In which we discover zombies are more interesting than BPD
Originally posted @ http://scruffy-duck.net
I was trying to decide what to write about. Zombies? Space: The third to last frontier? My discharge summary and diagnosis?
Which is the more important? The zombies? Certainty more important if they’re knocking down your door, but generally, not a threat to my life.
The third to last frontier? Funny, possibly, but parodies have been done before, and the exploration of a decent sandwich and a lie down don’t really have much sway in the grand scheme of things.
The diagnosis? Probably important, if it actually made any difference to my day to day life. Zombies would, but three letters telling me what I already knew? Meh.
The letters, the diagnosis, actually mean little to the people suffering from these things most of the time I’ve found. Some people, some, really like having a diagnosis, like it brings some sort of clarity to their lives. And I’ve never really understood it. I understand that it helps people get help from medical/mental health services, that’s the good of a diagnosis, but as personal clarification of everything you knew about yourself anyway? Nah.
I’m not arguing with the diagnosis I’ve been given, I guess I’m not really saying anything at all, I’m just sort of rambling until I can collect my thoughts together about zombies.
I’ve had a bad couple of weeks, off and on, up and down. Gotten a bit miserable, very anxious, quite obsessive. I got the letter in the last week or so, and it’s pretty much changed nothing. It’s certainly not helped me sleep, hell the zopiclone didn’t even help me sleep. Except Wednesday, that was nice, but other than that, I think I’m done with zopiclone now, I can’t imagine the doctors increasing the dose they’re going to give me. Considering they don’t like giving it to me at all. I get a weeks worth, every now and again. Though the last doctor I saw, was brilliant (/sarcasm). He told me doesn’t give out sleeping tablets, and then gave me some sleeping tablets. And he only really has my word on the fact that my old GP used to give me zopiclone now and again because they don’t have my medical records yet. Actually, it’s probably best they didn’t.
Apparently, asking for some medical records urgently, means it takes longer for them to be sent through to your new GP. That’s good isn’t? See that’s the real problem here.
Tomorrow (or so) Zombies. Much more interesting, to me and you.
I was trying to decide what to write about. Zombies? Space: The third to last frontier? My discharge summary and diagnosis?
Which is the more important? The zombies? Certainty more important if they’re knocking down your door, but generally, not a threat to my life.
The third to last frontier? Funny, possibly, but parodies have been done before, and the exploration of a decent sandwich and a lie down don’t really have much sway in the grand scheme of things.
The diagnosis? Probably important, if it actually made any difference to my day to day life. Zombies would, but three letters telling me what I already knew? Meh.
The letters, the diagnosis, actually mean little to the people suffering from these things most of the time I’ve found. Some people, some, really like having a diagnosis, like it brings some sort of clarity to their lives. And I’ve never really understood it. I understand that it helps people get help from medical/mental health services, that’s the good of a diagnosis, but as personal clarification of everything you knew about yourself anyway? Nah.
I’m not arguing with the diagnosis I’ve been given, I guess I’m not really saying anything at all, I’m just sort of rambling until I can collect my thoughts together about zombies.
I’ve had a bad couple of weeks, off and on, up and down. Gotten a bit miserable, very anxious, quite obsessive. I got the letter in the last week or so, and it’s pretty much changed nothing. It’s certainly not helped me sleep, hell the zopiclone didn’t even help me sleep. Except Wednesday, that was nice, but other than that, I think I’m done with zopiclone now, I can’t imagine the doctors increasing the dose they’re going to give me. Considering they don’t like giving it to me at all. I get a weeks worth, every now and again. Though the last doctor I saw, was brilliant (/sarcasm). He told me doesn’t give out sleeping tablets, and then gave me some sleeping tablets. And he only really has my word on the fact that my old GP used to give me zopiclone now and again because they don’t have my medical records yet. Actually, it’s probably best they didn’t.
Apparently, asking for some medical records urgently, means it takes longer for them to be sent through to your new GP. That’s good isn’t? See that’s the real problem here.
Tomorrow (or so) Zombies. Much more interesting, to me and you.