On Thursday I started writing a post about Little Dragon an Oxford Street exclusive Lush bubble bar that smells amazing – cinnamon, ginger, spices – but doesn’t bubble as much as I would like it to.
It was mostly a post about how, when I first went to Lush Oxford Street, I nearly died in the crowds, and I didn’t realise there was a lift, so didn’t go back for months. Signpost your lifts, major businesses. Think how many hundreds of £££ I would have spent if I’d known sooner.
That was boring, so I didn’t publish it.
Anyway, for several months now my pain levels have been less than entertaining, and although I make hilarious jokes about bubble bars curing cerebral palsy, I did actually make it to the GP today, and not only did he refer me back to the most anxious neurologist in the world – I like her, so hooray! – he also prescribed me some baclofen.
Honestly, it was a bit fast and I think he should have asked more questions, and I think I might go back in a few weeks and see what else he will give me, just for kicks. As far as we could tell, no one had given me baclofen since 2014. I know why I stopped, which is it was making me drowsy.
Can I just say – Baclofen, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was doing, I LOVE YOU!
Since the effect of baclofen is cumulative, there is no way on god’s green earth the sensations I was feeling two hours after taking it, in which everything went floppy and amazing, were in any way anything other than psychological, but OH MY GOD I’M HAPPY.
And no, I haven’t had a bath since Thursday, because I had a nap at 18:30, and since my pain levels were much better than they’ve been in the best part of a year, I just slept through ’til 4am, and now here I am and my sleep patterns are fucked, but I don’t care. I don’t care.
It will settle, I know that. And bath bombs don’t cure cerebral palsy, who could have guessed.