First of all an apology for not updating earlier. What with being in hospital for 8 weeks and then cancer op I have sort of hidden myself away and become a recluse. I have also been living downstairs where the WiFi access is shit.
Anyway, I’ve been in hospital again. Friday and Saturday night for being manic. My Mum rang my psych on Thursday after I had applied for another debit and credit card, spent £250 on clothes (it was in Selfridges) and crashed my car after my reckless driving. My psych saw me on Friday and admitted me.
Since Friday I have had my anti-depressant level cut as it was recently raised, and they think might have been the trigger. I have had the anti-psychotic increased after seeing my dead cat walk around for most of the week and I am on haliperidol to try and quieten me down.
Being back in hospital was odd. I saw people who were still there. I saw the people who had been in years and ones who had been in months and then new people. I felt a fraud as if I didn’t deserve to be in there despite the fact I was flying around the ceiling and bouncing off the walls. I had to be sedated on Friday night as at 5am I was still awake. Last night I spent the entire night awake, talking to one of the HCAs who was lovely when I was in. In some ways I wanted to be back in there all nicely cocooned and protected from the outside world, not having to face up to what damage I have caused, but then I knew that was wishful thinking.
Thanks to the full blown mania and psychotic symptoms I have now been elevated to Bipolar I. I’m not happy about this as hypomania was bad enough but if they’re going to hospitalise for both mania and depression, I don’t know how I’ll get anything done. I see Allison, my CPN on Tuesday. Although I was in a private hospital (The Priory) I still kept in touch with the CMHT at my psychiatrist’s request. Indeed the weekend after I was discharged the crisis team rang to check how I was. I think they are feeling guilty after I told the duty CPN I saw in December that I was suicidal and what my plan was and she just said I didn’t mean it and she’d see me tomorrow. 5 hours later I was unconscious and in A&E because I’d put the plan into place. What I didn’t realise what the nurse I was speaking to was the one who told me I wasn’t unwell after my first 2 suicide attempts. I didn’t put Catherine on the end of the phone and Catherine at the end of the dining room table together fast enough.
I have the beginnings of a cold which means I probably won’t be able to start the final chemo regime on Thursday, but then my consultant did mention something about 2 sessions of radiography which is less painful and has fewer side effects, apparently. I don’t know but I’ll be glad when I’m out of plaster and in remission and all this head and body is sorted.
Ruth
