June 19th, 2007 | 
Author: I saw the boss-lady psychiatrist yesterday. She agreed to take me off the drug that is keeping me awake. Sadly, the dose will have to be gradually lowered over several days, but hopefully this means sleep will come soon.
She has also prescribed me a short-term course of clonazepam, a tranquiliser, to help me deal with the incredible anxiety I feel being locked up. To be honest, it barely scratches the surface of the terror that is my life, but even a slight improvement is welcome.
Amazingly, the nurses also were bothered to go and get my anti-depressants yesterday, so maybe I will begin to feel less miserable.
Feeling miserable, and sadly suicidal, is still a problem, though. Today I want to negociate for the return of my belt, shoelaces and earphones, so I will have to be very careful what I say. I will have to stress how much getting my medication sorted out has perked me up. Oh, and avoid saying I am as miserable as sin and if I am left alone with a bottle of cyanide I’ll swallow it instantly. I do not think there is terribly much cyanide on the ward, though.
I suppose I am happy that I have my Nokia N800 and N95 to keep in contact with the outside world, and having Butter to cuddle as I lie awake at night helps a lot as well.
Some friends are going to visit this evening and I cannot express how pleased I’ll be to see them. I’ll ask them to dress as washer women and smuggle me out in their basket of washing.
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