It's 0045 and I can't sleep - again. Despite industrial quantities of sleepers and antipsychs, that is - I think the poor psychiatrist has rather given up, as I seem to eat pills to no effect. She's very nice, the psychiatrist - she works for the Home Treatment team, and I'm under them at the moment. They visit every day; they also phone and I can call them any time. It's 0049 now - doesn't time crawl when you're having fun?
I'm on a weird combination of drugs - quetiapine, aripiprazole, venlafaxine and lorazepam. Oh - and a couple of nitrazepam thrown in for good measure. I've developed an allergic reaction to one of them; my hands and face itch, which is most annoying. The medical answer is to take another drug, not stop the offending one. When I was on olanzapine, my face swelled up and my hair fell out, so you can see why rashes make me anxious.
I'm listening to country blues by a bloke called Jorma Kaukonen - I recommend it.
0609 - dozed for most of the night. Very little quality sleep and it's still bloody dark outside AND I'm still itching. Today, the Home Treatment team will visit and then, as a kind of experiment, I'm having a session with a sound therapist - he uses tuning forks and gongs to balance the chakras. More madness? Not in my view; anything is worth a shot.
I've been planning my funeral; not that I tell people, because they panic. I get satisfaction from choosing the music and the readings and I want those present to enjoy themselves. I've chosen a Code Poem for the Resistance as a reading:
The life that I have is all that I have
And the life that I have is yours.
The love that I have for the life that I have
Is yours and yours and yours.
A rest I shall have, some peace I shall have,
Yet death will be but a pause;
For the years I shall have in the long green grass
Will be yours and yours and yours.
I'd also like a piece from the Velveteen Rabbit, about being loved, but I can't find the book.
I spent 16 years in the RAF defending the Free World , then got bunged out unceremoniously for being bipolar. I and was subsequently diagnosed with PTSD. Funny old world, isn't it?