TW: You don’t need a second opinion. Here, have these pills instead…

TW: The NHS, hospitals and the cyst get mentioned. Also suicidal thoughts. Stay safe all x

 

 

 

The days drag by. We are eating pills each morning to try and make it to the end of the day. The same doctor who told us she could do nothing for us on Wednesday also prescribed two boxes of tramadol to us.

When we got home, all we wanted to do was down them all. The Dutchman was on the phone to us, so that didn’t happen. But, just for a moment, the thought was there.

The NHS seems to be staffed with assholes and also caring folk who are held back from doing their job by red tape. Consultants are mostly on holiday or on “sabbatical”, which I’m fairly sure is code for holiday. I’ve been struggling with chronic pain for almost a month now, and I recently was told about someone who works for my auntie who is on a waiting list for three MONTHS for a scan. She has right side heart failure. She could die at any minute, yet they refuse to do anything.

Junior doctors are being legislated out of the NHS and many of the older doctors are leaving in disgust. Private healthcare is so expensive, nobody can afford it.

There are people out there dying, and David Cameron is more concerned about lining his own pockets.

This country is worse off, debt and deficit wise, than it was before he took over. The NHS is crippled, and people are being turned away with a handful of painkillers, desperate and out of options.

You do the maths. It’s not a pretty picture

I’m apparently waiting for a scan that could have been done LAST WEEK, but I was discharged instead. I was told that the hospital was not an emergency service, and to go to the GP. The GP said she was not an emergency service, and A and E are an emergency service. A and E have told me that they’re not an emergency service, and that the GP is where I’m supposed to go.

Never mind the fact that the waiting list is three weeks to see a doctor…

Unless something changes, there will be no national health service. Right now, I can see what damage has already been done. It’s more like national service- you go in and wait, and eventually are handed the means to destroy yourself.

The Dutchman is always, always by our side. He never stops talking to us, he makes sure we are safe, and has helped us by ringing various people about appointments. So far, I’m being fobbed off with a scan. He is angry with the people supposed to take care of us, as are we.

Our usual doctor is on holiday- without her, we wouldn’t even be on hospital radar right now. If she’d seen how much pain we were in, she might have done something better than been not too sympathetic and handed us pills. She goes above and beyond.

Here’s hoping the cyst bursts. That way, at least someone would take us seriously… Or not. They’d probably tell us that we just needed to wait at home and see if it would go by itself. Here, have another packet of tramadol, and no answers.

How my dog just taught me something

Juno is one year old. She’s naughty, willful and stubborn. She loves playing, chewing on ears, and cuddles.

She’s also wise.

I was going to wait til she had fallen asleep and go and attempt suicide, but then I opened my eyes from where I was lying on the opposite couch and saw her staring at me. Why wasn’t I with her?

So I crawled over and snuggled up to her and started crying. She rested her little head on mine and put a paw on my cheek.

She loves me and she needs me, I can’t let her down.

Admitted- the beginning- Part Seven.

I said when I got out I would write up my journal entries. Here goes the first one.

April 24th, 17:31.

Voices are on at me still non-stop. Being admitted. The mental health nurse said that I was a concern. Dr K got me to come here because she was worried for me.

The RAID team got called (Rapid Response mental health team) and now I’m waiting for a bed.

The voices are so angry with me! They want me to die so much. I don’t want to kill myself but they keep wanting me to.

I really hope this fixes some of this or I might die.

April 25th, 00:59.

I have been admitted.

I’m absolutely exhausted. I want to sleep but my brain is on fire, so I’ll be writing until I feel a bit more tired.

I’ve been taken to A&E before, like I’ve written, but I’m not sure it’s ever been as stressful as this. I was in such a state with Dr K at my appointment, she taught me some breathing techniques with a relaxation technique, then she rang the RAID team to let them know I was heading across. She talked to mum, too, and we got to A&E (ER for my American readers). The lovely Triage nurse saw me and told me that they would keep me safe. That was nice. Right then, I felt anything but.

The good part about being assessed was that I didn’t have to keep saying all the bad stuff in front of my mum. I felt believed, respected and valued.

I’m in Ward 3- have my own room with a little ensuite toilet. Not sure how I managed that but it helps with the paranoia. It’s a mixed ward but the men can’t come down here, so that’s a bit relief.

I saw the consultant- she was very kind. She has taken my blood and done a full mental health assessment on me.

I rang R and J. Both were awesome. Told Mr Robot about all of this too, and Harley Quinn and Y.

Oh, I think I actually feel tired now. I will end up writing more tomorrow.

Admitted part 5

So, lots to tell.

So far, I’ve met some fellow voice hearers, some other women who have had experiences like mine, seen what happens when someone has a flip out, and done gardening. Odd list of stuff I know.

I’ll explain.

So I was nervous and ran to my room the night I got there. I felt like there were eyes on me, staring at the new “inmate”, and the voices agreed. I locked myself in and slept fitfully.

The next day was strange. Some of the people in here don’t follow a logical chain of thought, but it is strangely refreshing and interesting to get used to. My friend Rocker (not his real name, I want my new friends to be safe) was one of the first on the scene to talk to me. He sometimes finishes a conversation with you that he has obviously started in his head, but I like that. I do it myself occasionally. He is kind and generous, bringing little treats into the ward like chilli breadsticks and Coke. He also brought in a bubble gun last night. He filled it with hand gel and it broke- we were all amused by that!

Next there’s Sunbeam. She is struggling with addiction and voices, but still managed to talk to me, sharing her dinner with me one day when she couldn’t finish it. From then on she and I have been friends. She is the salt of the earth, a good person throughout. She speaks slowly and moves slower, but she has been so kind to me and calls me babe. I find that endearing.

There’s Rita the coach driver. She has shared experiences with me so we both know where we stand. She has told me if ever I am feeling blue to go and find her. I had a nice afternoon watching ‘On the Buses’ with her, and an evening watching ‘Lewis’.

There’s also Foxglove. She and Sunbeam both picked up on me two evenings ago, pacing the ward at night because the voices wouldn’t let me go to sleep. She has asked me about my voices, and always seems to have time for me. We are relatively new friends but I’m hopeful we will keep adding to our friendship. She likes gardening and is usually able to give me a smile.

There’s Vincent Van Gogh. He is a truly lovely guy, until his voices make him threatening by making him yell, or lash out. Just this morning he was sitting next to me, talking about my voices with me, and telling me the bad dreams I had all night will pass. I feel awful because when I was triggered once, I couldn’t have him pat me on the shoulder to cheer me up- the good news is that when I apologised he was fine with it. He taught me about deep breathing and talked me down from my fright.
There’s a guy who I think I’m going to call Uncle. He reminds me a lot of someone’s trusted uncle, of course, and he always has time to sit with someone and tell them to believe in themself. I often feel a little better for chatting to him- he makes me feel less crazy because he is so calm. I have never seen him lose his temper.

All in all, these are the people I talk to the most. The nurses are all really fantastic. Pixie is in charge of activities, and Auntie let me in the first night I was admitted and fed me  cups of cordial to stop me dehydrating. There’s also Ma Ramotswe, who is young and sweet and she has two children she was telling me about. The head night shift nurse is Matron, (even though she isn’t, she just has a great no-nonsense manner about her that somehow reassures) and she helped me last night to sleep. I was pacing and pacing, the voices telling me I brought them on myself and I was making it all up for attention, and she saw my distress and brought me the wonder syrup that helps me sleep and dull the voices.

So far, I have seen most of my family. My sister brought me her favourite minion t-shirt, and painted a picture alongside me. My mum drew me a weird blobby awesome zentangle-type-thing, and I painted it in. My nana has been and so has my southern uncle and gran. The auntie who has been inpatient before is coming today.

This morning, Uncle and I saw a bluetit- he has hung out bird feeders to attract the local birds. The one we saw had a clump of grass in its little beak, and it flew to the basketball net and fluttered down the pole.

“See,” Uncle said, “aren’t they resilient? They make something out of nothing.”

“Yes,” I replied, “they are. It’s a lesson for us all.”

Admitted part 4

So, more on what actually happened yesterday to me…

I went to my psychologist appointment, even though the voices were telling me I should cancel, or tell her I’m fine. They wanted me to lie so they could get me to kill myself that day, or keep trying til I had succeeded. I resisted them with everything I had, and broke down completely in front of my psychologist.

Dr K was very concerned about the state I was in. Needless to say, you guys have seen on my blog how bad it is. The voices have been intolerable, and I told Dr K as much. She told me she thought it might be a very good idea if I went into hospital, just to keep me safe.
She rang ahead to Accident and Emergency, and asked for the RAID team. They are the rapid response mental health assessors, and they were as good as their word when I got there. I did have a long wait, but eventually I got to speak to someone and I broke down again. As a rule, I hate crying in front of strangers, but I couldn’t help it yesterday. I was so so upset and shocked. The voices, of course, were non stop, even when the lovely Triage nurse who did my initial assessment was talking to me.

The guy from the RAID team didn’t want to let me leave, because I kept crying that I felt like eventually someone at home would fall asleep and I would be able to take a steak knife to myself. I felt powerless, out of control, but better once the decision to admit me had been made.

Once that was done, I had a long, long wait to see the consultant at the mental health ward, and eventually she came. J called me before she did, and he was his usual calm reassuring self. I love how gentle he is with me. The voices may make me paranoid, but god, if he had wanted to run from me, he would have by now. Instead, he was reassuring me, telling me he believes I will be fine.
The consultant was very nice. She was efficient, calm, and great at taking blood- not a bruise this morning, hooray! Usually needles make me bruise massively, but nothing else does, so I was please to wake without a bruise.

I’m settling in as best I can. It helps I have my own room with a lockable door and its own ensuite toilet. I’m still nervous and tired, and jumpy, but I feel safe. At last.

Today the voices started on me from the moment I was woken up for breakfast this morning. I haven’t really had much of a break. I think that later on I meet my personal consultant, and I can always talk to any of the nurses if I have a problem.

I thought my mum would be more upset with my admittance than she is, but actually she isn’t. She thinks I shouldn’t be in here, but that’s ok. She is at least happy I am safe.

All my friends have rallied round me. I have your support here which is invaluable, and I also have J, my sister and family. Thank you all.