Elapsed Inchy: Sunday 17 November 2024

18/11/2024 / Inchie / 6 Comments

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Initially, I loathed and hated our PM, robber Starmer,
For stealing fuel help from every pensioner,
But I felt a smidge, just an iota, guilty of this later…
Although it made OAPs £500 poorer…
It got the Unions complaining angrier,
It was businesses that gave him his backhanders!
An unpopular decision by anyone’s standard,
Was it not for Labour that most oldies voted?
Keir fears not, as I’ve before quoted…
Pensioners, eat or eat, will die, no longer an elector!
Come the next election, if alive, they’ll not remember,
They’ll be in a home or alone, suffering from Dementia,
Deafness, acroanaesthesia, or bradykinesia,
Starvation, humiliation or very likely, cryoanesthesia,
Blind or with Starmer-pleasing hypomnesia,
Frigid, cold, hungry, with herpes zoster,
And thanks to Herr Starmer, cryoanesthesia…
Acatamathesia, paramnesia and awaiting euthanasia,

I often muse over why I’m such a tergiversater,
A gossip, voluble, so garrulous, a twattler,
I only see the Nurse, Carer and or Warder,
So, it’s usually with me, my verbal symposia,
This surely means that I’m my own shillaber?
My own name-caller, hater & reprobater,
No seizures today, but they’ll come later…
How can I hold so many one-man symposia?
To be honest, at the moment, I’m in control titular,
Some ailments are worse, but none in particular…
Oh, yes, there is, Toothache Tiffany, I am a fibber!
I use the toothache spray, at £599 for 100ml,
Still trying to save enough to get a new cooker,
I may not cook chips again, nevermore!
A new carer today, Rachel, a good-looker,
I blame Stealer Starmer, and I hate him to my core!
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A better week, apart from the glitches with the urine
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Buggered up the day with them, they quickly came,
I wanted to blame whatsitsname…
Or maybe even whatsaname,
I considered blaming whatshername…
But for each one, I was the one to blame.
First one, I was cleaning the windowpane…
Lost my balance stretching, I gained some pain,
Crawled to the recliner & got on my feet again,
Next time, sat there, thinking of my old beldame,
Stood up & collapsed due to Jelly-Legs-Jane!
Crawled to the recliner & got on my feet again,
Then, I dropped my written username…
I tried bending down again…
Landed on my knees, agony more than pain!
The recliner was nearby, I got on my feet again,
But doing so was such a strain,
Tumbling is easy, like walking in front of a train,
The recliner was nearby, I got on my feet again,
Then I sat for two hours on the Porcelain!

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I can’t remember if I put this one in yesterday or when I took it. But I like it, so I’ll possibly be repeating things.
A zoomed-in early morning picture of the sun coming up from behind the flats.

This morning’s efforts.

Is my urine going darker again?

Renaurds affected feet and toes. I made a mess of the photo; I assume I’d put the flash on, so it looks weird.

Morning all.

Afternoon-teatime views.

It looked like some clouds were going to land.

Made a meal early today. So I could watch the England ROI footy match on the box.
Mature cheese thickly spread sarnies with some Marmite added. Red onions, fish sticks & beetroot. Another pot of Limoncello lusciously licked off of the spoon, Haha!

I added some flavour to the spring water for during the match. And what a score!
I added some more alcohol to my bottle of spring water.
Hehehe!

I got an unintentional artistic wobble on.

TTFNski, each.

Idjit Inchy: Thursday 14th November 2024

17/11/2024 / Inchie / 8 Comments

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So. I’ve got recurrent aphthous stomatitis,
Glaucoma Gladys; Eyesight out of focus,
The return of pain from Toothache Tiffany,
Peripheral Pete is acting somewhat oddly,
Up in the sky is a whopping cumulonimbus!
Years ago, I was libidinous and lascivious,
Now, I move ornamentally, & act sentimentally,
I often act like a schoolteacher sumpsimus.
I don’t mean to act so obnoxious,
My toes and feet turned white & xanthous,
Many things make me worried and anxious,
How can mortals beat off the oligarchy?
They rule, from wars, they make more money!
Proletariats, innocents survive quixotically…
Politicians live life quintessentially,
We vote for MPs who we think, essentially,
Will do the job least damagingly…
In return, 26 taxes go up, regretfully,
Starmer gives pensioners a financial raspberry!
Commoners hate… his MPs show him ambivalence!
He may be vacillatious, the voters are unfelicitous,
A backhand-taker, give him a certificate,
Did God permit this animal to rule us?
With his lies & constant obscurantist blatherskite!
Lies is another word spoken in omission,
But we’ll see him consider any admission,
As he agrees to send more ammunition…
Compassion to him is an apparition,
Of course, some eye him with a different complexion,
Would never give him any condemnation,
They’ll be part of some financial conglomeration!
Overseas investment, banks denying the crucifixion.
Fair enough, I’m still awaiting confirmation…
What’s he done? My conclusion is he causes confusion,
His manner & words show floccinaucinihilipilification.
To pensioners; flabbergastation,
N.I. increases, employers frustration,
To voters, he’s an overpaid fustilarian.
The self-employed, driven to fulmination!
Taxpayers, give him a two-fingered gesticulation!
He must be the current most-hated man in the nation,
He’s guilty of inspiring the common man’s hortation!.
Personally, I think he’s a schmuck, a sleeveen,
His stealing from pensioners was particularly mean!
We’ll mostly be dead come the next election…
My last words are typed with some hesitation...
Bear in mind they come from a man lacking education,
I’ll be waiting for him, at his damnation!
And we can both have a discussion in Hell’s dungeon!
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Early morning—well, not all that early, really—around 06:30 hrs, morning views from the kitchenette window.

Later on.

An hour or so later.

Toothache Tiffany kicked off.

Teatimeish.

Not a proper meal. But the innards had been playing me up all day, and I didn’t want to annoy them anymore.
I was content with what I had: Milk Roll sliced bread, nobutter-buttered tomatoes, beetroot, and red onions.
The last pickled egg: red onion, a splodge of Marmite, or Vegemite—I like them both. And mini franks of undetermined meat and flavour, but they tasted okay.
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I’m struggling with toothache, seizures, and concentration. Lack of sleep is doing me no good, either. I can’t get caught up.

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Let’s see how I go in the morning and if the computer is kind to me when it comes to saving photos. I’m low.
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TTFNski!

Iliad Inchy: Saturday 16th November 2024

17/11/202417/11/2024 / Inchie / 8 Comments

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I had a visit from Grim Reaper 8,2,449,26 Vizi,
He was not soul-collecting, he called socially,
I like this Reaper Vizi, who last visited me in 2023,
He said he was depressed but very busy,
North Korean troops join in war against Ukraine,
Available Souls to collect rises again…
Gaza, so many humans getting slain,
Children starving, dying in pain,
There is no world affability or affinity,
Words spoken artificiality, many an atrocity,
Politicians without any accountability,
No shortage of greed or ambivalency,
Hostility, or apathy, sinful Oligarchy…
Seek profit, power, a mega bankroll,
War children build themselves a bolthole,
Politicians lie, cheat, use hyperbole,
Free murderers, with a legal loophole,
Killers, murderers given parole,
We don’t need wars to kill, as with Chernobyl,
Plane, ship disasters, or a sinkhole,
Fewer miners die, now you don’t use coal,
Earth is doomed; well, it is a hellhole!
I interrupted him, “You can take my soul…”
Dying must surely be more peaceful?
Is heaven extraterrestrial?
Was humankind meant to be experimental,
I sense that we are all fossiliseable,
Well, of course, anything is possible…
Vizi said that trusting humankind is fatal,
This starts when they are foetal,
Anklesnappers turn into people,
They turn finical, criminal & some fatidical,
Like you, cause you’ve a low IQ but high EQ,
You see, but you don’t know what to do…
Your hopes for happiness are exhausted,
Your faith in humankind has vegetated…
Your lust for life has withered…
The Lord’s return remains uncorroborated,
Your caring nature has been exploited,
Life itself, you’ve never bested,
Truth is, you are no longer interested…
You’ve grumbled, moaned and protested,
You’ve not changed, but the world has altered,
You’ve failed, lost, deflated and faulted…
This earth has been maladministered,
Now an idiot has been Prime Ministered!
And pensioners he has murdered…
Yet Starmer remains undeterred,
Wait for him in hell to see him burn!
Then your sense of humour can return!
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Another miserable night’s sleep was endured. I felt so weary when it came time to get up and prepare for the food delivery I nodded off again. What I thought was five minutes later, I shot awake for the umpteenth time and I began to haul my abdominous-bellied body from the grasp of the c1968, tatty, scruffy, unkempt, uncomfortable, virus, microorganism, bug, bacterium, bacillus, germ, parasite producing, and disease-fermenting second-hand, eyesorely-horrendously grungy beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, moth-eaten, non-working, bacillus encouraging, incommodious, tatty Haemorrhoid Harold testing recliner. I did the 40-second balance exercises and dragged myself carefully upright onto my legs to get to my .
The intercom rang out! Gotten Himmel! I thought it was about 05:00hrs, but it was 07:00hrs! So much for me nodding off for five minutes; it must have been two hours. If Electric-Shocking-Sandra and Thought Storming Steven had let me sleep earlier, it wouldn’t have been a problem. I was still not entirely out of the earlier seizure, but a bit of good luck… Yes!

Carer Promise arrived as the delivery chap was opening the door. Promise took the bags into the kitchen for me. Then he fitted the diabetic socks and sorted the medications out for me, remembering the Vitamins. Thank you. He assessed the colour of the urine in the nocturnal pouch for me. Then, I emptied the pouch and got on with sorting the delivery from J Sainsbury’s.

I’d forgotten to order some fresh tomatoes. Humph! Still, I’ve a few left to be used, but they are a few days old.
I had to throw it away.
The fish sticks and the meat were in the refrigerator; I forgot to check the dates, so I delved into the fridge again but could only read two.
Cheesy cobs and the Milk Roll sliced loaves of bread were put in the freezer, ready for use later. I kept out one pack of cobs to use today and put the butter in the fridge. Two ready-made meals went in with the butter. One potato cheese, onion, and a sweet & sour one with rice joined the butter and lemon yoghourts & desserts. The rest went into a cupboard: tea bags, cider, pork knuckle, bicarbonate of soda, and the Veggie cookies.

Then it was off to the wet room for a wash and Porcelain Throne session. Another torpedo, and again followed by some sticky wet waste product. That bit was messy.
I took a photo of my Renaulds feet and toes. But the computer would not let me save this one. It’s most annoying, well, damned annoying, I can tell you.

When I shut down the computer yesterday, I did a Ccleaner routine, and I thought this should help me this morning. It did, to start with, but it soon started refusing to save. I must try to get help fitting the stand-alone hard drive for me.

My Mini-Seizures were rampant today. I lost count of how many times I forgot what I was doing mid-stream of any actioning previously. I recall talking to someone about the Ice-Cold sensations, to find they suffered the same thing. We both agreed it was frustrating, as people who don’t have the problem cannot understand it or how bad it is. Also, what effect can it have on someone? Dropping things, failing to grab a hold or grip, etc. Losing balance, we share as well. It was nice to chat with someone who knows. Convincing the medical world of the seriousness is even more difficult!

I took this snap from the kitchenette window sometime in the afternoon. While checking if it had gone on the SD card, I saw a fantastic flowering bush in part of the garden in front of the two houses. I took a close-up photo of it. I wondered if anyone in the blogosphere knows its name?

The photos were not saved again, so I gave up. In the morning, many of them went on, which baffled me.

I sat down and blissfully fell asleep, but the Carer arrived to wake me up. Hehe!
It was all sorted, and I went into the kitchen to prepare the planned beef sarnies with beetroot, red onion and tomato-buttered cobs. I took these three shots as darkness began to fall.

Mind you, I’m enjoying them.
It’s just that I’ve cut my fingers a few times when slicing tomatoes, onions, beetroot, bread, etc. Losing the use of the cuts down on chips!

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TTFN.

Inchy: Wednesday 13th November 2024 – Disgusted with Starmer’s abiogenisis!

15/11/2024 / Inchie / 6 Comments

– – LABOUR ROBDOGS PARTYTIME! – –
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He speaks with a forked tongue, indeterminately,
He steals from pensioners; he’s a gerontophobee!
He shows mordacity, & leads minaciously,
Accepts back-handers, anything, credulously,
Clothes, glasses, Arsenal tickets for free,
He comes across as being rather sleazy…
Lies by omission, with great nugacity,
He looks like a land-based manatee,
Lacking in sympathy and humanity,
He’ll cause more voters lachrymosity,
He brings out my hatred and lubricity!
With his fibs by omission and duplicity…
He forecasts that things will go bleakly,
He gives an aura of him being peccantly…
He answers questions in a roundabout way, evasively,
Subject changing, circuitously, obliquely, evasively!
His cabinet pep talks are more like an obsequy!
His compassion is woeful; he hates commonimity,
He can’t hide his conceitedness, ego or vainglory,
He failed to declare £16,200 in gifts from Lord Alli,
Accepted gifts worth £100,000! Verily!
At worst? He stole Winter Fuel cash from Inchie!
Who may not need to go on a diet of xerophagy,
Heat or eat… is a possibility!
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What graphics and photos did the computer, CorelDraw, MS Excel, MS Word, Norton, Ccleaner, Shaking Shaun, Shuddering Shoulder Shirley, and Mini-Seizure-Sandra allowed me to save for use on this blog?

In a sort of chronological order.
Close up from the kitchen window, trying to get the trees and bushes to see the changing colours.

Afternoon, I think.

Sunset.

Nosh.

Not sure if I’ve used this one before or not.

Carer Kimberly.

Sorry, short, comp problems again.

TTFN

Struggling Inchy: Tuesday 12th November 2024

13/11/2024 / Inchie / 6 Comments

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It was not as dark as last night, and it was even less dark three hours later. Third emptying: Around three more hours later, I Cracked it!
Looking far healthier now.
Mind you, I think I must have drunk about eight litres of spring water every hour. Does anyone remember the Doctor Who episode? I think it was a film, maybe The Waters of Mars? You’ll understand what I mean if you do recall the storyline.
Hehehe!

By 04:00 hrs, I was up and about, almost alive, really. I went to the wet room, where I unwillingly spent about fifteen minutes waiting and forcing, encouraging the motion to move. Eventually, a long, broad, massive torpedo slowly emerged. I remained seated for a short while, half in relief of the riddance finishing and half to catch my breath. It was agony and hard work this morning. There was no mess, no bleeding. Great! Mind you, Harold’s Haemorrhoids suffered a fair bit, and they bled. The Germoloids were utilised.

I did feel a fool when I realised that as I kept wiping away the blood, but it just kept coming; this was unusual. Eventually, the penny dropped – The blood was coming from my cut thumb end on the toilet paper, not the piles! I think I managed a wry smile before verbally castigating and criticising myself.

The Iceland order arrived.
Chicken thighs, Milk Roll Loaf, salt, turkey meat, spring waters, crisps, Marmite, bleach, etc. delivered.
The fridge looked terribly bare and sparse after I’d put things away.
The Christmas seasonal coffee I bought for the carers & nurses had a short use-by date on them. On the other hand, the freezer looked well cram-packed, but this was deceiving.
There were so many foods in there that I could not cook now that the cooker had died. Can’t afford another one yet.
But I’ll not starve, well, I don’t think so.
I cleared the stuff away and made an order from Ocado for delivery next Wednesday, the 20th, 06:30 > 07:30 hrs.

Carer Chloe arrived at 08:30 hrs. I asked her to fit my diabetic socks on my legs first thing. It’s damn cold today.
Chloe did the domestic call later.
I blogged for a few hours. Getting the computer to save photos was and still is hard and frustrating.

I got the Ocado order dispatched, and computer work had to stop for hours. I was in and out of it so often, never for long, but it was annoying.

I managed to get on Word Press Reader. There is some beautiful poetry and magnificent photography. I’m going to take a picture from Tim Prices’ site to use as the Cat of the Week photo. Tim Price’s Silver!
Had his quota of cheese,
And boy, he looks at ease!

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He speaks with a forked tongue, indeterminately,
He steals from pensioners, a gerontophobee!
He shows mordacity, & leads minaciously,
Accepts back-handers, anything, credulously,
Clothes, glasses, Arsenal tickets for free,
He comes across as being rather sleazy…
Lies by omission, with great nugacity,
He looks like a land-based manatee,
Lacking in sympathy and humanity,
He’ll cause more voters lachrymosity,
He brings out my hatred and lubricity!
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TTFN

Medicated Inchy: Monday 11th November 2024

13/11/2024 / Inchie / 4 Comments

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I’m now frequently confused, flabbergastingly,
Doreen Dementia guarantees my fallibility,
Working things out, I have little flexibility,
Sometimes I wish I lived in a Friary,
But there are people there who confuse Inchy,
I have ailments, not a disability…
I admit to having physical & mental frailty,
And live with seizures, most of them mini,
Compared to my lifestyle, formerly…
I don’t mind saying, nowadays I worry,
No one to converse with socially,
Sometimes, I’ll wake up gratifyingly…
But, never satisfyingly,
At times, I find life adversarially,
I fret over things universally,
In seizures, thoughts go atmospherically,
My usual mode turns to abnormally,
In rare up modes, I press on blithefully,
Ever present are doubts & hamartithia,
I lack tranquillity, equanimity & ataraxy,
Existing in solitarily, unsociably, introvertedly,
At times, showing stoicism, fortitude, longanimity,
I’m not short of talkativeness or loquacity,
But that’s usually with my EQ or Little Inchie…
The Grim Reaper, God, but mostly, with me!
I can still have moments of near lucidity…
I need help with my feeling nugatory…
But where do I find a mirabiliary?
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Busy morning, getting things ready to go to the surgery.
I thought I’d done a decent job of getting everything ready. I was running a little later than I’d hoped, but I still thought I could make it as I locked the flat and walked to the Sherrington Park Medical Centre. Going down Winchester Street, about halfway, there were plenty of things to photograph. I went to get Kodak Tim from the three-wheeled walker trolly… I was livid when I realised that when I’d put new batteries in back at the flat, I must have put them down and forgotten to replace them in the bag. I recall a Carer coming in when I was replacing the batteries. It doesn’t take much for Imchy to lose his plot or plans! Grumph!

I can’t believe the things I could have taken snaps of on my walk up Mansfield Road to Carrington. A gang of youths lurking behind the fast food kitchen in the back. A bumper-to-bumper crash near the Chapel. Then, four police cars belted past, going toward the City; I was at the top of the hill when they went by and could have caught all four vehicles, one an armed response one, in one frame.
As I was swearing and calling myself names for forgetting to take the Kodak, two more cars passed with lights on, both unmarked with hidden blue lights in the grill. I got even more annoyed with myself then. I would have taken a few shots of some trees and shrubs down the hill with various shades. By the time I got down into Carrington, I could feel bile building in my stomach… possibly caused by my inner outburst of self-loathing at forgetting the Kodak. It really pissed me off! I’d not felt so annoyed for at least 20 minutes. Tsk!

When I got to the Sherrington Park Medical Practice—I’m not kidding—I was still giving myself grief about not taking the Kodak and walked straight past it! I got down near the Lidl store and realised what I’d done. The self-annoyance, nay, self-anger, got even worse with me then! I wondered if I had a mini-seizure as I got to the surgery.

SURGERY EMBARRASSMENT – ONE!
When I got inside, the do-it-yourself signing-in thingamajig was in use. No receptionist could be seen, but one did arrive shortly.
She arrived because somehow I’d crashed the signing in, wotsit. I couldn’t see how I could have done wrong; it’s only pressing the four confirmation buttons; I can’t recall which day, the month of birth, and the first letter of your Surname, I think. A message came up saying ‘Your arrival has been recorded, then the screen went blanl and the lady arrived, giving me a sort of look that said, “Oh, dear, it’s Him!”, or “Why does he have to come every time I’m on duty!” She was very nice about it, though. But my EQ rang out with that look I got. Haha! As I sat down, the lady in the waiting room indicated that the same thing had happened to her. That cheered me up.

SURGERY EMBARRASSMENT – TWO!
I sat down and got my crossword book out, which made me more self-discussed! I also forgot to take my reading spectacles with me! It was much like hard work reading the clues, so after a few minutes, I gave up and put the book back in the trolley basket.

SURGERY EMBARRASSMENT – THREE!
Whether it was a mini-seizure or I fell asleep, I can’t say.
I was roused by concerned patients in the waiting room. I was just about to fall off the chair when two of them grabbed me, preventing me from falling. The lady said she could see me nodding off, and I began to lean to my right more and more. Thanks to the man and woman for helping and rescuing me, whoever you were. ♥

SURGERY JOY – Nurse Caroline
Nurse Caroline came to collect me, and we entered the treatment room. The DVT nurse was not coming today; I expect another appointment will be given. But seeing Caroline’s sweet, helpful, caring smile took away any concerns. She has this effect on me, you know. 💘 I think at this stage, I had a mini seizure again cause the next thing I recall was leaving the centre and going into the car park. With no pain in either arm, had I had the RSV infection or not?

After a few minutes of pushing the 3-wheeled walker-trolley up the hill towards Sherwood, I felt the serum doing its thing in my right arm. There was very little pain compared to the two shots, COVID-19 and flu, last week. As I descended the Mansfield Road hill into Sherwood, I felt a little fatigued, a side effect I expected. I took my time.
I called into the J Sainsbury Local store the first time I’d been there. I got some treats for the wardens.
Then, I popped into the Continental shop to get another jar of the fantastic-tasting Golonkowa.
I got onto Winchester SDtreet and to the bus stop just as a bus arrived! It was one of the new buses that had space for me to stand up for the journey. I was soon up the hill and getting off the bus. There was no way I was up to walking up the hill. So, I’d had good & bad moments on today’s outing.
I was a smidge concerned about having good luck. Seeing Nurse Caroline, even if most of it was a blur now. Catching the bus with perfect timing!
It’s not natural to me.

BACK AT THE COMPLEX
I got off the bus safely, thanking the driver.
I called into the office to drop the bits off.
To the end of the building and up in the lift to cell 72.
I wearily got in and straight to the Porcelain Throne.
Trotsky Terence Contolled, a little messy.

Hunger took a grip, and I decided to have the cheesy cobs I’d bought, no-butter buttered, with pork in jelly, sliced oh so thick and crammed into the rolls. I also sliced some tomatoes (slicing off a bit off of the end of my left-hand thumb) to salt and add to the feast.
They tasted just grand!
The meat and the jelly blended with the cheesy roll delightfully!
Carer Promise arrived as I was emptying the day catheter. It had not filled up much because while out and about, I also forgot to take some water with me, as with the reading glasses and hearing aid batteries, and to pick up the Kodak Tim camera. As I emptied the urine pouch, I soon found out that it was not a good idea to forget to take the water with me.
As you can see above, the urine was the bloodiest for many months, perhaps a year.
As per the NHS instructions, I called 111. Luckily, Precious had not left, and he took over the phone as I could not make out the questions being asked. As if I didn’t know what was about to be told me, it was “To drink more water.” So, I did! Fair enough, because I’d fallen asleep and did not drink enough.

I took a wash and meandered into the kitchenette to put the kettle on, but I stopped myself from making a brew, what with the dark colour of the urine.
I took these snaps of the sunsetting and got down in the itch-creating, bruise-giving, catheter-tube-tugging, crumb-decorated from my nocturnal nibbling, God-awfully uncomfortable, cringingly grotty, no longer working, dirty beige, anti-sleep designed, c1966, second-hand bought for £300 ten years ago from the charity shop, recliner. The idea was to watch a documentary on the TV and then get my head down.
I’d gone off into a deep sleep within a minute.
I sprang a wake, unsure when or what time, and looked at the night catheter on the floor. It still seemed very dark to me. Got the Kodak and took this snap of it on the floor. Realising I’d not got into the bed, I checked the time… it was 04:00hrs. I got up, changed the catheter,
and decided to stay up. Bleary-eyed, with blood from the thumb having trickled down my nightwear. I was wiping it with a towel and on the bed leg.
I merely laughed it off! Of course.
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I hoped the Grim Reaper might be calling… but no! Hehe!

Irate Inchy: Sunday 10th November 2024

11/11/2024 / Inchie / 4 Comments

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But does that include the product?
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GAWD, I’VE NEVER FELT LOWER!
Forgive this start to this messed-up, dismal, disappointing, depressing, distressing, dispiriting, disheartening, discouraging, demoralising, dismal, daunting, disenchanting, disquieting, discomposing, disturbing, distressing and deplorable due to this computer-preventing-success blog.

The hardest and least successful day ever.
I’m assuming that the end is near.
I’ll lose all I hold dear…
It’s not a computer here; it’s an electric alligator…
The web’s the master aggravator and alienator!
A bloodsucker, a mental boneshaker…
That’s turned me into a bellyacher,
Duodenal Donald had never been pain-fuller!
I’m frustrated, getting angrier, & arsier!
After the stroke, I acquired aboulomania,
It got worse swiftly, I can tell yer…
My Doctor seems more like an arbitrageur.
Did she know, or was she being cagier?
Indigestion or maybe apepsia or dyspepsia.
Hospital check-up – Duodenal Ulcer…
In later life, one tends to become more toeier,
I became addicted to my new Atari computer…
A joy to behold, it made me happier,
Then the web came, loved by each Diddler & Fiddler,
Manipulated and financed by the Oligarcher,
Thus, I approach the end of my tether…
Tired of failure, trying to be a trier…
Alone, is it time to meet my maker?
I try to get out of the depressional mire…
Will my spirits ever get higher?
Will Heaven be waiting, or Hell’s fire?
I don’t think it should really matter…
Well, not to me, a failed snippersnapper!
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I had half an hour of when the computer aloowed me to get pictures on… not many. Bitterly dejected now.
When I got up from the depths of the c1966, £300 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. The nocturnal bag is nice and full.
Changed and photographed the old-fashion clock calendar.
Got these photos to save to go on here, but not for eight hours! Very anger-making!
Took the misty morning shot.

Hours later, I emptied the day catheter bag into the jug. It looked awfully full of bits of red stuff floating about in the urine.
640ml’s worth.

It was my worst day ever with this com-dam-puter; I lost so many hours failing to get it to save the photos. I did what I tried yesterday, thinking how well it went then; if I do the same, it must work again. What a Dork!

During the last four hours on the computer, I just got one photo to save! And that was one of the worst I’ve ever taken.

Going to have to get things ready for the visit to the Doctors and DVT Warfarin clinic tomorrow.

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Monday Morning.
I got up at 05:00hrs and got the ablutions done. Took a poo, and it was two-tone in both ways. Started off taking agony and ages to get it moving; one giant torpedo plopped out, followed by soft, gooey Trotsky Terence splashes! A few weeny cuts shaving. I didn’t do all the medical checks, as the DVT nurse is going to check the read end in the examination later at the surgery; blood and Haemorrhoid Harold are to be tested again.

Then, there’s the RSV inoculation. I’m looking forward to walking there and back. It’s a shame I could not arrange a lift. I sorted the waste bags, made a brew, and got on the computer. I started it and did a clean-up with Ccleaner.
That allowed me to save some outstanding photos! I’d got about nine to go on here. After saving three, it stopped again! It would not let me save those taken today to file!

Was I angry? Did I get all flustered and annoyed? Did I swear & curse at all? Well, yes!

Carer Richard arrived. He sorted the medications for me. And took the laundry down for me.
Photos from yesterday (Sunday). Just three of them!
A jar of the Golokowa meat. (Pork shank), potatoes done in the air fryer, peas done in the slow cooker, sliced tiny tomatoes yellow & red, and some extra strong mature cheddar cheese in the bowl. Spirit vinegar on the potatoes.
It was the best-tasting meal I’ve had in a long time! I’ll try to remember to stop at the deli shop on my way to the Doctor’s this morning to get some more of the meat. It was super and had lip-smackingly good meat jelly in it!
Early evening sky.

I did this blog up to here. Realising that I was going to be out for hours, I decided to send this off now before I prepped things for the surgery and clinic. It’ll be a long day, with lots of walking and hobbling, so blogging may be too challenging to get done—although, with my computer, it’s always that way!

I’m hoping the earlier warning that if the results are not good, I may be taken into the QMC immediately and will be in for a few days. I think it’ll all be down to the blood status (INR). However, my EQ tells me this will not happen, and I believe it.

I might have to leave the blog until later. See how I feel after the local anaesthetic wears off. There will probably not be time left in the day anyway. 14:00hrs, examination, then the procedures, then getting home again… home? I mean back to my cell… no, flat! Hehehe!

Keep Safe Out There, Folks!
TTFN.

Inert Inchy: Friday 8th November 2024

09/11/2024 / Inchie / 6 Comments

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My body & brain seemed clumsier,
Concentrationless, forever making a blunder,
Concentration Conrad, trouble with the catheter…
But compared to Thursday, I was feeling chirpier,
Then, this morning, I turned into a grumbler,
The power supply died well before it got darker…
Life felt it was just too much hassle and bother,
I turned into a frustrated, dispirited, sad creature!
Everything went wrong, tormenting, crueller,
I got the power supply back within the hour,
I awaited life’s next unredeeming feature…
At this, I admit I felt a little perkier,
Why I felt ‘up’ is up for conjecture…
The colour swatches disappeared from CorelDraw,
The batteries expired in the Kodak camera,
Liberty-Global, Virgin Media…
Drove me to the point of hysteria!
Blackout! No internet, TV, Alarm help-caller…
Was it down, or did I make another blunder,
I called on my mobile to Warden Deana,
Asked if anyone else had lost their Virgin Media,
Many had, so I was in a confused megillah…
The computer came back on, I had a self-ponder,
So far behind now, a frustrated old blogger,
Hopes of catching up are less than minuscular,
I had to restart four-times on the computer,
Resigning in on all the sites, regular,
Then, once again, I lost the power…
I reset the box as a chuntering inveigher!
I hope I didn’t move the wrong relayer,
I exist in almost total disorder…
Now joined by my mental dyspraxia,
No socialisationing, so no clishmaclaver!
Life, to me, is a shyster, racketeer, & fraudster.

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Reasons for this undetailed blog

1) I was so far behind with the blogging.
2) I lost the notebook page by tearing it off the pad to do another in a failed effort to save time. I have no reminder notes; I can only use my memory with hints from the photographs the computer allowed me to save.
3) Mind-Mangling-Malcolm, Seizure-Soaked-Sandra, Concentration-Crusher-Konrad.
4) After the third computer cleaning of the day (there were two more), I tried to save some CorelDraw rectangles to a file to save new things to the same name and then changed the name to suit the photo. Great idea, I thought. Three hours later, as I was saving the last one, which was saved, the eleven ones done earlier disappeared!
5). Depression Duncan Dawned.
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Bit of blood mixed in the nocturnal bag?

Morning views.

My beloved tree copse. I’d love to have a hobble through it again. But…

Late evening view.

Beef in rich stout gravy. With added chopped red onions. Cooked in the microwave, using the new Heat & Eat vented box. Potato chunks cooked in the Air Fryer. Brown ready-sliced cobs and an expensive Pots & Co. Lemon & Lime Posset.
So naughty, but nice!

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I found seven in ten minutes!
Ah, I’ve just found the eighth, a stud on his right boot!
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Boy, did I sleep better? Yes, I did? Did you? Oh, yes!
I must stop talking to myself!
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TTFN, thanks for reading my blog!

Inchy: Wednesday 30th October 2024

31/10/202431/10/2024 / Inchie / 7 Comments

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I don’t want anyone to think I’m jealous of their wealth & power. Or that could gladly assassinate the pensioner-killer Starmer for his heartless crippling and murdering pensioners by taking away their winter fuel allowance. Or his lying by omission to get elected. Or, his taking back-handers worth hundreds of thousands of pounds. His bland, conceited, self-wealth improving, voter-contempt, but I am.
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After yet another night of jumping awake, at 05:00, I gave up trying for the elusive sleep, and I gingerly removed the nocturnal catheter pouch, grabbed a hold of and off to the kitchen for safety checks and got the kettle on. The taps, cooker and fridge looked okay, and I had what must have been one of the longest-ever bubbly-sounding passings of wind that I can ever remember. It was pongy and two-tone at times! I diverted to the wet room without any delay.
I got seated, but nothing more than wind came out for ages. Once the motion began, I thought that would never end!
It was like wet mud to look at in the bowl. This time, it was three-coloured: black spots with light and dark brown.

Cleaning it up took me years. I managed to knock over, and he fell against the floor cabinet. I then had one less bottle of the Glaucoma Latanoprost eye drops; the cap shot off.

MAYHEM – POWER CUTS
At this stage of writing this, I had a power cut! I lost all my notes and reminders, but I did get some photos, and such mayhem and panic have not hit me so badly in ages.
I was stuck in total darkness; it was late evening then.
The notes from earlier in the day were found, but not the late ones that were on Word, which got lost in a total of four Poer-Cuts suffered over a three-hour period.
Obviously, I could not do any blogging or emailing anything on the computer until Thursday morning. (Now)

POWER-CUT DISASTER STORIES
1️⃣ I was cooking the meal. Sudden darkness, absolute darkness. Panic gripped me. I searched for the mobile and wind-up torch. At that time, I could not find the torch. So, had to use the light of the mobile to get around. My intention was to make sure the cooker had been turned off. Then I realised that things were worse than I thought. The battery on the mobile was weakening, and I needed it to call for help because the Alarm Alert line & landlines were not working. I rang the preciously kind Jenny to ask for advice on getting help. I didn’t know the numbers to ring. Jenny, being Jenny, bless her, said she would come up to have a look. She’d just got out of the shower. I felt embarrassed.

2️⃣ Jenny came in; I didn’t hear her, and she did something on the power box, and the power came back on. I told her what I was doing, and she spoke with someone on the back-on-line emergency alert line again. She turned off the cooker at the box. Told me not to use it until it’s been checked over. She
said, ‘I’m was to ring her in ten minutes to update her on the situation’. I’d be lost without Jenny.

3️⃣ Ten minutes later, the power went off again. This time, I was again in the kitchen, and as it was dark, I turned to get the stick, tripped on something, and fell, hitting my face on the radiator. Jenny returned again. She reset the power and asked if I’d used the cooker, which I hadn’t. The power was now restored by Jenny, and the telephones & alarm came back on. Jenny spoke with them again. Jenny reminded me not to use the cooker, but I could use the microwave.

4️⃣ I started to sort out a different meal that could be cooked in the microwave, and the Power died again! Jenny came to the rescue once more! She restored the power supply yet again and told me she would report things to the authorities for me in the morning. If it does go off again, I was to ring her. Reminding me not to use the kettle or cooker.

Thankfully, the power stayed on, and I finished the oddly cooked beef in black bean sauce. Cleaned up the kitchen and settled to eat the meal, watching ‘Heartbeat’ on the TV. Thinking about how things would have gone without Jenny’s help. Precious, inestimable, & helpful. ♥

The following may be out of order, with part of the reminders lost in the power cuts, but these things did occur. I think.

Carers Shaquille, Israel & Kimberly called. Kimberly helped me get an appointment with the doctor and the Chemist for the flu jab sorted for me. Flu Tuesday 5th Nov, and the RSC at the surgery Monday 11th Nov, in Carrington.

Yesterday, during the power failures, I lost every photograph I had previously taken and saved to file. Arghh!

Shortest blog ever on file!
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THE STATE OF INCHY

And also, I can’t use my cooker or kettle,
I still can’t manually pittle,
Electric shocks up my leg, still tingle,
The catheter tube is so painful!
My lack of sleep is diabolical,
My memory gets more fragmental,
Waiting for Glaucoma lasering at the Hospital,
Life is no longer worth being experimental,
The hot tap runs at barely a trickle,
Plans, wants & needs are theoretical,
Thoughts, hopes are unphilosophical,
Like this ode, there are unpoetical,
I’m verging on becoming pathetical,
My dreams are all sarcophagal,
Getting on my rear-end a carbuncle!
My concentration, once congenital,
It is now non-existent, gone, choplogical,
Depressions, fears, worries, self-inimical,
Mentally, life is a scramble, a scrattle…
With myself, every day, I battle,
I once socialised, now I feel extrinsical.
Life’s become eristical & demagogical!
Now, with cock-up, & outages electrical,
No kettle or stove, it ruins things gastronomical,
I need someone clever, kind, & intellectual…
A Doctor who deals with things lunatical?
To read this Poesy or Limerick,
About me being physically & mentally sick,
Use their skills of the neuropsychologic,
They may advise summat neuroradiologic?
Issue medications that may do the trick,
With mayhap periwinkle & phenobarbital,
Or operate on my sincipital?
If it was all a film, it would be tragicomical,
But, primarily pointless and illogical!.
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TTFNski!

Colicky Inchy: Tuesday 29th October 2024

30/10/202430/10/2024 / Inchie / 6 Comments

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It seems I have got poikilothermia…
I can’t regulate my body temperature?
No problems with my haemadynamometer,
SYS 139, Dia 69, Pulse 74, all lower,
Temp; 33.4c, 34.9c, 35.4c getting higher,
Ointmented my fungal lesion, Aargh!
Eye drops sprayed in, I olive-oiled each ear,
Have to book an appointment with the Doctor,
To be attached to the haemacytometer,
I’ll not complain, don’t want to be a bother,
Sadly, I’ve got a reputation as a yawper,
My right ankle ulcer is getting more mauver,
Yet something this morning went better…
My Porcelain Throne visit; no mess on the floor,
Constipation Conrad fought back more,
Unfortunately, this left me with my bottom sore,
So I Germoloided my sacraria,
And the surrounding area,
Did my teeth, shaved & had a shower,
And, no bother from Shirley’s Shaking Shoulder!
Got onto the computer,
Along came Sham, the Carer,
She gave a word that suited Starmer…
That word she’d found for him was pleonexia,
An excellent, most suitable nomenclature,
‘Excessive or inordinate desire to be richer’
Tonight, I was going to have some Golonkowa,

They were out of stock at Asda, though,
I’ll have lamb, carrots & colcannon mashed potato,
It may taste just like when served at a bistro?
I’ll be having spring water with it, not Cointreau,
I might add a drop of vinegar and oregano,
I’d fed up of eating food that’s cheap,
To be honest, I’m sick of life’s fiasco,
Still, it’ll soon be time for me to go,
I don’t mind… I wanted you to know,
I’ve had enough of human’s mumbo-jumbo,
I hope in heaven I can at last get some Rumpo,
It depends on the catheter, though!

Ho, Ho, Ho.!
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State pensioners may lose £13,920, Wednesday after Labour Budget.

State Pensioners may be hit by tax hikes totalling over £14,000 from Wednesday when the new budget is unveiled. Labour has pledged not to raise Income Tax, VAT, or employees’ National Insurance contributions. Prime Minister Keir ‘Killer’ Starmer has cautioned that the nation’s “£22bn black hole” must be addressed, suggesting other taxes are likely to increase.
Labour’s manifesto already included a VAT rise on private school fees, but Chancellor Rachel Reeves could target other areas. This could leave households with state pension recipients facing up to £14,925 in additional annual charges. Capital Gains Tax on profits from selling second homes, business assets, shares, and valuable personal belongings is also under scrutiny.

Individuals are currently exempt from tax on the first £3,000 in profits, possibly vehicles, reports the Express. Currently, the tax stands at 18% on earnings from second homes or 10% on other chargeable assets like shares if you’re in the basic income tax band, i.e., earn less than £50,270 per. That’s Cheery News!

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I woke up for maybe the 60th time of the night, remembering that the Asda order was being delivered this morning. I was totally unaware that it was only 04:00 hrs. But any chance of getting more sleep seemed a distant dream and beyond reality, so I started fumbling with the attached nocturnal catheter bag to free it for emptying.
Once I realised how early it was, I noticed the time as I hobbled into the kitchen. I do that sometimes, you know; noticed things. Fair enough, not often enough, but still.
By the time I’d emptied and disposed of the night bag, I also realised I would have time to complete my ablutionalisationing before the Carer or delivery arrived. And without rushing things, too. I liked that!
I amassed the medical treatments and appendages, catheter straps, and blood-stoppers. I replaced the Enoxaparin hypodermic, as it had leaked and was empty. And almost casually hobbled unrushingly to the wet room. Not that I was sure I would need it; it’s very rare that I do. But I’ve been told to keep a loaded needle in the wet room, just in case the blood oozes out when I utilise the Porcelain Throne (it didn’t); I was tickled pink at remembering the Enoxaparin needle, and very nearly adopted a Smug-Mode attitude. Doing that can be near fatal with my luck. Haha!
I’d already stripped and removed the catheter support bag and strappings and was standing at the sink about to get my teeth cleaned when the inner gurgling told me to get on the WC sharply.
What a Change this morning! The evacuating contents had gone from almost liquid last night, with Constipation Conrad back in charge. There were no signs of Trotsky Terence after three weeks! I’d almost forgotten how painful Conrad could be, and he was! When I used the toilet roll, I found a few specks of blood.
But this was to be expected after getting rid of the three rock-solid torpedoes. Haha! As soon as I did the teeth, I knew that the Enoxaprin could be put back on the shelf. No bleeding at all. Although, I did manage to break off a bit more of one of the troublesome double teeth. Then, I moved on to the shaving duties. I got three nicks, but none were of any bother; a quick splash of the Brut soon stopped them.
I had a stand-up body scrub, not the delicate areas. It was far too early to wake my neighbours with the noise from the shower and drain.
Next, I got into close-quarter cleaning, ready for medicating. I started with Harold’s Haemorrhoids and the region of my bottom where things hang down a bit. Naturally, after the Constipation Conrad battle, things were terribly sore. The Germoloid soon started calming things down as it was washed and applied. I used a kitchen roll to dry that zone, and then I could check to see if there were any specks of blood, which, surprisingly, were on the towel. But not each time I wiped the area. Challenging to check cause if I twisted and bent with the mirror to try and see, the dangers were apparent, and the blood was only a few tiny specks. So, I got on with the most painful and sometimes frighteningly painful task of getting the ointment inside Little Inchie… Arrgh
After applying the Acne and eczema creams, I cover them with a layer of Germolne. I think it helps with the pain that the tube causes in the belly and lower regions with its tugging and pulling when the pouch fills up. As I wiped away the overspill, the blood reappeared on the towel—only flecks of it. The blood originated from the bottom of my onions? What next?
I’m going to ask the financial Carer to call the Doctor for me to get an appointment about this, and if she can get an appointment, to ring to see if I can get a lift to the Doctor’s appointment.
It’s hard work, innit?

I continued with the other daily medicals I needed to do: ears, eyes, ankle ulcer, Cartilages, Carole and Chloe, Arthur Itis, etc.
Then, I refitted the new Catheter pouch, bag and strappings. Getting the Protection Pants on went extremely smoothly this morning, I have to say. yet another
So, you can see why my ablutions sometimes take me over two hours. Tsk!

I started updating yesterday’s blog. Again, getting the graphics I’d made and photographs I’d taken was a hit-and-miss affair. It’s a good job. I’ve got some in the WordPress gallery to find and use again. It let me put the first four on at the top without any problem. Grumph!

Carer Sham called late today; they are busy. She checked the taps and cooler and put on my socks. Bless her.

It was slow going on WordPress, but I eventually finished it and posted it to the ether.

Carer Chloe did the midday call, combined with the domestic call. She did her best to clean up the mess I’d made by burning the food on the cooker; she found some more food out of date in another cupboard. Chloe said to call Jenny and tell her so she could hand them out, so I did. And Jenny’s Frank came up and collected them.

Ruled for hours, out of the blue.
Some bits of memory during the three hours are clear, I think. Others… well, there aren’t any, really.
To such an extent that I just looked at the diary and found I’ve made an Iceland order for next week?
I’d worry about these spells, but I only forget to.