I am still here folks. I called the number that the Crisis team gave me. It went through to an emergency assessment and referral unit, which ironically is situated in cas [ualty] in the hospital I work in.
I spoke to a nurse, well I say spoke but I mainly sobbed down the phone to her, poor women. She advised to me to go and see my GP this morning and get a proper medication review; and to call my boss and explain that it was too soon to come back to work. I did feel a bit better having talked to her; but still had to debate with myself over why it would be a bad idea to take all the [prescription] drugs I have stashed in this house.
Pleasantly I did manage to get a couple of hours sleep, but this morning I was still in a state. I called my GP surgery; but the doctor I have seen the last two times, the one who gave me the sicknote and then also signed me as fit for work is off all week. Since it has taken me 11 months to see the same doctor twice, I didn't want to go and introduce myself to another stranger, so I chose not to go into the surgery.
Instead I got ready for work. Then had a really long text conversation with the sister (Band 6) from work who knows all about recent events, and cried all the way through that. She suggested I called my lovely boss, but I was so stressed about letting everybody down, because they were relying on me to be there. She told me I wasn't down as being in the numbers and that the unit would be fine without me. But I still thought it would be better to talk to her (my boss) in person.
So I cried all the way to work, first on the tram and then on the bus, which was a bit embarrassing but I couldn't control it, and then down the corridor to my boss (who is called a modern matron) office.
About 5 minutes in to my 'back-to-work' meeting it was apparent that I was in no fit state to be in work. She asked ultimate boss to join us. They were both so lovely to me. They asked me quite a lot of questions, but it was only because they were trying to understand.
They thought it was poor patient care that I hadn't seen a consultant psych since June:
[-- this is because the amazing DrF changed his role a bit and was only to see in-patients; so since I was going to have to repeat my whole life story to a new doctor anyway; I decided to transfer my care from the hospital I work in where I saw DrF to the hospital near my house. It is all the same NHS trust but I somewhere along the line I slipped through the net somewhere. But, the crisis team chased this up just before christmas and told me that I have been referred to a doctor and to expect an appointment in the post sometime soon. I am desperately holding on for this appointment.]
They also seem to find it incredulous that I don't have a CPN. I explained as best as I understand it; which is as follows: CPN's, in my area anyways, will only see you if you have a 'sever and enduring' illness, and so unless you have schizophrenia or biopolar disorder its not going to happen. At the end of the day, I know what year and what day it is, I don't think I'm god/the devil/bob marley; ergo, I'm fine.
Its an odd situation. I suppose I should be pleased. But I don't feel fine. And its like; no matter what you do, you're still fine -- if you go to see the psych liason nurses in cas because you have tormenting constant thought of suicide; then you have insight and that is good and hence you're fine. But if you decide to just go ahead with the deed and not seek help; then once physically safe you get admitted to an assessment unit whereby they discover you know what year and day it is, and that you don't think you are the devil, and so hence you're fine.
So I'm sitting at home, unable to concentrate on anything because I'm trying to convince myself not to kill myself, consoling myself with the knowledge that in the bigger realm of things, I'm fine. It's small comfort. When will these thoughts go away???
They called occie health and got me an emergency appointment on Wednesday morning to see if the doctors there can refer me anywhere to help me. They said I shouldn't worry if I can't see the GP I know until next week, just to ask her to backdate my sicknote. I was there for 35minutes; bearing in mind that they are both really important and have a lot of responsibility in the hospital. I kept apologising, over and over; but they were so understanding. So for now I'm not even going to think about work and sickness policies. I have enough to occupy my mind.
Tonights mission is to not obsess about my funeral. And to leave the tablets in the cupboard. Last night I kept getting them out and lining the foil packets up. The nurse on the phone last night said I should't pressurise myself into trying to sleep if my mind was on overide