New Psychiatrist Day.

Image result for psychiatrist

Raining again. The filthy birds are using the feeder way too much. It’s beginning to be a one-way relationship. I feed them, they peer maliciously at me. They are useless and don’t do anything like tricks, or talking, just fix grim stares. The wildlife around here behaves like it’s auditioning for a Hitchcock movie.

But all of that doesn’t matter because it’s raining. The fucking grim, grey, wet, shitty weather default for the Dales. I read somewhere that this area is the second most visited National park in the entire world (after Mt Fuji). On summer days I can believe it, but the tourists would be crazier than I am to be here now. This is suicide weather. It sucks all the good out of a soul.

Today I have to walk in this pissing rain up and down an almost vertical hill to the next village. I have to meet my new Psychiatrist. This will be the third one I’ve had in a little over a year. The local NHS can’t keep its staff. The going rate for a consultant Psychiatrist is around £125,000 a year yet still the job can’t stick on someone. Maybe we’re (the local crazies) too much to take? Which might be true but if I had to relocate here from the South I would bet my medication that the fucking weather has something to do with this turnover somewhere. Listening to people’s crap is hard enough, try doing it all day and then sitting in a traffic jam up a hill in the rain for an hour on your way home, stuck behind a tractor/horse/traction engine. What would it take for me to do my Psychiatrist’s job? A lot. I’d ask for a speedboat and a set of matching duelling pistols for starters. And a set of diamond encrusted ear plugs for Client time. Jesus… those poor fools in Psychiatry. All that power and responsibility, and for what? To get wet like me under cold, grey skies.

I’m a little nervous when I meet a new Psychiatrist. They have the magic power to turn the next time I see my girlfriend into a shouting match through a Perspex screen. Nobody wants that kind of scene. And no-one likes drooling down themselves through enforced medical intervention. You think you’re strong, but they have access to meds which can turn you into a whimpering baby within seconds.

No. Today I will play the game. Wet as I’ll be. We’ll get on and I’ll smile a lot and nod approvingly at everything she has to say. I will comply with treatment plans and I’ll say thank you a lot.

This, I’ve found, is how you remain free to feel the wetness of rain, instead of watching it from inside a reinforced room with no sharp edges.

 

(Picture copyright Charles Schulz)

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “New Psychiatrist Day.

  1. Hey,

    I know I’m a stranger but the NHS is losing staff everywhere. Mental health services are haemorrhaging money and services are falling apart and people are leaving all the time because the work is no longer rewarding. At least thas what I think. I’m meeting my new psychiatrist tomorrow. Last time I saw her I shouted at her and made her leave my doorstep by slamming the door in her face. Problem is, I liked my psychiatrist before. And I liked my CPN before he left and now hate the new one. They turned up together. I have a promise the new CPN won’t be here tomorrow. Hopefully the second sighting will be an actual meeting where I’m very angry and annoyed, but productively, at the lack of services and help and the failure of current NHS mental health services. I feel like I’m in holding rather than receiving help towards recovery and I know the meeting will turn me into a nightmare for a day or so because the conversation will be difficult and triggering. It’s shit to say, but I think the NHS are losing staff to the private sectors so rapidly because the staff just aren’t able to offer more than some tablets and a two year waiting list and that isn’t recovery. Must be frustrating to work towards helping people than realising the only way you can effectively do so is if they are rich enough. Plus its shit for people under the service due to lack of continuity of care. But anyway, I’m terrified of my tomorrow so I really hope meeting your new psychiatrist goes well. It’s shit I know.

    Technical point – the dales are fucking lovely. Even in the rain. Minor point I know but a lot of my family are northerners and the dales in the rain is one of the places I think are most beautiful and I feel safe there when there’s no one around. But I’m in London where I find faults of my own. My reality isn’t the same so I have no real idea.

    Hope this finds you well,

    Ellie x.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Hey, Ellie. I think you are completely right with what you say. Mental health services are crumbling, despite what the politicians tell us. Not many votes in whipping on the mentally ill, so I guess they’ve got to make out they are helping us poor sods. But, in my case I’m actually pretty well looked after: CPN, Clinical Psychologist, Psychiatrist, good gp. I do know though that people around here have been on waiting lists for over four years. Some of those people have died. I’m still alive. That isn’t fair. Good luck with your own meet and greet and I hope it goes well and that you come away from the meeting feeling in some way slightly better.
      Ben
      Ps – yeah, I agree, the Derbyshire dales are pretty, but it rains so much that I sometimes think there is an unholy curse on the place.

      Like

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s