Nov 13 Part 2

 Today the nausea has taken a step back.

Perhaps it's the full on anti ulcer approach I am now taking. Perhaps it's just coincidence.

Today has not been anywhere near as bad with the nausea - copeable with, if not pleasant. The gout on the other hand has got worse - a sure sign I actually ate something yesterday ( whatever is going on with me I am basically fucked when trying to process any food ), and the apnea has got worse too. Groggy sluggish. It pervades into sleep itself, you can feel the slow sluggish response in your dreams as if you're being smothered.

On waking a bone dry mouth, sore throat. Probably snoring my head off between dying for air.

So a mixed bag today. But, overall a bit better.

I shall continue with the current plan, eat sparingly, absolutely avoid anything remotely gouty, avoid any stomach upsetting meds - albeit I am still dabbling with anti depressants, I am somewhat wary of completely stopping them - take anything that aids stomach problems, and do my best to make sure I can breathe. This means staying very on top of the asthma at all times.

Eh meh.

Tomorrow I have arranged to go out for lunch. This is wildly optimistic. But trying to stick to normality is just another weapon in the battle to not entirely collapse. Optimistic or not. A lot of my plans - when I am not feeling shit to the point my head is just filled with survival - are these days optimistic. I am fully aware that I stand a greater chance of not being able to follow through on them. But it is a hopeful state of mind, rather than a realistic give in to the decay. It is, in a very small way, important to do so. A flicker of hope. Of course, it succumbs often to reality and despair and illness, the very notion of optimism is a far off theoretical madness someone else invented. But I am fighting hard to not give it up entirely. When I can. Be hopeful.

It's a very hard line to maintain. I fail a lot.

Doing my best.

Today I have worked a little. Slowly added some more progress onto the mobile app I am grinding out. For the most part I am really not enjoying it. In my humble opinion the framework design is absolutely hideous. Designed by a lunatic. But I am chugging away when my health lets me. Difficult. I could do without it. Andy doesn't really realise this, but he has given me possibly the worst bit of work you could give me in my downed state. Meh.

If I am feeling a little better as the week wears on and over the weekend I will try and bang out a whole bunch of work on the app. Momentum. Get something done. Of course. Could all just be hopes and dreams.

The work I am currently doing is a real test. Shitty framework. Unrealistic expectations. Vague unspecific spec that expects speed but wants the world and spirals endlessly. Bad health. A test. So far. I am not doing well with it. Which is to be expected. But. Gritting my teeth. See if I can bang through somehow.

Ho hum.

Chatted with my former coding padawan yesterday. Rarely he will check on the blog here, to, in his words, just make sure I am still alive. It has been a while since I talked to him. Another one of those things that spin away from me in a fog of ill health. I cannot maintain connections or people around me, it is time and energy that I never have, fully occupied with just feeling ill.

Nevertheless I pinged him yesterday. To see how he was doing. Long story short, difficult. But coping. As many are enduring. I can see where he is. The good that he is doing even though he lambasts himself about being unworthy. Difficult. He is raising two young kids in great fashion. But he does not work, provide money, luxuries, all the things "A Man" is still, sort of expected to do. His other half struggling to balance a very pinched budget makes him feel bad and pile on the self loathing. He minimises the fact that from his kids point of view, they get to spend every day with their dad. He cooks them dinner. Takes them to school. Is present in their life. Caring. This is huge. But he struggles to see it clearly. He gets whiffs of it. The good there. But the self doubt and the struggle with money is real. In a different less fucked up capitalist world, he would be doing great. But another fact I think that he can't see. Is that no matter what, he is going to struggle. No matter the money, or the situation. Struggle. Because he is cast into that form to struggle with himself. Haunted by demons. I think this is the thing you start to realise when you have a good number of years experience in life, have gone way past your prime. That life can always be a struggle. If it's not this, then it's that. That the path we are on to find ourselves, some kind of peace and zen, it's often not about what is outside of you, but what is inside you. All very buddhist. But true.

Of course. All that is easier said if you are lounging around in luxury and money, and you can pontificate on high about the higher meaning of things and true worth and yada blah. When money is super tight and struggling to pay bills. Money is the be all.

Maslowes hierarchy of needs territory.

I am very fond of my former padawan. I see some similar aspects between us, and I empathise hardcore. That struggle with demons. He has a good heart and hasn't had an easy ride. My mind ticks over at times about how to help him. Not easy. Because like a lot of things, some of it is not really about what crap you can do externally. But it's more about internal peace. And only the person themselves can really do that. Also. I don't have endless money where I could just throw cash at a problem. And even if I did. I suspect. It would just cause more problems.

That is true with so many people I know. If and when I cark it, he's in my will. Not a great sum. But something. I have no clue what I am doing. Does anyone ?

In any case. I have a book or two for him, well, his kids.

A nice edition of the Hobbit. Something he can read them at bedtime. And. Another big favourite of mine, much less well known. The box of delights. Another super duper kids book, full of magic and mystery and a little peril like the best old school stories contain.

If and when I see him next, I will hand them over. I like to think they are little seeds of positivity. To fire the imagination. Form bonds over stories. Memories. Good things. That keep the shit out. There is a magic there. A genuine spark of something. It is almost lost in todays noisy world of money and presents, and marketing and fads, and online hate, and consumption and screaming at everyone. Underneath all that shit. Modern world screeching. There is still that magic. Of wonder and awe and imagination. Of good things. And the right thing. 

Marketing, consumption and uber capitalism has ruined so much. It has destroyed innocence and goodness. Made everything about a return of investment. An assessment of monetary worth. Climbing the pile of ever increasing gold. Heartless. Cold. Calculating. Ruthless. Selfish.

I wish I could fix the world. I have a reasonable handle on how you would do it I think. But I'm just one lowly peasant. An ant dreaming of a mountain.

And now a headache looms.

The prospect of a no meds headache that turns into a migraine is a bit of a nightmare.

Sigh. Take the meds, better head, worse stomach ? Or better stomach, vicious migraine with vomiting. Surely, also not good for the stomach ?