Pizza Night

I think that it’s about time I returned to my blog. My subject today? The last pizza night on Kilroot ward!

Thursday’s was the night when four guys with anxiety disorders got themselves some pizza. Ross, Peter, Sean and I assembled in my room to order our usual from Dominos in Crumlin. Before this got started, though, Ross pointed out to Peter and Sean the view from my room, viz. the big honking rats in the courtyard below. We tried to count them, but they spent a lot of time going in and out of the cover of bushes and holes in the pavement. We only have a rough estimate – I’d say around six.

Ross is on a kick at the moment of exposing people to the triggers of their anxiety (I incidentally think this was the idea behind his mentioning the rats), so he thought I should jack up my social anxiety by making the call to Dominos. Partly because my social anxiety makes it hard for me to say no to people, and partly because it sounded like a good idea, I went through with it. Bad idea. I’m not going to say any more about it, but basically Ross had to call them back and actually place the order.

Anyway, our appetites whetted by our rat-watching, we really dug into the pizza, wedges, and so on, when they arrived. Topics of conversation included:

  • How do we divide up all the food?
  • Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (via a comparison of the rats in the courtyard to Shredder).
  • Which mental illnesses are the worst to have? This one got pretty involved and confusing pretty quickly, because things like the intensity of the illness had to be taken into account.
  • Which mental illnesses do the characters from Winnie-the-Pooh have? Apparently this has been put on somebody’s blog before, but I can’t find it anywhere, so here it is again: Pooh Bear has an eating disorder; Piglet has an anxiety disorder; Rabbit has OCD; Eeyore has major depression; Owl is approaching senility; Tigger has ADHD; Christopher Robin has gender dysphoria.
  • What is the deal with the nurses in St. Patrick’s Hospital? They come into our room every hour to check up on us. They write down what we’re up to – it goes into our files! They force us out of bed in the morning! They call me on the phone even though I find this extremely anxiety-provoking! It’s all most frustrating, and we find it really brings down the bearability of the whole “psychiatric hospital experience” for us. I’m considering setting up a patients’ union to somehow voice and maybe address these complaints.
  • Which country is the best – France or Italy, and then, after some thought, France or Spain. Or maybe it was Italy or Spain. To modify a Simpsons quote – “Nobody ever chooses France.”

I feel like I’m forgetting a lot, but hey, if anyone wants to add anything, there’s a “comments” feature. I’m off to watch a Woody Allen film – I sort of want to write an essay on hypnotism as a theme in his films.  Sayonara!

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Published in: on May 2, 2009 at 6:52 pm  Comments (3)  
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Worrying

After my ECT today, I found that I had forgotten how to solve the Rubik’s cube. I was quickly able to refresh my memory online, but nonetheless – who knows what else I have forgotten? Obviously I don’t, and indeed for the most part can’t, know.

Then again, I suppose there is little point in worrying about it. I should focus on the positive – the therapy actually does seem to have done some good today. I am tired, but am also rather less depressed than I felt at the weekend.

Published in: on April 14, 2009 at 8:19 pm  Leave a Comment  

Cannula stigmata!

It’s just occurred to me that the cannulae – the things that administer my anaesthetic before my ECT treatments – leave a small, but cool, “stigmata”-style scar on the back of my hand. The only thing cooler would be if Jesus himself underwent an anaesthetic before crucifixion. Medical drama and religious experience make for good combination? Free-associating from that, I’m now searching my memory for medical imagery in Tarkovsky… certain things from Stalker probably fit the bill best; specifically tiles and… do I recall a syringe being one of the objects submerged in muddy water? Perhaps a brassy-looking one?

Dreadfully bored in hospital at the moment, which is why I’m writing this bally thing up. I have, say, two hours until I can reasonably expect to fall quickly asleep after getting ready for bed. Until then, I can (1) watch Winnie-the-Pooh online, or (2) Read Arthur Conan Doyle. Neither really captures my imagination, but one must do something

Oh, actually, DisneyCorp has made copyright claims against youtube since the weekend, so I can’t watch 1977’s The Many Adventures of Winnie-the-Pooh after all. How disappointing. I suppose I’ll have to read – damn it! – instead.

Published in: on April 8, 2009 at 8:05 pm  Comments (1)  

First post!

This is my first half-assed attempt at blogging, inspired by catchthepigeon’s own first – albeit more full-assed – efforts. Dateline: The reception of St. Patrick’s Hospital. What’s going on? We – Michael, Ross, and I – are talking about that episode of the Simpsons where Marge is a guidance counsellor and Homer is Mister Sparkles, and the conversation drifts – inevitably – into the Simpsons’ recent decline.

Now a turn for the frightening has been taken! Ross and Michael are going to bring up my anxiety with their doctor (I believe he is known as Pat around these parts?), and I just know that this is going to end with crowds of mental health professionals literally shaking the anxiety out of me! Just… just grabbing me by the lapels and shaking, and yelling “calm down” into my face.

Oh, but in the time it took for me to write the above, conversation has drifted back to tv shows, via Vikings. All is once again well.

Published in: on April 7, 2009 at 8:32 pm  Comments (1)