Disclaimer- This Involves some trigger warnings like suicide and self harm. Pictures are from google as I couldn’t just take a picture of the doctors etc.
My experience of the NHS,
You won’t probably read this but I need to do something. From a patient view who suffers from depression and social phobia disorder. I find your service average. No one listens to you when you ask for help. You always suggest talking therapy. But when I tell you for my point of view it didn’t work. You spoke to me like I was refusing treatment but I wasn’t I need more help than CBT. It’s not because the woman was late to all my sessions or how she spoke to me like a little child.
It’s because it didn’t help me at all. It made me feel worse. Yes I know it makes you feel worse before it feels better but this feeling what I was getting. I never want to relive that moment again. Plus I kept telling the CBT person who was doing it that it was far too early at 8am. I had to miss my anti-depressant and take it at a later time as they mess with my system and make me feel exhausted before I feel like I have energy. Which was worse for me as it messed with my head again. Plus you suppose to get a hour session? I only got 40 minutes. As they use to turn up late or they forgot they booked other people that week.
How do I even begin with A&E department?
I appreciate that they work so hard every single day. But what I don’t appreciate that I get told that my suicidal intentions or head wasn’t important and I should just go back home and go to sleep. When I did finally get seen the triage doctor was so lovely and kind. I said I was sorry and she said, “You have no need to be sorry chick, it’s not your fault.” Generally I thought it was getting better. She did the general health checks. Like my heart, oxygen and bloods. I was physically healthy just my heart race was fast but mentally I was exhausted and I felt I had no way out but death. She gave me a glass of water as I was so thirsty and felt so sick due to the tablets and alcohol mixing together. She took me to this ward, while I was waiting for another doctor.
While I was waiting for the doctor in charge. I spoke to the cleaner of the ward. She was so lovely. But in general I felt like I was being looked down on. I was on my own in a crapped boxed room which bleeping machines around me. I was getting more nervous every second. I thought I would get help. But I had to wait 7+ hours for the CMHT. I went in on 2am I got seen at 10am by the community mental health team. I was begging for help. Begging for the doctor to let me stay in hospital for help and treatment as I couldn’t take living alone anymore.
I got told I didn’t need hospital and it was problems in my head what CBT would help. I told them about cbt. They didn’t seem bothered about it. They just said “Well.. Maybe you should try it again?!” I couldn’t be bothered anymore. Life didn’t seem enjoyable anymore. I just wanted to end it. As every single day it was getting more challenging and difficult with my own head. But they said please go home and we will send you home treat in the next 48 hours. So I went home and slept as apparently it would help. Even if the CBT person said sleep doesn’t help. I was getting mixed messages from so called health professionals.
Doctors? Where do I start? This is a touchy subject for me as when I was 17. I was just put to one side and I was told I was too young to have any mental illness. You can be any age to have a illness whether it’s psychical or mentally! So I was too “too young” to have any medication or any treatment as they blamed my mum’s death on it and blamed my raging hormones just because I was a female. So basically they blamed me being stuck in my own house for a year because of my stupid raging hormones. My hormones weren’t the problem. I felt so scared to even step outside. But luckily I had enough strength to get better all by myself with my family help. It was going good for a couple of months. Then something tragic happened to me when I was 18 and it affected my mental health hell of a lot.
I knew I was showing signs and symptoms of relapsing as I did before when I was 17, I thought nah I’ll be fine. I was deteriorating rapidly according to my friends and family. So my gran booked me into the doctors as I hated to use phone calls or social interaction. I went to see a doctor. She said oh yes, it looks like you are relapsing. I was put on 10mg Citalopram and told to just “chin up”. I was like okay then even though that’s the worse thing to say to someone with a mental illness. Anyway the medication didn’t work so I went again to see another doctor. She was useless, blamed my “mental health state” on my weight. Yes I know I’m not the thinnest girls out there but it certainly wasn’t anything to do with my weight. She said “I’m not gonna up your dose because you don’t need it and you can’t live of “anti depressants” I went out of the doctors room and went in the toilet and cried. But the best thing was she wasn’t thin. I’m not body shaming but I think that’s the cheek.
So I left it, things was getting worse. I didn’t bother asking for help because I knew I was going to be called mad or I was just overreacting by the health professionals. I started to self harm to because I wanted to get rid of this pain. I wanted the pain to go. My Nan was getting worried so she phoned the doctors for the 10th time. I was 19.
We got a doctor’s appointment, this doctor basically saved my life and I am so grateful. He truly listened to me, he understood me and told me that’s everything was going to be okay. I believed him because he helped my mum with all her illnesses.
I wanted to do this because I wanted to spread awareness with my experience. I think that NHS do need help, They need funding and some more support. As I would truly hate if anyone went through what I went through.