So the past day and a half have been the usual wobbly affairs, by which I mean they have gone up and then down as the hours have passed.
First thing, we went on a walk with Auntie Rose to the woods. That was lovely. There was unexpected rain as we set off and the roads were pretty sticky, but by the time we arrived the skies had cleared and we had a lovely stroll. Dogs and friend had a nice time, and there was even a chance to stop for a cuppa before we headed home.
Within five minutes I was talking to Dave about times gone by, as we caught up on Zoom. Always a pleasure as we never struggle to be conversational, even though we have little of consequence to talk about. We happened upon a fun notion of meeting next weekend for some ping pong and a beer in London.
Sadly that plan didn’t last long as I would sit to put it into my calendar with care only to find out there’s a rail strike that day. Essentially that means a trip to London is a no-go for either of us so the plan is postponed.
Later I would get a phone call from the vet to say that overall Bugsy’s bloods are fine. He’s getting older but nothing to worry about. So I could order his anti-inflammatory pills. I also raised the issue of another of his pills being overpriced and hard to obtain. I’m not sure if that’s going to shift, but I was at least able to highlight a page referencing the legality of prescribing differently.
Shortly after, another phone call. That’s my two for this year ! This was the (well, a) doctor in response to my sleep issues. He was sympathetic and perhaps even a tad concerned, but we nudged things along again. It would seem, huge shock here, that my previous contact with the doctors produced some form-filling but nobody actually asked for the funding for a sleep study. So I’ve been waiting for nothing.
The doctor offered me the chance to try an antihistamine called Hydroxyzine and that seemed like a good idea. At the time of writing, I’m not so sure. Basically I took a pill designed to make me sleep, and then lay next to a dog determined to keep me awake. The conflict resulted in a thick stupor over me all day and achieving precisely shit-all.
I’m now lying with some ibuprofen in me wondering if I should do a Covid test to make sure the achy bones I’m feeling aren’t from that. Whatever, I don’t feel like marathon-running today.
I’ve been told that the next step with my dog is to consult a behaviourist but he spends the entirety of his waking hours in normal and well-established patterns. I’m wary of the idea he has suddenly decided to be weird at night for conscious reasons.
If you need me, I’ll be here. I see a small dash of central heating and maybe a warm bath in my near future. Such things can often be restorative.