Last night I had a panic/anxiety attack, a beautifully complex one, by the book. As a result, I am back on my antidepressant. It was lovely while it lasted. I was actually active! Well, as active as I can be, imagine a sloth on speed, that would be me, minus the long nails, because my nails keep on breaking. If you know why and have a cure, let me know. I am afraid to google it, I am sure I will end up with terminal nail cancer if I do.
But let me put the mental health issue aside and tell you about my toilet mishap. It was this morning, just after work, on a psychiatric ward (I know, the irony!) and I decided to use the loo before leaving. And so I did. I did a wee and then the other thing that shall not be mentioned. All nice and dandy, as quick as can be. I flushed, in a hurry to get out of there and enjoy the sun outside, have some lunch and check out the Putney charity shops.
“Hot damn, it does not flush! I wait for the basin to fill with water and try again. No luck. Bloody hell. I wash my hands, put on lipstick, check my ever expanding bottom in the mirror, a good mirror, a shrinking mirror, and flush again. Nope. Just nope. I wash my hands again, check the time, fuck this shit, literally! I mean, it’s one of the few sunny days in London and I am stuck in a toilet, flushing the unflushable. I contemplate sneaking myself out and let the next person deal with all that crap, literally, but the mere thought of someone looking at something so personal of mine makes me very nervous. What if they judge my eating habits and my bowel movements? Is it too fatty? Too carby? Too sugary? Can they deduct my weight? Are they calling me fat? Can they see what I had for dinner? Or breakfast? Can breakfast be seen that soon? I mean it is only 12 pm. Terrified, I flush again. No. I am on the verge of tears. Now I understand how Sisyphus must have felt, pulling that rock up the mountain for eternity. I can easily see myself flushing this toilet till the end of time. I flush again, trying to not have any expectations. It goes through! I am free!”
I washed my hands, took my stuff and ran out in the sun to enjoy my new found freedom. Well, first I had to buzz a nurse to come let me out, walk on a long corridor, take a lift and walk on another long corridor. Then I was out in the sun. And into the shops.