Wednesday 19 October 2016

Yeth, and I'm only thixteen...

Sorry about the title, it's only going to mean anything if you are over 45 and used to watch a certain vet's comedy (in the UK). Well why the title? I have increasingly felt that having a mental health condition equates with having all of one's brain cells euthanised, or at the very least, dopificated. Okay, I made that last bit up. It's true though, I have been spoken down to in a condescending fashion so many tims.

Yes, when I am very low I can get confused. When I'm depressed I'm almost always tired as well, this adds to my confusion. Also, my memory is dreadful and I forget the simplest of things directly after being told. But, I have not been rendered stupid! I recall having to attend an interview to justify my ill health and my need for sickness benefit. During the interview I passed some comment, I can't remember exactly what I said, and the interviewer did a cartoon-like double-take. It was as if she'd caught me out for still having a brain. This from a presumably qualified person. Words fail me. Actually words did indeed fail me on this occasion, I kept my mouth shut as much as possible for the remainder of the interview.

When I first started taking lithium I had the first prescription from the psychiatrist, so it was a month after it was prescribed that I requested a repeat script from my gp surgery. They told me over the phone that they had no knowledge of this and had not received any correspondence from the psych about it. On ringing the psych's secretary, yes they had written to the gp so they should know all about it.

This type of thing has happened on several occasions over the last few years. If I didn't have the wherewithall to sort it out, what the hell would have happened to me? That morning of the lithium thing, I stressed and cried and thought about giving up, not taking it at all being as no-one would give it to me. I knew I shouldn't stop taking it, that it was a drug to come off slowly, gradually reducing the amount. In the end I wrote down who to phone and what to say. I thought if I can't do it then I'll ask tch to do it for me. Eventually the letter was faxed to the surgery and they raised a script for me. Even that sounds simple but it wasn't. It was numerous phone calls, get down to the surgery, wait for the script, go to the pharmacy, wait for the drugs, get back home... collapse.

I really cannot stress this enough. If I did not have the power of mind and speech to sort these things out, where would I be?? I know a lady with a worse mental health disorder, she would in no way be able to deal with a situation like this. What would become of her? I am so very lucky to have my husband's help if I need it, this lady has no partner. In this particular event there was very little help offered by the healthcare professionals. Whist I understand that my problem was not expected and their workload already full, I'm still here and still had the problem.

Everywhere we go these days those who are working are stretched to capacity. Back when I was last in a job we were assessed every day. We had to complete a form daily, being allowed a set amount of time for each task. That's something lik 3.48 minutes for this and 12.55 minutes for that. Crazy. All of my daily minutes against my working hours for that day gave the result showing how much % of the day I had been working. If I didn't achieve at least 98% over a month I would be given a warning, another month and my pay would be docked. I'm quite sure my employers weren't the only ones adopting this practice. Is it any wonder then that there is no time for unexpected problems to show up? Then when those more vulnerable need help with something, often the person on the end of the phone just wants them gone, they haven't got time for this! Some of the time I am one of the more vulnerable, but thankfully when my depression is not so bad, I can deal with things. It's those others though, who's looking after them?

Have you had an experience like this? Tell me about it, please.

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