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    PSYCHOSIS: 'Nil by mouth'
    PSYCHOSIS: 'Nil by mouth'
    PSYCHOSIS: 'Nil by mouth'
    Ebook30 pages25 minutes

    PSYCHOSIS: 'Nil by mouth'

    By Tom Goymour

    ()

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    About this ebook

    When things go seriously wrong, be grateful just to get back to the place where you were. Ahead, there is light, behind – only darkness.

    'Waking up is hard to do'. . . be prepared for a journey . . . an adventure that  might be uncomfortable, but in the end . . . we can all make it home.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTom Goymour
    Release dateSep 30, 2017
    ISBN9781386999829
    PSYCHOSIS: 'Nil by mouth'

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      Book preview

      PSYCHOSIS - Tom Goymour

      Psychosis: Nil by Mouth

      Somewhere in the north of England there is a high-speed APT train travelling south. Four people sit in one of its carriages: a woman wearing a cape, perhaps in her late twenties with her brown hair tied tightly in a bun, an older man in uniform whose tight shirt doesn’t help in any way to conceal the excess weight he is carrying around his girth, and a man wearing a thick dark blue overcoat with an upturned collar, shades, and a hat. The fourth person in that carriage is me. The woman and the man in uniform seem to know each other, they talk in low tones, occasionally looking across, but my attention is taken with the other man sitting opposite.

      This guy and I have struck up a conversation. He’s the one who has asked the questions, and I’ve tried to answer them. He wants to know how I’m feeling, and so, oddly, I find myself telling him everything that has just happened to me. Right now that feels such a relief. I’m on this damn train heading south, and at the moment that’s all that matters to me. I’m out of it now, I’ve escaped, thank God. I reckon I’m safe, and whatever has just happened, and whatever else does happen . . . I know that now at least I’m going home. It’s just that I don’t know where home is!

      I tell him I think I’d better start at the beginning . . . if there is one? You see, the first thing I can remember is waking up in hospital. At least, I think that’s where I was, but I don’t know how I got there. And I can’t remember anything else that happened beforehand. The first thing I do recall is Doctor Dreyfus, standing, watching over me adorned in his white overall while other people close by (patients I assume), were being bustled away, presumably for treatment.

      Ah! Welcome back, he says. Now, I’m Doctor Dreyfus, and I’m going to be looking after you.

      My vision isn’t clear and my head is pounding. My brain tries

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