May 19

 Hospital visit went ok. Camera up ass. Nothing found too awful. Looks good. So. Onwards to other stuff.

MRI appointment came up fast too, that's on Monday. But it's beginning to look like a bit of a mystery again.

For all my moaning about the NHS, they've done a very good job this time around. Fast. And all round lovely. When the NHS works, it's tickety boo. When it doesn't. It's awful. I think this underscores the very lottery like nature of your experience, if you get people who are competent, or a bit of the system that's working, it's good. But there are wastelands of bits where it's shit.

As I've said before, it can make it difficult to know what to make of it.

My last surgery at the hospital was equally tip top. And the people were lovely.

Not so the GPs.

Anywho.

As it turned out on the day they did not need to knock me out or otherwise. I wasn't climbing the walls. I figured I wouldn't be. So Hazel accompanying me was a waste of time. Still. I was glad she was there. Someone to talk to. And she mothers me around a bit.

During the 2 hours I was at the hospital, about half way through I got one of my - I feel utterly shit - waves. Sitting in a waiting room between procedures. Suddenly. I felt ill. Broke out into a sweat. Vague nausea. Temperature spikes. Feel like I am heading towards passing out.

Sigh.

This is my problem. I have no sustain. During the course of a day I blip in and out of feeling awful. If you ask me to be anywhere for any length of time, the longer it is, the much more likely I am going to flake out. Particularly if I can't control my environment to suit my ups and downs.

My ill wave passed fortunately. I just gritted my teeth through it, as you do.

Afterwards on the way home, it came back. Vaguely unwell, not as bad as in the hospital. But bleh. Feeling green. Got home, rested, went away. By the time I took Hazel back home it was back with me again, this time a lot worse.

Ho hum.

So. In bad news. My chest pains and malarkey have got worse. A lot worse. And my left arm keeps getting pins and needles quite badly.

Ho hum.

My Sister phoned me yesterday once she had heard I had been to hospital. I updated her. Said I had been feeling really not good with the chest et al. She said I needed to go to a walk in center. Get it checked out. There are things they could do. Meds. Something. Sure. Sounds sensible. I didn't argue. I did say I had given up however. I think. She got it. But we didn't talk about it. Her plan sounded sensible. But. At the moment. I don't think I am going to do it.

It's complicated. There is part of me that would just rather lay down and die. Don't do anything. Just let it happen. I am very much not enjoying life anyway. And what I can do in my life has dwindled down. Even all things being equal I don't find myself relishing more meds or more compromises. I understand that that's part of getting older. But I've had a rough road already. And in any case, all things are not equal.

There is, very perversely, or maybe not, a small amount of relief about embracing the end. The idea that it's almost all over lightens my soul. There is. An end.

Another part of me is horribly sad about it. And figures out what I could do about it. But at the moment. It's mostly the let go. And not the hang on. For someone that has thought for so long about how to die, and understands all the pros and cons, a natural opening seems like an obvious way to go. That being said. Like everything else. It would probably be messy. And imperfect. And I wouldn't die. Just end up doing more damage to myself and limping along even worse.

I don't know.

At the moment. I am inclined to just walk over the cliff. It seems pretty easy. I just need to do nothing.

I have finally got round to submitting a will.

I have no clue what to do with basically the wealth I have built up. Not that I am rich. Ho ho. But. I have a house. I have savings. And these days. That's a lot of money in our fucked up world.

Because. I think it's urgent I get it done. And. I don't know what to do with it. I've just left it all to Hazel. Which is probably wrong. I have left it open so I can amend it later, if I feel better, if I get more time to think about it. I think I would probably want to do a better job of splitting bits up and giving people money. I did tell Hazel I had done it. And had said if anyone wanted anything just give it to them. I was trusting her to do the right thing.

She does have issues with money though. It is not one of her strengths. It's one of her flaws. And. She comes from a trauma background where money fucks with her head. And brings out the worst in her.

So. Eh.

I told my Sister what I had done. I wanted to make sure she was ok with it. For her to go away and think about it. And if she thought I had done wrong tell me. I didn't want to piss anyone off. She assured me it was my choice, my stuff, do what I want. Yeah. I know. But I don't want anyone to feel aggrieved.

Sigh.

I will have the same conversation with my brother.

I don't know.

As I think about it more, I think I probably do want to put some money splits in for people. I don't know. In the end it probably doesn't matter, it wont be a great deal. And. In one way. What does it matter, I will be gone, beyond caring. But. I find I do care. And I can't do that.

The problem is. I know so many people that could do with money. That would help them out. It's impossible to make a call about who is more "worthy" than the next. They're all worthy. 

I feel like, right now. My time is very short.

Perhaps it will all pass. The path of the last 2 or so years seems to indicate not however. But who knows.

Take each day as it comes.

After last nights chest pains and slipping into sleep with it, and then halfway through the night, a clamping pressure on my chest. I woke up and said. Still alive then. Not sure how. But here I am.

Uh huh.

Ok.

Let's take the very best of outcomes. An almost stupid level of optimism.

My chest pains are not fatal. They are bad cardio, meds I am on, and stuff like stress and anxiety making it all worse. My age, my fitness, the levels of stress et al means, yeah, my cardio is squealing. But. It's not final. I can do better. Go swimming. Improve my fitness again. Lessen the stress. And it will improve.

Over time with lots of rest. I will generally get better. The various viral symptoms that dog me will slowly fade. It's been reported that post shingle complications can last for years. Nerve damage. But slowly they fade. So perhaps that is some of my issues too.

And in general I will improve out of the hole I am.

There. That's the ultra positive view point.