Oh my laiiiiird

So yesterday was a harrowing day for me.

I have been feeling steadily more and more ill over this week - sickness and dizzy spells, weakness, diarrhoea, shivers, sore throat, stomach pains.. Bleugh.

Yesterday in particular I was tired as heck, felt like I hadn't slept for a few days, slightly dizzy, very floaty and weak feeling - though I was actually underestimating grip necessary to hold things, etc, and broke/ripped some stuff. Nausea, diarrhoea, and a headache. I got a letter from my GP saying if I want needles and such I must go to the exchange. So, they're open late on Thursdays and I got a lift from a mate at work.

I reminded him shortly after lunch, and he had forgotten and agreed to do overtime! So I had to work until 5:45pm instead of my usual 4:30pm.

We got there and he drove off, and I hung on the buzzer watching my breath blooming in the half-light by the intercom of the building. Finally got an answer and got in to a nice warm place. When did it get so cold so fast?

They asked my age a few times, obviously not believing that I'm 23... So eventually I gave up and explained that I'm not an addict, just an impatient trannie.

Then there was a bit more waiting.

I met a very nice man, and then there was a room. With a wall.

Covered in shelves.

Full of boxes.

Of needles.

Have I mentioned my needle phobia being pretty intense?

Anyhow they told me not to do steroids and gave me clean sterile needles and swabs and such so I don't get hepatitis or something.

I arrived at 6pm.

I left at 7:05pm.

I waited for the bus, which thankfully was five minutes early.

I got home about 8pm...

...and the hall lights weren't working.

Now, I hoped this was just the bulb but nope, when I finally fumbled my key into the lock, my lights weren't working either.

So I fumble around my flat looking (in the dark) for a candle ani a lighter and then trying to find my electric key and wallet.

I'm too short to tell how much electric I have, you see.. I can't see the numbers, even if I tiptoe.

Anyhow, I marched down one end of town to the cashpoint.

Then to the other end of town to the only open shop that serves my electric key.

Then fumble around getting the key in and nothing happened.

So I pushed the buttons madly and such and it worked.

Then I went back upstairs and oh yay my fridge was warm.

My fridge with my defrosted and now warm steak, ready for dinner, sitting in it. So I had to triple-bag it and stick it in the bin and just have steamed veg for dinner. Which is nice but I need some iron to get into my system.

Especially as, I discovered, my body is once more betraying me, meaning I can't wear my packer and have to feel sick and dizzy and tired and hurt like fucking hell and be depressed as fuck for the next week or more.

And there was a letter on my stairs. Addressed to MS (former name) and it really brought me down; haven't had anything like that for ages. It's an appointment, this time with an actual psychiatrist. Only... It's on the 22nd of November.

I waited two months for nothing and have been down ever since.

And then waiting for another month, for another appointment or whatever.

And now I have to wait another month? ANOTHER MONTH?

I. I don't know what to say or do. I suppose I should let them know just how fucking depressed I am from this, just how devastated I am every day that passes with no movement, how the only thing keeping me here is the tantalising possibility in my fridge, how my needle phobia even ruins that for me. How basically most of the time I want to stop. Just stop. End. No more waking up to this, to struggling into my binder, no more of people getting me wrong, no more, no more. Bah, but I made promises.. And I don't think I could do that to my family, not now.

I'm trying to make light of this.

For instance, my needle fear, yeah?

Well I'm using my body's betrayal as a kind of time limit. When it's over, I hope I can handle the needles without freaking out. And maybe take my first dose.

Now I just need to save up the money to get to London and arrange a private appointment with a doctor there, to get a private prescription and then convert it to NHS, because my doctor told me I'd have to wait about two years on the NHS to get prescribed... And frankly considering the absolute time waste it's been so far, I think if I didn't have three months of Sustanon250 in my fridge, I'd not be writing this.

So, a week to nine days, needle phobia gone? I hope so.

Also thinking of getting hair trimmed tomorrow..