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?

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"

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?

A Slightly Odd Day

The weather today was atrocious. The rain fell down, sideways, around and splashed up from the pavement...and it was windy.

I chickened out of walking to the post office to mail off a few parcels, and used the car instead. Then I felt guilty for using the car for a journey that would only have been a ten minute walk.

At least I stayed dry - ish.

Early in the afternoon, Paul, Gabrielle and I visited the local Mind, Body and Spirit fair at Crosby Civic Hall. As usual, it was very interesting, going around all the stalls, and Gabs came away with a handful of crystals, which pleased her immensely. A few stall owners pointed out how sweet she was and how she was likely a Crystal Child. This doesn't surprise me, as she has a few Crystal characteristics (apart from the obvious one of adoring crystals). When she was born, she gave Paul the most penetrating stare, which lasted several minutes...whilst she was only minutes old. She's a very affectionate, caring child, who loves nature and animals, and tells me that she wants to open a shop for abandoned animals when she grows up. In other respects, she's Indigo, as she has this immense passion and temper, with shades of a warrior spirit.

I had some Karmic Healing for my depression. I was taken back to when I had my heart surgery as a kid (a very traumatic event), and also to a couple of past lives. In one, I remember walking through some long grass, quite happy, to a cave with a fire in it. Then the grass caught fire. I surmise that I choked on the smoke. The interesting thing is that I am not wholly convinced that I was human.

The other event I had Karmic Healing for had been a recurrent nightmare all of my life, ever since I could remember. A large pale thing that grew and grew until it suffocated me. I was shown a cliff, and stood at the base. It looked like the White Cliffs of Dover, but in retrospect it could have been a glacier or and avalance on a mountainside, as I remember the suffocation, and some crushing, but not broken bones. The healing was felt profoundly as a whoosh of energy down my spine, producing a feeling like riding on a fairground ride.

I wonder if I'll ever experience that nightmare again? Maybe I can finally bid it bye-bye...

Strangely, I didn't quite feel fully human in that lifetime as well. Humans always puzzled me, as if they were an entirely different species to me, and at best I usually find them boring. I can often relate to other species more than I can to my own (cats being an obvious example).

Could this be my first time as a human?

Does anyone have a spare bottle of energy?

Just as the title says!

I'm pretty fed up with getting exhausted after the slightest bit of exhertion. Little things like the fact that it took me FOUR DAYS to recover from Gabrielle's birthday party.

There's so much I want to do. I want to write more. I want to make more jewellery. I want to do some housework, so that my abode looks less like a municipal dump and more like a home.

I want more energy so that I can do more things with Gabs, like play some games, take her swimming etc.

There's lots I need to do for the school PTA.

Damn! I hope I adjust to my medication soon.

I also need a cash injection. Since I've been off work sick for just on six months, I am about to go on half pay. Paul's job situation isn't too good as well.

Maybe I should dig out one of my candle magic books and work a little juju for a Lottery win. Not a huge win. Just enough to tide us over, allow us to live comfortably whilst Paul goes back into education to get more qualifications for a better job.

A bigger win would be handy, though. I know of several people would could do with a financial helping hand. Grim & Tipper from the MCHY forum, Tink as well, and probably many, many more.

Sigh

The Goddess

I had a really horrid start to the day. My Mum was having one of her 'funny' moods...and I don't mean ha ha type funny. It was the usual 'I'm in a shit mood but I'm not telling you why because you should already be able to guess' business. She was a bitch.

No time for breakfast or a cup of tea. If I didn't go out with her (which I guessed was her real motive) my life would be made even more Hell. It didn't matter that I felt like shit and had hardly slept the night before.

Fortunately, I bumped into my sister Susan (those of you on MCHY know her as susiekatkin) as we walked up the street, who took one look at me as I was walking behing Mum down the street and took me back home and made me a cup of tea. She said that I looked awful.

It's not surprising, really, as I had gone to bed the night before fully dressed, intending to drive away in the middle of the night and kill myself. Mum, Paul and Gabs have driven me that depressed. I really couldn't stand any more, and reasoned that death was easily better than this fucking thing that passes as an existence for me.

Sue was an angel. I had arranged to meet my boss this afternoon, as I have been off work sick with depression for just on six months. She accompanied me, and filled in any missing bits (I am very zombie-like a lot of the time now). My boss, Alex, was wonderful and is going to chase up some company sponsored counselling for me, and has said that when I do feel well enough to return to work I can phase my return back i.e. a few hours here and there to begin with. He's also said that if I need to call and have a chat with him, I can do so at any time...and if there are any problems e.g. in getting the counselling arranged to tell him and he'd go and kick butt.

I realise that I am very lucky to have an employer like that.

I came home feeling drained (I hadn't slept much the night before) but one look at Mum's face when I walked into the house said that I should get the hell out of there right now. I couldn't leave Gab there as well, so I took her shopping with me and bought her an extra birthday present.

Gab and I actually had great fun shopping together. It was lovely to have some relatively stress-free quality time with my daughter. I've also noticed that I can handle her better when I am alone with her. If there's another adult around she plays up more.

She's actually a caring child, my daughter. She looks after me, leading me by the hand when I am having an 'Efexxor' moment. She also made me a lovely cup of tea when we came home.

Mum was in her bedroom when we arrived back (thank God!), but when she did get up later she was absolutely fine, acting as if nothing had happened. This is typical behaviour from her. She feel great at the end...and I am a nervous wreck.

Fortunately, she is going to Sue's tonight. WHOOPEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Paul is nicer to me tonight as well. Last night, I was told not to be so stupid when I informed him that I felt suicidal (he'd asked me how I felt, so I told him!). Paul, Gabs and I had a quick meal out this evening, which was nice, and I ran what I call a 'Goddess Bath' when I came home.

I bet you were wondering where the title of this entry came from, eh?

My Goddess Bath was a cup of sea salt, an assortment of essential oils (rose, geranium, neroli, jasmine and rosewood) and my rose quartz crystals in the bath. I also burned some rose incense in the bathroom, and after shaving and moisturising myself I put on some sexy underwear and set up my Goddess altar as seen in the photo.

Now you could call this my excuse for quiet time. It probably is. But it certainly makes me feel a bit better. I've been feeling so ugly and stupid lately that I felt a Goddess ritual might just help me.

It did. I feel much more womanly now.

I am the sort of person who needs a lot of quiet time each day. A period of stress-free, guilt-free time to myself. My little rituals give me that much needed space.

You can see my rose quartz crystals on the altar (including a kitty rose quartz), a couple of horse chestnuts from the trees by my house, some sea-potatoes (sea urchin cases washed up on Crosby beach), a clear quartz angel, a carnelian kitty, some rhodocrosite pendants, a pair of rose quartz & garnet & rhodocosite earrings, a pair of red coral earrings and of course the remains of my beautiful BiBi in the decorative glass bottle, accopanied by the angel feathers.

After looking at my photo, it also occurs to me that I really need to clean my altar. There's quite a lot of smoke build-up on it...

Another day...

I am really hitting the bottom of the pit with my depression.

I don't seem to be getting better. My GP says give it longer, and so do other friends who work in the mental health field.

That's if I don't do something silly first.

Last night, for example. I felt so bad I went out in my car by myself in the evening. I told my family not to worry, and that I wasn't going to do anything silly, but by God I felt like it!

It is so tempting to just drive away with a bottle of something alcoholic and my meds, find a quiet place and do the dirty deed.

I have tried this before (in 2001), and actually got as far as the Lake District before taking the stuff (I thought that I might as well die in a beautiful place...nuts, isn't it?).

It isn't fair on my family to go through all of this, so I am doing my best not to. Then the flipside kicks in ...'if I wasn't around, they wouldn't have to worry about me...'

So the battle goes on. I struggle through another shitty day, to survive and endure...another shitty day.

Today I have been thinking about Penny. If you are wondering who Penny is, click on the link to Catster on the last post (BiBi's Last Day) and look her up.

It was no coincidence that I had my first suicide attempt approximately a month after she was killed.

I'm having some problems with Paul lately. Of course, he wouldn't admit to it, but we do have some issues. He really doesn't understand depression, and often makes me feel worse with his attitude. Plus, he walks around with a barely-concealed anger that most probably is due to work, but spills out into his private life. It scares me, this silent brooding. It is like waiting for a volcano to erupt...

To be fair to him, it is difficult to live with a depressive, but he's also got problems with work, in that his employers are double-crossing fuckwits. Just like the last lot. And the lot before that.

He really needs to get out of the traning industry, and they all seem to be alike. The problem is that he is very, very good at his job, and really in demand. It is easier to stay within an industry where you have a good reputation, even when they are a bunch of arseholes.

However, even he is getting fed up. For the last few evenings, he has been looking at other jobs and contacting agencies. Maybe he'll strike lucky and land a better job.

I wonder if I'll still be around to see it?