Sleepless nights and a man called Jack........
went to the George Eliot hospital for what seemed like a routine course of antibiotics and was given enemas on two separate days. I went in on Friday and didn’t sleep until Sunday at 9 pm. I was on the edge of a nervous breakdown. I just want to thank the nhs for the excellent service they provided. I won’t be going back there again. I think i might be damaged more than anyone will ever know. They provided a doctor (all i can say is that he wore a stethoscope) who played down my complaints of mental abuse but at least they got me home safe during a ‘ghost’ ride theme. They’re great people. Not.
The man they all do things for is someone called Jack. How anybody can get so many people to do so many things for him is amazing.
He ran the show. They had a couple of people they used to try and wear me down. One was called John, and the other was an Indian woman whose name i don’t quite recall. They were aggressive in the things they said to me. It was not a case of one being horrible. They both were. They had a trick where they could make the call-aid buzzer go off. I was getting highly strung by it. I don’t why they targeted me. At night, i was trying to make my hands draw blood. Anything to stay awake. I knew that if i fell asleep they would take control of the situation.
This may sound like a fantasy. I assure you, it was not. It was the scariest situation i had ever known in my life. I wanted to come home, somewhere i knew it was safe for me to be. A lack of sleep and a feeling of being scared pushed my anxieties to new limits. I had a story to tell, but who would believe me? Jack owned a massive house, there were cameras to various rooms. Some even showed what was happening outside. He lived there with his wife. There was nothing about him that was out of the ordinary. Except of course he had a mean streak. His was the kind of personality that would order people to be executed, especially during world war two. And people would do it just to win his approval.
i know that i haven’t been right for days now. The lack of sleep does that to your mind and you can’t fight it, but things hopefully will improve, they won’t for Jack, he’s 93. At least he won’t be around for much longer. Why he chose me to pick on, i have no idea. I’m just glad i lived to tell the tale. I’m home now and they can’t touch me. Eventually, i will get better. A lack of sleep is where it all begins. When i got home last night i knew i had a lucky escape. Given different cicumstances it could have been a different story. I only hope someone dobs him in it, but i doubt it.