Archive for May 24th, 2007

As I slowly wait the “time” to enjoy the pleasant feeling of my meds kicking in (and hopefully, surely it should be quickly and very pleasant as I am already tired now) I’ve been thinking about, yes, time. I have blogged a bit about it here and about it here.

I seem to struggling with the concept of time yet again. In several ways. Going back and having a look at the second post was a little helpful but some”times,” when you are in the midst of trying to deal with a crisis, a bad mood state or even just trying to work out a problem in your head…when does the breakthrough occur? How long must you wait?

As long as it takes.

There is a link in the second post (presuming it still works as do all of the others on that page–I know one didn’t and I apologized for that as I really liked all of the information the page presented.) Anyway, the page shows just how far humans have evolved and have always used time and almost (to me anyway) relied upon it so heavily.

What would life be like without time? (Okay, maybe the meds have hit PA you’re all thinking…) But really, would it all be utter chaos or do we need it to keep organized and things on some sort schedule? I mean, I have become so unscheduled lately with being off from work, I honestly don’t know what day it is unless I check on this very computer, I really wouldn’t know what time it was unless I bothered to check, apart from night and day based upon the position of the sun. True, I have had some appointments so I haven’t been living in a “time-free” universe but otherwise I’ve been doing fine.

However, I’ve been pretty isolated. What about meeting socially? “Okay we’ll meet at Desitination X at…” That might prove difficult. And traveling. That might get messy. Can’t have planes and trains and things colliding into each other.

So maybe we do need time as a construct. But as this bizarre abstract concept…when, when, when? Or wait, wait, wait…

I am disliking it very much right now.

And what about the reverse when time just zips past you and you don’t even know what has happened? Which do you think is worse? Sitting around biding it away, sometimes feeling like you’re wasting away or having life just pass you by?

I think the latter is much more easily dealt with.

…you get a depressing song. This has been on ferretsounds over at gloomferret’s pad but I don’t think he’s ever posted a video. I give you Song To The Siren by This Mortal Coil. I find this clip good and interesting as it gives you the lyrics (they can be a bit hard to understand) and has Bulgarian subtitles…how interesting.

Also, if you like this one, another one of my favourites is ‘The Lacemaker.’ Basically instrumental with only two lines as lyrics: “Dreams are like water, colourless and dangerous.”

Oh poor Nicole! I think I gave her some serious upset. Sorry about that, dear. And I guess Amanda too since she popped in while I was composing this. Welcome, Amanda.

I think it was just my “Involutional Melancholia” kicking in today. Sometimes I get a little concerned about ranting on my blog but I suppose that is one of its purposes. Well, here’s another rant, screed etc…

I am severely pissed off. Let’s just get that right out in the open. I am REALLY fucking pissed off. And tired. I would probably use more colourful language in this post but I can barely move. I am that bloody out of it. Alright, how long did my exercise in futility take me today? 3.5 hours. Yes, 3.5 hours for approximately 3.5 minutes of a man’s time.

Wait, let’s get some “nourishment” as I’ve only had time for breakfast so yes, let’s get some Ensure into me. Yes, PA is still trying in vain to eat. And if I can get tangential here for a minute, it says that it is a “Complete Meal Replacement.” I don’t get that from a caloric input stance. Now, I just did a couple of quick things online and for my size I should be eating anywhere from around 1800 (normal, not to lose weight, I am guessing to simply maintain) to 2400 (to try and gain.) A tin of Ensure has 250 calories!!! Where the hell am I suppose to get the rest?! I mean crap! Okay, there are 12 tins in a case so I guess if I drank anywhere from a half to a third of a case a day, I might be able to make it. Could you believe?

Does anyone have any suggestions for some really high fat foods? Other than, like I suggested earlier, becoming the next Morgan Spurlock and dining at McDonald’s every day?

Okay, back to my unbelievably shitty experience with my prospective new psychiatrist. Who might I add may very well be an arse and rather nuts himself. Or at least…well, absentminded and/or strange. Which I don’t necessarily mind as personal traits but in a health care practitioner it makes me rather nervous.

So the first problem was the fact that public transit “broke down.” Literally. So A whole whack of us were redirected to take another route. It was painfully slow and I was late. I called the office and left a message to make them aware of this fact. Regardless, I hate being late for appointments and it makes me anxious and I was already anxious enough! So I arrive, approximately 15 minutes late.

I enter the office and there is an empty desk with no receptionist. I wonder if anyone received my call and started to worry some more. Oh dear. This was certainly not a good way to start a new relationship with a doctor. He was already in session with someone as his door was closed and I could hear their voices but not clearly enough to make out any words. I waited for about 45 minutes.

The doctor came out and greeted me and I apologized for being late and that transit was the issue and he told me that in fact, the time for my appointment was an hour earlier than I had it originally scheduled. He also said he called me. Yes, this is true as I had called his office to confirm that I was showing up, at the confirmed time yesterday and to let him know that I in fact had been discharged. Now remember, this appointment had been made while I was still admitted to hospital.

Okay. So he called, didn’t leave a message and then told me that my appointment was an hour before the original time it was set. What? Was the call he made to change the appointment time? Why did he call? What did he want? He didn’t leave me a message. I was outside so I did not pick up the phone. That is why I have the ability for people to leave messages.

A second thought. Now I know your brain isn’t functioning all that well when you are in hospital (that is why you are there) but I confirmed the appointment time twice with him over the phone. Twice. This is very important as my GP and I have been working so hard to try and find me an outpatient psychiatrist. That is why I took the whole call rather seriously and didn’t want to screw it up.

So after all of this, he said he couldn’t see me. I started to (slightly) seethe inside but as I was so tired I really wanted to actually fall into a heap on the floor at his feet. He looked at me and said, he would speak to me for a few minutes. I gave him the referral from my GP and he glanced at it and we talked for a bit about Bipolar and he said he wasn’t sure if he could see me (oh no…not THIS again!!!) and he also stated that with Bipolar it is so up and down that I would probably be in the hospital again in about three or four months.


Did you get that everyone? Great. Thank you for you confidence Dr. _______ (please select your word of choice right now because I was so dumbfounded by that statement I just couldn’t think and I still don’t know what to think. Nonetheless, he said he would see me for a consult next week. Again…here we go and if it’s another one off I think my GP and I will do a simultaneous howl at the moon. He also strongly reminded me to be on time! I felt like a naughty schoolgirl.

Oh, wait. That last sentence kind of has a double entendre doesn’t it? Well, never mind. You all know what I mean!

Shit, like I could help the transit situation! I left earlier than I needed to. I had ample time to get there but it wasn’t my fault!

On the way home, I couldn’t decide whether to listen to angry music or depressing music so I went with a little bit of both. I’ll give you guys a rockin’ angry one. Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes. I don’t really know if I actually like this band but I like this song at least. And well, any band with a gal on drums is pretty awesome in my books.


Due to too many outrageous, ridiculous screeds (or short episodic blasts of uselessness) by the writer of this blog (“Patient Anonymous”) this blog (“Patient Anonymous: Just Another Head Case”) will be shut down until further notice.

We thank you for your co-operation and until further service resumes, please direct your attention to the right sidebar for entertainment. Or just use the internet.

Okay, so I finally decide to eat and I just fucking can’t. It’s got nothing to do with the alcohol. I’ve come home from the pub and eaten before. Pot’s supposed to give you the “munchies,” right? Well, it hasn’t really much with me before and it’s certainly not now.

I could barely choke down what I just made. I’m drinking Ensure and waiting for the meds to kick in. Crap. You see? Trying to eat and still fucking can’t.


Gimme the fucking parenteral.

Yes, no more numbered installments. I can’t keep track of the pub missives. I decided to go out again to try and “think.” I should have known better. It’s not that I didn’t get a scarce chance. I did for some brief moments but so many things ended up happening. It’s very hard when you end up struggling to fight with isolating yourself and yet feeling so restless and then going back to repetitive behaviour.

The cycle continues.

At least tonight men didn’t come on to me.

But it was an interesting night. Shit, I smoked pot. But that wasn’t the most interesting part. There was a reason for that. I was kind of sourcing it out for a woman but she found it herself. However, I’ll get to that–more of the most interesting part?

I spent some time with J., an ersatz bartender who is an older man who tends to watch my back. That is nice but he always compliments me in a way that I don’t feel quite comfortable with. That’s okay. PA can handle herself. He just has a little too much to drink and he gets a little too chatty. We play pool and that is fun…we pass time and talk and he dishes the dirt about the pub which tends to be amusing.

Things got a little tense. People get so bloody stupid when they drink. People got argumentative and PA got pissed off and slammed her pint on the bar and stormed out for a cigarette. Now that was a little outrageous. PA is a total pacifist but for some reason she decided to not put up with the shit that she was being force fed by a bunch of fucking assholes. And no, it wasn’t abusive but it was just fucking verbally intolerable and unacceptable and PA had dealt with enough. And when PA had tried to reason and when the assholes pursued, PA went slightly ballistic.

Okay, note to D. if you read this, no, I am not an alcoholic as you suspected in my profile.

So I ran into a man who thought he was an former CIA agent. Interesting. Okay, PA is bad. She couldn’t resist toying with him. So she made up some madcap story about her own alias and how so much was classified and that the only code word she could reveal was “Butterfly.” She also said that she had no ID and she wasn’t wearing a gun because she was on leave and away from her “safehouse.” Heh.

But on a more serious note, she met a woman whose son who was Bipolar and committed suicide several years ago tomorrow. Fuck me. We had a very long talk. I told her all about me, meds…everything that I knew and based upon her son’s story I would definitely say Bipolar I. I gave her my name and number and said to call me anytime she wished to talk. Apparently there is so much mental illness in her family history.

This is where the marijuana came in. She apparently has a script for medical pot but had ran out. So she sent me on a little mission to find anyone who had any in the pub. Well, PA is friendly and outgoing (especially after a few pints?) and I did feel bad for this woman so I thought, what the fuck, I’ll ask around and see if anyone is smoking up. It turned out no one was. Now bear in mind that I’ve seen people and know that at least a few people smoke pot at this pub. I wasn’t just blindly going around asking for dope.

Anyway, it turned out she found someone on her own and I went out for a cigarette. I had a couple of tokes and it wasn’t great stuff and I actually had to help the woman out with how to smoke it but whatever. I think it was because it was a funny pipe and she was just used to joints? I don’t know.

Well, I’m still at odds with the pub. It’s a love/hate relationship but sometimes I wonder if it’s a love/hate relationship with the structure or with myself. That’s quite a heavy statement as I really don’t feel like I hate myself right now but why do I keep subjecting myself to sometimes such unhealthy behaviour?

And on that note, I’d better go feed myself. Barley and hops just isn’t great for dinner. Been there, done that. I’ve got to improve.