Chinese New Year.

Happy New Year to all my Chinese friends. We enter the year of the horse and as the year begins I've finally started to feel better. I'm still coughing but have more energy and am less constricted. Let us hope this is the start of recovery.

I will go to the Fu Hao tonight to celebrate with Lin and Yang. Tomorrow I catch a train to see Miriam via a lunch date with Jayne in Cambridge. Superbowl coming up on Sunday. Then the season is over until next September. By then I will be 45.

With luck I will be back at work the latter part of next week. In the meantime, I will read and relax. Can't believe January is nearly over. Today marks day 31 of this awful illness. February will only get better. See you when I get back next week.

I Heard a Voice.

Does Bipolar Really Exist?

In the weeks running up to Christmas there was a series which I recorded called "Bedlam". That is of course the old name for the asylum at the Maudsley back when we locked up and mocked the mad. I accidentally deleted the 1st episode but last night managed to sit down and watch the next part on crisis care in an inpatient unit. All familiar fare to me both personally and professionally.

Once again as so often happens when I watch such programmes I came away with more questions than answers. That is usually the way with me. Does mental illness exist? And more pertinent to that episode does bipolar exist?

A man they filmed in some depth called Dominic went in with a diagnosis of bipolar, and after his 3rd admission in a few weeks came out with a diagnosis of personality disorder. At the stroke of a pen a psychiatrist had changed his life. I doubt Dominic really understood the enormity of what had just happened. He will learn unless he is extremely lucky and gets a therapist who is good.

Yes, bipolar gets drugs, PD gets therapy. But what is the difference? The symptoms are almost exactly the same. The outcomes are poor for the latter, perhaps less so for the former. In reality if in doubt call it PD. I have met many students who come with both diagnoses. Yet I do not believe they can co-exist. So who is right? What is right? Do either actually exist? I do not know the answer to those questions.

What I do know having learned from bitter experience that it is far better to be called bipolar than PD. The world will take one seriously then. With PD one is pretty much fucked.

When I was in the System they kept telling me pills would not work and therapy was what I needed. Therapy never gave me anything. Risperidone saved my life. So all the high, mighty and powerful, be careful what you diagnose. The consequences if you are wrong do not need explaining. I do that in "A Pillar of Impotence". A number of people both professionals and services users alike firmly believe that all practitioners should read it. That will never happen as I'm just too unimportant to get that sort of exposure.

I Heard a Voice.

Return Ticket.

A week on from the visit to a the Doctor at which I first became aware of the possibility of whooping cough I have not improved much. The coughing is at a lull this afternoon but I'm certain will come again. So I will visit the same Doctor tomorrow to see what the next course of action is. I remain dead tired most of the time so it is a struggle to do much.

So here on a Wednesday afternoon I'm listening to a Mozart string quartet, enjoying the scent of rosemary, garlic, and thyme pervading from the kitchen along with my beloved belly pork, I'm contemplating what to do next.

I did achieve something today by submitting my MSc assignment and powerpoint. That was a relief. I will take a break from studies for a week or 2 before ploughing ahead with the next module which is delivered on line. After that who knows where I will be. Better I hope.

My mood still hovers around the 0 to -1 point on the scale after my slightly better day yesterday. It is so hard to feel upbeat when I feel unwell. But there has been no crash.

Perhaps I will watch another film tonight. But first some reading. I'm getting quite into "Seven Pillars of Wisdom". Some way to go yet though, it's a mighty long book.

I Heard a Voice.

Venturing Out in the Sun.

My mum was born and grew up in the Somerset town on Bridgwater. The area is often called the Somerset levels as much of the ground is below sea level and was drained by the Dutch in the 17th century. Bridgwater sits on a tidal river and given the level of the land around it is very prone to flooding. As I mentioned earlier there has been a lot of flooding in the south west and today the lead story on BBC was the floods and filming in Bridgwater. It reminded me of mum.

Thankfully despite the rain we are flood free here. Today the sun came out although it was cold. Dory took me out to lunch. I had barely left my flat for 48 hours. After a morning of coughing I felt somewhat better and we had a lovely afternoon. Cue guilt. That great bane of the depressive, feeling guilty. I said that to Dory and she told me I looked shit and needed at least another 2 weeks off. I doubt I can handle that but I know deep down I am not well enough to be there.

So tomorrow it is back to the Doctor. I lost so much of my life to mental illness and unemployment. I find it so hard to be away from work but sometimes it is necessary.

Back home I listen to Jules Massenet on the radio. I played Massenet for a violin exam once. It was one of few high level pieces I actually found easy. Yes I have grade 8 in the violin but I never found it easy. Looking back now if I had had teachers who praised me and made me feel confident maybe I would have got to that level at 15 or 16 rather than 18. They all seemed to forget that music is about playing musically not about being a technician. Thankfully just days before my exam which my teacher was convinced I would fail, my accompanist said quite simply "forget about the notes, for fuck sake play it musically"! After that it was a breeze.

Music is in the main part of my past now. Assuming I'm better then I am supposed to be singing in Cambridge in a few weeks. I don't miss it though. But my new found commitment to listening to more music and reading has paid dividends on my mental health. I'm just struggling to get above the even point on my scale. Today seeing Dory allowed me to reach +1. How great it is to have friends. Until next time.

I Heard a Voice.

Another Wet Day.

Staring out the window the rain of pouring down again. What a wet winter it has been, reminds me of 2000/01 when it poured and poured. My life was not good then. It would not be until the following summer that I found salvation in risperidone. We have been lucky here avoiding devastating floods that have hit the south west and southern England. Living on the 2nd floor on a hill should make me safe.

So what of today? I slept a little better but find myself shaky and achy as it seems the fever has returned. The exhaustion remains too. Must go back to the doctor on Tuesday.

As an interlude I'm hoping to meet Dory tomorrow. I've not seen her since early December. We have tried but illness and unexpected work have derailed our chances. I think I might take her out to the Waggoners for a bar lunch. Can't afford the restaurant after such a long month but pay day is in sight.

Having not really been in a fit state during Jeff's funeral I will remember him and another friend Tom who died recently by listening to requiems. Must hear the Verdi as I'm supposed to be singing it in March. Not a piece I know. Mozart too I think, not listened to that for ages.

Having eaten little yesterday I think I need to eat lunch. I'm making a parsley soup then Singapore chilli crab tonight. No roast dinner, may do something in the week. I have no plans to go out. It's not very inviting anyway.

I Heard a Voice.

A Mistake Perhaps?

In retrospect I probably shouldn't have gone to Jeff's funeral yesterday. All in fear that the coughing would come back at the wrong moment fear was realised and I nearly walked out. Staving off the attack led to almost being sick, I was about 30 seconds from walking out. But I didn't. In that state it was hard to concentrate on why we were there but I'm sure Jeff knew in his mind I was not at my best.

Against better judgement I did go to the wake for a while. After just 2 drinks I really had to get out so retired back into the warm and watched a film. I slept for 12 hours barring the 7 dreams that woke me up-that is I think a record.

Having woken at 12.30 I had to do a little shopping then planned a sandwich in the Horse and Groom. I couldn't face it so came home. A small amount of domesticity and no lunch wiped me out. Managed a half a marinaded lamb steak and potatoes now about finished. I won't be going anywhere tonight. The coughing will no doubt continue and my battle with illness goes on.

Time to stare at the TV for a bit when dose myself up for bed. When will this end?

I Heard a Voice.

A Better Night.

Last night proved more successful in my pursuit of recuperating than I expected. After better sleep-only up twice with coughing fits-today I have felt somewhat more alive than of late. But I've been here before. Each day is different with this illness that may or may not be whooping cough.

With some more energy I spent some time on my assignment. 3 hours later it is almost complete. The dreaded referencing is done and there are only 2 more short sections to complete. I did not deliver my presentation as planned today-too infectious. But having spoken to my tutor she has agreed that I can submit my assignment and PowerPoint electronically. So it should all go off in the next few days.

I'm anxious about tomorrow though. It is Jeff's funeral and there will be a huge turn out. I'm terrified I will infect others so will have to keep my distance. I'm also fearful that I will have a coughing fit at a critical point in the service so I will seek to sit near an exit.

With the exception of a brief visit to the shop I have not been out all day. Getting a bit stir crazy now so may pop out for a while later. I have lamb for dinner which I will flash fry with spring onions, hoisin sauce and a little soy. Hope it's good.

I Heard a Voice.