Loads of new drugs! Plus some old 'favourites' :\
After a fashion, and in the stylings of Damon Albarn, 'I got my head checked' on Wednesday. It wasn't very interesting. I'd hoped that neuroscience had taken some exciting leaps and bounds since I last stopped by. Or, at the very least, got a new office.
The doctor affected an air of boredom as I described my day to day agony, but otherwise he barely seemed to acknowledge my presence in the room. So much so that he prescribed me some 'new medication' which, if he'd actually read my notes, he might have noticed I first tried in 2001. But, honestly, after 23 years of 'having my head checked' I've learned not to argue.
The pills, Propranolol Hydrochloride and Tramadol Hydrochloride, are pretty nasty and make me feel like I've got someone pushing my brains into my socks. They're also giving me nightmares. So it's not all bad.
I've recently been catching up on some of the TV greats of the 1980s and 1990s. Most of this week has been devoted to The Tripods, and those tiny white shorts.
Whilst most of last week was given over to Knightmare, and the incredibly bad hair styles of 1980s Britain.
It's always odd when you go back to something you loved as a child. You can sort of see why you loved it, but you can also see that you were actually a bit of a dick. It's bittersweet. Bittersweet, I say.
Someone who's clearly not a dick is The Fonz. He visited Fairfield, my old primary school, this week in an effort to make children embrace literature. That, or to punch the juke box. I forget which.
Quite randomly, on Monday, I got the clippers out and shaved my hair down to a number five all over. What with the impending brain check, the horribly muggy weather and the voices in my head, it seemed like a really good idea. My hair went from six inches to 18mm in the blink of an eye. Magnificent!
Okay, that's clearly enough non sequitur blather for now. I'm off to check if these tablets really do cause 'erectile disfunction'.