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Dr Amy O’Callaghan
Monday 3 March 2008
Pain and discomfort in my right thigh during the night which was cold. Snow. Dressed in my grey Magee tweed coat, grey pinstripe shirt and grey Manchester United tie with brown slacks, tan Chelsea boots and black barred socks. Wore gold cufflinks and sported in my top pocket an IMPERO black pen with gold trimmings. Arrived in Ladywell at 2.00 p.m. and got quickly an injection of 25 mg of Risperdal Consta in the left "side" off Emmet. He told me that Dr. Lyster is still out "sick." She may be thinking of retiring he intimated. Met Dessie parked outside the building at the road where I was to meet Dr Callaghan, a young woman doctor. Dessie was driving Bridget O’Connor who was in to see the "doctor." Friendly young doctor, quick on the uptake, gave me a six-month appointment. Called in to Meehan’s. Gary Morgan the young service advisor told me that the Yaris needs service only after 15 000 km. I bought a red apron in Atlantic Homecare for €10. Doubled back to Hill Street and got the Yaris washed for €6. Bought a display book – grey with 40 "pages" – price €2.95, in Boyd’s. Had coffee, lemon meringue and cream in The Copper Kettle. Cost ~ €6.00 total. Had eaten two singed but undercooked pork loin chops and some fried potato before I left home for town. Met Rosanna at the exit of the bus station as I walked back in my peak cap and Bugati overcoat to LWSC car-park. Rosanna threw tea over my display book and good clothes in the evening and annoyed me. "I’ll put you through that door and I won’t open the door!" I threatened with some force. I could not stick her auld tongue and retired to the sittingroom and the computer. "Send a few e-mails to your girl friends," she taunted as I retreated. I resolved not to travel with her up to Dublin tomorrow to visit Og. I am not really in form and anyway I don’t want annoyance. Udaras na Gaeltachta refusing to pay Aisling’s fee for the course she took last week in Galway. Their excuse – she did not apply in time. Can Dr. Callaghan picture the indignity of dropping one’s trousers for an unwelcome prick in the bum? How does any mental patient escape that horrid, stigmatizing and degrading indignity and all the others that flow from it like stiffness, awkwardness, slight double incontinence, dry mouth, feeling older than one’s years, poor vision, attention deficit and restlessness as well as poor morale. I had a dream last night of being a patient dressed in rough women’s clothes in an English mental hospital and in a lorry or was it a bus with a needle and serum piped like a mini petrol pump into my arm. Dr McGrath who used to treat me in John of God’s came into it too. The question was, "Is he dead?" Put 9 pages into the display book with a neat "fit." My journal for February 2008.