I Hate Psychiatrists
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.
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
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 😦 😦
- 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…!
This entry was posted on Monday, 20 July, 2009 at 3:33 pm and is filed under Everyday Life, Mental Health Diagnoses, Moods, psychiatry, Triggers with tags anger, anxiety, bipolar 2, bipolar 2 disorder, bipolar disorder, bipolar II, bipolar II disorder, borderline personality disorder, bpd, clinical depression, cutting, depression, insanity, insomnia, madness, major depressive disorder, mania, manic depression, mental health, mentalhealth, panic, panic attack, psychiatry, psychology, Psychotherapy, rant, sadness, self harm, social anxiety, suicidal thoughts, suicide, suicide ideation, the NHS is shit, therapy. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.