I was in a psychiatric hospital as I had been crazily mad. But within three months I got much better. The psychiatrist put me on injections, to my objections, but they persevered and low and behold they served my fine, as I got no longer 'out of my mind'. And since that objection of subjection with having an injection, I am of the opinion that I need them to stay on top of myself and to remain in good-spirited-health. So they were a treat put into my meat, in the bottom, where previously on hindsight I did smite this tripe but now I think them alright, as I am no longer in flight from my faculties, and now I don't gripe with a verbal fight using all of my mighty might.
Once well, I can now tell, the hospital was hell. But I left and got to ring the bell - like on a cancer ward.
I didn't like being around a crazy patient, as I had little patience. A source of ambivalence I know, and as the passing of time did grow, I got to again glow with my literature pieces that still flow. They weren't all crazy on the ward I was in, as a lot were capable of holding a conversing conversation, and some, like me, had gotten better, but were just waiting for the right accommodation. So I could accommodate those I didn't hate - hate is too stronger of a word, strongly disliked, and got on with them, sharing days out and activities on the ward, such as playing chess no less, as I was the best, put to the test by the rest. I also used to play scrabble, which was my game of choice, as I deem myself to be a bit of a wordsmith. I also like rummy-hub, which was good to play, working out lots of maths.
I was in hospital, segregated on the initial ward, for three months, and after that I could come and go as I pleased, so because the ward setting was depressing I used to go out on leave everyday, and found a whole new bunch of friends, who followed my trends, of folly jolly banter. I used to go to the local pub, which was on the doorstep, and socialised with everyone who visited, regulars and fleeting passing. So I used to socialise with the guys on the ward in the morning at the local Starbucks, then go back with them for lunch, then after a munch I would head off to the pub - just drinking Pepsi-Max. I used to get there about two, and stay till last orders were called, roughly between ten pm and eleven pm.
My ward report was a credit to me, as I got rave reviews from there observations of my behaviour and character of having a good nature. I got on with my peers, and would rather walk away from any hostile aggression towards myself, or others. I got on with all of the staff, and to be honest I prefered conversing with them, as I deemed them sane of mind, normal if you like.
I went to the local gym for six months, and got into a healthy routine, but stopped going because of a knee injury with lifting too much, which greatly disheartened myself this ill-health. But one consolation is it hasn't affected my ability to walk, just run. But I am still quite stocky from my endeavours at the gym.
Like I stated, I was well after three months of being detained, and I had been taken off being sectioned under the mental health act, I remained in hospital just to wait for a suitable placement, as that's what my daughter and family wanted for me. So here I am now, in a modern house with the best fixtures and fittings I could have ever hoped for. So I'm under supervision now, which I don't mind, as in my last flat, besides my pet dog, I was mostly on my own. I like engaging in activities here, and they often take us out to different places several times a week. So I am a happy chappie very chirpy, and now funny with the banter I've been expressively expressing with expressive expression to expressively impress?
Thank you for taking the time to read this testimony from me, now free, and I will now a respectful citizen of the UK. Blessings to you my friends, good luck and merry tidings.
A photograph of me with me Mother
Love love, Andrew.
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