Mar 12

Day by day my better period is slipping away. Waking up is getting harder and harder. I am feeling more and more ill. The old nausea and everything is worse. But. At the moment. I am also recovering from it. And picking up as a day wears on. Ish. About a 50/50 that symptoms flare again at some point in the day or evening. But. All around it's noticeable. I am sliding backwards again. Slowly. Kicking and screaming.

Yesterday I had a blood test, got myself washed out and ready, as well as doing some work. Sitting in the GP I saw a dog hair sticking out of my shoe. Once upon a time I was covered in dog hairs. Now I am not. I looked at the hair and removed it. Surely not one of Athenas after all this time ? Probably a Poppy hair.

Hazel sent me a brief message the other day sharing that Poppy was getting worse. Screaming in pain when she pulled on her lead. A few cries at other times. She is due her librella shot next week. But. Yeah. Not good.

I picked up her message late - a day after she sent it. I realised she had probably been angling for a lift - she had to pick up meds on that day she said. Too late. I sent her commiserations about poor Poppy, all my positive energy to the furry butt.

So back to the GP.

And a hair.

If it was Athenas it was from long ago. A year now more or less. My baby was not around anymore. If it was Poppys... she too would not be around for too much longer.

What.

Am I doing here.

At a GP.

Getting a blood test.

For what.

To monitor my health ?

A joke.

What is the point of any of this.

Why am I bothering ?

I sank. Bereft. Bereft of silly loving souls in my life. Bereft of hope or joy. Capability. Wellness. What the fuck is the point. What is the point of life and death and everything.

I was ok. I didn't melt down. But I sank.

I listened to the surgery staff chatter on about this and that. I could not relate. Their lives. Their chatter. It was like listening to aliens. Living on a different planet. Very different lives. Their conversation blurring into unintelligible  niceties. I am not mocking them. Or sneering at them. At all. I just. Felt very alien to that.

I started disassociating.

Ho ho ho.

Clearly my pain was enough that my brain had had enough and started turning the switches off. Yeah. Enough of that. Lets start unplugging some of the sensory processing eh ? Trauma response.

It cuts deep.

The nurse called me in. How are you she said. I grunted. She asked again. Fantastic I said. I had the distinct impression that I had walked into the room and behind me looming above was a 12 foot tall grief monster, invisible to everyone but me. Crouching to get into the room. Taking up a huge space. One of many demons that follows me around.

Anyway.

Went home.

Noodled on more work.

Played some games in the evening, related my shitty fucking experiences and mentalry.

Went to bed. Woke up a few times feeling incredibly ill. Incredibly tired. Exhausted. Shit. Wonderful.

Today is work visit day. I have a presentation to deliver. I feel like shit. Situation normal then. I will go do my best.

And then. I don't know. Possibly flake out at my brothers for an evening. I left my glasses there so I need to pick them up. And. I need to see my sister just to give her a "new" laptop I have acquired for her. Plus. I could do with talking to her on her own. But. We shall see.

Otherwise I just want to slump. Into sleep. Into oblivion. Escape the ill feelings. The recurring grief. Misery. And everything.

Let me go.