THE PSYCH DOCTOR APPTOINTMENT has been done. I think I got out of hospital by a narrow margin. He asked me if I wanted to go in. I said I had a toothbrush on me, nothing else was fixed, ready. Windows could have been wide open for all I knew or cared.
Well I rabbitted on. Feeling anxious and then trying to cure the anxiety by pacing might not have helped. He asked is this me? I hope that question didn't get me too confused. I said yeah. Then asked who I was meant to be then (after room being barged into by script-wielding worker). Then tried not to get real upset about a certain person I know who supposedly hits the drs for a schiz sign-off when he's actually well. 'Because then there's me saddled with all this shit not being listened to, when I intermittently tried to be, not knowing what's going on or what to do.
I am supposed to "take care" of myself. I don't think this dr was being as half-arsed as that might sound. He seems real cautious and intelligent even as shrinks go. And wisse. And I trust him, even as shrinks go. The other main one there I do not trust. Mind Game Playing is the absolute last thing I need.
No diagnosis. He did mention the all time pits NASTY WORD 8888888 fill in the stars with more letters.
Everything is doing my head in. I have to change clinics. Same staff. Old clinic. He says he thinks I am not myself. He also said he thought I'd been real helpful.
That's all I can do is, 1. try and explain; 2. leave matter in professionals' hands; 3. try not to think about. Forget worry. Even think.
No antithinking pills were offered. No pills. Did ask about ones I'd had complete with names. Antipsychotics. Marvellous. Gotta run. Got to close eyes. Go to bed. Something.
AWAY IN AMSTERDAM - Tomorrow I am going to Amsterdam to be the body guard of nearly 7 year old grandson Toby. It is about time that I leave home for a few days because I think...
1 day ago