Dec 30

Health is poor. Up and down a little. But persistently bad. My stomach or whatever is continually on a knife edge. My eyes are a disaster. And the anxiety is back. My ill health is pulling my mentals down and my anxiety up.

Last night in a particularly low state I considered that ending it all would be the kind thing at this point. On top of the other reasons to do it. Being so ill all the time. I don't want to suffer. And all I'm doing right now is living incredibly defensively to the point it hurts with all the ifs and buts and rules. And still feeling shit.

Sigh.

Today I am at least not suicidal. But anxious. And unwell. I nurse my strength to try and give me little windows of feeling better.

Today I was up early to take Hazel and Poppy to the vets. It was rough. I felt like shit. But we got it done.

The xray has found something. What has yet to be communicated. But it's clear there is something wrong with the shoulder. As I suspected all along and thought an X ray would be required back in August. Despite all labelling the latest injury as a pulled tendon, the x ray has picked up something else.  As it turns out, Johnny Knows Things. Sometimes I wish I didn't. The pros and cons of being too smart for your own good.

We get to pick up Poppy last thing today, and Hazel gets to talk to the vet to see what the prognosis is. Whether it's fixable. Exactly what "it" is. My guess is that damage has been done. And is either loose in there. Or has healed badly. Most of the scenarios you can't do a lot about in a dog. But we shall see. In a way I think it is better news. At least with bone issues you kind of know where you stand. The more insidious diagnoses are those of cancer, and internal shutdown, like an iceberg a problem in a shoulder actually revealing far worse. I am hopeful something will be able to be done for Poppy.

My vets were as per usual absolutely aces. They are not charging Hazel for the full procedure - which they rightly should, to the tune of £300 more. And they have offered to refund the prescription they wrote if it turns out thats not the best plan. All of this unprompted. Unasked for. They are, to a fault, kind, and thoughtful and proactive. They are all you could ever want in a vet. Not for the first time the thought occurs that I wish my own healthcare was half as good as they were. I would gladly pay them for their services.

I said to Hazel that in a perfect world it should not be surprising or particularly comment worthy that someone is kind, and thoughtful and good at what they do. It should be the normal. But in our fucked up late stage capitalist world, finding those like it feels like a rare treasure. And I am very grateful that at least some people like that still exist in the world.

Today I have slept some, caught on up some sleep, whilst feeling rough all the way through. My eyes feel terrible. Sore. Permanently squinted. Nausea comes in and out. And my anxiety is leaking. Starts. And jumps. And often pulled from sleep with a snap of alarm. My sub conscious is clearly not doing well. 

And as I finish this for today, feel super unwell. Temperature spikes. Weakness. Nausea.