Aug 8.2

 If there was ever any doubt that my health is seriously fucked, today would be a great - and worrying - demonstration of just how fucked it is.

Today was slow. Exhausted. Tired. I wanted to give the car a wash today. But it took me until nearly 4pm to summon the energy to do that. Napping in and out.

At 4pm I felt like I had just a tiny bit of energy, so I got everything together and started - with a very clear idea that I would take it easy. No rushing. No overdoing it. Slow and steady.

Within the first half of just the rear of the car I was alarmingly exhausted. I sat on the floor. And cleaned the bottom of the car. Sitting was easier.

By the time I had done a back third of the car my exhaustion was hardcore. Shaking. Slow. No strength.

I pushed on. Because. Fuck it. And maybe I am just being a drama queen. And just fucking do it.

A mistake.

Halfway through I started to hardcore fade out of paying any attention to my surroundings. My vision narrowed down. Dizzy. Slightly nauseous. My heart rate was stupid high. I mean. Stupid. High. I would guess it was somewhere around 180bpm. I know because I took a moment to stick a finger on my neck and monitor the absolute frantic banging pulse.

I pushed on. Because.

Fuck it.

I slowed to a crawl. I staggered. It was hard to stay upright. I felt horribly ill. Ears whistled. And finally. Here comes the passing out.

Uh oh.

I sat down hard on the kerb ears whistling that threat of just passing out hovering.

I did not feel better, but I did not feel worse either - the passing out continued to hover. I kinda realised however that I was in trouble. I was in quite the danger of just keeling over on the sidewalk. I didn't have the capacity to get up and make it back inside. Difficult. I sat a bit longer. And made a huge effort as my head span even harder and I felt the blood drain out of my head.

I could not even gather my stuff up properly. I staggered into my front garden dragging stuff behind me. Dropped it. Staggered into the living room and collapsed onto the sofa gasping for air whilst my vision dimmed.

I immediately broke out into hardcore sweat. Drenched. I kinda lost werewithal of what was going on. I didn't pass out. But. Also. All higher functions stopped. No thoughts.

I also pee'd myself somewhere in there.

Yup. That happened. I dipped down hard. And started losing control of everything.

I laid on the sofa. Breathing hard. Front door still open. A trail still on the floor.

Slowly.

Things evened out. I came back to my senses. I was sopping wet with sweat. But the nausea had shifted. The dizzy was done. My ears screamed whistling.

Uh huh.

So fucked.

I rested for a bit, before, of course, pushing my luck and I slowly finished cleaning the car. I dipped again. But I was almost done. Slowed. And the dip just about maintained on the right side of ok.

I think basically I did something like 35 minutes of car cleaning before I crashed hard enough to piss myself.

Overall it took maybe an hour and a half. With a big rest in the middle.

After finishing cleaning the car - and I did not have the energy to put anything away. I collapsed into bed feeling ill. And immediately slept.

I. Cannot. Do. Shit.

I flake out. Hardcore. This bottom out was certainly as bad as my initial flake outs back in 2020.

I seem to be ok swimming. That is maybe about it.

I mean, I know how bad I am. I think it is hard for others to properly gauge it, because 9 times out of 10 they don't see it. They don't see me the days I am curled in bed and lose an entire day to exhaustion. Or I can hardly traipse about to get to the kitchen. They only see me at my best. When I can summon enough energy to visit them. Or get out. That. Is my peak. Not my trough.

I am not entirely sure what to do with the information. I suppose. I must just live my life, or whatever I have left of it, inbetween those guidelines. Come to terms with the fact that somethings I used to be able to do, somethings that are "normal" are beyond me. And learn to live with it. And eke out an existence whilst I can where I can. It doesn't fill me with any kind of confidence or hope that I can "get better" however. It just feels to me like a re-underscoring of the fact that I am fucked, and, that my time is limited. It also demonstrates that I have been doing a reasonable job - as shitty as it is - of usually staying within my lines so that I dont end up fucking passing out or pissing myself from a system that has lost control and gone off the rails.

Ho hum.

I don't know whether to push at it. Pick at the scab. Push myself til I drop again. And note the results. Can I build resilience ? Or will it make it worse ? It also seems clear that whatever exercise I am getting in the pool does not help me with doing things outside the pool.

Hmm.

So much bullshit.