I checked back in to the hospital on Tuesday, despite administrative problems involving my €3,000 debt from last time, which my "tuteur" claimed he had taken care of, but in fact hadn't (seriously, WTF is the point of having this stupid "tuteur" crap if he doesn't do what he says and just makes my already-chaotic life even more complicated?). I, predictably, spent most of the afternoon and evening in tears (plus ça change and all that jazz).
Yesterday (Wednesday), Dr H turned up at 7 am (good job I'd been awake since before 4...) and we had a long chat. He did most of the talking, and once again brought up the subject of electroconvulsive therapy. Fucking electroshocks, like in One flew over the cuckoo's nest. I, also predictably, did not take this news well.
Now, he can't force me to have ECT, even if I've been sectioned (which I haven't, quite), so I'm free to refuse, and almost certainly will. But just the fact that he thinks that this is a viable option makes me feel sick to the stomach. Almost literally. I can't eat, even the smell of food makes me nauseous.
I refused the IV valium I was supposed to have (never want to experience THAT again, seriously), and also refused the valium in tablet form the first night. I yielded on Wednesday morning, only for it to totally knock me out, so refused it again in the evening and this morning.
This morning, Dr H talked about ECT again, trying to make it seem like a more or less totally harmless experience (which doesn't fit at all with the (many) (serious) articles I read on the subject yesterday afternoon, including this one: http://www.rcpsych.ac.uk/healthadvice/treatmentswellbeing/ect.aspx), but nevertheless repeating that he has other options if I don't want to do it. I don't feel very reassured, I can tell you.
In addition, he announced that tomorrow I'll be transferred back to the part of the hospital I was in at first, the first time round. Apparently, it's not as "locked" as it was, and is more like the other, "open" side now. The reason for this transfer is that it's smaller, so I can be "watched" better. Pffffffff. I'm just going from one feeling of abject failure to another, even more abject.
Dr H assures me that he understands my point of view, understands that I don't feel I have the strength to fight any more and insists that he has enough strength for both of us. Which is nice, I guess. But he also said he's deeply concerned by how far down the black hole I've fallen in such a (relatively) short space of time, by how long this "bad period" has been going on, and by my (OK, I admit it) erratic and/or irresponsible behaviour.
I just want to go home. Be with Tom. Be left alone. But there's little chance of that: Dr H has made it perfectly clear that he doesn't really trust me.
It sure looks like 2014 is going to be another miserable year, doesn't it?