After Eight

It's 2045 and I've just had a long conversation with my Aunt, in which we covered a lot of ground.  I'm now thinking about going to bed and am slightly worried about sleeping - however, I'll have to see what happens.  The Wakeful Imp lurks around the corner, but I'm ignoring it - and making myself a hot milk instead of worrying.  My brain's still active and my thoughts are fast, but HT are probably right - it's a reaction to being depressed rather than a high.  Hope so anyway.  I don't want to go high, even though it starts off as enjoyable - it always ends in disaster and often in an admission to hospital.  I've had 24 of those and I don't want any more.

My hands are still itchy - it's a right bummer.  At least it's only affected my hands - last time it was my face as well.  And then my hair fell out, as I've mentioned on a number of occasions.  I had to wear a wig, which was hot and sticky, and which I was afraid would be pulled off by some mad patient when I was working on the ward.  When my hair started to grow back, I had it cut extremely short and gave up the wig.  No one had guessed it was a wig, which was quite comforting.

There's absolutely nothing on TV at 2100, apart from a docu drama about a serial killer.  QI XL comes on at 2220.  I shall go to bed at 2200 and take my tablets - and see what happens.