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mercredi 12 février 2014

Randle P. Murphy, I salute you

Yup. I've started having sismotherapy (or electroshocks, as they used to be called). I've had 2 now - one on Friday last, one on Monday last, and am due for at least another 4 (possibly more) every Friday and Monday from here on out.

Let me tell you now: sismo SUCKS. It doesn't hurt (apart from the whole catheter-stabbed-into-your-hand part), but I have never felt so disoriented, so scared, so completely disconnected from everything in my entire life. Thank God - seriously - that my dearest Y has accompanied me both times, bringing me a beautiful (pink) rose the first time, a pastry the second. I couldn't have survived without him there to reassure me, comfort me, just hold me.

It's a miserable treatment, I have no idea if it's working (I took a minor overdose of Lexomil last night just to get to sleep without nightmares, so I'm guessing it's not working yet anyway) and Dr H's kindness and optimism somehow make me feel worse.

And I now live in dread of Fridays and Mondays.

I've always loved the film and book of "One flew over the cuckoo's nest, but now I'm not sure I'll ever be able to watch/read them again. Too close to home for comfort.

How did my life go so horribly wrong? Dr H says he hopes I'll find another love interest soon, but I don't see how that's ever going to happen - I still adore Y, he's moved on to someone else and is "just a friend" (albeit an excellent one) and I feel more alone, unloved and unlovable than ever. Oh, and it's Valentine's fucking day on Friday, where all I'll get is more fucking sismo.

My life sucks.

mardi 4 février 2014

Oh, Howie...

I was a huge fan of Howard Jones way back when. I'm not embarrassed by this, however uncool it might now be seen as. I also had a huge crush on him, but that's another story. I've been listening a lot to my Spotify "sad songs" playlist of late (duh), and this song just came on and oh, the words... Particularly, of course, the last verse...

You can look at the menu, but you just can't eat
You can feel the cushion, but you can't have a seat
You can dip your foot in the pool, but you can't have a swim
You can feel the punishment, but you can't commit the sin
And you want her, and she wants you
We want everyone
And you want her and she wants you
No one, no one, no one ever is to blame

You can build a mansion, but you just can't live in it
You're the fastest runner but you're not allowed to win
Some break the rules, and live to count the cost
The insecurity is the thing that won't get lost
And you want her, and she wants you
We want everyone
And you want her, and she wants you
No one, no one, no one ever is to blame

You can see the summit but you can't reach it
Its the last piece of the puzzle but you just can't make it fit
Doctor says you're cured but you still feel the pain
Aspirations in the clouds but your hopes go down the drain

And you want her, and she wants you
We want everyone
And you want her, and she wants you
No one, no one, no one ever is to blame
No one ever is to blame
No one ever is to blame

So, the consent form has been signed, and my first zap will be on Friday morning. I feel sick. And oh, so very, very scared. I've done plenty of reading on the subject, I know how it goes down, I know there's no "reason" to be scared (well, not much of one), but I can't help it. I feel sick. I truly, truly wish I were dead right now.

dimanche 2 février 2014


The sky is a startling blue today, the sun is shining. It's only 2 February, but from here inside my cell it really looks like spring has sprung (it's mostly likely a lot colder outside than it is here in this hothouse, but still. Spring - the real deal, I mean - really is less than 7 weeks away now...).

My roommate has gone away for the day, and I'll actually be out too this afternoon, invited to a pancake party (here in France, for those of you that don't know, today is La Chandeleur - no idea what that actually means, but it translates into the day that traditionally pancakes are made and consumed in great quantities). The girls are invited too, as is Y.

Ah, Y. He's breaking my heart with his kindness, his friendship. I miss having his arms around me, I miss HIM, all of him. I adore his friendship, I appreciate his help more than I can ever say, but that doesn't mean that my heart doesn't break a little bit more every time I seem him and realise that it really is over between us. And that there will most likely never be anyone else.

I shall get older (not that I have any intention whatsoever to get much older, if you get my drift), and most likely die alone, unnoticed, unmissed, unloved.

I've pretty much decided to go ahead with the ECT. What the hell more can I lose? Yes, I can lose my memory, but ultimately, is that really such a bad thing?

I have my appointment with the anaesthetist on Thursday, and probably my first zapping session the next day. I am, of course, terrified. Y is going to be furious with me (he's wildly against it), but I really don't think I have anything more to lose.

My life sucks. Yes, it could get worse still, but I'm willing to take the risk. And if it sucks worse than before, I have a large stock of medication that should take care of things once and for all.

But today, the sky is blue, the sun is shining, tout baigne.