Medical stuff of no real consequence: The other day I attended a clinic in Edinburgh's Western General Hospital. The staff were kind and helpful but the hospital complex has a dystopian feel to it that slightly unnerved me. There was a lack of colour and clear signage and of course it was busy and I'd not been there before. I had to ask for directions three times which is odd for me, I'm usually good at finding my way. Anyway I found the correct clinic in time for the appointment. The procedure followed and was over and done with quite quickly.
The technical and physical parts of it were however unexpected. I thought a chat and a blood test would be all that would happen but it appears my case warrants a more intrusive investigation. In these situations you can feel like a small piece of meat and that's discomforting and strangely numbing. The anticipated sanctuary of nice thoughts or an out of body experience was denied me. My brain and nervous system would not follow my reasonably clear instructions. It was uncomfortable. The staff were very professional so I've no complaints other than against my own internal wiring. In Trump's catastrophic USA the 15 minute session would have cost me a kidney.
It's all over now. Just a few minutes and a few words and I'm driving home still wondering why I just can't self medicate some dopamine across my muddled receptors. Maybe I'm not producing enough, maybe other things are restraining it, maybe I'm just worn out of my life time supply. We lose control sometimes and just thinking "happy place" isn't effective or enough to overcome the creeping anxiety. This lab rat can't follow the internal instructions and the real world becomes hyper real, briefly, perhaps even beautifully.
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