'So this is me asking for help'.
The above statement is how I ended my last post. I went to see my GP yesterday afternoon, and he agreed we had reached the limit in managing this, and made an emergency referral to A&E, preferably to be followed by admission. There was an incredibly emotional conversation with the kids to explain what was happening. Hubby took over, telling them my head was a bit sore (technically true, 2 hours crying will do that), the doctor didn't have the right medicine so I was going to go and see if the hospital did. He told them I'd probably be home, but if they had to order the medicine for me, I might have to stay overnight. We had no clue how it was going to go, so thought it best to cover our bases as simply as possible. They were totally ok with that - D in fact told me not to be scared because I'd been there before, and that they would come visit. Cue waterworks.
So, I gathered my bits and hopped on the bus. Yes, bus to A&E. Epic, eh? It made sense at the time, especially as we didn't know whether or not I would be staying and that way meant minimal disruption for the kids. And then I got there.
I only had to wait for an hour or so which wasn't too bad. The doctor came down. A new one. He said he had read some of my notes, but asked if I take him through what was happening. So I tried. Downside of attending an emergency psych appointment alone? Completely overwhelmed and borderline incoherent. I kept going. Eventually, he told me about his take on the situation. Ready? You sure? I'm stressed. And overwhelmed. And I need to learn to manage my emotions. I don't think I've ever, in my life, exploded quite as dramatically as I did in response to that particular statement, and that's saying something (I'm beginning to suspect his reading of my notes went no further back than my most recent visit
). I think I could reasonably have been described as hysterical. He talked a bit after that, but I'm pretty much drawing a blank on what he said. He spoke to Hubby. He told me my last inpatient visit didn't help (interesting observation as he wasn't actually there) and that he didn't think it would help to admit me now. So instead, he sent me on my way with a letter for work, and a prescription for a well known and highly addictive anti anxiety medication, as well as an increase for the med I currently take at night as it helps me sleep. Apparently also an anti anxiety. I'm now to take it morning and night, which I find an unusual strategy to take with someone who used to actively pass out on a sub therapeutic dose of the stuff.
So, here's what I'm taking away from yesterday:
- I'm not trying hard enough (Therapist's biggest challenge, well no, one of many actually, is to get me to believe that I actually am trying, that I've tried as hard as anyone can. I was nearly there. Not any more)
- I'll see my consultant in two weeks, as planned, and be effectively sedated till then
- Not a whole lot else
I know Hubby doesn't agree with this. He feels that yesterday was productive, and that this is the best way to manage the situation until such a time as I can see my consultant. I don't, we've had to agree to differ there. I feel, yet again, that I've been fobbed off and left to manage this alone, which is exactly how I came to be in this mess in the first place. So if you've any thoughts on where to look for help when all possible avenues have been explored and found wanting (still waiting on a referral to a private psych) I'd be more than happy to hear them.
Labels: frustration, GP, hopeless, Medication, psychiatrist