Thursday 31 January 2008

Is the medical profession actually there to help me?

I am cutting and pasting from what I posted on another forum, because it would take too long, and be too painful, for me to type this out again.

I have just experienced my worst day EVER in dealing with health care professionals.

First off, I saw the excellent Occupational Health doctor, who was so scared by my condition (suicidal) that she rang my GP there and then to get an appointment.

After waiting for a while in my GP's waiting room, I was eventually seen. My GP told me that there was nothing he could do, and that no tablets would help my problem. I got the impression that you had to actually attempt suicide before the professionals would take action (what about suicide prevention?). Thankfully, he still rang up the hospital and wrote a letter for me to take in to the local Accident and Emergency department.

By this time, Paul was so concerned he had come home from work, and he accompanied me from the doctors to the hospital (I was in tears all this time).

We waited some 2-3 hours to be seen to, after handing the letter in to the triage nurse. Eventually we were seen to by the 'Crisis Team'.

From the moment I walked in, I was talked down to by a skinny little Asian doctor. I was having hysterics, in tears, and not one health-care professional seemed to be listening to me. I was told again that tablets wouldn't solve things (yeah, but they may improve my feelings somewhat), and then later on in the interview the guy changed his tune and told me that I needed different tablets. WTF was I meant to believe?

Towards the end, I took exception to being talked down to like a naughty little girl, and told him not to point his finger at me whilst talking to me.

He took off like a scalded cat, saying that he didn't need this abuse, and that there were other patients who wanted his help. He departed muttering.

I am speechless in shock! These people were dealing with a suicidal depressive!!!!!

Well, tomorrow I am due to see a psychiatrist at 2pm. I've gone through Hell and highwater to get this far, and now have absolutely no faith left in the healthcare profession as far as mental health goes.

I really wish I'd succeeded in my attempt several years ago and spared myself this anguish. I've had to fight this every step of the way, and feel as if I've got nowhere. NOWHERE!!!

I'm going through the motions of this for my family, but I have little hope left.

That guy I saw wasn't nice at all. He was a tin-pot Hitler on a power trip, who spent the whole session trying to score points off a vulnerable person.

I had Paul there as an independent witness, and thank God!!! Otherwise, that little sh*t will just slip the words 'abusive patient' in my file and be done with me.

We are currently thinking about lodging a formal complaint against this guy. Paul, fortunately, knows the person who deals with the complaints at that hospital - he trained her! I also spoke to Sue, my sister. The same guy pulled the same stunt with her.

Vulnerable people SHOULD NOT, I REPEAT, SHOULD NOT BE EXPOSED TO PEOPLE LIKE THAT!!! (shouts in a loud hailer) No one on God's green earth should go through what I went through today. For fucks sake, if I hadn't felt suicidal before, I certainly would have after that.

He also admitted later on in the interview that I do have a chemical imbalance, and need medication (one of the little contradictions he slipped into the interrogation). Paul and I will be writing this up to submit the formal complaint. I am really fucking ANGRY now.

Another little point. Someone from the same team told me years ago (after suicide attempt #1) that 'I was an intelligent woman and should pull myself together' I replied 'Then why am I here? It's obvious that I need help!

That's the end of my cut'n'paste. Does the NHS actually care about the depressed, or want them to get better?

Tuesday 22 January 2008

I have to post this...

...yes, I am a HUGE fan of The Crow (and The Cure).



http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=YFPlEpi__wc"

Monday 21 January 2008

A new year, a new start...same old shit

I don't really know where to start with this entry.

New Year was awful. That goes without saying, really, for those of you who know me. Family issues, missing BiBi and Dad, wishing I could join them etc.

Things sort of picked up in the last week or so. I had the energy to do things like go to the beach and watch the stormy sea at high water. However, today has seen things return to the same old shit.

I have major relationship issues with Paul. He visited his doctor today, and his GP says that his headaches are due to stress. However, he wouldn't take the medication. To give Paul his due, he has just told me that his GP recommended Migralieve, which is cheaper over the counter than on prescription. He was also advised to take more exercise. Now this I can understand. His spare time is spent just watching TV, and maybe going on the 'Net. The number of times I've felt like putting my foot through that fucking TV when I see sport on it AGAIN!!!

We don't have much in common these days. Communication problems are rife, too.

I've removed my engagement ring and left it on a table in the front room, although I don't suppose he'll notice.

Of course, being a typical bloke, he probably wouldn't acknowledge the fact that we do have problems.

I feel unloved. As if I'm only good enough for you-know-what. And I don't know where to go from here.

What is left for me in this life, eh?

Today I was looking at methods of suicide again. The two I've boiled it down to are hypothermia and drowning. I nearly drowned twice as a kid, and I remember after the struggling feeling a strange sense of peace and acceptance. Then I was rescued...fuck it!

I'm giving myself a twenty-four hour distance to see if I still feel the same.

If I do...well, who knows?