Thursday, 19 July 2018


I'm in pain, if that's not too boring a topic. It's not completely unbearable, yet, but will be soon if I don't dig out some Ponstan and get it into me. Sometimes I feel the purest resentment at all this pain and if I'd known I wouldn't be getting even the one turn out of the ole womb I could have had the thing extracted twenty years ago. Like the car that rusts in the drive it's the ones that are never used that cause the most trouble in the end.
I never had much pain until the first period I have after my first (so many firsts!) psychiatric hospitalisation. I was in the library in UCD when it overcame me. For a while I couldn't walk, then I made it as far as the underground toilets and thought I was going to have to call an ambulance. Eventually I made it as far as the Student Union shop, the right-on politics of whose organisers extended beyond products of the Coca Cola Corporation and New Corporation to include a boycott of any effective painkillers. I remember the only thing they stocked was Anadin. I think it was the first and last packet of Anadin I have ever bought. Anadin, I ask you. 
The timing of this first attack makes me wonder if the drugs weren't responsible. There's no reason to think they wouldn't be and it is a coincidence. One more thing to be pissed about. 
I found some Ponstan in my handbag, had been afraid there a second that it was down in my suitcase in the boot of the car. I am staying here tonight. 

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