I Hate Psychiatrists

So, after my grovelling apology and new-found respect for Dr C back in June, the current behaviour of her and her team has reinforced to me why I thought they were shit in the first place.

I was supposed to be seeing Dr C next Tuesday, so as she could review how the change to Venlafaxine was affecting me.  Regular readers will know that I’ve gone completely fucking mental since I changed to them, as demonstrated in just about all my posts in the last few weeks, but especially here and here.  Dr C, or perhaps more accurately her bint secretary, had already changed my appointment time several times.  This was irritating, but meh; as long as they were to see me, I could live with it.

Well, a letter arrived on Friday from their office stating that whilst they “apologised for the inconvenience”, the outpatient clinic had been cancelled and that an appointment had been rearranged for 8 September.  September.  What the fucking fuck?

I went to ring them but instead of being able to type their number into my phone I just ended up panicking and ultimately throwing it across the room.  Eventually I got my mother to phone the bint secretary for me.

The bint told her that the clinic wouldn’t have even been with Dr C in the first place.  My mother didn’t get the name, but it sounded like it was Dr N, the SHO I met the first time I went to psychiatric outpatients.  That wouldn’t have been ideal, but I could have lived with it.  But anyway, Dr N has cancelled her clinic.  Just like that, apparently, and no more reason was given.

Alright, my ma went on.  But SI is climbing the walls and would really need to speak to Dr C.

But that isn’t possible, apparently, since Dr C is on holiday.  For “quite a while”.

And in the meantime?

September is literally the first appointment available, so that’s too bad really, oh how regrettable, but that’s the way it is.  If there are any cancellations, they’ll apparently phone me.  Yeah, right.


Go fuck yourselves, one and all in psychiatry on the NHS.  Fucking bastarding cuntflapped bollockheads.

No wonder I don’t want to be hospitalised, if this is the standard of care one can expect.  Mental health professionals don’t care about mentals, clearly.

I got off the phone with my ma and threw my head at the wall with such force that I literally fell backwards, and very nearly knocked myself out.  I sat down again, got back up, sat down, got up, paced, sat down, paced some more and eventually ended up in the kitchen looking for the knife.  I then went and re-carved the word ‘HATE’ across my tummy, about which I wrote here.

That action having been completed, I sat on the sofa with the knife for a while wailing and sobbing in utter desolation.  (For what it’s worth, after a fairly short while I felt a lot better, proving that self-harm does indeed work).

It’s like the conversation I had with C on Thursday.  I don’t think I’m being taken seriously by the NHS.  I really don’t.  I would love to have the nerve to make a suicidal gesture and that would fucking show them.  Even better, I’d love to actually be successful in catching the bus and then the cunts would face a potential lawsuit and be forced to apologise to my family and friends and shit.  But as of right now, obviously, I don’t have the nerve.

Everyone is commenting that these tablets don’t seem to be good for me.  As I detailed here, if they are creating mixed episodes (which they are), then the apparent way of treating this is to add mood stabilisers to the medication cocktail.

How the fuck am I meant to get these if the psychiatrist refuses to fucking see me for months?  My GP can, theoretically, prescribe them, but of course he’s not the expert that Dr C supposedly is.  She would know if the mixed episodes are caused directly by the Venlafaxine, or whether it’s something else.  She would know whether she should change me to another anti-depressant, or whether adding mood stabilisers on top of Venlafaxine would be the best answer.  I am not sure that Lovely GP has this in-depth knowledge.  As CVM (a registered nurse) said to me, he went to university for five years and then trained as a GP thereafter, so he damn well should be able to know – but, simply, he doesn’t have the same knowledge and specialist experience than Dr C and her ilk are reputed to have.  Still, I may go and see him anyway.

I am convinced that C could get them to take notice (it turned out that it was him rather than Lovely GP that did in the first place), but of course there is no C this week 😦  I will have to rant about it to him next week before he then goes away for two weeks 😦 😦

Additional worries:

  • GA is on this landmass.  In fact, she is – until her departure next week – never more than about 40 miles away.  I feel violated.  I wonder, despite my request for her not to, how much back-chat she has engaged in about me?
  • Fucking occupational health tomorrow 😦  Panic panic panic panic panic panic
  • Because of the shrinks wanking about, it is almost certain that I will lose my job now.  If they’d see me as planned next week then I might have been able to get a solution to my present situation fairly quickly.  Given that I am now likely to continue feeling this fucked up until at least September, about the time work are expecting me back, I really cannot see how the situation can be resolved.  I didn’t realistically think it could have been anyway, but it was possible, and now the chances of not getting dismissed are low to infinitesimal.
  • The effects of my mentalism on poor A (I went mental again on Saturday, though it was remarkably less severe than the previous couple of weeks).
  • The fact that some people are still unwilling to try and understand that this is not something that I can help, that I could end being mental by “changing my thoughts” (ha!), and decide to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do about it and how I should count my blessings.  Never thought of that or anything, thanks.

I’m not totally losing it today, but things do seem pointless and bleak.  Nevertheless, that’s a fairly default position for me, so I suppose it’s progress from going totally off my head.

Well, I will report back on the occupational health tomorrow.  Can’t wait…!

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8 Responses to “I Hate Psychiatrists”

  1. They are complete fuckers. Is there any way you can get Lovely GP to phone and ask for a nearer apt with anybody who can give you some antipsychotics to stabilise you? There’s just the hope that might work, or could he phone and ask if he could prescribe them. Sorry I’m doing the offering useless advice thing again.

    I spend a lot of time fantasising about things to do to be taken seriously. Is it too much to fucking ask to be treated like a human being, not to be mucked about, to be listened to and not to be treated like someone who’s just bothering the busy important people?

    I was discussing this with my C a while back when things were very rough and I was wanting to sit down in the middle of the road and cut help me into my face. C suggested psychiatrist A would probably work out that it was a cry for help but psychiatrist B would probably see it as a sexual acting out of my desire for him.

    I’ve thought over the years if dozens of ridiculous and flamboyant methods of attention seeking. However I don’t have the guts to do them either. The time I did take the overdose and go to hospital the reaction was a bit of a shrug and ‘I’ve got an appointment in three weeks if that would help’. Bastards

    Please, please try and take care of yourself (only if you want to of course I don’t want to impose my demands that you take care on you – that would be unfair 😉 )

    hugs xxxx (for some reason I just typed hughs but I’m not sure which hughs i wish on you – hugh grant, hugh fearnley-whippingbottom?, hugh dennis?)

  2. Hello. I’m sorry things are so difficult at the moment. I wonder whether your GP, given the current situation, would be prepared to ask for some advice on the medication for you? GP must have connections, surely, and in the light of not having an appointment till september, she ought to use them to find out what the best treatment option is for you.

    Hope that you get some relief soon.

  3. Thanks guys. There are absolutely no appointments with LGP until half-way through August, so I put on an appointment with one of the others who, whilst pretty fuckwitted, is kind of dense and will hopefully, therefore, be easier to manipulate than some of the others.

    After writing this I got an email from the office basically sneering at me again and also casting doubt on when the fucking OH appointment actually is (I responded by sneering back at this fuck-up) so it’s been a great day overall :-/

    But I’m fine. Thanks as ever and take care. Hugs xxx

  4. beautifulstones Says:

    just to say, if your psych is based at a local Community mental health team – as in he is part of a team (which all psychs are) then you have a right to be seen by duty at any time. There is always a duty psych and CPN/social worker /a. another on mon-fr 9-5. You should be able to phone up the reception of the CMHT and ask to speak to the duty staff. They normally call you back. (beware sometimes it takes all day – great in a crisis hey!) and you could say to them that you need to review your meds now and tyou can’t get an appt until sept and give them the details. Sometimes they just talk to you on the phone and sometimes you can go in and see them. It’s worth a try anyway

  5. beautifulstones Says:

    oops hit submit too early! Some GPs will give advice, but some, like mine (who is lovely but this is still her response) will say they won’t get involved in meds if it is the psych who has prescribed you them. It’s like they can’t step on their toes. A bit like if a heart specialist gave you heart pills, GPs will often say check with the specialist rather than the GP.

    • Thanks, beautifulstones. I’ll ask C about that next week. The thing is I’m not sure the CMHT in Northern Ireland operates in quite the same way in does in England and Wales. We don’t have PCTs here, for example, I don’t know if that makes any difference, The web hasn’t been much help.

      I’ll ask C next week anyway; I’ve survived this long so another week won’t kill me. Hopefully (!).

      Thanks for the advice anyway; I honestly wouldn’t have thought of it.

      Take care x

  6. For what it’s worth: Sept 8th is my birthday. That makes it a good date. I don’t suppose that helps any, it doesn’t make it any sooner, but hey…

    Sending love and hugs as always and wishing there was a way to make it all go away for you.

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