Nov 29

 Losing track of days a bit. My sleep is all over the show, but ironically I think in a slightly better state.

I am kind of sleeping in the early hours, before getting up around 4am ish, then staying up as long as I can manage, before inevitably crashing out and sleeping the afternoon off before starting again.

It's not good for my sleep, health or yada. I feel like I am operating at a perpetually shit level all the time. And the waves of nausea et al certainly don't help.

I don't know. I am just riding out the stupidly stormy waters and randomness. See where I wash up to.

Made a GP appointment. Did I say that already ? Well. I have. Now the wait to be seen. They sent me back a patronising ( of course ) message, about how I shouldn't phone them unless it was an emergency ( in response to me saying I had tried to phone them to tell them I had to cancel ). I am unreasonably annoyed at the absolute shitfuck response to me saying there was a queue of 26 people - they have swatted that away and laid fault at my feet for daring to call them to say I was cancelling.

1) As to their response about only call in an emergency. Bullshit. They don't do fucking emergencies. It says so. Right there on their web page. Don't use us for emergencies. Expect up to a 6 week delay for an appointment. And they will tell you over and over again at the slightest hiccup - just go to A & E. They are busy ? Go to A & E ? Minor problem ? A & E. But here they are arse covering saying their phone line should be used for emergencies. Really. Where you then tell them what ? Go to A & E ? Fucking brilliant. Piss off. You are arse covering. You don't provide an emergency service and nor do you fucking provide a normal service and don't like being called out on it. No doubt this is a response from the as ever militant fucking receptionists you encounter, where every failing they have, is somehow your fault. Gaslighting at its finest.

2) And. I DID use the correct method for cancelling as well. But they failed to respond. Again. Of course. I was being thoughtful. And diligent. And trying to call them. Fuck me I guess. Please patronise me more.

I have counselled myself to just let it go. The NHS aren't worth the time arguing with how they are a shit show. Let it go. Smile. Nod. Fuck them. I hate I have to be beholden to these fucking ass clowns.

I think I am beyond radicalised against the NHS at this point. I would cheer on its burning demise.

My friend asked me the other day whether at this point I would prefer a US system or the NHS. I told him that was like picking which bowl of shit to eat. However. As shitty and fucked up as the US system is, for me, I would undoubtedly be better off. I can afford decent insurance. And I can afford extra costs. And I would get seen. Many others in the country would be fucked. But I would actually almost certainly be way better off, if not monetarily better off.

At this point. I'd take it.

Which is a terrible thing to have to say. But there it is. If you get nothing, or next to nothing from a service, there is little to no pain in losing it ? No ?

Anyway.

Calm.

Fuck the NHS and its patronising self serving always the victim, never enough money bullshit.

My gout is largely gone. 99% gone. Sometimes it twinges for a second, and then is gone. Sometimes it stiffens up overnight. But. It's behaving itself. For the time being. Despite off and on playing loose and free with somewhat gouty food types.

The nausea and pretty bad fucking (apnea?) sleep episodes are chronic at the moment. As is the typical exhaustion and energy wipes.

Beyond all the other shit - apnea wise, I suspect I have good days and bad days. I don't think it's a massive problem everyday - but I do think it is some of a problem everyday. On the bad days my eyes burn, my black eyes become terrible, I have brain fog, groggy, dizziness, and often a headache. It takes hours to begin to lift. I suspect this is me suffocating in my sleep.

On a good day, my eyes do not burn, my black eyes are mild, and whilst I don't feel rested, I don't feel god awful on waking.

On an exceptional rare day, and I am talking less than once every few months, I can wake up feeling rested and a bit better.

So. I suspect all of that is apnea.

Time wise it can trigger badly in as short as a couple of hours. A single hour doesn't seem quite long enough for it to properly fuck me up. Only half fuck me up. A few hours definitely is. If I sleep a very long time, this lessens the overall impact of it - perhaps because I am sleeping lightly for a lot of it and avoiding apnea ( in fact, with some judicuous waking in a long sleep cycle, I notice I can be terrible a few hours in, and then slowly get better several hours later ). If I were a betting man I would guess that when I sleep deeply I stop breathing, and when I sleep light, I keep breathing, and everynight I have a period where I stop breating, my oxy levels plummet, and then the very long periods of remaining sleep I have is where I am light sleeping and basically half undoing the damage the lack of oxygen has done to me. Hence I need a minimum of 12 hours sleep to not go backwards. I also suspect that the pretty fucking obvious large drops in memory of late are completely down to oxy starvation and my brain beginning to rot.

I've also noticed that these apnea episodes are worse when -

1) I am not well hydrated. ( this is a big deal ).

2) My breathing has any even slight asthma issue at all. ( very big deal )

3) I have any kind of even minor nasal blockage, stuffiness, mucus before sleep. ( fairly big deal )

If I am very well hydrated it goes better. If I have been diligently keeping up my asthma meds, particularly before I go to bed, it's better. If I am all of those things and I have some kind of anti inflammatory, I stand the best chance of feeling better.

It could be all correlation and not causation of course. Who knows.

Today I have finished playing with my CnC machine. For the moment. I have cut out 5 boxes - 1 of which I fucked up hardcore, 1 of which I fucked up slightly, and 3 of which are anything from passable to perfect. I need 4. I could get another box and redo the slightly fucked up one, but, I think it's good enough. 4 good enough. 1 junker.

It has been fun to get to grips with the machine. Really so cool, and amazing what even a simple application of tech can do. And almost all of this has been during a time when I have felt particularly ill. If I didn't feel so fucking ill, I am sure I would get much more out of it. But still. Part of my life these days is trying to work with what I have. Which means often I have to do things when I feel ill. Otherwise. I would literally do nothing. And I already am forced to do that plenty.

I have given it a quick clean, gathered up all the bits and pieces for it, and stored it under a dust cloth. Not sure what, if anything I will do with it from now on. But I am happy I got to try it, and I have a much better understanding of it all now, down to the nuts and bolts. I might end up "lending" it to the nephew for him and my brother in law to play with. I think they'd get a kick out of it. And possibly be a stepping stone for them getting a bigger heavier one to cut out model aeroplanes on ( something my brother in law has been into for decades ).

I have started staining the boxes. And I even gave one of them a quick cloisonne bash, before realising that the particular glue and lacquer mix I was using was causing the stain to reactivate and bleed ! Yikes ! No bueno ! I realised what was happening and managed to hose the whole thing down, and with a little gentle scrubbing got the box back to a bare state. Albeit one in need of staining again. Lesson learned. Seal the goddamn stain first. Then do the cloisonne. Hopefully the lacquer doesn't reactivate the sealing coat either. If it does... then shit. I am going to have to do a deep dive on getting a very specific kind of sealant. I think, maybe, the lacquer has acetone in it ( nail varnish remover ). Which means the fucker is going to reactivate just about everything it comes into contact with. Which is a problem.

Ok I just double checked. It doesn't have acetone. A sealant should work.

Interesting that it did activate the stain however. That's some... cranky stain.

Anywho.

I was thinking of creating a Making Video of one of my boxes. No. Let me correct that. If I was fit and healthy I would absolutely create a Making Video of it. As it is, on seriously shit health and nausea it is a dubious prospect. I would like to. But I don't think I - literally - have the stomach for it. It would be quite a faff.

I shall mull it over.

Of course, one problem is that I have already cut all the box lids out. So. That horse has already bolted.

Uh huh.

I could kind of fake it. I have a smaller, but otherwise identical box, that is not cut.

I shall think about it.

I have ordered a few final bits for the CnC machine. Which is, now I think about it, kind of redundant as I've now put it in storage. Just a few minor quality of life things. Coach bolts. A drill bit. If and when I use it again, my future self will thank me, I'm sure.

The whole CnC machine thing does make me think again that I really could do with a lovely workshop I can just leave stuff setup and walk away from it. But. It's just a pipe dream. I would need to either a) move house, b) get a workshop built in the garden or c) convert my dining room into a crafting space. None of those are impossible. But practically speaking, I am not going to be doing any of them. Ill. And all that.

I did, also on a stupid whim just have a look around at Norfolk properties in my price range. Surprisingly some good houses out there, detached, wayyy more space than I need, very affordable for me, and complete with gardens and garages. There are. Definitely. Options open to me. If I had better health. One of the properties was lovely, perfect even - but it had one flaw. Maximum internet connection of 100Mb on BT. Which translates as way less than fucking 100mb. No. Thank. You. Which is a real shame.

Another good one was much better. Fibre broadband. 2gigs. Now you're talking. But the property is on an open auction. I wouldn't have a clue what I'm doing. And in all likelihood the property price would soar in the auction.

But still.

Even a cursory glance showed there are better places out there for me. Much much better. Too much room in fact. Detached. 3 or 4 bedrooms. Big gardens.

I think in a perfect world I'd like somewhere in the sticks a bit, not too far from the coast, but nowhere immediately within the coast, somewhere in Norfolk, preferably not on the West side. Somewhere with a garage ( or two ! ). A garden. A decent kitchen. And a kick ass internet connection. And if I'm being spoilt. A driveway.

Uh huh.

My health. Sucks ass. And really is just in the way of everything in the declining years of my life. 

I need a gopher in my life.

Someone with pep and energy that can sort everything out for me.

And in return.

I would give them financial stability and a place to live and yada blah.

Heh.

How very old school.

Also today. Being slightly productive. I belatedly checked my car was actually at the garage. In theory. It could have been anywhere for the last week. I have just trusted that it was where people had said it was.

Which one week later, is way too late to be checking that.

But I figured it was highly likely everyone in the chain was trustworthy. And if there had been a hiccup, someone, probably, would have called by now.

Nevertheless today I actually fucking checked. Yes. I am crap.

Good news. The car is where it should be. And due to get looked at next week.

Huzzah.

I have nicely got used to not having a car again to be honest. I am not going anywhere anyway. It was definitely a wrench to lose it. But very quickly. I have got used to being without one. I spent most of my life without a car.

But that being said. I am finding little things that I kind of want to do, and can't because I don't have a car. It's not the end of the world. But still. Uh huh.

It will be cool to get the car back again - assuming I do !

This morning I cooked myself a bit of fried bread. I haven't done that in... literally years. Healthy fried bread mind you. No saturated fat. Zero. Zip. Nada. Just a bit of olive oil. And some fried posh tomatoes to go with it. It was super yum. I do like cooking tomatoes in a pan just as is. I don't do it very often. I always really enjoy them when I do. And also. Everytime I do, I am without fail reminded of my mom. One of her favourite things was toast with fried tomatoes on top. Maybe some vinegar to dial up that acidity to bonkers. Maybe a bit of pepper. But otherwise just tomatoes. Nothing else. Yeah. I like that too mom. I also like the super acidity too. Perhaps I got that from her.

I still find myself thinking about her. Not a week goes by where I haven't thought about her. Or maybe even briefly talked to her. In the ether. Her, Athena and Ares kind of haunt me. In a good way. And a bad way. Their shades are never far from me. I think it will always be so. A trail of ghosts behind me. It. Does something to you. It changes you. Loss. Grief. The more you have. The more it does I think. For me. It makes it harder if not impossible to get back to that naive carefree state of mind. Always, always, there is the experience of loss in the background. That makes everything in the world, even the nice bits, bitter sweet. A permanent sad shade to the colour palette. All the more obvious when you interact with someone who doesn't have that shadow to them. Who is yet unmarred by that weight. It is very much like observing children. The innocence. The lack of heaviness and the good natured naivete. You keep your mouth shut. But sometimes. The thought pops in your head. Oh buddy. The world has yet to hurt you deeply. You will see that sorrow eventually. And it will change everything you experience and have experienced. But for the moment. You go. It is akin to watching a kid at Christmas overjoyed with the idea that Santa has brought, or is bringing presents at that age before they yet realise, it is all a con. Magic.

It it just innocence. And the loss of it. That is what is being observed. And felt.

Lost innocence is, in my experience and conclusion, absolutely fucking brutal.

There is much to be said for the maintenance of it.

Blue pill. Red pill.