If you were following Friday you will have seen how the mental health team failed me. Hours after arriving home to the cancelled appointment I did receive a phone call and after I explained how I was feeling an appointment was made for today at 11.30pm.
Again I had to have a babysitter to come with me, arriving at the reception I knew something was going to go wrong.
My new CPN Dave has twisted his ankle and will not be at work until tomorrow.
Even the receptionist tuts and sighs, “another one slipping through the system” she says disgusted.
Some women comes over and I lose the plot “I need to see someone “I cry
She tells me to wait a moment, goes out of a door and returns a few minutes later clutching a little back file book. She asks me to follow her. I have no idea who this woman is.
She tells me she’s a STR worker; I still have no idea who she is.
She asks when I was last seen and I tell her about 12 weeks ago, maybe longer I don’t know. I can’t sit still and I pace the floor as I describe my moods over the last 3 months and how I feel right now. I prefer to walk when I talk, I hate to sit still.
I ramble and I ramble some more
Right now I want to punch someone because I’m sick of feeling this way
She tries to phone someone
That somebody is not there
She phones someone else, that person is there and she speaks
She then goes out the room telling me to wait, she will not be long
She returns to the room where I am now standing at the window
“We are going next door” she tells me
I follow her out of the room and until the room next door, what are we doing playing musical rooms?
Some big guy is sat in a computer chair on wheels; I think about swinging him around on it but decide not to. But it does look fun, the kids love it.
He is reading my notes, I was last seen by a psychiatrist in April, 6 months ago and he says that’s not good enough. Something about the family history of Bipolar, I had no idea I had a family history. He is also angry with the medication I was prescribed, I have no idea what he’s talking about but it seems the medication I was prescribed was an upper and a downer, an antidepressant to lift and then an anti-psychotic drug, he says these two should never be prescribed for my bipolar type.
I tell him I have Cyclothymic disorder , he tells me I have bipolar, I don’t understand, I thought they were just the same thing. He tells me he believes I have been given a wrong diagnosis and wrong medication, OK so what’s wrong with me then? He tells me I have bipolar and further assessments with find the form.
So now I have no idea what I have or what is wrong with me
He is making notes and he’s angry that he can’t get in touch with my original psychiatrist. He will leave him a message to phone him to discuss my management. It sounds posh, I have a manager.
All the time this STR worker sits next to me, I like her, makes me feel at ease.
I can see in her face she feels she has let me down. It’s the same women I told to fuck off on Friday, now I feel guilty. She had no idea I was so ill when she turned me away.
The doctor is speaking in words I don’t understand, he’s writing a prescription
This is what I have;
Sodium Valproate 200mg to take twice daily
I have to go for regular blood tests with these, something about they could poison me, great I think already been with a shrink that wants to poison me, at least this time this one is telling me that he might actually do that, I like this guy.
2mg Diazepam take one tablet twice daily, this is meant to slow me down?
So there we have it my morning in a whirlwind.
I have returned home and still really no idea what’s going on.
That women STR worker is giving me a ring later to make sure someone comes with me on Thursday, as I have a back to works focus interview.
I still feel pretty high and feel like I could do just about anything right now, she tells me that is not true, I am swinging in a mixed cycle.
I don’t cycle, I don’t even have a bike, but there we have it, that’s what’s wrong with me, I a mixed up for sure.
The STR walks me out to meet my friend, she smiles and reassures me they are there for me and even gives me someone’s phone number, no ideas who’s number it is, but hey I have got further in these last 2 hours than in the past 2 and a half years.
Dave will be in touch soon, oh I forgot about Dave, I tell her I hope his ankle gets better soon and she smiles at me. He’s a great guy she tells me, I will like him. I like Dave already, if he hadn’t been off then I would not have been given an emergency psychiatry appointment.
I am hopeful, things can’t get any worse right?