My Dream Man

The other morning I was all snuggled up in bed looking forward to a nice lie in thanks to a cheeky morning off work. Dozing somewhere contentedly between half awake and fast asleep I rolled over and felt someone scooch in behind me and press against me in a loving embrace. In my dreamlike state I snuggled back and relished in the tenderness, imagining my suitor to be tall dark and very handsome. Everytime I rolled further over he rolled further into me and it was blissful to be all snugged up on a cold but sunny morning. Of course when I came round my dream man disappeared into the ether like a puff of smoke as I realised there wasn’t a tall hunky gent nuzzling me, it was in fact a rogue pillow that had got hooked into my duvet roll. How sad? Abso-fucking-lutely.

After that tragi-comic start to my day I toddled off to see the head doctor for my six monthly ‘routine check up’ to make sure I’m not dangerously mental and/or think I’m a piece of tropical fruit who was sent here from the planet Sklarg to take over the world. Sat in the waiting room trying to look as normal as possible whilst browsing on my phone I realised the other people waiting were staring at me quite openly. I had to do a cursory check to make sure that yes, I was fully clothed with the appropriate garments on the correct body parts and no as far as I was aware I hadn’t been singing or talking to myself or doing anything that could be deemed as bizarre. I sat there quite smug beginning to wonder whether I’d stumbled into a parallel universe where I was irresistibly attractive to anyone who crossed my path. It turned out of course that unbeknownst to me I had been sat there practicing my eyebrow raise over and over and over and over. I’m pleased to report I’m getting pretty good at it now…

I went in to see the shrink and my heart dropped when I realised it was another new one, the third in three visits. I’m a huge fan of the NHS and you won’t usually hear me grumble about it but there is just no continuity of care in my case at the moment and it’s ever so tiring to try and cram a lot of medical history and deal with any current issues in what amounts to a twenty minute appointment. I was given the brush off again this time, with a doc who said that he couldn’t alter my medication as he didn’t know enough about the situation. ARGH. It was incredibly frustrating and I ended up bursting into tears so rather than sending me off for another six months dealing with gnarly side effects he offered me another appointment in eight weeks. HALLE-FRICKING-LUJAH! I finally felt as if I was getting somewhere and I’d be able to move forward and things would be brighter.

Then I found out it would be with yet another new psychiatrist.


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