This is an excerpt of an article from theJanuary/February edition of Mental Health Today – to readthe article in full subscribe to the magazinehere.
In this article, the author gives a subjective, personalperspective on how it feels to be a patient in a medical ward whilesuffering mental and physical distress:
May 2008
“I’m not sure if I believe in you but please God, make it stop.Isolation and fear are fast friends who continue to seep through mypores and leave me so frightened and confused. I’m alone in this.Help me, someone. Even though nothing makes much sense at themoment, the screaming voices in my head and the giant insects thatI can see swarming over my bed are all too real and hoot withlaughter at my attempts to shut them out.
The days and nights spin out endlessly. I have no idea whether Iam asleep or awake. I am quietly losing my mind – an easy victim topsychosis and all of its merry friends. I am stuck in the purgatoryof a medical ward in a hospital that has an excellent acutepsychiatric ward. But right now that feels as far away as the moon.My liver is dragging its heels. It’s showing off with a liverfunction test score of 2,300 – it should be between two and 40 -and a diagnosis of viral hepatitis A
Most of all I grieve for the protective barrier that used tokeep the ‘bad things’ at bay – a barrier that was built on thesolid foundations of an antipsychotic, an antidepressant and atranquilizer. Only Priadel (lithium) remains. Loyal andtrustworthy, it is metabolised in my kidneys unlike its dangerouscohorts, which have become abrupt and unsuspecting victims in thebattle to save my liver.
But psychosis giggles and leers at my oh-so-isolated moodstabiliser, poking jibes and thinly-veiled threats at its abilityto even begin to cope with the vicious maelstrom that is currentlywaltzing around my head. Yes, I am alone in this. Alone in a wardfull of patients, nurses and doctors.
But I am not afraid.
No. I am terrified.
Time passes.
A nurse informs me that I ‘really must take my dosage of 3,600mgof Priadel’. I gently croak that if she checks my notes she’ll seethat I actually take 800mg daily.
Time passes.
Another nurse. I try so hard to explain the car wreck that is mybrain at the moment but she just holds up her hands and says;’Sorry, I don’t do psychiatry.’
Time passes.
A senior house officer (SHO) informs me that; ‘bipolar is apersonality disorder that does not respond to medication’ and thatI’ll have to ‘pull myself together and snap out of it.’
I cry for about an hour.” …
To find out how her current views on her experience,order your copy of Mental Health Today magazinehere.
Picture posed by models
