Dec 16

 Up early. Out early. Didn't feel entirely terrible, so decided to go grocery shopping first thing in the morning.

Ended up filling my boots with stuff I needed, and it wasn't terrible. Only by the time I got to the checkout, hastily filling bags and dumping them did I suddenly get dizzy. Oh. Slow down.

Unloading it at home was a stark lesson in just how far down the spiral I am. Lifting 4 heavy bags into the kitchen made every alarm spike in me. I swear. My heart is shot. But who knows. I slowed down a peg. Breathe. And stabilised.

Had brunch, a long sit down and then roused myself to take the Athena out for a walk. Which was nice. Athena has slowed. She now 100% just endures other dogs by standing still, wagging her tail and waiting. Most of them tend to give her a thorough butt sniff. On the scale of attractive butt areas, Athena ranks very highly. Something about her. She smells good. One gsd in particular was so enthused he lifted Athena off her back feet with his nose wedged between her legs. She took it with aplomb. Hazel's dog Poppy loves giving Athena a snoot. And will often start her air humping to the embarrassment of Hazel. Oh my god. Leave her alone. Stop humping ! Like I say. Athena must smell good.

Walk complete and by the end of it I was wracked with pains. Really nasty. Tight ring of pain around the chest - but it's not a oh my god heart thing, its muscular. Shift and twist and you can feel all of them squeal and release in turn. I learned a good rule of thumb a long time ago about the difference between heart pain and muscular skeletal pain. If you can move and it changes the pain, its muscular skeletal. If its always the same. It's heart. It has often provided a comforting - ah, hey, that pain is ok, it's just a muscle squealing. Not dying. That being said. I do wonder if its the bad circulation making all the muscles starved of oxygen hurt quite that bad. It's enough to start taking your breath away. I am kinda used to it at this point however.

I wheezed into the car and decided to head out to Hazel's for another mail pickup duty. Athena was tired. But ok. I am also now pretty sure she's either gone mostly blind, or totally blind in her dodgy left eye. The side of her face that was paralysed oh so long ago. Poor lady. She doesn't complain or let it dampen her spirits however. If it were me I would be a write off. Athena. Handles it like a champ. I was also tired and not so ok. But. We were over Hazel's side of the city. Not sure when I would have the energy to get out again this far. So. Balls to it. We will go check out her place. Which we did. Communicated her mail to her - more angry letters - and left, watered plants behind us.

Went home, had second lunch. Collapsed at this point. Felt the tug of sleep but avoided it until later afternoon rolled around and I couldn't hold it off anymore. Slept. And slept. And felt like shit again. Foggy. Groggy. Slow.

Woke up gone 2am. Asleep for 10 hours. My regret at bothering to go private with a GP vanished. No. No no. I am glad I'm going to someone with this. I am far from good. We will see.

In the early hours of morning I decided to throw all my grocery bought chicken in the oven. It was marked down. Same day eat before. So I cooked it all. Like. 8lb of chicken thighs. I've never cooked that amount of chicken thighs in one go. Seasoned it, laid it out just about fitting on the sheet with a tin foil boat around it. Let the oven work it out. Timer. I'll be back whenever.

Later.

Athena woke up and came to see me.

Is that chicken I smell, she didn't say but clearly meant. She waited.

Chicken. I smell chicken.

Yes. Yes you do. Come on. Let's go to the kitchen.

At 4.30am we are taking chicken thighs out of the oven together. Athena's nose twitching.

An ungodly amount of chicken fat presented itself. Holy crap. I mean, I get it. But also. Holy crap. When you cook that amount of chicken thighs, oh boy do you get a lot of chicken fat.

I gingerly took it out of the oven, carefully making sure not so spill any of the brimming chicken fat. Set it on the side. Only for the foil to collapse and a torrent of chicken fat to pour out over the counter top, down the doors and onto the floor.

Athena retreated.

I cleaned it up, and poured what was left - still a full goddamn cupful - into a cup and flipped all the bits.

Athena had returned enticed by the smell of chicken fat. This. Smells good.

She nosed around the floor.

Why does the floor smell so good.

She decided to give it a thorough tongue clean. The floor tasted nice.

She makes me smile. Hanging out with Athena is a nice aspect of life. Viewing the world through a dogs eyes is kind of magical. Wiped up chicken fat off the kitchen floor is not a problem. It's a delicious opportunity.

I have a headache. A surly grumping over the eye headache. Not yet a migraine. Not a full one anyway. But probably related. And probably capable of brewing into one. I need to sleep again. I am still groggy from the last sleep. Ho hum.

6am. The house smells of roast chicken. I go back to sleep.

Kill me or cure me. But don't leave me lingering. Please.

So far, that wish remains ungranted.