I feel like I
need to start this by saying – I love the NHS, a want to give it a big kiss and
a hug, and give it a cup of hot cocoa before tucking it into bed in the
evening, stroking its hair, and reading it a bed time story. Much like a child
that you love dearly can it be frustrating as hell sometimes.
I am a veteran of
the mental health scene in the NHS – we have been through it . I have been
seeing doctors, CPNs and psychiatry about my mental health since I was 19. So
nearly 15 years. I know how it all works, and through all of this I know how I
work. Very well. Not to be braggy or anything, but I know myself and know when
I am not doing well – even if it is not as bad as it was about 6 or 7 years ago
where I had the big breakdown – couldn’t leave the house blah blah blah. I
understand anxiety and depression, I know the symptoms and I know ways that I
can make myself better before things get bad.
Something else
that you may know about me is that I suffer terribly from PMS and stomach
cramps (which I should say are stomach/leg and back cramps). The pain is so bad
that nothing seems to resolve it – I have tried everything. Including really
strong painkillers – that don’t even touch the surface, and make me super
drowsy – not great when having to drive and work. A hot water bottle helps, and
to be completely honest so does a massive glass of red wine – however I can’t
really start the day off with that combi when I’ve got things to do. A couple
of months ago – I had had enough, my period had been about five days late which
meant I had PMS for about a week and a half, and was loosing it. I am surprised
that my family and boyfriend are still talking to me because I was PMSing hard!
The worst part of day one of my period is of course they physical pain, but also
the mental anguish that goes with it. It’s like in my brain I’ve been told ‘oh
your family are all dead – it’s your fault – but hey ho sweetie – pop you make
up on and get on with your day’ – I feel mentally awful. So I went to the Doctor
for a solution. I had the implant before, which I think to be entirely honest
might have had something to do with the feelings 6 or 7 years ago. How do I
know this? Well let me tell you. I taken the pill a few times in my early
twenties, and didn’t really remember much about taking it – good or bad, so
when I discussed it with the doctor I thought – this could be it. The answer to
my prayers. So I started taking Loestrin, and it was not good. I felt like a
moody teenager – honestly took me back to being 17 and raging all the time for
no reason. I could not stop crying, and I started to get these weird under the
skin spots which I had when I had the implant. I felt like I did when I had had
the implant before. The spots were the least of my problems.
After about a
month and a half of taking that I asked to try another pill. Rigevidon – this
was even worse – I cried the whole journey home from work one day. I could not
stop crying – honestly about things that were not worth crying about.
Everything was rubbing me up the wrong way – and I was still raging. I don’t
think I can apologise enough to my mum and Colin during this time as they bore
the brunt of all of this. Needless to say I stopped taking it – and waited for
things to settle down. I had bleed constantly while taking Rigevidon, and as
soon as I stopped taking it I experienced one of the heaviest periods I’ve had
in recent times, I woke up one morning with blood soaked through to my jim jams
– and just started crying – feeling completely out of control of my body that
is doing it’s own thing. I had terrible cramp as well, and just wanted to run
away and hide.
While I was
taking this pill I noticed that my anxiety had gone into over drive – while I
realise from a bit of reading around; particularly Eleanor Morgan’s article in
the guardian which made me get that light bulb moment of – ‘oh wait hormones
can do this to you’. I was scared – not just because of the anxiety making me
see threats everywhere, but I was trying my best to do everything right. Everything
in my life was in place and going well. I should be enjoying everything I had
worked so hard for over the past few years – but I couldn’t. I could only focus
on the panic attacks that made me stop half way on my way home from work, and
meant that I hadn’t had a solid bowel movement in two months. My head was going
into over thinking mode and I couldn’t seem to get it to stop.
So I had a few
weeks without the pill – but I still felt that I was not completely right. Just
kept on going – until I couldn’t. It all came to a head the weekend of the
really heavy gross period. I went out mountain biking in the afternoon
(Callender Estate – if you like mountain biking/cycling/being outside it really
is great fun) – I was like a cycling Tampax commercial – except that I can’t
use tampons - too sore – ironic I spent day two of my horrendous period on a
bike. That was plenty sore,but it was exhilarating. I felt like I did when I
was a child out on my bike – it was the most free and best I had felt in a long
time. Then we came home, and I just didn’t feel right – I felt like my heart
wasn’t beating properly, and I felt frustrated. Exercise is meant to make you
feel amazing, release endorphins – the miracle cure all. I felt like I was in
hell. Colin had said – let’s go out for a drink – and I couldn’t get my head
around if I wanted to go out or stay in – I love a trip to the pub, but I
couldn’t get my head around heading out, and not bursting into tears for no
reason. I had not been crying at that point. So we stayed in and watched the
office – which was nice, but I knew this wasn’t right and I wasn’t feeling
myself.
The following day
I had some things to go back to the shops, I got ready – put my face on and
proceeded to cry uncontrollably at the thought of going out and seeing people
and not being able to stop crying. I was thinking this is ridiculous – go to
the shops, you’ve already passed up on a drink this weekend – who are you?! So
we set off in the car to the shops – it was a lovely trip from Colin’s flat in
Bridge of Allan to the round about at Waitrose in Stirling, where we got to and
then drove back to Colin’s as I could not stop crying.
On the Monday I
couldn’t get myself into work, I called and spoke to a dr and I was told I was
able to self cert for a week, and we would increase my anti depressant. She was
amazing – and I really though I would be back to work within a couple of days.
One week later I
was still unable to get to work. I had arranged seeing a private counsellor on
the Saturday in between, but I just couldn’t get there – I had arranged an
appointment near where I work so that it would be easy to arrange sessions when
I was back working – however it was too much to go myself. This lead to a big
dip in how I was feeling – I had to cancel the appointment, I felt stupid for
wasting the counsellors time and to be perfectly honest I was suicidal. I didn’t
have plans to end my life – but I felt totally out of control, and anything was
possible. I had the anger and rage within myself that I though I want to hurt
myself.
On the plus side
– my wonderful friend Janie came and sat with me – made me laugh, and watch a
couple of films. It was a much chiller Saturday that we used to have – but it
was perfect and kept me alive.
On the Sunday I
made it to Tesco to buy some dinner items. Score. I felt sick and anxious when
I got into the car – but I pushed through and made it. This is not being ill
like last time – this is manageable. Not great – but not the worst.
On the Tuesday I
called my local doctor’s surgery, they have a care navigation system where you
call in between 8-10, and the reception staff ask you a few questions and work
out if you need to see a doctor or a nurse practitioner depending on what is
wrong with you. When I spoke to the reception staff I said that my anxiety/mood
was bad, and I was still unable to work. They said a doctor would call me back.
I got through at about 8:15, so not a long wait – and the doctor call at about
8:40. This is an amazing service when you get the help that you need – being
able to speak to a doctor so quickly is amazing. However the doctor I spoke to
was as much use as a chocolate teapot to put it nicely. I told her about being
off work – that I didn’t feel quite ready to go back – maybe I should try to go
back on Thursday? What did she think? She told me that she would give me a sick
line until Thursday and then I would have to call back to arrange a phased
return to work on the Thursday. I really needed some guidance and felt that I
was leading the phone call without much input from the doctor about what I
should do. The doctor did not even ask me how I was feeling. I felt there was a
kind of apathy there, and that she hasn’t even looked at my notes, and just
looked at what was given to her by the receptionist. I have no complaints about
the reception staff – because they really do get the brunt of everyone’s anger
and really just do their best.
I was so
disappointed – I honestly didn’t know what to do – I had spent a week of just
about managing to shower and change into new pjs – and I was the person leading
this conversation with the doctor. I though – never the less she persevered –
and I called the back the day. Asking to speak to a doctor I had spoken to the
week before. She asked me how I was feeling straight off the bat, and it felt
like a relief to tell her how bad things were. She referred me to the mental
health team, and I was told to expect a call back 9:30 the following day.
During this
couple of days of phone calls and back and forth I was exhausted – it is hard
to put into words how badly you feel when you don’t get listened to by health
care professionals. I was in physical pain – my head was pounding, and my chest
was tight and sore. I felt completely done in. I have slept and slept and
slept, to escape, and to not be in pain for a few hours.
This morning was
the day I was hoping to get some help, after being referred by the doctor who
has listened to me, and knew at the weekend that I had felt suicidal – because
she asked. The doctor also admitted that GPs are stretched for time, and being
put through to the Mental Health Team would give me a chance to talk and more
time with someone who could listen.
As I have
mentioned at the start of this rant/information session on mental health and
hormones, this is not my first time at the rodeo. I have been through this many
times. I was buzzing for this chat on the phone – I thought brilliant I can
speak to someone who has a wealth of knowledge on what I am talking about, and
can find me the right support based on what I have spoken about during our
phone call. I basically went down a very condensed version of everything I have
spent the past two/three hours typing away at. I said my life is great right
now – I can see everything is good, however the pill caused me a lot of
problems, I am dealing with the fallout, and I am now at a loss of how I am
going to find something to help the PMS/period symptoms, and that I am really
not coping with anything. I don’t feel as bad as I have felt before, but I feel
bad enough. I feel like you might be expecting a build up to the big climax
where a plan was put in place that fitted in with what I had spoken about over
the course of the phone call. Of course this was not the case, and I was offered
Stress Control Classes, a group session where I could learn about anxiety and
how it affects my body, and how to look at changing my thinking. I am very
impressed that I didn’t scream down the phone. I know anxiety – I know how to
change my thinking – but at this moment in time I cannot do this on my own.
This is not group therapy, this is something that anyone can just walk into.
This is not the help that I am needing. Instead of screaming I said – no that
won’t work for me, I need something more acute that what you are offering.
Should I just look into private counselling? The nurse on the phone said, it’s
expensive so we can look at an NHS option for me. I have a face to face
appointment to discuss things on Wednesday of next week. This makes me feel good
for me, but bad for more vulnerable people who don’t have the ability or means
to ask for better help.
I have now booked
in with a private counsellor who I am seeing on Tuesday next week – which feels
like a starting point. I will still see the nurse on Wednesday as I know she
was going to look into a couple of things for me, and get back to me. Overall I
feel lucky that I am in a position of privilege that I can find other sources
of help out with our over stretched NHS, but I worry for people who can’t. I
feel that they are not only being let down, but their lives are being put in
danger. Mental Illness is a killer, and we need to respect that and fund the
NHS appropriately.
