just in case anyone else is worried, i ended up turning a tiny bit blue after my mixing experience (i felt fine, just looked like i'd been tie-dying things in buckets and was colder and paler than usual) so rang NHSdirect, who got in a huge flap and made me promise to go to A&E (i was forced to promise to take a bus IF NOT A TAXI even though it's just about walking distance). after all that, the blue/purple had pretty much gone altogether by the time a doctor saw me and even being wildly unhealthy, terrified of blood pressure cuffs and in a total panic in case something actually was wrong with me my heart and pulse were fine.
so in summary, i basically spent £10 and nazi postage on:
a) not really getting high
b) looking like a crap extra whose crowd scene never made it into avataar
c) terrifying a random nurse by telephone
d) feeling ridiculous in A&E
e) having to listen to LITERALLY THE MOST MORONIC WAITING-ROOM CONVERSATION IN THE WORLD and reflecting that my brain was clearly doing better than many even post-frying
f) being sent home by a doctor who clearly thought i was some kind of neurotic housewife from the 50s for having turned up at all, and who charmingly stalked off when i reiterated the fact that i only went because their helpline reacted like i was trying to shock-paddle myself back to life off my mobile battery.
and i still have a dissertation experiment programme to write. frankly, i'd rather i HAD felt like god or woken up in hell or whatever the sun got their knackers in a twist about, at least then i might feel like i'd achieved something.
oh wait, there was ONE positive if you're into "live autopsy"-type stuff: i was actually quite interested in how many veins we have in our hands. that was literally the most interesting thing about the entire experience for me.
so in summary, i basically spent £10 and nazi postage on:
a) not really getting high
b) looking like a crap extra whose crowd scene never made it into avataar
c) terrifying a random nurse by telephone
d) feeling ridiculous in A&E
e) having to listen to LITERALLY THE MOST MORONIC WAITING-ROOM CONVERSATION IN THE WORLD and reflecting that my brain was clearly doing better than many even post-frying
f) being sent home by a doctor who clearly thought i was some kind of neurotic housewife from the 50s for having turned up at all, and who charmingly stalked off when i reiterated the fact that i only went because their helpline reacted like i was trying to shock-paddle myself back to life off my mobile battery.
and i still have a dissertation experiment programme to write. frankly, i'd rather i HAD felt like god or woken up in hell or whatever the sun got their knackers in a twist about, at least then i might feel like i'd achieved something.
oh wait, there was ONE positive if you're into "live autopsy"-type stuff: i was actually quite interested in how many veins we have in our hands. that was literally the most interesting thing about the entire experience for me.

