Just another manic Monday

I've been slipping in terms of writing this blog.

Saturday
It was my boyfriend's leavers ball and I am still in awe of how posh and formal it was. He goes to one of the best independent schools in England and money certainly didn't seem to be an issue during the evening. There was a champagne reception, served by the school's events team, which in itself was on a completely different level to previous balls I've been to at my own school. Four course meal? Check. Casino? Check. Raffle, with actual decent prizes? Check. Professional photography? Check. Bottle of wine costing £38? Check. Oh, and dodgems hired out? Check. Brilliant.

Sunday
There isn't much for me to say here, I'll leave it as a six year old's birthday party with a hangover is not fun. Forty screaming children is enough to give anyone a headache, without it being the morning after the night before.

Monday
I had my "urgent" blood tests yesterday. I don't know what was wrong with me, usually I'm fine having blood taken, I'm used to them so having a dramatic reaction to it is never something that has been an issue. However, yesterday proved to be one of those times when my body was doing its own thing. The vein in my left arm has been butchered a fair amount recently, meaning the phlebotomist eventually decided that she wasn't going to get any blood from that arm. Cue the butchering of my right arm. It was the most painful blood test I've ever had and I am ashamed to say that it reduced me to tears. And I promptly passed out after.

I had a GP appointment straight ater my blood test and Dr N (who is the only doctor I am willing to see) was, as usual, running fashionably late. One of those things, but having to wait an extra 40 minutes does nothing for my nerves and I would have been running (in a metaphorical sense) if I hadn't had 5 tubes of blood in a biohazard bag with me. I never really know what to make of my GP appointments. Being able to touch base with her is useful but I'm very aware that each time I leave that room she is looking more and more concerned. She won't give me any more pain relief, which I am glad about due to my irrational medication fear, but her reasoning for this has left me feeling uneasy: she isn't convinced that I can be trusted with monitoring my own medication without having the temptation to not take the required dose. I've never admitted to her that there is a crazy part of me wanting to listen to the voices telling me to overdose, so covering my shock with a neutral expression proved to be fairly difficult. There's also the fact that because I've reacted so severely to previous medications, there is too much of a risk for me to take anything else. Thank you body.

Yesterday was just one of those days I think. After I left the GP surgery I freaked out. I didn't feel safe and I couldn't think straight. I can't remember all of the day, but around 3pm I left the house and saw, H, a close friend for an hour before going down to the counselling centre because I was so scared that I was going to harm myself. I spoke to the manager, G, there and tried to explain what was going on in my head. I'm not sure whether I made any sense and if I'm honest, the whole thing has blurred into a very surreal experience. G had that concerned look; this seems to be a trend, I walk into a room, people look concerned about me. I can remember him begging me not to cut myself, because it could be fatal as my blood isn't clotting at the moment. He made me go and sit in one of the private meeting rooms to calm down, although this had the opposite result and I freaked out more and left.

In a sort of daze I went to the youth centre in the hope that L, my Connexions advisor would be there. She wasn't, and the centre was shut. I rang her and was greeted by a voicemail message saying that she was out the office until Monday 11th July, which is probably just as well because I have no idea what I would have said if she had answered.

Like I said, yesterday afternoon is very blurry and only certain things stand out. I can remember thinking that I need to go home, but also that I needed to buy an onion, although why I thought that I don't know. I don't even like onions. I can remember almost getting run over and someone hurling abuse at me. It was my right of way as it was a zebra crossing. I can remember that when I was stood outside the supermarket G rang me in a frantic state asking where I was, to which I replied "I'm buying an onion" and then he kept asking me if I was safe and did I need someone to come and find me. I found that funny, because of course I was safe if I was buying an onion. Aftter saying that to him in a fit of manic giggles I hung up and decided that it would be in everyone's interests if I ignored all his calls for the rest of the evening.

Somehow I calmed down before I arrived home, gave my mum the gift of an onion, for which I think she was very grateful and was informed that I was having surgery on Monday. Short of being punched in the stomach out of the blue, I don't think I could be any more shocked. The first and only thought that I've had regarding surgery since then has been "no, I can't have surgery then, I need to see and speak to L on Monday." Although obviously that is not a valid reason to not have surgery which is why today is going to be spent going shopping to buy new PJs, slippers and a dressing gown for the big event next week, once I find the energy and motivation to get out of bed and try and look presentable.

Oh.