Friday, 12 December 2014

'I don’t know what to say, you don’t care anyway' - Crystal, New Order 2001


Ok then. Big deep breath, breathing techniques to calm the mind and try not to end up windmilling the fuck out of every person that so much as says ‘alright?’ this last 24 hours.

I made the decision along with the new Psychologist to try some more anti psychotic meds, these haven’t really done too much in the past but I’m willing to try them again because looking back I think the meds I’ve been on have probably helped even though I didn’t think it at the time. They may have taken a little bit off the top and bottom of all these symptoms. Anyway, I’m willing, if I get some that don’t make me pile weight on like the fucking stay puft marshmallow man, to try them again to see if they can calm the hallucinations, the voices, the noise...

Because I’m seeing a psychologist, not a psychiatrist, he can’t prescribe meds, so I made an appointment with my GP to explain what the crack was and see what my options were. Disasterous. The bloke didn’t listen one iota, couldn’t have given the shiniest of shites really, he listened for 3 minutes, wrote a letter and told me to hand it in to be referred to an NHS psychiatrist. I told him I had already seen someone where he wanted to send me and that they hadn’t really listened to me either and that I felt they were focussing on the wrong things. I read the letter as I was leaving. He’d just blatantly made stuff up. I went back in and got him to change it. I handed it in to the reception desk and the lass told me it would take up to 12 weeks. 12 fucking weeks? I already have contact with them but don’t really want to see the same doc and team as I feel I’ve been railroaded down a blind alley with them due to a few appointments where they, I feel, have focused on what they want to focus on, the easy way out for them, rather than the worst parts of my symptoms, so basically I’m put in a situation where I have to explain to people who aren’t going to listen that I want meds that they don’t want to give me.

Having contacted the psychologist after the GP appointment I rang the wellfeild clinic this morning, but the woman I see (who isn’t a doc) is not available all day so they sent her an email to contact me. I rang them back when I remembered the name of the Doc I’d seen there twice (for 30 mins each time and he thinks he can diagnose me such and such after this amount of time!) and asked to speak with him, after all he had told me to call any time. The receptionist informed me that patients can’t be transferred to doctors! What the absolute fuck man, so I asked if the email had gone to him. ‘Its been passed on’ was the answer. No then, id wager it fucking hasn’t. I’m in despair now with this carry on. I’m going to ask if the Psychologist can recommend me a psychiatrist so I can get the help and support I need without needing to bother the local authority as I feel that in Sunderland, the area is far too big, the resources are spread far too thin and the overriding feeling I get is that they want to pay lip service to people’s problems but not actually deal with the cases that are most difficult because they don’t have the time. Not their fault, the fault of those that hold the purse strings. Compare my support and care here to when I lived in Hexham and you’d think it was another planet. This kind of thing really knocks you, and for people who are struggling it really makes you lose faith. As I said to Alex last night, if I had had to go through all of this here rather than starting in Hexham, there would be a good chance id not be typing this now. Theres people who are worse off than me, I feel really fucking sorry for them.


Anyhow, training tonight after spending a bit time with the family so that hopefully will help.

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