I get handed a beautiful bouquet of flowers. I have the paparazzi taking tonnes of photos, I’m smiling, I’m dressed in a designer gown, I have beautiful hair and makeup, a posse of cool kids at my beck and call. POOF I snap back to reality.
I’m sitting on an uncomfortable plastic chair, head down staring at the floor picking at my nails. I have been in this chair before it should have my name on it. The cranky bitch in reception pretends she doesn’t know my face and demands my details again, then shoves a clip board on my face. I need to declare where my head is at. Put on paper why I’m back. This is painful. Yes I’m worried about my safety, I wouldn’t be here in the depressing clinical waiting room if I wasn’t. I’m scared when I drive, I can drive all over town from one end to the other and I black out or become so preoccupied with what’s in my head I have no recollection of the drive. On the highway drive home I push my car over the speed limit I have half a dozen massive trees that I have fantasised about crashing into. If I do have to drive the music in the car has to be really loud; if it isn’t I can’t focus.
I struggle with my anxiety everywhere and now I despise going to the supermarket and cannot handle the sideways looks at the local mall. I go off easy at home. The kids fight, I yell, the kids make mess, I yell, I send them to bed and I flip out. They don’t deserve my instability, and frustrations. Damn it I want to be a fun easy going happy mum. I’m here on this damn chair because of them. I have to keep telling myself they deserve a sane mum. Um, if I will ever be sane? I have to try? Right now I am ready to run out the door. Last time I was here I had just finished ECT; I had 6 sessions and the Doctor decided that that was my therapeutic amount…. I don’t want ECT again ugh why don’t I just disappear? I am in one of the worst wars ever. I need help to get better and I need someone to show me the way.
I have a catch up with the new psychiatrist and my case worker. Thank goodness I have had this case worker before so she helped fill in the gaps. We talked about my history, we went back, and then went back even further; do these damn Doctors ever actually read the old notes. I cover my story and share my childhood.
I’m crying… it is easy to set me off. Thinking specifically about these hard times hurts. I think about them so often and I don’t like this pressure; can’t we just get to the part where I have the care plan and I’m headed towards getting well again. Let’s try with your medication first, ECT is definitely on the cards as it has worked two times before but hopefully tweaking your meds will work. And so the first step on the long walk to my stability begins with upping my Seroquel dose. OK let’s see what happens.
I end up back in the waiting room on my chair; the cranky bitch is finding me my next appointment. She calls me over and hands me an appointment card and an envelope which has information that I need?
Inside the envelope this is what the government believes I need to set me off in this journey. Consumer Feedback Form…….the receptionist needs the stick pulled out of her arse is that feedback? What Community Mental Health can offer me and the numbers I can contact…. a colour A4 pamphlet, top effort. Australian Charter of Health Care Rights pamphlet; I have the right to safety, respect, communication, participation, privacy and the Charter and using the Charter……This was a waste of my reading time I’m confused. The Government wants me to respect my privacy. Health Staff are bound by confidentially……I dare say I’m not that interesting to be gossiped about anyways. Another colour A4 pamphlet with email links on consumers, friends and family and carers, medication….. I have seen these sites before when I can’t sleep and run out of things to do on the net I do have to admit to searching BPD often. A map for parking at the Village and a fire escape map too…. there is never a park at the village. Another feedback form, I dare say this pack was a waste of my time and going straight in the bin.
I have 2 weeks before my next catch up at mental health and I have to hope that the Seroquel dose change won’t make me too groggy during the day but will help me sleep through the night. I would give anything for a good night sleep. But we can have a chat about sleep soon. I’m just happy to get out of that damn chair and focus on the drive home.