Everybody Hurts...

I am empty. I have no desires. I do not need 3-D people. In short, I am a professional misanthrope. I want to live in an empty,dark room and stare into nothingness. I want oblivion.

But I am being bombarded by people. I go to work and am assaulted by demands - helping people fill out their benefits forms, on the 'phone all day to employers, arranging work experience. 'Give these people a chance. Yes, I know they're nus. Yes, I know they've never done any paid work. But they have potential.' (It takes some effort to summon up the conviction it takes to utter these words. And when I get home there's socializing, partying,whatever you want to call it. In these dark days it's compulsory, apparently. Making 'witty' remarks, indulging in bland conversations with people I cannot stand.

It's all meaningless.

I've got to get up and turn off Patch Adams. It's really pissing me off.

Sailors Are Mad

Sailors are mad. It's official. It came straight from the Neighbourhood Oracle - Doug - himself. In his Uncle Albert mode Doug - 'During the war...' (I mean that affectionately. I am fascinated by his war stories. So fascinated, in fact, that I frequently visit him accompanied by by my Ipaq)- told me so. He worked as an auxiliary nurse in the R.A.F. before he joined the Commando Unit and was sent to Sicily. He worked in a military psychiatric hospital and most of his patients were sailors. The worst case he encountered was that of a Swedish sailor who was in the final stages of syphilis who was homicidal and suicidal and heading towards death.

More Tales from the Neighbourhood Oracle to come...

They Rip You to Pieces

A strange 'mixed bag' kind of entry. The latest new from my corner of the world:

1) Andrew Lansley (Con) is now my MP. He is the shadow health secretary. There doesn't seem to be much choice in this country anymore. The political landscape has imploded. The Liberal Democrats aren't terribly 'liberal', the Conservatives left nothing to conserve and as for Labour - well, they appear to have abandoned their traditional support base all together. I voted Lib Dem, primarily on the basis of local issues. There was no point in voting Labour. They don't stand a chance in South Cambs. Anne Campbell lost Cambridge. The whole world is turning upside down.

2) Andy Lee (incidentally, despite my disclaimer, I haven't changed his name to protect his innocence because well, he is not innocent) received a five year suspended sentence for his attack on me and two police officers. Which means that he is still living below me. The police didn't tell me, Doug did. And as I was leaving who did I see but Andy Lee. Doug was standing right behind me. I turned and waved at him. I wanted to send a message to the Pseudo-Messiah that someone is on my side.

3) My Mentor is avoiding me. I think he promised more than he could possibly deliver.

4) I have received a letter from my Insurance Company (Royal Sun Alliance) stating that they are going to 'investigate my claim further'. Well, investigate away, sweethearts. I only have half the neighbourhood, half Cambs fire service and Doug as my witnesses. I researched them on the net and unearthed some rather disturbing information. Apparently they are in the habit of disputing claims atm because they are in financial trouble. Doubt my claim, my friend and you are calling me a liar. Call me a liar and that is defamation of character. And I (unlike many I have read about) will not back down.

5) The council refuse to hold an inquiry regarding the events on the night of the fire. I remember Jill saying, 'Maybe something good will come out of all this. Maybe they'll listen to their tenants in the future.' Looks like she was wrong on that one.

6) According to a simply delightful gentleman (who attends Christ Church College, Oxford) on a forum I frequent, I have 'manly features' and he's an expert on these things because he is/was a catalogue model. Yeah, sweetheart, and I'm the Queen of England. (He claims to be studying law, yet appears to be barely literate. I think the media may have a point when they talk about the 'dumbing down' of our education system). I'll have more to write about that particular forum in the next entry. Let's just say that some of the stuff that occurs on it is pretty disturbing. I'll include the full text of my Personal Messages. They're quite amusing although, I admit, I did wind this guy up. I wanted to see exactly how vicious he could be. I think I have been unofficially banned so I have nothing to lose.

7) I have an appointment to see a new psychiatrist. Let's hope we can get this mess that is my head sorted out. Dr. S. said he didn't blame me for losing faith in the medical profession after what I have been through. 'Girl, you have no faith in medicine.' Damn straight! The fire exacerbated my pyrophobia. At this very moment I can smell something burning.

Losing Faith

As you may have noticed I am losing faith in everyone around me. Even my Mentor. Maybe,in the past, I have placed too much trust in others. In the future I shall view others with wariness until they give me reason to do otherwise (the very opposite of what I have been doing thus far).

That may make me appear a spiteful and bitter little person but it seems to be essential for my own self-preservation and if I can't protect myself then I'm not much use to anyone else.

My Fatal Mistake

I told Dr. S. (my GP) that I suspected Dr. H’s diagnostic skills were flawed and that I’d never forgiven him for sectioning me and then waltzing off on holiday with his wife and six children leaving me in the care of a psychopathic Spanish SHO who immediately doubled my daily dose of Chlorpromazine from 400 to 800 mgs per day. (They don’t call that drug ‘the Liquid Cosh for nothing.) In my notes it states that I was on an average of 300 mgs per day. An outright lie.

I also expressed my concern that the new psychiatrist might arbitrarily change my medication. It has happened before with nightmarish consequences In the summer of 2003 a female SHO prescribed some obscure neuroleptic and I had an allergic reaction to it. My neighbours said later that I looked as though I had had a stroke. I was taken to hospital in an ambulance where I was given an antidote – Procycladine (sp?). ‘I was very grateful for the short letter of apology I received for that little incident.’ I told Dr. S. ‘So short it was non-existent.’

A weak laugh from Dr.S.and then, ‘I think the Efexor is doing you a lot of good but I’m not so sure about the other medication.’ He was referring to the Diazepam and the Ambien. So, now, because I insulted one of his colleagues he may be about to drag these life-lines away from me.

(To Be Continued…)

Ruminating

I cannot stop ruminating over what happened in my two appointments with Dr. S. (my GP) last week. Before the first appointment I was in the waiting room, flipping through a French edition of Vogue, filled to the brim with emaciated models or Lollipop Ladies, as I like to call them – child-women who look like waxen dolls with heads too large for their bodies. I showed it Dr. S. during our appointment. He skimmed through it muttering, ‘She’s too thin, she’s too thin.’

‘Then why is it in your waiting room then,’ I snapped.

Dr. S.said he would keep it in his office and that he might find it useful because he was/is studying French at night classes. I told him that I obtained an ‘A’ for my French GCSE but it was pretty useless because, while my reading skills aren’t too bad, aurally and orally, I’m pretty abysmal and I can just about manage to order food in restaurants and ask for directions. Dr. S. said that was about all he could do at the moment but that he hoped to improve.

And then I made what I fear may have been a fatal mistake.

(To Be Continued…)

Psychotic Slip-Up Saga Continued

Doug walked me back to my flat. I slipped beneath the quilt and he made me a cup of Chamomile tea. I drank obediently and clutched my hot water bottle to my chest. Doug sat on the edge of my bed (like a real grandfather) and read me stories – from my own novels, diaries. Yes, to most of you, it sounds weird. But hey, guess what, it is weird, because I am weird and most of what I do will be weird so shove that in your pipe and smoke it!

But when he had gone I couldn’t sleep so I didn’t get the oblivion I so craved. Random thoughts crept through my head. ‘I was such a brat when I was younger, wasn’t I?’ I said in an imaginary conversation with my mother. I was impossible to punish. She couldn’t have grounded me because I never went anywhere and she couldn’t do things you could do to most brats like removing my TV from my room because I preferred to read. (And there really is no justification for preventing your child from reading.)

And besides, I didn’t care what happened to me.

And it is essential that I think my way back into that state. It is a good survival strategy.

But these words keep flowing through my head, ‘I may have the body of a weak and feeble woman but…but..’

My audience waits, anticipating the words that follow. ‘But..but..’

‘But what?’

‘But nothing for I am not Elizabeth I. I am not a queen. I am simply me – defenceless and useless.’

And on that uplifting note, I shall depart.

Other Things That Happened Last Week

I told Dr. S . (My GP) that I am now desperate to change psychiatrists – a bureaucratic nightmare, apparently. I have heard a rumour on ‘The Circuit’ that my current ‘esteemed psychiatrist’ Dr. H. has spoken to the police on Andy’s behalf. I must stress that this is just a rumour. But the remote possibility that it may be true causes me to entertain fantasies about shoving red hot pokers up the Good Doctor’s derierre. Not exactly an ideal basis for a doctor-patient relationship. Even Lisa was disgusted when she heard. ‘Do you reckon it’s because he’s another bloke?’ she asked and she is certainly no feminist.

‘Yes, Lisa, that’s exactly what I reckon.’

The Great Dr. H. – admired by everyone except his patients.

‘Never trust doctors,’ a fellow patient in hospital once advised me, lowering his voice so he wouldn’t be overheard by the nurses standing nearby. ‘They’re bound together by honour and loyalty. A bit like Freemasons. In fact, you’ll find most of them are Freemasons.’

I recounted the conversation to Dr. S. who said, ‘That’s very true but I’m not.’

‘Well, we shall see,’ as my mother always used to say.