I'm Back

Wow, didn't realise how long it was since I last posted.
OK, so last week I went to the UK for a week.  Before this, a couple of things happened here to really upset me.
First, I found that all the Norway stuff, NOTW and Amy Winehouses death REALLY touched me.  I was getting all ranty about right and wrong, crying and feeling generally shit about life and the world we live in.  This culminated in an arguement with my exes sister in a bar about how wrong she was when she spouted that Amy Winehouse brought it all on herself as she had all the support she needed and didn't do anything about her addictions.  I argued that addictions are complicated and she was compelled to keep her drugs and alcohol lifestyle because of her addicitions which she couldn't really help at that stage (bear in mind my exes sister went out with a serious drug addict).  Anyway, i stormed out the bar in a rage and came home and cried and cried.  She had also said that people "like that" can help themselves where as people with cancer can't etc. etc.  So I went home and sent a ranty email to my psychiatrist, as  follows:

Hello,

OK, BILLS – the situation is this.  I am now with the Sozialdienst – Herr A, so anything he needs to know, you can tell him. He has been really helpful and I had 2 appointments with him last week.  I am back with Avanex – they paid my hospital bill for March but anything 1^st Jan – 30^th June they will not pay until the arrears are cleared (hence I am back to the same situation as 2 years ago).  Herr A is trying to get agreement that they will pay the bills.  However, if they won’t pay them, I can offer 100chf a month to clear the arrears of medical bills (i.e. yours).  Could you plese let AKCM know this so they don’t register with the Betreibungsamt. I will also need Einzahlungscheins to repay.

Me -  was good, now not so good.  I have been generally OK but over the last two weeks fighting dropping lower and lower.  There is so much happening in the world outside Wengen that I can’t understand and frightens me and is making me anxious and upset (Norway, Phone Hacking, Amy Winehouse’s death).  In fact, I have just left RBar after an argument about Amy Winehouse which upset me as apparently she had lots of help and is still dead therefore it is her fault, it’s not like she had cancer anyway.  And this comes from J’s sister who went out with e drug addict from L for many years (M in case you don’t already know him).  Walked home crying – why don’t people get it that addiction for some people is a real problem no matter how much help they get? I feel so worthless and pathetic that I only have depression and should just “get over it”.  Maybe I should, but these last few days I have felt so low without explanation and I just can’t get it across to people.  And yet, for the week before I was on top of the world and reading self help books and making plans.

My schoolfriend wants me in England this weekend for her mother’s birthday.  Her mother is like a second mother for me (ex-nurse too) so she has paid for me to go.  Maybe it will do me some good to get off the mountain for a while.

I thought I was doing so well – OK, no job ( I didn’t get that job last month and a couple of others I really thought I was in with a chance of rejected me) – all I am doing is dog-walking for a friend of mine who has returned to college but that’s only as a friend to get me out of the house and to be doing something rather than nothing.  I see Dr A on 4^th August when I come back from the UK.

I know I am rambling about nothing, but I don’t want to book another appointment until I have paid your bills.  But I am just so upset at the moment.  I am still not sleeping (unless I take Seroquel) which is not helping but I really feel lost and lonely and stupid and useless.  And I have lots of questions for you – I have been reading too many books about how Psychiatrists are all influenced by Big Pharma and that the brain chemical theory is all a myth so I feel even more stupid and useless because I feel the antidepressants do help me in some way, but maybe it is all in my head because you are conning me (according to them). I don’t know what to believe anymore, all I know is I don’t feel right.  And I don’t understand it because I felt good for a while – full of plans and ideas and a way forward.  But today I don’t.  And speaking to people they just make me feel worse because apparently I am in control of getting help and therefore have no right to feel the way I do.  After all, it’s not like I’ve got cancer, is it?

Sorry to take up your time, I am writing this when I am feeling quite low and confused.

Me

Actually, this is the first time I have rad it back and maybe it doesn't seem so bad that I emailed him as it was a definate cringe factor for me that I had sent it.  Anyway, luckily he was out of the office until 4th August.  However, when I was on the train to the airport one of his colleagues phoned me but I couldn't really speak as I was on a train full of people and didn't want to discuss my mental state of mind so I just said I was "fine" (?!).

I'd also had a rant on facebook which my exes sister saw because she "liked" one of my comments.  I take that as her way of apology.  she has been super nice to me since I came back from the UK.

So when I was away I demanded that my ex stay at my place to look after our cat (my cat now).  Which he did.  I filled the fridge full of food as it was a bank holiday and he was working stupid hours for the August 1st celebrations.  When I came back last Wednesday, the studio was in a TIP - dirty, messy, his stuff everwhere and NO FOOD.  I'd been up since 5 a.m., got back at 4pm and was not best pleased.  To be fair, when he saw me (I went straight to the bar after shopping) he did apologise about the mess but I was soooooo cross I couldn't even speak to him.  He came round to my flat many hours later to "pick up his stuff" even though I had told him not to and he ended up staying the night.  I think he was wanting a bit of sex (as to complicate the matter he is now my fuck buddy) but he didn't get any as I am on.  Anyway, two days later he came round again during the day for a "shower" and I am sure sex but I lied and said I still had my period as I just couldn't be bothered.  And then he wants me to sort out HIS health insurance, tax, debt in the UK etc.  I just keep saying yeah I'll do it and keep leaving it.  WHY do I keep enabling him?

So the UK - it was FANTASTIC! I went to see my schoolfriend whom I have known for over 20 years (god I sound old).  She paid for my flights so I could be there for her mum's 70th birthday which was a lovely day.  Her mum is like a second mum to me and it was great to see her and feel loved and cared for.  Anyway, E (my friend) took me out to see her social life and I met some of her new friends who are lovely. They made me feel so welcome.  I didn't go out every time she did because I was knackered from the Seroquel, but I slept better, ate better and felt better for the week there.  In fact, her friends were begging me to stay and not go home by the end of the week.  For the first time in ages I felt included and wanted and loved.  I can't leave this bloody country until all this health insurance thing is sorted out.  Even though I think I can return to the UK and get a decent job with more money to pay the debt back quicker, I don't think I am allowed to leave the country permanently with a debt.

So now I am back home.  And I have dropped into a hole again.  I missed my doctors appointment on the 4th as I was asleep so have rescheduled.  But I feel lonely and very sad and dwelling on stuff. I am usually back on Twitter, facebook and blogging but I just haven't felt like it.  I've been drinking a lot too, which doesn't help. I am content with life here but it's not enough.  And then I think, if I go back to the UK, is it just another distraction, major life changing thing that I tend to do when life gets too much which doesn't actually solve anything?

Confused.

Progress

I feel bad.  Very bad.
I've been feeling (up until now) pretty stable, not unhappy, able to cope.  However, a couple of things have been happening which I think have contributed to my mood suddenly skydiving.
First - ex boyfriend.  He split up because he said he wanted to be on his own.  Then he said a couple of weeks ago that he had never needed anybody (and although I don't want to feel needed, it's still hurtful that he doesn't need me in his life).  Now he is saying he is lonely.  Oh, and for some reason I still keep sleeping with him.
Second, I just found out that 3 and a half grands worth (CHF) of bills DID NOT get processed by the bank at the beginning of April.  And they didn't even send me a letter to tell me.  So I came back from holiday thinking the bills had been paid and oh look, I've done well managing my money and have enough to last me two months, which has now been spent on...well....living costs. So I am again behind with my psychiatrist bill and at the moment am in limbo between two health insurers so have no idea who is insuring me and who is paying my doctor's bills.
When I found out about the non-paid bills yesterday I really tried to not obsessively think about it.  I tried to do what that patronising prick Eckhart Tolle tells me in The Power of Now to just live in the situation. So I tried to distract myself but there was this little voice in the back of my thoughts repeating "FUUUUUCCCCKK" no matter what I did.  I disassociated from my feelings to try and cope.  Didn't work, the voice was still there. So I took some Seroquel to calm the voice down.  Promptly fell asleep for an hour which pissed me off as I haven't been sleeping properly at night for ages and didn't want to mess up my sort of routine.  (I was awake until at least 2 a.m. so yet more Seroquel to help me sleep).  Woke up this morning feeling generally low, lethargic and like I wanted to cry (and haven't been able to all day). Forced myself to get dressed and go out into the village (I needed some shopping and to pick up a prescription for Naltrexon) and found that I was feeling a bit disorientated and anxious about all the people.  Picked up my prescription and had a really nice chat with my pharmacist (she is a star and orders my drugs on emergency many times as I forget to reorder in time).  She asked me if I was living somewhere new as she had seen me carrying shopping at the other end of town.  I told her me and J split up in February, which she didn't know (her boyfriend was J's boss).  Anyway, she split up with her boyfriend (which I knew about) - he was 45, they had been together 20 years and he, like J, just turned round one day and said he didn't want to be in the relationship any more.  So there we were, in the middle of the pharmacy, bitching about men and mid-life crises.  But she said I looked better and although I felt like crying (which she kept apologising for) it was more because she was being so kind about it and not telling me crap like there are plenty of fish in the sea etc, etc.  She said we could meet up for a soft drink (she knows I have an alcohol problem) and that I can phone her any time.  We were both of the opinion that it can be a bit lonely sometimes and the thank goodness for our cat (mine)/dog (hers) to help us through.  Oh, and men are crap, pathetic little babies that can't deal with real life.  (Bit hypocritical on my part I guess).
Anyway, am at home now, a friend of mine will be on fb later to talk about not drinking (again) and hopefully remind me of the shame of alcohol.  I managed today all right but it is hard.  Still, am at home now and no alcohol in the house so as long as I stay in, I can get through today sober.
Doctor (GP) appointment on Wednesday, need to make another Psych appointment soon (when the bills are paid).  Still no job.

On the Up, thank goodness

I appear to be out of a five day depression and I am so grateful, I felt horrible and even the meds weren't working.  I  hate feeling so low and I try to feel positive but feelings are feelings and emotions are emotions - positive thinking is just not something that sinks in when my brain chemistry is fucked anyway.  Yesterday was a terrible struggle to get to work and maintain some form of control when all I could cope with was having a shedload of seroquel and sleeping it off.  (I love oblivion). but I didn't, and I got through the day, even forced myself (and I mean humungous effort) to go ski-ing, kept telling myself I would feel better, but in the end instead of me letting down a friend, they let me down and didn't appear.  OK, I thought, my man is still skiing and we haven't had much time together, but no, he was back in the village already.  Felt sad, disappointed and unloved - yep, all my own insecurities and I should just "get over it" but I don't function like normal people and just couldn't. Thought bollocks to it, need oblivion and turned to the red wine instead of the prescription meds.
Realised that while before I would just self harm, the last 7 years I have self medicated with alcohol (which leads to even more self harm) and ask myself, why bother anyway, it's not like I am anyone special.It's not like I can cope or not fuck up relationships like I do.  I can't even face socialising tonight which is the only way of seeing my boyfriend as when he comes home he has a bath and goes to bed, maybe eats.  But I can't leave him or I would be as bad as the way my last relationship ended and J really loves me.  I just have to ride it out, maybe it's my pennance or something.

Chromium for Depression

UPDATE ON CHROMIUM FOR DEPRESSION
Two small placebo controlled trials have shown a role for high doses (600mcg) of the essential mineral chromium in the treatment of 'atypical' depression, characterized by periods of low mood accompanied with carbohydrate cravings, weight gain and excessive sleepiness. (Docharty J et al, J Psychiatr Pract. 2005 Sep;11(5):302-14; Davidson J et al Biol Psychiatry. 2003 Feb 1;53(3):261-4.) 
More recent animal studies have reported an anti-depressant an d ant-anxiety effect of chromium possibly linked to a serotonin promoting effect
(Piotrowska A, Pharmacol Rep. 2008 Nov-Dec;60(6):991-5;  and Khanam R & Pillai KK. Fundam Clin Pharmacol. 2007 Oct;21(5):531-4). Chromium, which is an essential co-factor for the insulin receptor, has also been shown to reduce sugar and fat craving and tends to promote weight loss
, a fact which in itself would cheer the average dieter up. (Anton A et al Diabetes Technol Ther. 2008 Oct;10(5):405-12) In clinical practice we find that 400mcg of chromium, taken in the morning and a furth er 200mcg taken at lunch, produces a mood elevating effect in those with atypical depression. Chromium appears to work very fast with most people noticing an effect within three days. While a larger scale definitive trial is needed, with no toxicity reported below 10,000mcg, chromium is easily and safely tested in those with atypical depression.

Moods

No Holiday. Too late to get a renewed passport except for an emergency one. Have let my friend down - she has been looking forward to this for months now. So my mood has dropped from the top of the mountain to about a third of the way up from the valley floor - at the moment is stabilising there.

The local RAV (unemployment office) have just phoned me - I have to go tomorrow for the "information day" which all unemployed scum have to attend. I then have the humiliating task of a one to one interview where my health is sure to be probed. Starting to feel anxious now. I think my cat is picking up on it because he is a little bit flighty today.

Bad bad days

Yep, it's negative old me again. Wish this rain would stop, doesnt really help.

A few ups and downs this weeks, and the downs have been really really downs. I feel like everyone around me are the crazy ones and I have to check myself to see if I am still real. Today was a classic and an experience I havent had for a while. It goes like this:

Already wound up this week about being pushed out of a get-together, I think i have genuine reason but as its me it gets blown out of all proportion, hence the self doubts come in, guilt, hating self, noone like me etc, etc. Then this evening went into local bar (no alcohol-well done me), sitting there chilling and looked around at the people around me and felt.......nothing.....like it isn't my world. Then started to feel anxious and wanted to just be in a quiet place and alone, so went home. Just about got home before started crying, tried to distract myself by doing the washing up but that is really hard to do when I can hardly breathe as I am hyperventilating plus can't see because of the tears. Collapsed on the kitchen floor for a while as the cat looked on concerned (or maybe hunger). Got it together just about, am meant to phone someone when I am like this but didnt want to make a fuss when I am pronbably overreacting to something, although I dont know what that something is (although a broken heart is still the most likeliest cause).

Went to bedroom to grab tranqs, ended up pulling at hair and desperately trying to calm self down. Took a massive dose of Seroquel so that I wouldnt have the roundabout thoughts in my head and hopefully my brain would feel as shut off from the world as the rest of me.

Anyway, eventually calmed myself down, pissed off that my "coping strategies" didnt realy work and I really really really tried to get myself under control, so now feel even more shit about myself.

What happened to my sunshine life by the sea and surrounded by lovely people? Those lovely people no longer want to know me, the people who I thought were lovely people currently around me have not been very lovely despite my efforts and my family are strangers to me and I can't deal with them anyway. So where do I go from here? I just feel so tired and lost without my "One". Which is a bad situation. Why do things have to turn out this way? Why do I forever fuck things up with this fuzzled brain, why does everyone dismiss me rather than listen to my motivation or reasons for doing something? Am I a doormat? I know I am strong inside but I just dont trust who I am anymore, I dont know who I am anymore and there has only been one person in my life who knows me inside out that could tell me who I was and could be now, but doesnt want to know me.

So my conclusion after all this is that I have no place in this world. I will be invisible. No-ones heart would be torn apart if I left. If I thought it would be, I would stay and work this out.

My experience of a Swiss psychiatric clinic (2)

The next morning, while walking to the station through the rain, my boyfriend and I formulated a story that I was going to England to update my Employment Law for my professional qualification in Human Resources – this was perfect because I would not be away for long and if I came back for the weekend it was a natural break between courses. . I purchased our tickets from the machine rather than going to the ticket desk – people knew me – they would surely notice I was buying a one way ticket to Meiringen and everyone knew what that meant.

J asked me how I was every 5 minutes. I just wanted to bawl my eyes out as I got more and more anxious – what was I doing? I had no clue as to who I was any more and the outside world became one big blur. The train journey was tense and I chain smoked at any opportunity. I felt confused, scared, numb, sad all at once and wished that the clinic was closer to home. With connections the journey took at best 1½ hours, at worst 2 hours even though it was only two valleys away as the crow flies. I was paranoid that everyone on the train could see me and my case and knew that I was mental. John was really calming and I felt guilty that he had to go through this experience. I remember that I kept apologising to him and he kept reassuring me – how draining that must have been for him.

We arrived at the destination station and although I had printed a map from the internet I couldn’t work out in which direction I should take to get to the clinic. So we called a taxi – I was so embarrassed that the taxi driver would know that I was being admitted, particularly when he dropped us off explaining that the entrance in front of us was for admissions. The drive wasn’t far to get there and to get to the admissions entrance, located in a large three storey building we passed the clinic tennis courts and the Funicular railway that takes you to the top of the Reichenbach Falls made famous by Sherlock Holmes. All was looking very high class.

I introduced myself to the receptionist (my boyfriend had joked that he looked more like the one who should be admitted) and we were asked to wait in the vestibule conservatory which looked out onto the gardens in front of the clinic. I was feeling very anxious by this stage and was nearly in tears – what was I doing?! I didn’t want to leave my boyfriend. We waited what seemed like an eternal five minutes for someone to arrive to take me to my home for the next week (or so I thought).

One thing I noticed about the clinic was that no-one looked like a nurse or doctor. In England it is very formal – suits and professionalism but in Switzerland I was likely to see my doctor in jeans. I didn’t mind this at all and felt comfortable as I think that suits create a formal barrier. Nurses both male and female at the clinic wore their own casual clothes and a name badge (which surprised me – think of the sharp pin on the back that some nutter could grab). My nurse for my admission was I think some kind of trainee, very pleasant and not great English but I managed to stumble through my German enough to be understood. She led us out of the building we were in across the forecourt and car park, past a restaurant (restaurant!) towards a two story building covered in overlapping blue/grey tiles which was open at one side of a square and overlooked a grass courtyard. Another building was attached to one corner of the square and this housed the thermal bath (wow – a spa!) and treatment rooms. I was led into a building labelled both old age care (I realised after a while that it was for geriatrics with mental health problems and not in fact anorexics) and emergency “acute” ward. The “akut” ward was the “closed ward” my doctor had spoke of.

This was to be my first experience of being locked up – all the carers, nurses and doctors had big bunches of keys and I came to spend many hours trying to figure out how I could get hold of a set without them knowing. Nora, my nurse assigned to me unlocked the door to the ward and led me and my boyfriend inside, closing and locking the door behind. We were led along a corridor with identical wide, white doors labelled with numbers or “Bad” (bathroom), “Besprechen” (meeting room) and suchlike. I was first led to a small medical room and asked to take my coat off. How humiliating – I was searched for sharp objects. I had kind of worked out that perhaps I wouldn’t be able to take my Gillette Venus razor “inside” and had to resort to hair removing cream (no way I was going to look like a gorilla when my boyfriend finally saw me again) but I was still shocked I was experiencing treatment like I was some kind of criminal in a police station, but I understood why they had to check – after all, there were a lot of nutters admitted who probably had whole knives on their person.

I was weighed (63 kilos – oooh, lost two since five months before without even trying), height measured, asked when I last had sex, bottom probed etc, etc, (Ok I am lying about the last two) and then we were taken to the “Besprechung” room where there was not one, but two other people, myself, my boyfriend and my new nurse. The doctor introduced himself (he looked so young how could he possibly be able to help me – I would give him a chance to prove himself though) as did another (male) nurse. They all sat there like it was an interview panel with pens and paper and a file in front of them. I didn’t like this. They asked me if I wanted to talk in German or English (English for this although I was embarrassed by it) and did I want my boyfriend present (No, because I hadn’t told him the full story and now was not the time or place). I was waiting for them to start taping the interview but they just took notes instead. John was released outside to smoke a packet of fags no doubt.

I began to talk. I cried. I stopped talking because I was too busy crying. Someone got me a fruit tea (one of many cups I was to drink in there), they interrogated me (every question to me in that state felt like a grilling) and finally they called my boyfriend back in the room. They asked him what I had been like. Now, my boyfriend is naturally suspicious of questions and of hospital like places, so I knew he wasn’t really going to lay it on thick. But he was as honest as he could be, the main worry for him was that he didn’t understand what was going on. It was surreal even to me, and I was the one who had agreed to go there.

The whole admission process took about two hours. Eventually I was shown to my allocated room for the night. It was a large, ground floor room with two “hospital” type beds in, overlooking a grass courtyard. To the other side of the courtyard were some outside tables and chairs where there was an old grey haired tramp (or so he looked) dressed in denim and smoking roll ups. The patio doors from my room to a small glass conservatory which led to this courtyard were locked. The other window next to my bed looking out was also locked. I started to feel oh so slightly claustrophobic.

While my boyfriend looked on, Nora let me unpack my few belongings and checked each item for more forbidden items. She took my mobile phone charger, iPod and charger and my purse. We were only allowed our mobile phones between 8 a.m. and 8 p.m., they would be charged in the nurse’s station. If we needed money we could ask for it again from the nurse’s station. She finally took my medication to be stored in a safe place, presumably to prevent me from taking an overdose. From now on, my tablets would be counted out and issued to me at strict timings throughout the day, usually with mealtimes.

The time came for me to say goodbye to my boyfriend, J. Poor guy, he looked more shell shocked than me and I knew he was twitching at even stepping foot in an institution, let alone the shock that his girlfriend was seriously ill. Still, I reassured him I would be out next week. As we passed the smoking room (yes, smoking is allowed in Switzerland) and I thanked my stars that I wasn’t in the UK where smoking was banned, I became less and less confident. My J was going home – I wasn’t. The doors were finally unlocked for J to go home and I gave him a hug. It was a bear hug like I will never forget and a lot of unspoken words were passed between us.

The door closed behind him. I knew he would come and visit at the weekend.


I returned to my room alone and sad. While I placed my belongings in some kind of order in the lockable cupboards provided, I reflected on the morning and the emotions that had been brought up. Here I was in near isolation, exhausted, weepy, knowing that I wanted to die but unable to explain why, wanting my boyfriend desperately, worrying that he was going to leave me like the last one had. I felt totally alone. As I put my wash things in the small bathroom I noticed that even the door didn’t have a lock and that everything was nailed or screwed down with no sharp edges or potential weapons of self harm.

I finally collapsed onto my bed huddled in a ball and wept, thinking all the time what a failure I was.

I couldn’t even do that alone. Every five minutes it seemed that my self pity was interrupted with questions about my medical insurance, was I OK, did I know it was lunchtime (I was most definitely NOT hungry) and that it was time to take my medication. Would I ever get any peace I wondered?

I ventured out of my room and along the corridor to the kitchen and dining area. All of a sudden, people kept introducing themselves, shaking hands and asking my name as the Swiss do. I knew they were trying to make me feel at ease but I just wanted to be left alone. When the meal wagon arrived (a large metal cabinet with rows of ready prepared trays) it was explained how to find the tray with my name and how to clear up afterwards.

I nibbled at my food and couldn’t wait to bolt back to my room, my semi safe haven. Occasionally I would glance sideways at the other patients. M would rock backwards and forwards in his chair, seated at a table well away from the rest of us. I couldn’t help but stare at him – couldn’t anyone see how funny he looked, rocking each time he ate a mouthful of food. He was clearly a bit mad. Then there was Frau X who stood back until everyone had collected their tray before she would take hers, nervously stepping in. T would scrounge everyone’s leftovers and being on the large side I wondered if she was meant to be eating them. I tried to avoid the men as they could have been sex attackers for all I knew. I felt bad for viewing the other patients in this way as after all, they were all lovely once I got over my initial suspicion and I was no different to any of them (except for Herr M, who one of the nurses put was “just a bit mad” when I complained about his constant screaming all day. We never saw him but the nurses would frequently check on him especially when it sounded like he would kick the door down. He was a definite candidate for plastic utensils and crockery. (We were allowed real knives and forks, except we had to ask for the bread to be cut with a breadknife which was then locked away again by a member of staff).

After lunch I again curled up into a ball and varied between sleeping and crying. I was so scared and confused. The nurses checked on me about ever half an hour, taking blood pressure checks and pulse checks, asking me if I was OK and finally a humiliating physical check by the doctor. Humiliating because I felt exposed and vulnerable despite the female nurse observing and I was worried the doctor would find something medically wrong with me. Finally I was left alone again.

The cleaners came in and washed the floor and bathroom. I lay curled up on the bed, disinterested. I crept under my duvet after they went and slept some more. I felt numb and confused but began to feel more comfortable in my little bubble.

Nora came in and took my insurance details (the all important medical insurance which would fund my stay at the clinic). She also checked what food I would like daily from a checklist. I could choose a continental breakfast or muesli, fruit juice or milk, a yogurt. I could be vegetarian if I liked. I selected bread and conserve for breakfast with a plain yogurt and a no fish dinner. We had menu plans given to us in advance for the week so we had some idea of what we were to eat.

It is usual in Switzerland for the main meal to be at lunchtime and to have a light supper. All our mealtimes were regimented – breakfast between 7.30 – 8.10 a.m., lunch between 11.30 - 12.10 and evening supper at 5.30 – 6.10. We received our medication from the medical staff at the same time. There were no extra snacks unless we shopped in town, which we had to ask permission for and were usually restricted to how long we could leave the unit for. To begin with I was allowed half an hour a day on my own, presumably so I didn’t have time to go and get plastered on alcohol. But at the beginning I had no intention of leaving my room, I was happy with my duvet and book. I read the three books that I had with me over and over again. Soon it was time for evening dinner, so I crept from my room and waited nervously by the lunch wagon. I wasn’t really hungry to be honest, but didn’t want the nurses to be hassling me to get up and go and eat. When my meal finally arrived on the meal wagon, I snatched it and sat in a corner.