Dreaming of aubergines...

I'm beginning to think that being a doctor could be a bonus when it comes to accessing treatment for bipolar disorder (once you are able to get over the trauma of temporarily being a patient, not a doctor). On this occasion I seem to have been fast-tracked through the system. Appointment slots have miraculously appeared for me. My GP made it very clear that I was a doctor during the whole referral process... As a result I got myself onto a CBT programme within a fortnight. Whether it will help God knows, but I've never known the NHS to act so quickly in response to mental illness. I'm being treated almost as well as a cancer patient!

In other news, I've just woken from an extremely vivid dream about giving a presentation at the UK's “National Aubergine Conference”. Nice. An hour before I was lying in bed weeping. I haven't been able to leave the house all day. I checked my email and made myself a fantastic lunch (surprise, surprise), but then froze and started to cry endlessly, mainly worrying about my career. Checking out the aubergines at this conference was a real mood booster though. When I woke up I had all but forgotten my woes and had set my mind to thinking about what I could next cook with an aubergine (when I've thought of something I'll let you know). Is that the sort of experience I need to be talking to my psychiatrist about?

When the other half gets home we've planned to cook another recipe from the Kitchen Shrink - grilled trout and toasted sunflower seeds with leeks. Supposedly the fish oils will do me no end of good. Don't get me wrong, I love fish, but sometimes the thought of deliberately cooking something healthy just makes me crave pizza. And not thin, upmarket pizza. Thick, greasy, cheap, pan-friend pizza of the Pizza Hut variety. With lots of meat. Meat and aubergines.  

A day on the farm...

Things are starting to look up.

I managed to take a long walk before seeing my GP this morning. After my appointment I met my boyfriend at Vauxhall City Farm. I've been going there since my second year of medical school when I had a major depressive episode. I used to go and spend time with the same white horse each week which I found really therapeutic. None of the horses were around to pet today, so I spent time with some rabbits, pigs and lambs instead. I found myself laughing with my boyfriend as we walked around the farm. For a moment I lost sight of my sadness. (By the way, if you're keen to help miserable depressives like me you can kindly make a donation to the farm here).

I'm not sure what the evidence base is behind animals as therapy, although Wikipedia gives a brief overview of the subject here. When I was an adolescent I was admitted to hospital for self-harm and depression on several occasions, and twice the children's ward was blessed with a visit from a pair of dogs from Pets As Therapy. Again, during those brief moments of holding and stroking the dogs I forgot the fact that I was in hospital and just enjoyed their softness. A few years later I approached Pets As Therapy to see if I could take my own dog in to hospitals, but it turned out he was too bouncy and excitable. Oh well, he was good enough for me.

I made a decision to ease off on the baking today, mainly because there are still four cupcakes remaining and I don't know whether the psychiatric nurse who comes tomorrow will have the balls to accept baked goods from one of her patients. Instead I turned my culinary attention to making a hot and sour prawn and noodle soup. Oh my gosh it proved to be the ultimate comfort food! Simply put a few chopped spring onions, red chilli, grated ginger, lemon grass and mushrooms into some fish stock. Add a tablespoon each of soy and fish sauce, followed by some egg noodles and raw King Prawns. After boiling for a couple of minutes the prawns and noodles will be cooked through and you're good to go. I got the idea from a cookbook I bought last year called “The Kitchen Shrink”. It was one of the recipes the author suggested for depression. What can I say? It worked.