June 27th
Wow nearly two weeks, finally, PC is up and running again and all nasty viruses and such are now history. How am I? I am ok I think.
A bad night last night, and a sense of foreboding permeates everything. I spent the night in a half dream half awake like state, tossing and turning, awaking in a cold sweat.
Everything today looks plastic again, my mind wonders back to days of yesteryear when things looking plastic meant we had had a night or several nights on the raz. Suddenly I want to get wasted, out of it, just to let life carry on around me whilst I opt out for a few days. I sure would like to, but I wont.
Appointment this morning at the Dr's, more pills, more blood work, more waiting. I look around me at the people waiting in the surgery and ponder on what personal hell has bought them to this sorry place on a Monday morning. Are they as ill as me? Are their problems physical, mental, imagined? I like watching people, I always have, but since starting this psychology degree I find myself watching them more, and trying to work out what they mean and what they are doing. I watch a young man nervously pretending to read a cycling magazine, whilst his eyes are darting all around the waiting room, our eyes meet and he looks down at his magazine again, he fidgets a lot under my gaze, I look away from him to try and lighten his discomfort. My attention falls on to an elderly couple, both with hearing aids, I notice them because they must be 70+ and are still holding hands, which I find sweet, they seem at ease almost like this is there second home. I wonder if the hand holding is a mark of love or a mark of comfort, and if it is who is comforting whom, and what ailment brings them here.
I watch through the window as an old man parks his car and struggles to get out, he walks badly, bent forward at the waist, arms hanging, he looks like an extra out of Shaun of the Dead. I wonder if this is what life has to offer me as I get older. The arrogance of youth screams no in my head, I would rather kill myself. This is a common theme for me, I don't want to be old or infirm.
I get called through early and have my bloods done, and then I go straight in to see my Dr. My surgery is very well organised. Two thoughts go through my head, 1 This must be like winning the lottery and 2. I must be dyeing if this is that important. The truth is neither it is just a well run surgery.
Doc and I chat about how I am doing, and how the medication is affecting me, we talk about what direction I am heading in with uni and life in general, she asks how I got on with the trick cyclist (psychiatrist) and if the meds have calmed me down. She says she will call me next week and talk some more on the phone about my med dosage once the blood work is back, she hands me my prescriptions and off I go.
All in all not a bad morning really. Still feel like poo and the rage is lurking today, I can feel it in the background, I think I will stay indoors today and try to keep out of peoples way, might be safer for everyone concerned.........
A bad night last night, and a sense of foreboding permeates everything. I spent the night in a half dream half awake like state, tossing and turning, awaking in a cold sweat.
Everything today looks plastic again, my mind wonders back to days of yesteryear when things looking plastic meant we had had a night or several nights on the raz. Suddenly I want to get wasted, out of it, just to let life carry on around me whilst I opt out for a few days. I sure would like to, but I wont.
Appointment this morning at the Dr's, more pills, more blood work, more waiting. I look around me at the people waiting in the surgery and ponder on what personal hell has bought them to this sorry place on a Monday morning. Are they as ill as me? Are their problems physical, mental, imagined? I like watching people, I always have, but since starting this psychology degree I find myself watching them more, and trying to work out what they mean and what they are doing. I watch a young man nervously pretending to read a cycling magazine, whilst his eyes are darting all around the waiting room, our eyes meet and he looks down at his magazine again, he fidgets a lot under my gaze, I look away from him to try and lighten his discomfort. My attention falls on to an elderly couple, both with hearing aids, I notice them because they must be 70+ and are still holding hands, which I find sweet, they seem at ease almost like this is there second home. I wonder if the hand holding is a mark of love or a mark of comfort, and if it is who is comforting whom, and what ailment brings them here.
I watch through the window as an old man parks his car and struggles to get out, he walks badly, bent forward at the waist, arms hanging, he looks like an extra out of Shaun of the Dead. I wonder if this is what life has to offer me as I get older. The arrogance of youth screams no in my head, I would rather kill myself. This is a common theme for me, I don't want to be old or infirm.
I get called through early and have my bloods done, and then I go straight in to see my Dr. My surgery is very well organised. Two thoughts go through my head, 1 This must be like winning the lottery and 2. I must be dyeing if this is that important. The truth is neither it is just a well run surgery.
Doc and I chat about how I am doing, and how the medication is affecting me, we talk about what direction I am heading in with uni and life in general, she asks how I got on with the trick cyclist (psychiatrist) and if the meds have calmed me down. She says she will call me next week and talk some more on the phone about my med dosage once the blood work is back, she hands me my prescriptions and off I go.
All in all not a bad morning really. Still feel like poo and the rage is lurking today, I can feel it in the background, I think I will stay indoors today and try to keep out of peoples way, might be safer for everyone concerned.........
posted by GreenCastle at 14:48
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