Dr phoned from HT. We decided to leave the venlafaxine at 225mg until the end of the week, as I've only been on the increased dose for 6 days. She'll review it then, with the option of going up to 300mg. She asked all the right questions, as usual, and I tried to answer them honestly - but it's very difficult to tell whether I'm slightly better or slightly worse as it's all horrid. My only fears about increasing the venlafaxine are that it might make me rebound to a high, and it might further disturb my sleep. Dr is away this week, so it will be next week when we speak again. In the meantime, HT will continue to support me. She asked the normal things - suicidal thoughts, tick; voices, tick; will I act on them, no, tick. Tick tock.
I survived the nail painting. Nice girl who did it, and she asked me what I was doing for my holidays this year - I mentioned Salzburg, but felt overwhelmed at the thought of it. Kate and I are cancelling London tomorrow - as I am having trouble even getting into a shower, London seems a step too far, and I panic just thinking about it. We would have stayed with my cousin in Pimlico - but supposing I had woken in the night and couldn't smoke or write? Anyway, I must phone people to cancel. That's quite difficult in itself, actually - I hate the phone at the moment. Maybe I could sneak up on the calls and do them when I'm not thinking about it.
Had a lovely card from a friend in the village, wishing me a speedy recovery and saying that everyone missed me over the weekend. Very kind. I should ring to say thank you, but can't quite face it - I'm sure she'll understand.
Now I have to gather myself to have that shower. My cousin Richard has just called and I've cancelled staying with him. Now I have to cancel the afternoon tea at a hotel in Park Lane. I'll have a fag and think about it.
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?