I’m still stable, still enjoying the ups and downs of everyday life with only the odd wobble toward emotional extremes.
One such extreme came after my bold attempts to deal with something I had hoped to put off forever- claiming ESA. I can’t elaborate much on this story except to say- the Job Centre were useless, I’m still not sure what ESA is, whether I want it and how I get it. I called the telephone number the Job Centre had given me, got halfway through the recorded message (please have details of your mortgage, pay, blood group, parents occupations etc) and had to take Lorazepam.
Suffice to say, I’ll let that one lie for a bit.
I’ve been advised to go to the CAB, and I will, but not today.
I started taking my new anti-psychotic last week. It’s working in that I am not psychotic but physically I feel awful. As I’ve said before I don’t “do” illness so it was with great reluctance, tinged with fear that I was on the verge of lithium toxicity, that last night I contacted NHS24 (Scottish equivalent of NHS Direct).
My symptoms were purely physical- nausea, severe whole body tremor, headache, dizziness and blurred vision. I went through my symptoms several times, the nurse checked my records then she started talking to me in a tone of voice which would normally be saved for someone perched on a bridge. I was asked what kind of day I’d had (“rubbish, I’m not feeling well”), was I feeling anxious? Was there anything troubling me? Other than the slight fear that if it was lithium toxicity I could be in a coma by the time she’d stopped patronising me- no!
I was left with the instruction to see my own GP tomorrow, “to talk it all through with him”. Now firstly, my wonderful GP is a woman and secondly, I don’t need to talk, I need my bloods done.
So this is the stigma they’re all going on about! I don’t know (and don’t want to know) what my medical records say, but in isolation they clearly paint a picture of someone much less capable and together than me. I know I haven’t been capable and together for very long but long enough to know the difference between nausea and “nerves”. It’s bad enough that everyone one asks “how are you?” or the classic yet nonsensical “how are you, in yourself?” but to discover that any health query I have from now on will immediately be attributed to my mental health is infuriating.
For the record, I didn’t slip into a coma during the night and I still feel rubbish, I’m seeing the wonderful GP tomorrow to get some proper medical advice.