I went today-it is an all day trip because you go and return in a van and have to wait for everyone to get their physical and mental needs met. While I did not entertain any violent thoughts, I was diasappointed. She keeps trying to make it clear that the only thing she cares about is 'treatment', and I keep trying to make it clear the only thing I care about is money'. I tried to get it across to her how important it was to make sure her reports reflected the fact that I don't, nor ever have been, bipolar. It is vital for my trial that this can be brought up and proven by the doctor. She was very vague about it and said 'It's in my reports." Now why don't I believe her?"

Opps! There went another naughty thought! Away, away, into the breeze!

I suppose I just have to be very firm with her. They want me to come up there (it's a 75 mile trip each way) once a week to take Don't Believe this Trash-or you may know it as DBT.

But I did meet the lovliest dog! A PTSD service dog, a choc lab named Dekers and I sat at lunch and spoke to his master, a lovely veteran. Seems it takes two years to train them and they cost 30K or more, but they are sponsored for the vet. It's not that I feel unsafe-a poor widow living all alone in my palace-but when I was consort to my liege, at least I knew if there was any trouble I could get out and kick their *** while he held my purse.

So next week, OMG-every week? really? Any suggestions? glok?