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I'm an Emergency Case
Yellow head
tallguywrites
The after-effects of the depression have left me physically worn out. A trip up into town these days usually leaves me exausted. I find that I'm walking slower and slower. The other day I was making my way along the canal towpath back from Tescos, when an elderly couple passed me. I was actually struggling to keep up with them. I speeded up and kept a brisk pace until I got back to the house. However, the next day my feet and legs were so full of aches and pains that I was limping.

I was telling the hospital councillor about this when I saw her Yesterday, and she told me that the fatigue I was suffering, was not due to the side-effects of the Prozac, which I had believed, but the strain of all the recent anxiety I'd suffered. It may take a while, she said, for me to get my strength back. She suggested a number of ways I could improve my diet, which I've taken on board.

I feel very lucky to have got an appointment with her so quickly. I was only talking to the modern matron (who is a bloke) about this on Friday, and he rang me back, having arranged it for Monday afternoon. They apparently keep an afternoon slot available for emergency cases.

Am I an emergency case? It seems so. I still feel fragile.