FINALLY, after six o'clock this morning, I slept and slept deeply all morning past two in the afternoon. I had nine missed phone calls. In the end I had to get up purely to struggle up the road to the methadone chemist. It's barely worth the bus fares considering I could buy my dose on the street for £2 a day. But I didn't want to discharge myself from the old clinic before the handover to the new one is complete. This could make life even more complicated, with them insisting on retitration (chemical torture when they deliberately undermedicate the desperate addict) and other horrors to grim to go into.
My mood ~ formerly bubbling wtih amazing witty conversation and high mental energy ~ has fallen considerably. I didn't realize how disinhibited I had become. That's my excuse for the childish references to "personal itching" of the last few days. My comments had become longer and longer, and they were mostly on people's blogs I didn't even know.
So I'm falling back to negativity. People on the street look uncannily ugly. My exhausted body feels vaguely nauseated all the time. Life is back to a long wade through slurry. I want to go to bed and not wake up. But I have to trek out yet again, just to get this posted. To get grating cheese for my pea and mint pasta.
All these requests for mail and not one single letter has arrived. At this rate I'll never get two proofs of address by next week, which means I won't be able to register with a new doctor, which means the new methadone clinic won't take me on. I think I'm just going to have to lie, give the address of my old GP, which is just up the road, and say I believed I was registered as a temporary patient.
I can't believe fate is pushing me back to the clutches of the incompetent quack who refused to switch me off risperidone that gave me panic attacks and who tried repeatedly to re-prescribe the antidepressant mirtazapine (Remeron) that actually lowered my mood to the point of near-catatonia. All this crap just to get methadone.
The only good news is that my ear has healed. I'm deaf no more!
INJECTED WITH A POISON ~ PRAGA KHAN
6 comments:
Does your proof of address have to come from the council or some other official body or would a letter from a friend addressed to you suffice? If a letter from a friend would be accepted I could write to you and maybe another of your readers could do the same? Email me if that would help.
Glad to hear your ear has healed. x
I just went down the drs surgery with the council tenancy I got this morning and the new surgery only specify ONE proof so I should be OK. I have to be there tomorrow after 10:30 as they won't register outside certain hours. Rrrrghhhh. I should be OK now thanks v much for the offer :-)
I was so para about it because the old surgery insisted on two, and even quibbled the date on something that was barely 2 and a half months old! Getting in there was like jumping a hoop of fire.
Anyway I have time to posh myself up before I go in now. My hair has a couple of tiny straggles where I missed the odd bit with the clippers...
Not like you, gledwood, come on: be positive. the letters will arrive, you will get a GP and things will be back on track. (Listen to me - Mrs Positive!)
I most certainly hope so. The local GPs surgery looks promising but I cannot sign up till tomorrow. Soon as I get a doctor I'll post!
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