Jan 16

 Feeling ill and wiped out today. Eyes are bad.

At one point I stopped and leaned my head against a door frame and tried to identify just how I was feeling ill. Where was it. What was it. Where is it coming from.

Difficult. Just an overall malaise. An underlying nausea to it.

I gently prodded my upper stomach. Yeah. Don't do that.

I don't know. The colour just drains out of me. Along with energy. And everything. It's just. Blehhhh. Awful.

Of course. I am sick of it. Sick of always being fucking sick. And it's definitely worse. This malaise is now standard. Ho hum.

Spoke to my brother a little today. My spider senses had triggered. Something was up. A disturbance in the force. So I checked in with him. After a little nothing chat, it turns out he had some health news. If I wanted to know. Ah. The parental reticence beaten in. Why would anyone want to know how he was doing. Why would anyone care ?

I care.

He had some news from the surgical consultant he saw at the start of the week. He's been having spinal issues. Falling over. Frequently. Just. Not working at all. They had tracked it to a spinal nerve issue. And this week. The conclusion was the nerve was dead. And nothing could be done about it. They could do the surgery, but it carried a risk, and, it almost certainly wouldn't help.

So my brother is looking at a much reduced movement capacity. And a lot of falling over. A walking stick at the least is going to be required.

When I saw him briefly before Christmas, despite not voicing it that way, he was clearly anxious about a) what was happening and b) any surgery. The way he offhandedly mentioned it was. If I go out. Just know I've had a good life and done everything I wanted to - excluding the bit at the start ( childhood, parents etc ). It was a grim statement. A positive one. But one that absolutely brought up imminent end. To me. It was one of those things where someone smiles, says oh well, and in the eyes there is a despair. Stiff upper lip. My brother had said that his quality of life had deteriorated because of his movement issues. And that it wasn't worth it anymore.

These things are subjective. 

But. It was apparent my brother was struggling to deal with this very real loss of capability.

Loss of capability is a bitch. Understatement. When the circle of your world starts to shrink because you can't do basic things you used to. It is. Challenging. I know this one all too well.

So.

The news that there would be no fix. Nothing to be done. Was not good.

A second opinion immediately jumped to my mind. Not because of a distrust of the expert opinion. But just because. It's an important decision. A real fork in the road. And. It would do little harm to get someone else to give it a look over and confirm the prognosis. Not denial. Not expert doubt. Just. Double checking your parachute before jumping out of the plane. Prudent. To my mind. This is basic risk management stuff. For anything in life. But mostly for me, IT projects and concerns. As the scale of the impact of a risk rises. So then does the requirement to make sure it's right. When confronted with a task of buttering toast, it doesn't matter so much if you get it wrong. And. The economics clearly come down on the side of, just get on with it, you can adapt if it fails, its probably not giong to. But. When the task is jumping out of an aeroplane. Not checking your parachute twice - something that costs you minutes, but risk wise could be the difference between life and death, moves from an uneconomic luxury, to absolute common sense requirement.

So. Spinal surgery. Loss of capability.

To me. That shifts that decision clearly into, measure twice, cut once category.

My brother was not keen. I think he just wants to stop thinking about it.

I tried very hard not to go on and on and about a second opinion. My critical thinking skills were screaming at me that this was a mistake. And for the cost of a quick, inexpensive, double kick of the tyres you might as unlikely as it is be making a huge mistake.

This is the difficult bit. Acknowledging peoples agency in decisions. Drawing lines. And not overstepping them. Even if you think someone is making a mistake. A bad mistake.

The art of taking a deep breath, being zen, and not haranguing someone for their own sake is hard.

I made my point a couple of times about a second opinion. And then left it.

The internal wrestling I had about it being a mistake I dealt with myself. And didn't project this onto my brother. Respectful of his agency.

I asked him how he was doing with the news. Because. There's the one thing. The practicalities. And then there's the other thing. Emotionally how are you doing with that. That second bit of often missed entirely. Especially in our family. There can be in general little acknowledgement that something might be hard. Scary. Misery. Life stealing. It is odd that society is geared like that. Open to practical solutions. Short on actually taking time to comfort people and be there for someone. As opposed to trying to do their homework for them. And the ironic rub is. It's typically the second bit, the emotional bit, not the problem bit, that is the real killer for people. People then sit with such shit by themselves. Isolated. And in bad cases. Eaten alive. Whilst people around them give them weak soundbites.

My brother said he was ok with it. It has been part of his coming to terms with getting "old". He has had a number of friends die around him. More than can be easily counted. Active and there one year. And gone the next. And he has noticed. And noticed the ticking of his own clock.

In my head I contrasted this more accepted tone with the one I had heard just before Christmas. 

I am unconvinced he is entirely "ok" with it.

I did what I could. I was sorry about the result. Sorry that had happened. And if there was anything I could do - what can I do, nothing ! - then to tell me. And that I could see he was good. But. If he wanted something. Or just wanted to talk. Or felt shit about it. The offer was there. Knock on my door. And ultimately. He was not alone.

I respect your answer. But also. In case it changes. Or that's not quite the whole answer. Here's my card. Call me. Don't sit in the dark alone with it.

This. To me. Is my condensed wisdom of understanding the misery of the human condition, what people are like, and the best way to offer help without overstepping.

It is wisdom earned in blood and tears. Like they say every safety railing has a previous price in blood.

I hope my brother can adapt. I have no clue how that pans out. Or how bad it gets.

Life is not infinite. Time is shorter than you think. Do what you can, when you can. 

Do what you can when you can is my default mantra to anyone that asks these days. It is wholly couched in my experience of no longer being able to do shit. Don't take your capability for granted. It will. Not if. But when. Be taken away from you. Even if you are the luckiest person around, and get to live a full active like into jolly old age. Eventually. The merry go round stops.

Cheery.

Ho hum.

I gamed a little yesterday evening. Operating on fumes and positive vibes. Talked a little with my friend. Sometimes we go off deep into the woods of something or other. Sometimes our gaming sessions resemble ramblings through all manner of philsophical and psychological landscapes. And just practical things. Of dealing with people.

I briefly mentioned my moans about work. About the expert thing. Again. Too much reliance on something breeds incapability.

Surprisingly my friend said, had I just said how I felt about it. Because. He said he found it very useful when I told him the thing he said to me ended up hurting me. Not an issue. A help. Because he realised he had fucked up. And could correct. Because he said, he would hate to think that the things he said, even inadvertently, would cause pain. Perhaps he said. You could talk to Andy about it like that.

I was kinda surprised by the angle. For one. It's very mature. About acknowledging mistakes, and not framing them as accusations or weapons to wield. But things that are genuinely useful to learn from. It's not. A mindset I often encounter. I re-iterated to him that I don't think it was his fault. It was my issue. That I should be that fragile. That it's unreasonable to expect me to be so vulnerable. But. I suppose the truth is a little of both columns. I appreciate my friends mindfulness. It's something I have come to super appreciate in my shrink. That. Very mature. Very mindful aspect they have. They can acknowledge a mistake. And not lash out. Adapt. And come back. Without a grudge. It's. Impressive.

It is I suppose part of building a safe space. Teaching someone, that they are not going to get punished for pointing out genuine mistakes.

Anyway.

It made me pause.

I am thinking about it.

We also talked about - not for the first time - our massive gulf of experience, thinking, ideology, call it what you want, about life and death. It came up because he commented on the passing of time. And the growing awareness that things fade out. Are replaced. And new things. New people. New generation comes in and takes over. Whilst the old. Dies out. Mortality. And all that.

He asked if I was aware of that passage of time.

Oh god yes.

At times it cripples me. Utterly. It is directly wired into my sense of loss. Of nihilism. Of the meaning of life. Of cruelty and tragedy.

He said he sees it as some beauty in there. How things evolve. To be part of something. And then fade out. And not for the first time. How he doesn't go too far with it. He knows there are things he can't deal with. At the nihilism scale. He knows he can't do anything about it. So chooses not to think about it.

Which is the smart answer. The right thing to do.

And then there's me. I cannot see it that way. I don't live that. There is no beauty in there to me. I said it's like watching children get thrown in a wood chipper and declaring it to be beautiful.

I didn't say that he said.

It's the same kind of feeling I said. There is an immense tragedy to me. Of taking someone. Something. All its hopes and dreams. Its struggles. Its pain. All that effort to learn and grow and understand and achieve. That sparkling essence to live and breathe and be something. And then you snuff it out. Dead. Gone. Dust. Like it never fucking happened. That. Is. Brutal. Awful.

To me I said. The whole thing. Is just a tragic arc. Life is tragedy. All those unique insights and people. Snuffed out. A monumental loss.

So I cannot see the beauty in it. It is. Diabolical.

The thing is he said. What I see of you. Is someone that has gone way too far. Has read all the philosophy. Overturned all the stones. Flown too close to the sun. And you're burned. It underlines for me, that I do not want to think too hard on things. I don't want to go to places that I can't deal with. Just. Get on with what I have. And not think about it too hard. He said, you're like at this high level of awareness and it's terrible.

I questioned whether it was anything at all to do with being a "high level". And more just a symptom of being fucked in the head.

But. Also yes. It's not a new concept. It's the wizard of oz. It is plato. All the way back. Thousands of years ago. The same basic idea. Innocence. Versus knowledge. As you gain one, you lose the other. And innocence. Is useful. You can see why religion is the way it is. How alluring the idea that take all that nihilistic horror away. And replace it with a sky daddy. There is no loss. There is no tragedy. It's all ok in the end. Because everyone goes to a better place. And the sky daddy makes sure good people get good things, and bad people are suitably dealt with. The universe makes sense. There is no need to be sad. Off you potter about your day.

It is a bulwark against the primal eldritch horror of nilhism. The lovecraftian madness of the elder gods that will eat your soul once you have glimpsed them out the corner of your eye.

Turning up at church every week gives you an innoculation against that. The blessed. Protected. From the dark.

My friend still thought there was something beautiful about the whole turning over cycle.

I cannot disagree harder. 

There is no beauty in something as lovely and wonderful as Athena passing out of this world.

None. At all. In any way. Whatsoever.

It is I said. Back to that point. About every existential revelation carries a grief with it. And I have always been so very busy popping one existential revelation after the next. And been left in a place where I have collected most if not all of the existential revelations. And have an enormous fucking bucket of grief to go with it.

You know shit.

And are horribly sad.

It is in another kind of parallel. Pandoras box. Curiosity unleashes all the evils into - your - world.

Ho hum.

I need to sleep.

Again. Tired. And ill.

I should go out and pick up a few grocery supplies. Nothing amazing. A few bits and pieces. But. My energy is not good. Ah ha. This is one of those. You know the mantra. If you're in a space where you're bargaining over whether you have energy to do X, then you already know the answer. You don't.

Fair enough. No groceries today. Sleep instead. 

In the meantime. Have another voxel engine shot. Where are we. Still without texture. But now we have some primitive lighting on surfaces, some primitive colouring of meshes based on height, and a sun that circles around. The engine is getting heavy. In terms of. An accumulation of lots of math. Modern hardware is crazy however. It runs fast. Despite running on a laptop without any 3d dedicated hardware.

Next up. Shadows maybe. Proper textures perhaps. I don't know. I think even if I stop here with it. I have enjoyed my time noodling with it. It's a cool little bit of tech exploration.