I GOT A NEW DOCTOR just now. The kindly receptionist didn't glance too hard at my expired passport. If she noticed that it was 18 months out of date she didn't say anything. I had to write schizoaffective on the form because that is supposed to be a "serious illness". Where they ask for family illnesses I gave none, in case I ever want private health insurance. This will stop the insurers bumping the premiums up. (You have to think of these things.)
I have to come and see a nurse next Wednesday. Tuesday is the "turning into a woman" breast tissue scandal consultant. Thursday is the new methadone clinical evaluation. So it's doctors galore.The new "surgery" (do they ever perform operations on site? Frankly the place does not look sterile enough ...) only asked for one proof of address, so my Mum's fake letter about training courses never had its moment. The old doctors were really strict, which was what made me so para. They even quibbled a bank statement for being too ancient ~ it was two and a half months old! The methadone clinic want two proofs of address, so failing any mail delivery my Mum's fakery will shine in all its glory then.
There's a bus strike in London today, which means I have a choice: ride four stops by train to get my methadone. Cost: £4.40 return. Or walk there. Some buses are running but they terminate early giving the worst of both worlds: a bus fare and a long walk...
Last night I still couldn't sleep properly. I started feeling over-excited again and chain-smoked in bed. Every few minutes I seemed to wake back up to continue smoking. I know this is no recipe for guaranteed unconsciousness, but I long ago learned not to worry about poor sleep. Not worrying entails never "trying". You can't "try" and sleep anyhow. So I end up pottering about all night. Or smoking in bed while listening to radio phone-ins ...
And when I had to get up this morning I was in a very bad mood indeed!Of course after six am I did sleep a bit. But I was still awake before the alarm went off at 8, and then I didn't want to get up. So I slept between 8am and midday. Which is all very unhealthy, I suppose. But there you go.
Hey I GOT A NEW DOCTOR. WOW!!!
Illustrated: smoking in bed, the glamorous version... My old doctor looked just like this, only he wore fewer clothes... The practice nurse looked like this, but not quite as fusty ...
You get all the sexy looking doctoers and nurses.I am jealous.I can play doctor with you if we were nearby.I bet you will like that to.Come and see me sometime;-)
ReplyDeleteI'm glad I'm not the only one to behave like that in the supermarket . . . I think some of our symptoms are very similar.
ReplyDeleteSometimes I'm so sociable in my local shop, that the next day when I feel totally different, I have to send one of my lads to the shop incase the cashier tries to carry on the conversation!? Same thing at school in the playground.
O well. Real pleased you got your Dr sorted . . . And you're sounding happier, despite the lack of sleep. Hope you sleep well tonight, with love x
Pleased to hear you got your new doctor sorted. I hope everything else goes your way too. x
ReplyDeleteBev I've been to your blog a few times but it will not accept comments from me! Have you any idea why..?
ReplyDeleteBugerlugs: I'm better at hiding the depressed moods than the excited ones. Energy just shines out of me. Past experience has made me really really para about going through any ID check. The last doctors made it so hard to sign on I nearly gave up and stayed with the quack who was a good half an hour from my house. Now at least I have a doctor less than five minutes down the road! But I'm still not officially signed up until I've had the nurse's appointment next Wednesday...
Akelamalu: thanks; it should do :-)
Cheerio love. Sorry I haven't read in a while. I'm catching up right now. What is this about breasts? Perhaps I will understand after I read older posts.
ReplyDeletethe reason that I called the cops on that stalker was because because he was threatening my life and I and I was merely trying to help him find dope because he was sick. I had no idea that my dealer would rip
him off, but the main reason I called the police is because he called the methadone clinic on me and tried to get me kicked out.
Called the methadone clinic and tried to get you kicked out? Those clinics shouldn't believe a word anyone else says about other "clients"... but often, I'm afraid, they do seem to...
ReplyDeleteThe breasts thing is to do with the development of breast tissue on one side, probably as a side-effect of antipsychotics. Lovvery, huh?
Ah, yes when I was on risperdone I began lactating and once I herd a infante crying and my shirt got spots of breast milk over my breasts. At that moment I was very impressed by the women instinct to care for babies. I was also worried I had breast cancer. My doc set me straight.
DeleteBtw, how much breast tissue has built up?
ReplyDeleteHow much breast tissue? Not very much, but enough to feel and see. But only on one side. If it doesn't go away and that doc doesn't sort it out I'm threatening to remove it myself courtesy of a craft knife and a bit of toilet paper to soak up the blood. I only need make one incision and spoon out the flobber with a teaspoon... the A&E/ER can sew me up again and that will teach them to try and save money by not operating on me. Yeah I'll just do it myself when the mood strikes me. Which it very well might if I ever go full-on manic nuts again ha ha!!
ReplyDelete