It started on Friday, when my friend phoned me to say she was being admitted to hospital. She had started new anti depressants but had gone into serotonin syndrome. I got lots of random texts off her that didnt make a lot of sense. by evening she was being discharged, which judging byt he way she was talking, I didnt agree with at all. She left the hospital but she hadnt been fully discharged as of then. The hospital rang her and asked her to come back as they wanted to give mer some meds. She didnt want to go back, but after a bit of persuasion, she did. All they did was give her a couple of days worth of sleeping pills. She went home took one and was out for the count.
Saturday she was hyper again, talking to her on the phone she was speaking so fast I could hardly understand her. She went out with a friend so I thought she would be safe. Her friend took her to a club, where she said people where listening to her thoughts through the music so she came home and took her sleeping pill again.
When I came online later on she was freaking out. Apparently someone was out to get her, they where outside the window and had swapped her meds as they now had a funny smell. I rang her and she said they where in her room but they had gone when the phone rang. She went to sleep but was awake fairly early. And that brings us to now. She still thinks people are out to get her, but she is hyper again.She wont go the hospital incase its them out to get her. Just wish there was more I could do. I would be down there in a shot if i was well enough.
But last night, I nearly chocked. After bragging the other day that I had gone a few days without needing my nebulizer, last night I blocked up good and proper. Got to the point where my breathing was getting stuck when i breathed in and out. I had to take huge big gasps to get it in and cough really hard to get it out. I was running my nebs again while I was doing this, but I was just about ready to say to mum get me to A&E. That would have been fun. Why is it always a saturday night? Anyway, after a lot of scary coughing, I finally managed to clear it.
Then I got some more news. Peter Chapman, the guy who I always thought had helped saved me, is being convicted of murder and is s know sex offender. Apprently he met a 17 year old girl off facebook, he was 32, and he killed her I really should remain single for the rest of my life. The last person I slept with is a known sex offender and now a murderer and the person before was a known rapist. Great choice I have in men. (gazzette article)Pete was so kind to me. He gave me somewhere to go when things got violent with Dave and I had to get out. He went to the police with me, he held me while I sat in that horrible waiting room waiting for the police doctor to examine me. He made sure I ate and he sat and cuddle me all night when I couldnt sleep when we got back to his. When Dave went for me the first time, he pushed him into the kitchen away from me, when Dave caught up with me in the hall way brandishing his knife, Pete went and got help, even if it was to late, its the thought that counts right. He came to visit me when I was in ICU.
Even once I got out of hospital, he came to visit me a few times. He used to come the pub on a friday night with Haley and me. I was going to marry him, I decided at the time. He abused my trust then, but I never thought he was capable of doing what he has done. I was having trouble topping my phone up, so stupidly I gave him my bank card number and asked him to try from his phone. The follwoing week £30 went missing out my account to his phone. I couldnt deal with losing the trust I had in him. It was so hard to have any trust with anyone as it was and so I cut all contact with him, changing my number and such.
And until last night, that was the last time I had seen him. Pert of me is saying, how could he do that to someone after he saw what I went though and how much it effected me. Another part of me is saying maybe its my fault. Maybe, its some kind of psych compliant, kinda like he witnessed everything that happened to me and reenacted it. The girl was 17, he was 32 thats 15 years different. There was 10 years between Dave and I.
For some reason I have an urge to go to his trial. (3rd November) I know it would only cause upset. That I wouldnt be able to handle it in my present state. The urge is still there though. Didnt sleep much last night thinking about it. I cant get him out of my head. Seeing his picture in the paper just bought it all back. Which then of course had memories of him running through my head, which lead to memories of Dave running through my head, which in turn leads to even more nasty memories. Just wish my head would silence for a bit. I have to keep busy or it all starts playing through my mind. Stupid PTSD.And of course I would normall make a post for support and I would normally talk to my friend about this, but I wont put any of it on her. Shes not well. I will tell her when she is better, but who knows when that will be. Its times like this I realise just how few friends I have these days. I guess I have pushed them all away, to be honest most couldnt deal with having a sick friend. When I first had my transplant, I couldnt do much for myself. They where young, 17/18 wanting to be carefree out having fun, not stuck with someone in a wheel chair who spent more time in hospital than out. From then we just grew further apart. And I havnt had the trust to make new friends really.
Anyway, enough depressed rambling for one entry.
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