12th Jan

 Work and hospital appointment today.

Managing that and a shitty sleep schedule was I have to say, really difficult.

Work was a pain in the ass. Andy wanted to go live with an update. But. As per usual, a whole other mess of crap needed to be done, ducks were not in a row, and with time ticking on, people were still faffing, making changes, pushing to test, then rushing to test. Mistakes made. Rinse and repeat.

I'll tell you right now. That's not where you want to be in the afternoon when you're supposed to be doing a release during the day.

This is also one of those spots where Andy gets carried away. He really wants to do a release. Gets it in his head. He sees the invoice he can draw up and the dopamine hit. He ignores the realities. Just. Wants. That. Dopamine.

No.

I called it off early afternoon. I could see the way it was going. He didn't quite believe me. Could we finagle this. Do that. He talked to one of the devs. Could he go around me, convince me.

No.

I left for the hospital just before 4pm. As it turns out, they were still faffing at 5pm, I got a cry for help on a remaining task as I was at the hospital.

Calling it off was clearly the very wise and experienced decision. It's not that hard to be honest. If one of your devs is still making code changes in the afternoon of a go live day, you know you're fucked.

Still, you have to fight upstream to get that recognised. It would be nice if we were in a position where I didn't have to be forced to say that and state the obvious. Except it's not obvious. It's only obvious to me. Ho hum. Not because I am some uber guru ( ok, I AM some uber guru, but, that's not it ). Just because everyone else is that bad at it.

So the hospital was pretty much as I expected. In. Nothing done. Out.

Was my tinnitus copeable with ? Yes. You had an MRI ? Yes. In that case I'm going to leave it alone !

Ok.

Here's the thing. From my brief time spent at Harley street I know there is stuff they can do. I know there are things they can look for, and, small possibility, actually go in and fix and make my life better.

But, it's the NHS. And they ain't gonna do that.

I'm realising more and more that the NHS in a lot of cases just do the bare minimum. Sure they have spurts of "campaigns" where they suddenly decide, ooh, we need to tell people about stroke signs. Lets everyone be aware of stroke signs. Then 2 years later they can't be arsed with that. You can smell the knee jerk almost marketing campaign behind it, and less of a methodical approach to healthcare.

They are gonna do the bare minimum. They are adept at ticking boxes, and covering their asses for a bare minimum on paper. Gaming the system. 

For the average peasant, you get just enough to keep you on your feet. Maybe. Maybe not. But overall as a probability, assuming you know, some losses are acceptable. It covers the basics.

Step back from it, and it's a super cynical probablistic approach to healthcare, disinterested in the individual, and just interested in being just on the right side of probabilities. If you're unlucky enough to be in the unlikely things, well, fuck you, get outta here, have you tried just suffering instead.

It occurs to me that perhaps here is the key between why people with lots of money live way longer than those without. Assuming no serious piss taking from those with money, abusing any number of substances or shitty life styles.

The reason the queen et al live to be a hundred, whilst you, the peasant, get to hit 80 if you're lucky, is not genetics.

It's that one actually gets good healthcare. The other gets bare minimum.

There are many lovely lovely people working in the NHS. And I fully believe in a socialised healthcare system. But the NHS as a system, en masse, is a broken fucked up mess.

Today on the news it was reported that the average wait time for a cardiac event was now an hour and 20 minutes. The target used to be 18 minutes ( which, imho, is bad enough ).

We're fast approaching the point - have got to the point - where there's basically no service at all. The "excess mortality" figures start to tell a story. Yeah. We coulda done something. We didn't. And that's massaging those figures to be gamed to the best light possible. It doesn't include the difficult cases they just throw out, the fob offs, the things they can make disappear on paper.

Meh.

Eh well.

Today I caught naps in between pushing code into a position to release, checking on the progress of work of everyone else and getting ready for the hospital. It has to be said by the time I was getting ready to go to the hospital I felt terribly ill. On the verge of throwing up. Fuzzy head. The shakes. Awful. I plodded on through.

The drive to the hospital was not fun. Feeling ill all the way. Too hot. Too cold. Both simultaneously. Always a bad sign. I didn't throw up. I didn't crash out. Got there. Got through it. Came out and bought a sandwich.

I felt sick. A sandwich was the last thing I wanted. But it seemed important. I hadn't eaten for 12 hours, and that was a small bowl of oats. I hadn't properly eaten for getting on for 24 hours. On a busy day. Eh. Not sensible.

Came home. Crashed out. Slept hard.

Jesus.

My fucking life is a struggle.

In much better news my nephew called me up in the evening. He was doing much better. A bit of a bounce in his step. He had found a few places to play games. And had a new found enjoyment of roleplaying games. Despite his horrible social anxiety. He had enjoyed himself. And it had sparked a bit of enthusiasm and joy and lifted everything.

So very pleased for him. He talked to me at length about the game, what he had done, the rules. He said of course I knew it all anyway, but then told me how it worked anyway. I sat and listened, happy to hear his enthusiasm, and let him happily chat away about what he had discovered. It was really nice.

We talked about his anxiety, and he stepped me through him nearly leaving several times, his worries, fears, always on the verge of bolting out the door.

So difficult to deal with. I told him he had done a great job, what an amazing step he had taken, and how hard that fight was. Super well done. Gave him a little advice on dealing with it. Just remember, sometimes your brain lies to you. You wanted to leave right ? Get in your car, go home. Bad things we're about to happen. Everyone was a threat ? Yes. But you ended up enjoying yourself right ? It was good. Nothing bad happened. Yes. So. One way of looking at that, is your judgement of that isn't great. Your brain lies to you and tells you its a problem. But theres the proof. It wasn't a problem. Your brain made a mistake.

I said it would take time. But after a while, he would hopefully find it got easier and easier. After a while your learn a new lesson. Oh. This isn't so bad after all. Oh. This is fun. And slowly. The white knuckle grip releases.

Difficult stuff, doubly difficult that he's done it on his own, no moral support. Brilliant that he's done it, and seen that, hey, maybe there is something good out there after all. So important.

He was full of plans he had got into. Fired up about making stuff. And playing stuff. Looking forward to going out again.

In my own selfish way, I feel like that's one worry I don't have to worry so hardcore about anymore. He seems on a better path.

He's opened up to me more over the last year or so. He tells me his fears and what he thinks. He still doesn't talk to his mom about it, despite me gently repeating he could talk to her about it. I hope, maybe, that what I've said to him has helped. He's not alone. Try to get out there and find your people. Isolation just feeds the demons. I like to think I've helped a little.

Today we got to the point where he's very comfortable just sharing all his fears and weirdnesses. I suggested that many people out there would understand what he's going through. And people would not think he was weird. Particularly the kind of people he was playing roleplaying games with. But also. I said I thought he would benefit from talking to a counsellor about things. Just talk things through. A professional. I said it in passing. No pushing. I do strongly believe he would be way better off doing that. But I understand what a step that is. And yada. And. He seems to be taking some right steps anyway. And it's a wonder that we can even talk about this stuff - we've come quite a way.

Uh huh.

As for myself.

Periods of functioning - well, at least being able to work, and not being off the charts miserable.

Combined with periods of serious dysfunction. All within a 24 hour cycle.

So sad. Crushing, horrible, sadness. I think about the end of things. Athena going in the not very distant future. Me being alone for the first time in.. yikes... 20 years. Of me not really living a life. Of it all seeming to be just the coming of an end to a sentence. A full stop. The end.

Hard.

I have trooped through writing my own last message. Athenas last message. What the meaning of any of it is.

I dunno.

Just the miseries talking no doubt.

Tricky.

Currently I feel like a day cycle is split into three different bits of existence. Sleep - disturbed, disturbing, full of unease and anxiety. Awake and suffering. Feeling incredibly shit. Ill. Head full of concrete. Sad. Dreamlike. And the final third. Awake and somewhat functional. Able to work. Mooch around a little. But no more. The days turn into weeks. Time zips by.

Strange stuff.