Yesterday was a slow kind of day, nothing much happened. I woke up in the morning not feeling quite right. My head was a bit peculiar and the room had a tendency to rotate in the direction I shifted my head. I got up to go to the toilet but was distinctly unsteady on my feet. I was feeling queasy too. I was due to go into work but decided that today was not a day to leave safe, familiar surroundings. I would work from home if I could.

I had a meeting scheduled at 10.30am with my wife so I explained the situation before she left and we met in her study. What can I say about the meeting? I checked in by talking about the anxiety I felt the day before and the fragility I was feeling today. Workwise I explained the difficulties I was having with GDPR responses and the need I felt for support. After our check-in we tried to work through some issues and actually fix some administration things. It wasn’t easy though. I was finding it hard to concentrate and seemed to need guidance on even the simplest things like navigating through the computer filesystem. I would be starting at a directory listing, seeing all the titles but not actually reading them or understanding their meaning. I seemed to function better when my wife said so-and-so file, fourth from the top.

We achieved something, but it didn’t feel like a lot and after a while I couldn’t take anymore and so we stopped. I sent an email into the office explaining why I would be going in. I suspected I was having some sort of migraine issue but it wasn’t until I went through my emails that a sharp pain began to develop in the left eye which I think confirmed my supposition. I took myself back to bed and managed to fall asleep for over an hour.

Trying not to put strain on my eyes is a difficult task. I will often pass the time of day watching TV, or playing a video game, or reading a book. I could listen to music, but I deemed exercise unwise.  Ideally I would have gone swimming but I wasn’t sure how good my concentration was for driving and I suspected the head movements in the pool would not have felt very positive. Eventually by evening I was going a bit stir crazy and since I was feeling a bit better and had eaten something I took the dog for a walk.

It was a beautiful warm calm evening as the sun was setting. I took a tennis ball along with us which gave me something to practise kicking with my left foot, and also gave the dog something to chase when he feels like it. Often he ends up trotting along (it’s a poodle thing) with the ball in his mouth and I am walking behind him wondering if he still has it. The issue being that when something more interesting captures his attention, he is apt to drop the ball to allow for more in-depth investigations. This at least allows me to have a kick at the ball.

We have reached the football field in the park. More precisely, the area which is assigned to football when the season is on which isn’t now. I notice my dog has started limping. There is no fuss, no noise, his tail is still up high above his back, but there is a limp and I feel it is getting worse. I stop and knee down in the grass. He comes over, puts his front paws on my legs and pants into my face. I wonder if the panting is a sign of pain, it doesn’t feel that hot to me. I pick up the leg that I think he has hurt and look at the pads of the paw. There is nothing obvious wrong. I can’t see any blood or bits of debris that might indicate an issue.

I knee on the grass for a few minutes, trying the reassure the dog by talking to him and rubbing him down. I suspect this is more for my benefit than his. I ponder about how to get home. Should I let him keep walking since his doesn’t appear to be suffering or should I arrange transport. I decide to carry him back to the house. It is about a fifteen minute walk. When I start out, I can feel my lungs have to work harder to carry his weight. My arms feel okay. Well okay for the first five minutes. Then they start to hurt. I manage it back to the house okay though, the dog seemed perfectly relaxed in my arms. It was nice to cross the road without waiting him to go through the performance of sitting (it’s a slow-motion affair implying a reluctance to comply).

He seems happy enough to eat his food, so I am thinking it’s a pulled muscle somehow. I thought about what happens when I pull a muscle. I don’t go running to the doctor, what’s the point? I will probably be told to take it easy for a few days but to keep using it. I decide to see how things look in the morning and in the meantime, try to get the poodle to take it easy. A difficult task when he insists on following me around the house. The word fragility is lost on him.

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