April 30

 I have not felt well the last few days.

Heavy. Sluggish. Squeezed.

Went for a walk on Friday, and I struggled. As I got half way round the usual walk, my calves started cramping, aching. Then my neck followed - the curious thing I get it feels like someone is sitting across my neck. A pressure. A clamp. And then after that, I felt off. Ill. Weird. Like my world was about to drop out.

I sat down to recover, but it was difficult. I got up, walked around a bit, and immediately felt worse. My neck suddenly clamped harder. A touch of nausea.

So I sat again.

After a while, went on my way, grimacing all the way back to the car.

I got home, fed Athena, and collapsed into bed feeling very off. Very ill. Not good.

Perhaps it's just one of those days.

If it were someone else, I would say it was cardio. Angina. A struggling heart that can't pump enough oxygen around. The foresigns of a heart attack.

But eh.

Whatever.

And my cardio was checked out pretty well a few years ago. With no alarm bells. Well. Perhaps a few tiny ones. But dismissed.

Perhaps it's the CFS. Perhaps it's some unknown post covid damage malarkey to my cardio. Perhaps it is cardio that wasn't properly found.

Perhaps it's just weirdness.

Quietly to myself I ponder my demise. Another sign that my days are very numbered. I don't tell anyone that. Because. I know they will just look at me funny. Roll their eyes. So. I keep it to myself. And flip flop between being cavalier about it - it's fine, I am not enjoying life, let's just get on with it - and then wondering if I could do anything to improve it. Eat better. Don't push it. Live defensively.

I always circle back on those thoughts about improving it. To what end are you trying to extend life. For more days of this twilight bullshit where I can't do shit and am miserable ? Why would you do that ?

I think ultimately I don't want to overly suffer.

Perhaps I will improve. Who knows. Drink more. Hydrate more. Live within your boundaries.

All of this stuff. I keep firmly to myself. I tell no one. I have stopped talking to people about it. Even Hazel. Withdrawing. I don't wont to overly alarm people. I also don't want to have to continually explain myself. Or justify myself. From my perspective, the house is on fire. When the house is due to collapse because of fire damage, I don't know. No clue. I am just telling you, the house is on fire. But people listen. I imagine. And see I am still kicking. And think it must be ok then.

It's not.

But then, how long is this lingering stage to last for ? Perhaps I will hover on the edge like this for years. Decades. Tipping, but never quite going over the edge. Then what do you do ? You can say, my god, the house is on fire, but if it keeps burning, and never quite collapses ? Should you just get used to it being on fire ? And being burned alive ? Or keep saying, the house is on fire. I have no answer to that really, other than to just shut up about it. But then it's tricky when someone asks how you are, and you can tell they want to know. And you reply I am ok. And it is a lie.

This stuff, shouldn't be this hard.

But eh.

Those words. There is a beginning. A middle. And an end. Keep going around in my head. And how it is ok to be at an end. Ordinarily it's something we don't think much about, or at all. And imagine there will always be another day. And the concept of not another day, whilst, acknowledged, is treated like a fairy tale. Something that happens to everyone else. Which is probably healthy, albeit, irrational.

My thoughts have also lingered on the woman who died last year. The terminal cancer girl. Who I spoke to briefly. And how brightly she burned knowing she had less than a year to live. Her joy in life and experience in those last months was something I still struggle to wrap my head around. Amazing. Awe inspiring. And how so very dull I have burned in comparison to that. How that 20 something burned so much brighter than I ever have, even or perhaps because, she was staring down the barrel of a gun. It is something I seem incapable of doing. And I am in awe of her having done that. I am glad I got the chance to talk to her. And I am glad I got the chance to tell her that. That she was a rock star. And it made her happy that I said that.

But I think about her. About what she has to teach about life and death. And what that means for me. And how incapable I am of properly learning from it. It is also, immensely sad. Beyond all other things. It just underlines the tragedy inherent in life. I know, that for many, it's a happier place. But I struggle to see it. I can't see it. Shit tinted spectacles ? A sharp sense of reality ? A broken context filter that cannot filter out all the pain and sadness and just focus on the happy ? Meh.

As my health has struggled, my already buggered mental health has also taken another knock because of it.

I find myself at random times, at random places, suddenly fighting the urge to burst into tears. Ah. This old chestnut. The, oh boy, you really have gone down the spiral and been beaten up. It's a symptom of being in a lot of mental stress. The lowered emotional threshold. If I talk to anyone, then it's a coin flip if someone will trigger me. The other day it was because of something Hazel said. Try to be optimistic she said. I went through a storm of thoughts and emotions that I didn't verbalise. That I would love to be optimistic about something. That it had been so long since I could be optimistic about something. That I had lost the capability to do that. That I wished I was back there. That it was a sign of how fucked up I was that there was no hope. All those things. Hazel read my face. And asked what ? What ? I just shook my head. And the only thing I said was. What does that feel like.

Ho hum.

Today I felt very alone. And in a very dark place. My little corner. That I have retreated to, to wait to die. Sometimes. I just want someone to hold my hand and tell me it's going to be ok.

It's a struggle for me to look after Athena at the moment. I do so. Make sure she is ok. And has everything she needs. And even put on my sing song voice for her. And project a happy tone. Because she's my girl. But that's all the energy I have. To do that. Look after her.

When she is gone, that energy will disappear.

Dark times.

Interspersed with periods of calm. Just. Quiet. Patient. Calm.

I spoke with Dan today. My friend. Not the nephew. Haven't spoken to him properly in a while. We talked of his work. And his problems. Management. Boundaries. I listened a lot. And gave advice. Which he said he found helpful.

As ever. Even at my worst. So. Very. Very. Bizarrely. Ironically. Someone else finds strength in what I say. I help someone else.

I am sure my fate will be to disappear beneath the waves, my hand still above the water, helping someone out as I take my last breath.

And I dare say Andy will be knocking on my coffin, asking for just one more thing before I go.

Funny how the shape of our lives go. The patterns we fall into.

Anywho.

Dark times.

Darker to come. I feel like I am just preparing myself for the worse to come. Taking several deep breaths before the end. I wish everything could just blur out peacefully. No drama. No pain. Just. Blur and gone.

Tomorrow is another day.

Perhaps I will feel better all round.