Despite the fact that they meet at the unholy hour of 10am on a MONDAY morning, they are quite a lovely and welcoming bunch. If only I had given up working years ago!
The ATM ate my credit card after I got the pin wrong three times, and I had to queue at Medicare so I had enough money to buy lunch, which made me a few minutes late for my appointment with the social worker at the hospital. Which wouldn’t have been a major disaster if they hadn’t HIDDEN THE DOOR TO THE BLOODY BUILDING.
I was actually in tears when I found the right place, after a full TWENTY minutes of asking polite questions of random hospital staff, who were all rendered clueless by the renovations. Eventually, someone rang another department in the same building to ask about the hidden entrance – which could only be accessed through a the old psych building, and down a covered walkway. In a locked cupboard in a dark basement behind a door with a sign saying “beware of the tiger”. Insert profanity here.
Anyway, apparently I am not in imminent danger of self harm. It is perfectly normal to feel isolated, afraid, miserable and out of control when your body has been taken over by a parasite, you can’t breathe without gagging, getting out of bed has you rushing for the toilet, and your idea of a fabulous meal is a baked potato, hold the flavour. Apparently, there is a normal period of adjustment, and a certain amount of helpless weeping and self pity is completely normal and healthy. But do try to get out a bit more when you can.
So I went straight to mum & dad’s after the hospital, and passed out in my old bed. Had intense, visceral dreams about eating smoked salmon, and woke up gagging. Does this mean my body wants it, or not? A question for another day, when the thought of eating flesh isn’t repulsive again.
So if you made it that far, you deserve a treat. Check out Andrea‘s answer to the 7 thing meme – a cracking read.
Disco Knitter 
They do things like this to you so that when the baby arrives you are so bloody relieved you don’t have to go to the hospital any more the sleep deprivation seems like a blessing. They used to make me wait for two hours to raise my blood pressure so they could admit me once a week. It’s a scandal.
Sending you virtual hugs!
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Why on earth did you see a social worker? Of course it’s rational to feel like crap – you knew that! (And if you didn’t I would have told you – :)) But why the hell don’t they tell people with appointments (who by definition will be stressed) exactly how to find them? I do despair of the health service! See you soon.
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What a nightmare – all of them!
A dear friend of mine craved the smell of fish with her first baby. She didn’t want to eat it, only smell it and she was afraid she’d be arrested for loitering around the fish markets she spent so much time there.
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