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RECOVERING May 2001 16 years ago the breakdown hit, lasted three years on and off and on again. Returned in 1990 for two months and after that only yearly flashbacks due to smoking drugs. Today in a small public garden in Prague with a woman who loves me I started to gag again with swelling fear, visions of collapse, ambulances, urgent operations and crippled seizure. The fourth attack in as many days. This time, worse, I did not want to reveal to the companion my hidden nature. We went to an underground station restaurant where memories of trying to eat simple food taking thirty minutes returned. Doctor’s appointment tomorrow, beg him to ease the rise of horror. (He was to recommend me, for the second time, to a psychiatrist, and gave me tranquilisers I never took.) 16 weeks after the event and still the pain, still the freeze of no breath. The visionary without focus, terrified at the return of ancient fear. Ten months later, unable to evacuate mucus from lungs after nine weeks of swelling glands and atrocious weather. Self inflicted deadlines, hard to face telephone calls and appointments with casual doctors. Relationships twisting up into webs of problems, the instinct to vanish forever, returns as a warm bath for the mind. Now, each deep breath taken in with dust and parasites, Never read medical paragraphs about your problems, O careful reader, this is as bad as a complete lack of information from surgeons and doctors. Some people only recover due to death. ///Brother to Hospital Again. No happy medium between being dead, or too alive with feeling. I hope against all hope (what DOES that mean?) that I am okay now. I feel optimistic these days. Light at the end of the tunnel? Nuclear flash. More naked writing./// |