Every Monday and Wednesday I try to make sure that I share one of the tales I have encountered during my investigations of Wellington Street. However, I have taken ill, making the process increasingly more difficult to complete. It started weeks ago, after my strange and frightening encounter at the local bus stop. It involved a chance meeting with a very ill, and in the end very dangerous woman, a conversation that I later recounted to local police. I had expressed that the experience had left me feeling quite unwell, and unfortunately things have not improved. I have had a chronic headache ever since that night which no over the counter medicine seems to be able to help. I struggle to sleep, and even when I do I awake feeling tired.
The feeling of anxiety and the sense that I am being watched has steadily gotten worse. I find myself frequently looking around me, desperately looking for validation of my fears. I considered several times to simply go to a psychiatrist, but though I am a student I am very much aware of the effect such an action would have on my reputation. Anyway, I know that the source of much of my grief comes from my experience that night. It is not easy to reconcile the fact that the woman I was speaking to so pleasantly had attempted to kill her husband and children only a short while before.
I have gone to a doctor, who has prescribed some sleep aids and some more powerful pain killers. They aren't sure what is wrong yet, though they have already performed numerous tests. They took a blood test, as well as a MRI and a series of x-rays. The only tests that have yet to be performed are a PSG, MSLT, and MWT, which is scheduled for next week. These are all common sleep tests, and should help to narrow down a diagnosis. Hopefully during the next couple of weeks I will get some answers. In the meantime, I have simply had to endure my pain, and it has begun to take a tole.
The madness I encountered that night has left me deeply injured, and the lack of sleep has surely only contributed to the strange and frightening psychosis I am developing. I am sure if I was at least able to get some sleep that I would be able to recover a little. But it has been weeks now, and very little has improved.
There was one experience I had lately that left me feeling much better, at least temporarily. It has been a little over a month since my last visit to Wellington Street, the thought of going back filling me with dread. Despite my fear, I have in truth wanted to go, if for no other reason then to complete some further interviews and research. I have had to mostly conduct my investigations through phone interviews and email, using local sources and careful searches of the internet to help me continue my research. But it was not the same, and over the weeks the desire to go back gradually won out.