Mixed days

Yesterday was a very low day.  I was sure I was permanently brain damaged and would never recover.  Thoughts of possible cancer, premature death and Alzheimer’s were in my mind.  So very angry, outraged.  Continuing to contact the press, TV, radio, anyone I can think of.  Someone will bite eventually.  My MP has written to the Department of Health in London.  So what, I think?  After all these decades what difference will it make?  I really need to find out who else is suffering like this.  An article in the paper would help with my email address, one set up especially, not my normal one.  Already in touch with about 10 people across the UK but they are too sick to write about their experience or too frightened or embarrassed to go public.  It is very difficult.  One lady was prescribed benzos for PTSD – now she is more traumatised than she ever was in the first place.  She suffers intense fear and anxiety every day.

On a lighter note I am getting my hair cut this afternoon.  I couldn’t face being in the paper with my hair a mess.  The hairdresser is just a two minute walk so I think I should make it. And I will have to do some dusting.  I can’t have a photographer coming into a dusty house!!!!  I managed to sweep the kitchen floor yesterday – a huge achievement.  This whole situation is just ridiculous, beyond belief, and all down to a little white pill.

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