Risperidone Problem

NAOMI, the Dual Diagnosis lady, who isn't medical (so I wasn't asking medical advice) rang me back about my risperidone problem. I am on 4mg daily. 4mg is half the usual maximum dose. The usual starting dose is 2mg according to the leaflet, but the dr. probably gave more as I was getting symptoms that were severe enough to be losing it pretty completely. I don't lose it every minute of every day even when I'm ill. Everything with me is episodic, variable and changeable, like tides of the sea. A hurricane doesn't last forever, neither do my mood swings. So you need to understand this if you think I'm calling myself "mad" then seem sane. This is the crux of the problem!

Anyway I was put on risperidone 2x 2mg pills at night for the first week (when they are strong enough to make you feel almost concussed, not inherently nice at all, but I was pretty manic so they made me sleep at night and slowed my body down daytimes. They cut out voices though I still hear the murmurs. They stop me pacing, dancing and acting hyper most of the time, even when my mind races and rushes. They also probably slow that down, though they were prescribed on the tail end of a mood swing and the dr. knew that.

From week 2 onwards they're to be taken 2mg by day, 2mg by night. It's the daytime one I had problems with. It gives what you might call drowsiness but it's not sleepiness (it feel way better with Valium on top and I don't want to be scoring Valium on a street corner because of antipsychotic side effects). So I didn't take it yesterday or today.

I said to Naomi I was going to take it nights only (ie 4mg at once) until my dr appointment on Feb 24th. I though this was the most responsible course of action.

I CAN make emergency appointments but don't want to be one of these neurotic complainers going through every single medication until I find one that satisfies my hypochondria. This ISN'T hypochondria. It's not a listed side effect. It feels like the brain-fog and photophobia (lights glare at me in a nasty way) from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and THAT is not something I would relive for anyone.

Another issue is if I do go cuckoo again I WILL go in hospital. Considering those nurses' bizarre idea of misbehaviour I can foresee if I'm a bit "manic" I could easily get into a situation where I get wrestled down and needled. (Not that there's not something secretly funky about that, but it's not really what I want. Y'know...?)

I NEED TO KNOW AN ANTIPSYCHOTIC THAT CAN BE GIVEN IN EMERGENCY HIGH DAYTIME DOSES THAT AGREES WITH ME.

If I left it until I did get needled in hospital, my complaints will be interpreted as insubordination. So I NEED to cross this side-effects bridge NOW.

Naomi has the ear of 3 psychiatrists who work in my area and will bring up my issue with one of them tomorrow. I see her at Nutter Club Thursday anyhow. But I have to sort this problem out. If you went as off the planet as I did NOT ON DRUGS you'd want something you could rely on to bring you down. Being "high" on a mood swing is not all hearts and flowers. It involves being extremely agitated, very volatile, unable to follow simple conversations (sometimes) and being incomprehensible to others (at times). I have to sort myself out. I absolutely have to.

I got a very pertinent comment about my search for a diagnosis yesterday pointing out that maybe I ought to be thinking on nicer things. Problem is I HAVE to answer to the government who are paying me money. They ask for a diagnosis. And my problems have gone extreme enough 1. to put me off heroin and drugs (the high, when it really gets going is WAY BETTER THAN ANY DRUG) and 2. I absolutely have to take responsibility for myself. If I don't, and follow my mood-induced whims I really could get in extreme trouble. I could do anything from chucking my possessions out the window and setting them on fire to... stuff I don't even want to think about.

So you see I'm dealing with what has turned into a serious problem here. And it has to be dealt with properly.

I have to ping out now. Take care everyone. I'm TRYING to take care of myself!

Energy

ENERGY FLASH!

IS this an energy-saving lightbulb of a tune... so SLOW. That's what hacked me off about Opus III last night TOO SLOW i want fast fast faster fast fastererr something faster than me. Which is hard to find as I was going to fast yesterday I was incoherent.

Somebody phoned me right while I was going into one big time. Not upsset. Just ultra hyper high high sky ong ong pingpongtingtong bong bong ongongong between uproariously laughing and doing a noise like a food mixer rourourourouround what what what what what? Who is this who who who? All that. What DO I DO KEEP IT SIMPLE.

That upset someone so much they CRIED WHY WHY CRY GO HI HI HI HELLO HERE NOW WHAT IS ALL THAT FUSS ABOUT

Well that's what happened. I feel like I'm on Magic Speed you know that ADHD stuff that calms people down. Note the LACK OF A FULL DRUG SCREEN* this is making me para that I got spiked somewhichwise. What can I do not to be spiked? Not eat? Not drink. Not ever sleep. Not ever let anyone near me. Not breathe the air as fentanyl gas can flood the air, as was used in the Russian theatre raid. I wished I'd been in there. Fentanyl is an ultra-strong opioid. I'd have got a real nice hit outta that. When I was into drugs.

Now it's just me on ME FREE (hee-hee!!)

[I'm adding this afterwards: re the drugs screen it wasns't "full" in that it "only" tested for Opiates (heroin/morphine/codeine etc), Cocaine (including crack), Amphetamines, Methadone, Benzodiazepines and THC ie Cannabis. Methadone is what I'm on!]

O man this wasn't meant to rhyme it was meant to be all cool and chilled and coherent. I did actually get 3 to 4 hours' sleep on that zopiclone. The minute it started wearing off I was BL-IDDLE-DIDDLE-PING-NG-NGGGGGGGG!!! AWAKE!!!

And raving in my kitchen. Raving mad. Dancing. Eh. At a rave, in my kitchen. At one time I found a knife I started dismantling a cardboard box then chucked it into a corner. "I AM A KNIFE-WIELDING MANIAC!!" that one thing was too much. Being a maniac and wielding a knife. NO!!!!

I'm not into headfucker stuff. Enough is enough. I thought I was OK then my mind started playing games or I started playing games with my mind and we both started racing together very very quick quick

(how can I POSSIBLY be on drugs? no drug ever makes anyone rush that fast. ever. only one to come near it (on me) is Hard Acid. And I do mean a full-on trip, tripping enough to have trouble with your name, to interdimensionalize so you don't know what dimension you're in. In this state the number of thoughts, impressions, illusions and all that can alter so very many times a second it's impossible to follow. SPEED DOES NOT DO THAT. NEITHER DOES COKE. OR CRACK. OR E. So what fucking drug is is?? Except 2 cups of black coffee. Yesterday when I thought I'd had 2 I'd actually only had 1. Cup 2 had gone cold, forgotten about as I pinged all over the place.

everybody thinks i should be in a mental hospital. everybody thinks i am mad. i am quite sane. i'm only going in there if i totally break apart, in which case i will need an ambulance i won't be able to get there myself

or if i'm so very hacked off and/or despairing or tired or just WANT TO GO IN it's not that terrible. it's GOING in i don't want not BEING in BEING in is fine. lots of people don't want to leave. why do you think care in the community is such a disaster? half the people don't get cared for, the other half do, but would rather be in a nuthouse because at least in there if you're going cuckoo there's not the headfuck of trying to have to inter-decide between howevermanylines of illusions and delusions and what is what from this that and some other angle what you should or should not be doing at any given time you can just DO IT. people who annoy each other have space to avoid one another. it is not prison.

there are no locked rooms. there are locks on the ward doors, mainly to prevent people wandering aimlessly outside, not perhaps intending to be there.

people who can organize, decide know what they want and why (and it's not self-harm or suicidal) are free to leave

other people who cannot do these things, they don't and nearly always don't actually want to.

the only locked room i know of is a cool-down room and that's in the ward for people who misbehave (that's basically why they're put there). in a mental hospital misbehaving means being violent to a person (not an object). violence to an object might well get you wrestled down and needled with something yummy like quetiapine or olanzapine or whatever

the last time i saw it i remember it was a patient who rushed across and told the nurse how many mgs of what shot to make up, i'm sure it was

the nurses come from downstairs or upstairs. other wards. they're probably on that duty that day, know they're free to go. the buzzer goes off so out and in they pile.

what was the point of all this? o yeah the entertainment of watching it happen. best time i recall was a bipolar pensioner with "the fbi want me as their number one spy" style paranoia. he was told he was "too high" though doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING re racing about, rushing, kicking anything throwing ~ nothing except irritable if i remember correctly WITH A SPECIFIC MEMBER OF STAFF

it is possible to be psychotic, not by any means ravingly, and justifyably ANNOYED

anyway because of his paranoia this guy who told lots of funny stories about driving very rapidly up the motorway between London and Manchester, never getting punished for being bipolar (ie treated) until his 60-something-th year he said "i want a witness for this" M and I were more than happy to be witnesses.

we were in the smoking room anyhow, not smoking (for a split moment, that's all most nutters do) but eating m&ms I wish we'd had popcorn it would have been highly appropriate

so we had feet up on chairs, probably entertained looks on faces as the highly confrontational male nurses did their confronting

some bastard turned to M and me and said " you two had better go" AARKKHH ~~ kind of any thought of "but we were asked to be witnesses" went as indulging pensioner-paranoia was only an excuse. Entertainment was the reason for being there I think we all knew that. Apart from the paranoia pensioner who was spiked up so intensively he was snoring all afternoon. with a faintly guilty/bored looking nurse having to stand watch.

not because there was any chance he would wake up and do anything remotely "manic"

(despite the one female nurse's first words being "we think you've gone too high" (that ain't high. saw that at the time. know it now. bullshit. be psychotic and/or manic or paranoidly "ideated" as they say and ANGRY and you get this delicious treatment

which is no motivation but an attraction an "it's not that terrible" it's on that list

the "I will be made homeless" list is the opposing one as that basically is what shall happen to me if i ever end up in that nuthouse.

So I'm avoiding it like several plagues.

My reason. Not mine. Druggieworker's reason for my being in an emergency assessment had nothing to do with hospitalization or being sectioned (which means committed) it had everything to do with a trained doctor witnessing who i actually AM that is the point and when the other one said why are you here i said because I am in a mess and I want help and I need a social worker. That is what I need more than a hospital. A person who knows me and knows what absolutely irrelevant forms are informed upon me blah blah blah blah you see this is

this is my coping mechanism.

when something bothers me i smack it right out of my head. successfully.

i also smack stress and negativity (that is negative thoughts, not the feeling) OUT of my head.

i whack them out using no chemical at all. no heroin smack. nothing but the force of my own will gets rid of these things so i do not worry, don't turn anything over and over my head worrying. not my style

(as anxiety leaflet given out by nursey who HADN'T LISTENED WHEN I SAID ITS NOT ANXIETY (which I KNOW I once had it for years I KNOW THAT FEELING it's a gripping of the heart, a trepidation)... I felt IRRITATION which is like sunburn on your arm or any burn. You can stroke it with a feather and it's still IRRITATING and IRRITATION was my response to the world and my reason for avoiding it. And a feeling of overload. NOT anxiety.

and here's a point i can at last follow through 3 paragraphs. anxious thoughts you can SLAP OUT OF YOUR HEAD. irritation is not a thought as such, but a feeling, it's much less cognitive than anxiety

anyway this coping mechanism might also be my disability as something is stopping me engaging. i am disengaged. if i DID engage i couldn't cope. Engaging means engaging with stuff I can't deal with.

Geddit now?

Trying to explain makes it clearer in my head. I've got to know what I'm up against to be able to cure it. Get round it. Bend it. Change it.

See successful self-analysis. And my big "I DON'T NEED COUNSELLING" reason.

Counselling is too much too soon. Not what someone going 3691q3476t51234124097y076799900 miles per hour needs. I have had it before. I resent accounting my life to somebody i know nothing about. I "have" to do it. I don't "have" to do a blog I choose to. I might feel I owe people an explanation or an update because they are my freinds but I don't "have to go" because it'll look bad on some care approach plan form. Y'know?

Hope this hasn't been too rabbitty. I'm leaving it there. I am going to NA tonight but am TRYING to get there on time this time. I never know the exact time. Never know. Just get there. Usually late. I can't do anything on time there's too much in between.

OK I'm off now because my head is going too quick again. Bye!

JOEY BELTRAM: ENERGY FLASH
This 1990 tune was represented to me as "really old". In 1992.



FANTAZIA MAY 1992 "GURN TIME" RAVE FOOTAGE
gurning is pulling "high on stimulants" faces, characteristic especially of ecstasy-type drugs.

note a distinct lack of energy in that crowd. what's wrong with them all?? the less cheesy more abstract ketaminey 2nd tune is way better than the 1st one



DJ SEDUCTION STARLIGHT RAVE
this style of breakbeat + the "bad boy" crap the MC keeps up is the origins of jungle aka drum & base

wow this music is fantastic. breakbeat hardcore almost definitely 1992. it says it dunnit: 21st August 1992

1 min 50 seconds "ride the fucking rush" where the music saying followmewannabewhatever i wannabe THAT is the vibe of my brain insane ha hahahahahaha!! and 7 mins 7 seconds where its bleepy on top of breakbeat that is it that is itititititititit thatsit!!!



Illustration: Castlemorton 1992 huge illegal Spiral Tribe etc rave. Spiral Tribe were very abstract. Chaos Stuff which works better in visuals than music. True chaos visuals are screens of black and white lines or dots and your own mind makes the illusion. Doesn't work quite so well with music in my opinion

Healing leg

I KNOW THESE aren't exactly my legs pictured, but mine are as clean as this woman's jeans are white and tight fitting.

The abscess on the right leg is going down nicely. No longer does the calf look like a red bowling pin with an erupting volcano upon it. It looks mildly pink with a post-eruption Mount Saint Helens (minus flattened pine trees for miles around...)

I'm feeling much better in some ways. But of course I'm still depressed, so I'm really enjoying that. Drinking lots of hot cups of tea in front of morning television, dreading going outside and pigging out on Mr Kiplings mixed fruit selection cakes and vanilla ice cream...

I really miss not having internet at home (thank you, cable-nibbling goblin) and I miss y'all. Sorry to make everyone worry. (What's new.) I really am better...

... BUT I have a medical question. This is serious and real:

Does anybody know what it means if you have splitting migraine-style headaches for weeks on end, accompanied by severe double vision and one of your eyes becomes mis-aligned, so instead of looking directly at me, it's looking down and to the right. While the other eye functions as normal.

This isn't my problem, but a 65 year old friend of mine has it and I keep telling her to go to the doctor, not to waste her time at Opticians (the optician she did see deserves to be shot). As far as I know she STILL hasn't been to her doctor or to Moorfields Eye Hospital, which is quite easy to get too from here (remember I had to go a few months ago when I had a smut in my eye all night and all the next morning and it just would not wash out...)

I have tried not to mention things like "brain tumour", but I'm dead worried about her. And she's one of these people who the more she worries the LESS she's likely actually to go in and get it looked at (who does that remind you of?)

Answers please! I'm dead worried...

A NEW COSTUME DRAMA hit our screens tonight. Downtown Abbey on ITV. In common with the BBC's dreary, bourgeois Larkrise to Candleford, it's an original, not based on any classic novel.* But it's quite good. A modern Upstairs Downstairs. And it stars Dame Maggie Smith. If you're reading this on foreign shores, keep a look out for it. If you like historical drama, you'll probably like this. I think historical is the only stuff produced for British TV that's in the same league as the best American telly.

My one gripe with the genre is its tendency to reinterpret the past in the light of modern (politically correct) outlooks. For example the master of the house objects to a war-wounded servant being referred to as a cripple. "I hate that word." But in those days that was the expression; nothing condescending or insulting was meant by it. Here's the trailer. Perhaps someone'll load a longer extract to Youtube by next week ...

*that statement isn't quite true: according to the BBC's website, Lark Rise is based on Flora Thompson's memoir of her Oxfordshire childhood...



THE WOUND ON MY LEG is less manky since I stopped covering it up and have been cleaning it with alcoholic ("pre-injection") swabs every few hours. It isn't oozing chocolate sauce, just a hint of strawberry. It still smells like a drain, just not as strong. My wound and I are off to hospital tomorrow to see what the emergency doctors think of it...

I hope y'all had a cheery weekend. What are you doing next week? I'm making a start cleaning my life up in a literal sense. My house is a mess. I have that festering sore on my leg. Not a clean stitch to wear. I have to wash my jeans as they've absorbed pus down the leg. So I'm starting by laundering my clothes so I can skulk into casualty (that's the ER to you Americans) looking at least vaguely respectable. Then I'll get the wound seen to and hopefully dressed. Then I can set about cleaning my house. It was cleaning my house that set it off last time, with things knocking into it making it bleed. It's been itching lately. Itching is a good sign with these things; in my experience it tends to mean they're healing.

After the eye hospital...

I SLEPT FOR ABOUT 18 of the last 24 hours. Maybe I had sleep deprivation before, who knows? (I don't know and don't care.) My eye seems OK now. I still have to put drops in. I don't want to, but I have to. It is surrounded by scabs that I'm not vain enough to pick out (well I'm a drug addict, I don't care do I?)

If I hadn't been a contact lens wearer in years past (not vain enough to bother now: I'm old and clapped out so I might as well wear glasses too) ... if I hadn't been a contact lens wearer I don't think I could have kept my eye open through all the poking, prodding, dropping, shining and inspection it had to endure. Contact lenses harden you to this and break down barriers to unnatural acts (like drug injecting ~ not that much more repellent than contact lens insertion, surely?)

It is 7:25 hours. I have been up since about 3. I am not very happy.

I hope y'all like the picture of the dog. I found it by googling "bluey-green eyes"...

Motes get in your eye

Either how canst thou say to thy brother, Brother, let me pull out the mote that is in thine eye, when thou thyself beholdest not the beam that is in thine own eye? Thou hypocrite, cast out first the beam out of thine own eye, and then shalt thou see clearly to pull out the mote that is in thy brother's eye.
Luke 6:42

I HAVE JUST GOT OUT OF MOORFIELDS EYE HOSPITAL, where a kindly Filipino nurse removed a dot that has been bugging me since last night.

Bugging is hardly the word. Out on the street, around midnight, something blew into my eye. I looked and looked and could not see it. No amount of washing seemed to get it out. So I closed my eyes and slept with it in... woke up crying. Cried all morning. It was a bright sunshiny day. I nearly got run over as I could not see in the bright light.

The situation was so bad I could barely keep my eyes open.

At midday I took a bus to Old Street. You cannot get there by tube so a bus it had to be. Because I had to close my eyes, I slept most of the journey.

At Accident & Emergency I was told it was a two-to-three hour wait but I was seen in under an hour.

I was hoping they would use some sort of contraption rather than get you to tilt the head back, and they did. The Asian lady put in three types of drops ~ the best were the anaesthetic ones because they made me feel cured. She looked at my eye under various coloured lights. Got out the speck, which was the tiniest thing ever ~ a dot of dust. Checked my eye again and said it was scratched. So now I'm taking antibiotic drops and my eye looks like the incredible hulk's.

I have to go as it still hurts to keep it open, but at least it's no longer crying. It doesn't feel that much better than this morning, but the "smote" or whatever it's called hss barely been out for a couple of hours.

Got to go and close my eyes...