WORLD MENTAL HEALTH DAY
Today is World Mental Health Day
The fact that we need a 'day' to raise awareness stresses how dire the situation is.
I've seen a lot on social media, online and on the television advising people to 'get help'; 'always ask for the help you need' and telling people 'it's ok not to be ok'.
Whilst this advice is absolutely bang on, and I would encourage anyone suffering to always try and get some form of help, the sad fact is that a lot of the time, that help just isn't there. Our wonderful NHS is stretched to the point of collapse, and as a result mental health services are at breaking point - if they're there at all.
It sounds like a simple thing to go to the doctors to get help, but the reality is that should you be lucky enough to be taken seriously, the help you need following that appointment is anything up to 12 months away. Most people are struggling to make it to the end of that day, never mind wait a year.
During a stay in hospital, I witnessed a young girl who was absolutely desperate for help. She was being kept on a surgical ward, as there wasn't really anywhere else for her. She had been admitted as she had removed a catheter that was being used as she had stopped going to the toilet. She had removed the catheter, and was left with a horrendous urinary tract infection. This had been done so that she could get into hospital where she was hoping that she would receive the care she needed.
She was literally screaming at the doctors and nurses for help; extremely aware of her own condition, begging to be sectioned, pleading to see a psychiatrist, she was begging for anything.
This young girl took herself out of hospital one morning. and went to Booth across the road. There she purchased two packets of paracetamol. She then went next door to the chemist and purchased another two packs. She took all the tablets.
After returning to the ward, she sent a text message to her Grandmother and told her what she had done,and asked her to say goodbye to her young son for her and make sure her was looked after. She then led down in her hospital bed to die.
Luckily, her Grandmother had called the ward after receiving this message to tell the nurses what had happened. Luckily, they were able to save her life.
Following frantic few minutes, her stomach was pumped. A nurse detained her (she wasn't leaving her bed anyway) until the relevant doctor arrived. They told her that she was being detained for 72 hours under the Mental Health Act as she posed a serious threat to herself and possibly others.
The nurse never left her side.
A few hours later, several important looking men arrived at her bedside, and told her that she was being sectioned under the Mental Health Act, and was being transferred to the nearest facility with a bed available for her where she would be treated for the next four weeks. That facility was in Newcastle. She was being taken away from her family, her home, her familiar surroundings and sent to another city. She was terrified. We were terrified for her, the poor girl.
Now you may be wondering, how do I know all this? How can I tell you this story in so much detail and tell you exactly what happened? Because at no point was this girls condition or care discussed in private. At no point was she really taken seriously, her pleas for help were all but ignored, she was so absolutely desperate that she had to resort to ending her own life in order to escape her suffering.
I am not for one second suggesting that the staff weren't doing their job properly, or that anything was done out of malice. I am highlighting how bloody understaffed and misunderstood the mental health crisis in this country is. And it is a crisis. Today, Theresa May has appointed a Suicide Prevention Minister. Let that sink in.
A suicide. Prevention. Minister.
The suicide rate in this country is so high that someone has been appointed as minister to help stop it.
REALLY???
If this isn't a stark warning that the mental health services are absolutely on their arse, then I don't know what is. After having some very worrying and frightening thoughts following Tommy, I had to beg and plead and see god knows how many doctors before someone would take me seriously. When I eventually got an appointment with a consultant, it was nine months away. I had to beg and beg and beg to be seen sooner, to the point I had to call the consultants secretary and scream down the phone that if they didn't see me soon then I really didn't want to think about what would happen. I was seen a couple of weeks later.
We shouldn't have to resort to harming ourselves to get help.
We shouldn't have to present ourselves to a doctor with physical signs of our illness to 'prove' that we are suffering.
We shouldn't have to chase help for months and months on end before we get it.
I really don't know what the answer is, but I know something needs to be done, and it needs to be done now. It needed to be done yesterday, last month, last year.
Following having Tommy I was off work on maternity leave for nine months. That was the loneliest time of my life. Whilst I had my family around me, I hardly heard off anyone else, and that made my mental state even worse. Even now, I get told 'oh we'll have to go out for drinks one night!'; then a week later I'll see this great night out on Facebook and wonder where my invite was. Little things like being left out all the time can really get to someone.
If you haven't seen someone for a while - go round and see them. If you haven't heard from them in a while - call them. When you see someone in the supermarket and you ask how they are and they don't seem themselves, don't do the British thing and brush over it and change the subject. Ask. Listen. Offer help if you can.
The mental health of people in our country is on its arse, as are the mental health services. Until something is done about it, it needs to start with you. Me. Everyone. Do your bit today to help someone. A phone call and the offer of a drink can go a bloody long way; it may even save someone from the horrendous thoughts they were having that day.
Suicide rates in this country are frightening. Upsetting. Devastating. We look after people who have decided that day that the only thing they can do to escape their suffering is to end their own life. The devastation left behind is indescribable. Their families are torn apart. Their lives are ruined. It affects us too, as we take on their grief. I see this far too often, and its shit. There's really no other word for it. It is beyond shit. These people need help before they reach us (undertakers)
I often wonder what happened to the girl from hospital. I really hope she got the help she so desperately needed, and that someone listened to her, and didn't just brush her off as another troubled teen with an attitude. And above all I hope that nobody else has to go through that in order to get help, although I'm not too confident :(
Help someone today, and for fucks sake be nice to each other xxx
The fact that we need a 'day' to raise awareness stresses how dire the situation is.
I've seen a lot on social media, online and on the television advising people to 'get help'; 'always ask for the help you need' and telling people 'it's ok not to be ok'.
Whilst this advice is absolutely bang on, and I would encourage anyone suffering to always try and get some form of help, the sad fact is that a lot of the time, that help just isn't there. Our wonderful NHS is stretched to the point of collapse, and as a result mental health services are at breaking point - if they're there at all.
It sounds like a simple thing to go to the doctors to get help, but the reality is that should you be lucky enough to be taken seriously, the help you need following that appointment is anything up to 12 months away. Most people are struggling to make it to the end of that day, never mind wait a year.
During a stay in hospital, I witnessed a young girl who was absolutely desperate for help. She was being kept on a surgical ward, as there wasn't really anywhere else for her. She had been admitted as she had removed a catheter that was being used as she had stopped going to the toilet. She had removed the catheter, and was left with a horrendous urinary tract infection. This had been done so that she could get into hospital where she was hoping that she would receive the care she needed.
She was literally screaming at the doctors and nurses for help; extremely aware of her own condition, begging to be sectioned, pleading to see a psychiatrist, she was begging for anything.
This young girl took herself out of hospital one morning. and went to Booth across the road. There she purchased two packets of paracetamol. She then went next door to the chemist and purchased another two packs. She took all the tablets.
After returning to the ward, she sent a text message to her Grandmother and told her what she had done,and asked her to say goodbye to her young son for her and make sure her was looked after. She then led down in her hospital bed to die.
Luckily, her Grandmother had called the ward after receiving this message to tell the nurses what had happened. Luckily, they were able to save her life.
Following frantic few minutes, her stomach was pumped. A nurse detained her (she wasn't leaving her bed anyway) until the relevant doctor arrived. They told her that she was being detained for 72 hours under the Mental Health Act as she posed a serious threat to herself and possibly others.
The nurse never left her side.
A few hours later, several important looking men arrived at her bedside, and told her that she was being sectioned under the Mental Health Act, and was being transferred to the nearest facility with a bed available for her where she would be treated for the next four weeks. That facility was in Newcastle. She was being taken away from her family, her home, her familiar surroundings and sent to another city. She was terrified. We were terrified for her, the poor girl.
Now you may be wondering, how do I know all this? How can I tell you this story in so much detail and tell you exactly what happened? Because at no point was this girls condition or care discussed in private. At no point was she really taken seriously, her pleas for help were all but ignored, she was so absolutely desperate that she had to resort to ending her own life in order to escape her suffering.
I am not for one second suggesting that the staff weren't doing their job properly, or that anything was done out of malice. I am highlighting how bloody understaffed and misunderstood the mental health crisis in this country is. And it is a crisis. Today, Theresa May has appointed a Suicide Prevention Minister. Let that sink in.
A suicide. Prevention. Minister.
The suicide rate in this country is so high that someone has been appointed as minister to help stop it.
REALLY???
If this isn't a stark warning that the mental health services are absolutely on their arse, then I don't know what is. After having some very worrying and frightening thoughts following Tommy, I had to beg and plead and see god knows how many doctors before someone would take me seriously. When I eventually got an appointment with a consultant, it was nine months away. I had to beg and beg and beg to be seen sooner, to the point I had to call the consultants secretary and scream down the phone that if they didn't see me soon then I really didn't want to think about what would happen. I was seen a couple of weeks later.
We shouldn't have to resort to harming ourselves to get help.
We shouldn't have to present ourselves to a doctor with physical signs of our illness to 'prove' that we are suffering.
We shouldn't have to chase help for months and months on end before we get it.
I really don't know what the answer is, but I know something needs to be done, and it needs to be done now. It needed to be done yesterday, last month, last year.
Following having Tommy I was off work on maternity leave for nine months. That was the loneliest time of my life. Whilst I had my family around me, I hardly heard off anyone else, and that made my mental state even worse. Even now, I get told 'oh we'll have to go out for drinks one night!'; then a week later I'll see this great night out on Facebook and wonder where my invite was. Little things like being left out all the time can really get to someone.
If you haven't seen someone for a while - go round and see them. If you haven't heard from them in a while - call them. When you see someone in the supermarket and you ask how they are and they don't seem themselves, don't do the British thing and brush over it and change the subject. Ask. Listen. Offer help if you can.
The mental health of people in our country is on its arse, as are the mental health services. Until something is done about it, it needs to start with you. Me. Everyone. Do your bit today to help someone. A phone call and the offer of a drink can go a bloody long way; it may even save someone from the horrendous thoughts they were having that day.
Suicide rates in this country are frightening. Upsetting. Devastating. We look after people who have decided that day that the only thing they can do to escape their suffering is to end their own life. The devastation left behind is indescribable. Their families are torn apart. Their lives are ruined. It affects us too, as we take on their grief. I see this far too often, and its shit. There's really no other word for it. It is beyond shit. These people need help before they reach us (undertakers)
I often wonder what happened to the girl from hospital. I really hope she got the help she so desperately needed, and that someone listened to her, and didn't just brush her off as another troubled teen with an attitude. And above all I hope that nobody else has to go through that in order to get help, although I'm not too confident :(
Help someone today, and for fucks sake be nice to each other xxx
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