This is a merge of my 'Wanderer' blog that tells of two years of my three years on the streets, and a new blog that tells of my life after the Diocese of Winchester ripped through my life for for the last few years on top of the previous serious harm that left me homeless
This is a day to day blog of my life as I continue to survive, work on recovery and on the social problems that I have and try to come to terms with limitless traumas I have survived along the way.
This blog is in tandem with my blog about my experiences in the Church of England

The former name of this blog and the name of it's sister blog are to do with my sense of humour, which I hope to keep to the end, which appears to be ever more rapidly approaching. At least I laughed, and I laughed at the people who were destroying me. Don't forget that.

Here are my books, which I wrote for you if you would like to know more:

Saturday, 26 November 2011

I am having a bad blog day, I can't write anything.

Last night when I left the library I went out into a freezing cold wet night, more rain was forecast and I was already tired, so I decided to spend some more of my scarce and precious benefit money on another night in the bed and breakfast.
I was tired, I was soon asleep after watching Last of the Summer Wine, but the dreams were not good, I woke in the early hours shaking because of a very vivid and horrible dream about things that have happened, it brough it all back and when you wake up in the dark and you are someone who has prophetic dreams anyway, you can be afraid that the dream will come true.

I phoned the Samaritans and was lucky to get someone who understood and was reassuring, then I looked at the time, it was already 6am but I was tired, so I slept again, I had trouble waking up, it was 9.50am! before I got up! and I had only 10 minutes to get a shower and a cup of tea before checking out. I managed that. As I walked up the road from the bed and breakfast and along the rough nightclub row, there was quite a pool of blood on the ground at one point, and it was blood, not ketchup.

I went to the library but couldn't settle, I went to the daycentre and got a cuppa, the lady who was going to give me a lift to the banquet had decided not to go, so me and someone else were left disappointed with no lift and it not being realistic to try and get there by bus.

Outside the library someone stopped to tell me about a new NHS service for sufferers of depression and anxiety etc, they gave me the details and said I could access it by registering with a doctor. I was going to see about registering with a doctor at the surgery attached to the walk in centre anyway, and I need to see someone about my problems walking and standing as they are getting worse again.
I went up to the medical centre and asked about registering, they gave me the forms and put me in to see a walk in centre nurse about my walking problems, Saturday meant that the waiting room was full of screaming children and casualties from last night's drinking. Stressful.

The nurse examines me and says she will get someone else to give me a prescription in a minute and that I will need to see a doctor and possibly have cortizone injections, she sends me to wait and another nurse calls me and prescribes me strong painkillers and anti-inflammatory stuff, she says that she hopes I can cope with all this and if it makes me too tired then I should cut back and see the doctor.

I go back to the desk to see what is happening about me seeing the doctor, I am told I can have an appointment in a week, a week? I don't know about how it is anywhere else but a week is a long time.

I go back to the daycentre and the food aid is there, after a bit of a distress about talking about the other daycentre and the homeless medical centre she offers me a small food and toiletries parcel.

Here I am unable to write any more of the distressing part of the blog, so it will wait till monday.

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