The Eye of the Storm

It's now been over a week since D-Day. Since I last posted, things have not gotten much better.

I saw the dietician again this week. I've reached a point of crisis where the fear of not seeing her or my GP has overridden the fear of catching Ubers and taxis.

At the end of the appointment, my GP came into the room to check on me. I filled her in briefly on everything that happened last weekend. She asked if I'd heard anything from the Clinic, and I said no. She asked mum to call them on my behalf and see what's going on with the referral, if any progress had been made. Apparently the psychiatrist who initially diagnosed me with C-PTSD was on call last week, and thought that maybe, just maybe, I'd be able to get in to see him.

We got home, and mum called the Clinic. They said they were about to start ward rounds, and would call back after.

In the afternoon, the phone rang. Mum put it on loudspeaker so I could hear (I've never been able to talk on the phone). They said there were no psychiatrists that could take me. They were all too busy, even if they had an empty bed, there weren't any psychiatrists that could take new patients. They said that if things got worse, I'd have to go through the public system - to see the psych triage at A&E and go to the general psych ward. There is no way in hell that is happening.

They said they'd keep reviewing the referral each week at ward rounds, but to be honest, I'm not holding my breath. As soon as mum left the room, I raided my meds and slept for the rest of the day. At least when I take too many meds, I don't seem to dream as much.

When mum was on the phone to her psychologist a few days ago, he said he doesn't believe there are no psychiatrists available at the Clinic, and I should get my GP to push harder. It was hard to hear. Obviously I'm so far down the triage list, I doubt they'll ever find me a place.

At the moment, I'm writing this to fill in the gap between morning exercise and taking my last lot of meds. I don't feel like my usual daily dosages are enough to get me through the day, and the best I can do is to take them all at once.

My weekly meds have been delivered on Monday in the late afternoon for the past few weeks, but they never last. On Friday, I asked my GP to authorize four more days of meds until the next delivery By Saturday, they were gone, and I needed the GP on call (who I've never met) to authorize another three days of meds. Now, on Sunday morning, I've only got one day's worth.

Tomorrow, I'm going to try to get in to see my GP for an emergency appointment. I'm going to ask her to take me off the stupid weekly dispensing packs, and just give me the scripts to pick up whole packets. Just until I can get in to the Clinic. I don't know if she'll let me, but all I can do is ask. Then, they can help me get back on track in a safe environment where I (hopefully) don't feel the need to take so many.

My days are like this: wake up, have a few cups of coffee, exercise, process all of my notes, then an endless cycle of watching Netflix or YouTube, gaming, exercise, meds and sleeping. I just need to survive each day until the Clinic can get me in. Any form of productivity has gone out the window.

No one understands how difficult and painful it is for me to be in my head and in this house right now. In nearly four months off synthetics, with two brief periods of the natural stuff, I've never been more tempted to smoke than I am right now.


Thank you to everyone who left support and kind messages after my last post. This community is invaluable to me, and I would truly be lost and alone without it.

I know my last post was pretty intense and heavy on the triggers, but at the moment, that's life. It's not something I'm planning on talking about a lot, but I had to get it out.

Keep your fingers crossed for me that the Clinic finds a psychiatrist to take me after this week's ward rounds...


xxBella