to the other near the front door. Well, I’ve not got a back door in the flat. Har-har!
did the midday call. No meds were needed.
Dizzy Dennis attacked as I got down to empty the tiny, so long, low-day pouch. Down I went. As tumbles go, it was not too bad a one. But foolish me, though, even after banging the knees and upsetting Arthur Itis and Cartilage Carole, that I could get up again easily enough. HUH!
down there on the floor to clear some out. So, I grabbed the bigger picker-upperer. I started to try to remove some of the detritus hidden from normal view. What a Mistaker to Maker!
the weight of my leg. I’m not surprised by the size of the leg that was blown up in this photo. The patella has merged with the surrounding flash and can hardly be identified. Haha! So, after trying a few times, you can see why I could not get back up after all!
I went to put the meat in the oven, make another mug of tea, and take this snap of the front car park. 
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It was back on the computer after making another brew of Gengettie to go cold. The first severe bout of 
occurred.
The chips were undercooked, and the beetroot was harder than the ball-bearing peas on the kitchen floor. The eggs and yoghourt were okay.
gets sent to your brain. You feel
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Not a lot, but clear.
First view.
Guess where I went…
Second photo.
While up, I got the pander peas podded.
I shelled them and put them in the pan with some demerara sugar, and this time, I used ordinary salt.
I was sorely tempted to start on the booze again.
I’ve no idea why I put this on? I took it weeks ago.
And stayed in there for about three hours!
The spuds were left for another hour and a half before I remembered about them!
The meal didn’t look attractive.
But it tasted good to me.
Looked a little like a water painting job.
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0:45hrs: Pretty yellow wee-wee. N
From the kitchen.
I got some clothes that no longer fit me and made two more bags. I don’t know how I can get them to the charity shop. I’m not putting the old stuff in it; they went in the waste bags.
The Morrison order arrived.
I think my feeling as depressed as I am may be worse than the frustration of not being able to pull out of it? 
So, everything else was backlighted.
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I decided to get the ablutions tackled. And although something had to go wrong, it was chicken feed compared to my usual disasters.
my diabetic socks off! Then offing the straps from the pathetic new catheter contraption. Painfully, I
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, who has not visited me for days now, took her opportunity at the optimum time to issue the maximum pain. As I was carrying the stick, towels, Alarm bracelet, and flannels to go in the laundry bag before I got dressed, she kicked off, and in the process, she shoulder-charged the bloody door frame!
Still, apart from this, I’d done well! As I emptied the pouch for the fifteenth time today, I saw how good the legs looked. Even the ankle ulcers seemed to be calmer. And incidentally, I’ve hardly had any of the expected lighting strikes from 
, either. Puzzling.
Took this snap of the clouds as I started getting the food prepared. 
I was happy with the result of the food prepping. 
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Something’s gone wrong with Cathy Cathere’s Contraption. A great colour, but so little urine in there? It was a terrible night’s sleep. I’d estimate I managed a maximum of around two hours. One or two minutes at a time, then bursting awake with either a tug at or pushing in of poor Little Inchie from the too-thick and too-long catheter tube. Or 
in unison, belting up the legs. Each time, the shadow of depression waiting to piss me off even more than getting little sleep did!
However, I was absolutely exasperated with and sick of hearing myself moan, feeling so melancholy, dejected, useless, and at the lowest point in my life. I made a concerted effort to spring myself out of this feeling of self-hatred and despondency, although I had no idea how to do that. 
. I went into a few separate but 
must have.
I sorted out what to have for my nosh. I decided on a sweet and sour vegetable ready-made meal. I added half a jar of sauce, with a can of peas thrown into the saucepan to add when the 
Chinese are cooked. Fingers crossed.
Can you see what this young, youthful, pareidoliaing addict can do in the snap on the left in the clouds? A double-headed creature of some sort? Also, some cat’s heads?
I came across this one on the right in the morning while updating.
Ah, I can recall with one with some pleasure. First, I’d put some chips in the oven. Later, I warmed up the sweet and sour vegetable ready-made meal in the microwave and added a tin of peas. I bundled it all in a dish and feasted away.
Got the dishes washed and tried but failed on the Porcelain Throne.
I settled down to watch two episodes of ‘Heartbeat’.
. I was a little miffed at all the waking-ups but even more unsettled for not recalling any details of the dreams. Suddenly, Carer Israel was back on his last visit. And I was in the same position as I was when he arrived for his previous visit… he told me. Hehehe! 