Wednesday, August 29, 2007

1 Year, 6 Days

I am on day six of the introduction to Venlafaxine. I am also home now after visiting the North - the welcoming silence here, was and is, palpable.

Days one to five of taking the new drug were OK. I am on the starting dose of 37.5mg - today I increase to 75mg for two weeks then up to 150mg. I haven’t taken Diazepam or sleeping tablets in those five days. I’m not sure if that is because I simply didn’t need to or because I felt more balanced or because things are always a little better at my Mum’s? I like/hope to think it is because the Venlafaxine is a miracle drug that is going to help me get my life back. I do like the fact that the drugs themselves are shaped like little shields, like little superheroes here to save the day. It does worry me slightly that the company stamp on the drug is not too dissimilar to that of the Masons.

I am currently in bed waiting for the postman (I might add that I have the face of a petulant child this morning). My DVD’s didn’t come before I left last week and I am distressed. There has been a Bank Holiday here in the great UK, so maybe that is why they haven’t arrived, yet – maybe today will be the day. My drawers also still smell musty. They got attacked with Fabreeze last night in a last ditch attempt to rid them of their sordid past. I was weeping (quite pitifully) and spraying and blocking the windows open in one, great, dramatic scene. If the smell doesn’t sort itself out soon I might have to douse them in Chanel. I also have a lot of backdated “recording” to do which may be quite dull but, if my memory serves me correctly, I had something amusing to write about my visit with the Psychiatrist – mind you, once the moment/day has passed, it all seems to loose its importance. I also have to phone the Charlie’s to tell them I’m back. One of them left a message on my answer machine yesterday and she sounded like a man. Then I realised that it was the one who comes with one of the other ones and doesn’t speak. She also has very exaggerated “flicks”. Maybe she is a man…in drag. How exciting.

I wonder if I could sneak downstairs in my jim-jams and have a fag on the doorstep? I fear it might be too common a thing to do in this neighbourhood. I’m not quite at the stage of wearing my slippers to the corner shop yet. Mind you, when I was a student we always went to the corner shop in our Pj’s and thought it was totally fine. Mind you in those days, I was ten years younger with the innocent (and slightly less scary), face of an angel. I was also probably drunk.


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