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Diary – 5th August 2015
I’ve drawn the curtains again. Some days it’s just too painful to look out through my windows. I get food delivered, watch endless re-runs of old shows, surf the net. I even go out sometimes, but only when it’s dark, or raining. Usually it’s just taking used up glass bottles to the recycling bins by the community centre.
It wasn’t always like that though. I used to get sun burnt while cycling, or wind-surfing. Enjoying the cocoon of the ocean during a drift dive. I was pretty active in my younger days. That, though, was a long time ago now. Or at least it feels like it was.
Time to take another pill. One of an endless procession now. There’s a, thing, in my head. My neurologist was quite blunt when he told me he didn’t know what was wrong. He agreed that there was something wrong, and that it just wasn’t psychological. Which was nice. Doesn’t detract from it though.
Some days it’s bad. I can feel it. Like it’s clawing at the inside of my skull, trying to get out. Scraping and scratching. I have extra pills for those days. They help me sleep, and make the scratching seem dull and distant.
Occasionally, when I’ve been out, it’s started. The scratching, and scraping. Then it tries to take over. It’s so hard to fight it when that happens. It tries to take control. The left side is usually first to succumb to the attempts. I shake, and tremble, as I fight to maintain my control. It is my body after all. I don’t like it when that happens. It’s one of the reasons I don’t go out so much anymore. I look like a drunk. Stumbling, slurring and blinking at the day. People frown at me. I don’t like it. So I don’t go out.
Diary 12th August 2015
Something has changed. I wake up, and feel exhausted now. Like I’ve been running a marathon. I’m so tired, but I know I’ve slept. Things have been moved in the house. They’re not where I left them. My books are ordered differently. They’re in a language I no longer understand. Everything has a strange aura. Has the thing in my head done something? Has it found a way out? I must speak with my Doctor.
Diary 25th August 2015
I have more pills. My Doctor doesn’t know what else to do. Nothing shows on the MRI scans. Nothing shows in the blood tests. He says it’s likely that it’s genetic. So he plies me with more pills and hopes for the best. He is worried though. We did a sleep test that involved video surveillance for twenty four hours. When I saw him afterwards he looked sickly, and deeply concerned. Did I do something in my sleep? Or did the thing in my head do something? He won’t say, but now I have extra pills to help me sleep. Apparently they are very strong.
Diary 4th September 2015
There’s a spot on the back of my head, behind my left ear, that feels soft and spongy. I think the thing in my head might have finally broken through. I looked at my hands today, and suddenly realised how thin they are. Shrivelled and skeletal. Doing my house chores is very hard now. I tire so easily. Something as simple as loading the dish washer, or vacuuming, is so difficult. I have to rest between each task. But I relax, and drink tea. I only listen to music now. The TV is too painful to watch. The blinds are closed, and the curtains drawn. The house is now in semi-perpetual gloom. I’ve also had to change all the light bulbs. The house used to be so brightly lit. Now it hunkers down around me. Closed in, and waiting.
The scratching has started again. Time to take another pill. I’m so tired now. Maybe this time I won’t wake up. Maybe tonight is the night the thing in my head finally hatches, and leaves me in peace.
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