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Friday 12 February 2016

First (and hardest) Port of Call

The slippery slope is well and truly underway and you're hurtling, full force, towards a feeling that you will never be less exhausted, less desperate, less isolated and less "black" ever, ever again. You have to do something. You mentally and physically don't know what to do with yourself.

So what do you do?

Only recently has it become apparent that every A&E has an emergency mental health team dedicated to it. I bloody wish I'd known about it when I was 16. They were some of my worst times and they truly scared me. Young, naive and utterly clueless, there were some bad, bad times. I spent a few miserable nights in the Samaritans offices in Newport where I was advised to see my GP. I had no idea what about, how, why etc. etc. etc.

And that's where the GP misery started.

"How can I help you today?" The dreaded words. Ummmmm...

First, you have to explain what you don't understand yourself. The whole time trying to justify yourself AND get across the fact that that you no longer want to exist any more but at the same time the whole British "stiff upper lip" that is intrinsically embedded in our terribly British psche is playing fuck with us for being impolite and a bit embarrassed; all while telling a potential complete stranger of the darkest, terrifying parts of your mind.

Then you have to wait, mentally stripped naked and the most vulnerable you've ever felt, for the verdict.

It could go a variety of ways. And trust me, over the years, there have been some variations. Some kind, well meaning Doctors have tried to help in generally clueless ways - a few years ago I was prescribed gardening (I was suicidal at the time) as a great way of "taking my mind off things" where as in approximately 1995 while living miserably in Neath, socially isolated from everyone I knew and realising that I had made a terrible mistake in my choice of life-partner, I broke down on my GP - with hindsight suffering from severe post natal depression.

"My life's a mess, I'm miserable I'm alone, I have no one, I have no idea what I'm doing with this baby, I'm scared but I don't know what of etc. etc. etc...." (I was 18 years old at the time) crying my heart out so much so that I couldn't breathe. The GP very helpfully offered in return "So what do you want me to do about it?"

I pray to Dog no one ever has to go through that these days. But I'm not entirely sure.

I've seen some GPs who stop you within one sentence, acknowledge your mental anguish and kindly and gently direct some appropriate questions at you to give you the best help they can. Some will go waaaaaaaaaay over the allotted time for you because they see your desperation, and appreciate the situation. Who knows, maybe they've glimpsed this misery themselves?

My very good friend took herself to her GP a year or so ago. She'd recently been diagnosed with Adult ASD. The GP told her she was "too intelligent" to be autistic and that she should "just get on with it".

But I suppose mere mortals aren't immune to the unhelpful advice either. "Stop moaning and get on with it", "what have you got to be depressed about?", "what are you feeling anxious about?" all NOT HELPFUL. But that's a different blog post.

The worst part for me about being ill is having to go to a GP. It's not just because of the bad experiences, it's unpleasant trying to explain something invisible to someone and simply rely on their sense of empathy to treat you accordingly.

My GP is great and I know she will always be great. But what if she's sick that day and there's a locum? What if she's having a bad day? Unlikely, but possible.

Stories regularly find their way to me about terrible GP experiences and I feel this to be totally unacceptable. It's dangerous. I'm quite a tough old bird who knows the lie of the land, but what if the patient is sensitive, fragile, even more vulnerable and they are met with that response. Well, I bet terrible things like that have actually happened. And they mustn't ever again.

I am seeing change in the NHS treatment of MH conditions, but it's just too slow. Too little, too late.

I'd like to hear from you. What have you experienced?


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