Posts Tagged ‘Crisis Team’

So, after seeing my second psychiatrist in two days (with, luckily, the same conclusion: don’t need hospital, do need crisis team), Crisis finally came round and assessed me today.

Unsurprisingly, they were reluctant to take me on, and said that they’d be doing me a disservice by doing so (they also complained about “budgetary constraints”). However, we’ve compromised that they’ll have me for a week just to help me get some longer-term support in place, as I’m too deeply mired to be able to do it alone. It’s the exact outcome I wanted, so I don’t know why it’s not making me feel happy, why I feel like I’ve been punched in the face and then kicked some more for good measure.

I mentioned CMHT, but, again, unsurprisingly, it appears I’m still not “severe and enduring”. Instead, they’re going to ring up the PCMHT and ask if I can see someone other than the chocolate teapot, and liase with the young people’s place to see if they can offer me more support as well. And I think they’ll be bringing my psych appointment forward as well.

All well and good, and I’m sure the young people’s place will step up to the plate, though less sure about the PCMHT, who were the first people to ever point me in the direction of CMHT.

My worker (with the young people’s place) is unavoidably away this week, so I can’t see her tomorrow and tell her she was wrong. Wrong to tell me that if I made up my mind to ask for help then it didn’t matter who I asked, that they’d help me and shelter me and give me a hand. Wrong to say that there was support out there through the NHS for people with “severe mental illnesses”, to suggest that the NHS would be able to “support” me, to try and “stabilise” me, to take away some of the burden of my own care, to “make sure I’m in hospital when I need to be”.

Because I asked my GP, and she referred me to A&E. A&E referred me to the Crisis Team. Crisis very nearly discharged me straight back to my GP.

I don’t fit any of their little boxes.

I’m just Chou, and I seem to be falling through the gaps.


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What to do when the PCMHT don’t want you because you’re too severe but not severe enough for the CMHT?

Blue Skies and Green Grass

I think I may have found this out, at long last.

Dropping down to crisis point seems to have mobilised referrals and people in a way that would never have happened otherwise. The crisis team are on the verge of discharging me, but I now hold promises of a referral to both the Primary Care Clinical Psychology service and to a psychiatrist for regular follow-up over my meds – so I suspect I shall be seeing that blue-green waiting room a few more times. Unlike last time, they are insisting on creating a crisis plan with me before discharge.

Both my worker at the young people’s place and the crisis team have independently expressed the idea that they should talk to the other side. Whether that phone call has actually been made, I don’t know, but I know that my worker was very keen on putting her head together with them/my GP before I’m discharged, and working out a way that she and my GP can keep me from “falling through the net”… like I very nearly did this month.

Frankly, if they do talk to each other, I will be A) amazed, but also B) relieved. I’ve gotten fed up of playing the chinese whispers game, and of forever being the one to relay information between services. Yes, I realise that there is an issue of confidentiality here, but there is some automatic liason between NHS services that simply doesn’t happen between my worker and those same services. When I was discharged from the hospital, one of the nurses there gave (after asking my permission) my worker a phonecall to explain what had happened, and followed it up by faxing a letter that she could keep in my records. Sure, it was a simple thing, but it made the world of difference to me at a very vulnerable time – I did not need to explain the details yet again, or even work out how to broach the subject… instead the time of our session together was freed up for deeper conversation. I did not need to say anything, because she knew, and she understood.

So, this seems to be where I stand now: freed of the PCMHT, and with a potential pic n’mix from both primary and secondary care (as, to be fair, I expect most people have).

I hope it doesn’t all go back-end-up again, but I really do fear that it may.

NB: I’m drafting a post to try and explain what was going on in my mind and in my life prior to this post, which might help make more sense of my posts since, but I haven’t really wrapped my head round it yet myself, so it will be a while in the coming.

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The Morning After the Night Before

Yesterday, when talking to the bloke from the Crisis Team, I came up with quite a good analogy for how I felt…

It’s like the morning after the night before… I wake up, and suddenly I’m seeing the Crisis Team, my life is even more of a mess than before, and it’s like… y’know… what the hell happened?

Well, I still feel that way, but now I’ve got a mental hangover to boot. My energy seems to have disappeared when the suicidal urges did, leaving me feeling flat, leaden and unmotivated. As I’m sitting here typing, waves of sadness come rolling along over me, throwing my concentration off. Time sometimes speeds and sometimes crawls, according to no discernable pattern. All I want to do is go back to bed.

I’d forgotten what this was like, how physically wrenching the pain is, how exhausting it is just to go places – never mind doing anything once you’re there.

I should have expected it really – I’ve been through a fairly stressful experience, and one that it would be unrealistic to bounce straight back from. My body and (probably moreso) my mind need time off to destress, relax and repair.

Yet I feel bad about taking that time, and it’s not even really possible at uni – this is an artificial world of deadlines and continous assessment. I haven’t even found the energy to explain to my tutor why I’m encountering difficulties again, why I’m still not better, why I’m still riding this mood rollercoaster a year after I was originally diagnosed.

Perhaps that’s because I don’t know the answer myself. Thought I was doing just fine on 10mg Tally until the rug was swept from under my feet, and I fell down so fast that I had no time to recognise the fall or repell the influx of false beliefs and imperatives.

Come on duloxetine, it’s only you fighting my corner now… better give it your best effort!

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Next Step on the Meddy-Go-Round(?)

She was late, but came in the end, and dragged me up to the hospital to sit in an awful waiting room with green chairs and fake plants. The trick cyclist asked me a few questions and sung the praises of duloxetine, so I told him what he wanted to hear and agreed to the new AD. We wandered over through the maze to the hospital pharmacy, where I coughed up the money for the drugs I didn’t want, and sat in silence with her, crying, waiting for it to be filled. I ran off in the end, before it was, and stood bawling in the corridor outside, before wandering off to find a slightly less public place to break down in (especially since people kept slowing down as they walked past, wearing that “Should I poke my nose in?” look). I returned in the end, to find she’d picked the pills up for me. We drove home, with my silence and her prodding.

Crisis are coming again on Friday, I’m not sure if I want them to, not sure if I’ll still be here or not. But I agreed to it, like I always do.

She tried to get me to promise to ring them if I “needed them” before then. I’m not sure why I would, but I know I wouldn’t even if I did, so I didn’t promise, just thanked her for taking me up to my appointment and walked off, away from the call of Chouette…?

Crisis are, frankly, not much use.

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The Shadow Lover

Shadow-Lover, never seen by day,
Only deep in dreams do you appear.
Wisdom tells me I should turn away,
Love of mist and shadows, all unclear –
Nothing can I hold of you but thought
Shadow-Lover mist and twilight wrought.

Shadow-Lover, comfort me in pain.
Love, although I never see your face,
All who’d have me fear you speak in vain –
Never would I shrink from your embrace
Shadow-Lover, gentle is your hand
Never could another understand.

Shadow-Lover, from the Shadows made,
Lead me into Shadows once again.
Where you lead I cannot be afraid,
For with you I shall come home again-
In your arms I shall not fear the night.
Shadow-Lover, lead me into light.

Shadow-Lover, Mercedes Lackey

NB: I have an appointment to see the crisis team’s psych tomorrow for a med review.

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Silly Silly Chouette…

Just got out of hospital, Crisis Team should be coming round tomorrow.

I’m fine, but I’ve had a helluva weekend. Will explain more later… am currently still wearing the same clothes I was admitted in, and haven’t had a chance to take a shower since then. So I’m not only a silly Chou, I’m also stinky!

Btw, thanks very much to both Hannah and Kate for the support while I was in, it really helped 😀

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Chouette is Annoyed and VERY Unhappy

…and mostly incapable of writing a coherent post to explain why.

It will, I think, suffice to explain that the Crisis Team have just been round and explained that they’re discharging me back to my GP.

They did say to ask my GP to refer me back to them if I feel low again… and to try student counselling. We had about an hour of discussing/arguing over it.

I hate this. I particularly hate it because I know that I’m not just some Daily Mail emo kid who thinks parasuicide is cool.. I’m an intelligent person who could do themselves some serious harm one of these days when in a depression. Nearly did do myself serious harm. And dammit, that scares me silly, and I want some help to ensure that I DON’T.

And I’m fed up of having to be my own advocate and such, because it’s something I’m only capable of when well, which is exactly when I need it least.

Ok, rant over. Thanks for listening.

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