and the stupid prize goes to...

...just for a change. Way this award-winning episode started was with finishing phase 1 of the project that I have been working all hours of the night for, only to reach the conclusion that it was all pretty pointless. The request for file access that I had put in two full weeks ago had never been done, which means that the developers will have to assess and redo much of what I had done for them. I'd asked again before doing the last tasks, which would have made it about 90% OK. Didn't get it. Punted the request upward, no response from anyone. So on Friday I mailed everyone including the developers, who work for a different contractor - the project manager had a belated panic, and no-one else even twitched. I got more miserable, as well as grumpy.

After a few vodkas, I developed a need for sushi, one of my favourite foods. Only problem is that I am currently taking a large dose of a reversable MAOI, which is supposed to mean sticking to a strict tyramine-free diet. I've been kind of ignoring that anyway, because I don't seem to get much in the way of side-effects. Or results. Lots of sleepiness from stimulants, hypotension and dizziness from Nardil, lots of dreams from most things. And, I discovered, a nice reaction to the soy sauce, which eventually scared me enough to head up the road to the ER for a quick check to make sure that I wasn't about to blow any blood vessels.

One of those visits where every conversation was started by me saying 'umm, I know this was very stupid of me....'. And where the doctor on duty was equally annoyed by my idiocy and by the fact that I had to basically explain the current drugs I'm on, what the MAO-B distinction is, what the off-label uses are for half the meds - none of which he knew. I wouldn't expect him to, because he's not an adventurous shrink, but I'd also prefer it if he didn't treat me like a weirdo because I do try to learn about what I take. Even if the knowledge isn't always applied too wisely...

only six shopping days left to christmas

and think I am likely to shatter my previous record for last-minute present-buying. Just can't face shopping centres or crowds or noise. I know that I don't achieve much most days, but somehow it takes the whole day and by the time I flee for home I am just so tired. All I want to do is get home, feed the birds and animals and collapse at my PC.

Walkies with PT this morning, an extra block both ways, and a couple of minutes less. Even though I keep stopping for a few seconds to let my legs stop quivering. I am so totally unfit. Hard to believe what I used to do - gym five times a week, at least three 5km runs, at least three games of squash.

Then again, I find it hard to believe sometimes that I ever had a life. I know what I used to do, but it seems as if it was a different person. One with some energy and ambition. One who spent time with people. One that didn't think of suicide every day. It all just feels so far away from what I am now.

I miss myself...

mortification yet again...

....saw pdoc's rooms-partner for the first of the appointments that he insisted on while he's away this morning. She intimidates me anyway, because she is ethereally gorgeous and obviously intelligent too. Only contact we've had before has been when she's covered weekends during hospitalisations, and hasn't been great. And her really psychotic patient who bombarded me with sms's until I eventually asked doc to get her to lay off or I'd lay charges, which would end patients already stagnant law career in it's tracks. And hearing from staff that she hated birds.

So basically, I was only going because I had to. And then she was just so nice and so kind that I started crying in about two minutes flat and just couldn't stop for the whole appt. I am such a total loser. Strangely enough, she brought up ECT really soon, wanted to know if I'd consider it. There seems to be a whole convergence of totally separate threads...all heading towards ECT. And I'm beginning to think it's the least intrusive/most available of the non-meds alternatives.

The whole TRD-definition starts with two different AD's. Augmentation. Tricyclic. MAOI. More augmentation sometimes. All for 6 weeks without effect. Ha f-ing ha. Just with current pdoc in last 30 months, where he's pushed dosages up to sometimes 15 of the PI-max, and all for at least 6 weeks, we've tried (and I'm almost definitely forgetting some) about 11 SSRI/SNRIs, 7 TCAs, 2 MAOIs, 1 RIMA, augmented with at least 6 mood stabilisers, 4 anti-psychotics, 3 stimulants, about another 6 off-labels, whole bunch of sedatives. Pretty much nothing. Even the damn vet tranquiliser. I don't ask what the S/E profile is anymore, I don't care. Even if it might kill me, the odds are lower than me doing it myself.

At least, I will have something to say next week. Personal trainer dude and I set up a meeting. He's filled with enthusiasm and vision, wants to know if I'm really motivated and committed to becoming a whole new healthy, skinny person. Gave him the 'do I look like I am?' stare and said 'no. I have no motivation and no desire to do this at all. That's why I am willing to pay you the equivalent of many peoples full-time salary to make me do this 4 times a week whether I want to or not.' Then he asks what liquids I take in. 'Vodka and Coke Lite. Or shooters. And coffee.'. Silence plus note-taking. And measurements on fancy kit. I am delirious to know that 3 kg of my enormous mass is bone. Whoopee. I officially qualify as 'big-boned', for what that is worth. First sessions are tomorrow and Friday, with a full schedule to be drawn up from there. Payment in advance.

Silly dude asked if I'd sign a contract, and eyes widened when I said sure, I'd go for 6 months initial, 3 months renewable after that. He doesn't realise that claiming 3 to 6 months from my estate will be easier for him than having to drag me around while I'm still alive.

Happy Christmas pdoc. Doing this one for you...