Friday, 27 November 2009


I took the day off. I stayed in bed. I wait for Boyfriend to leave the house, voluntary work, the pub. I sit, I lay, I cry.

I want her to come back. I can't forgive myself for leaving her, small figure standing in the doorway, waving goodbye, alone. I didn't even think of her, not really, my mind so full of ideas of reclaiming my old life, returning home. I forgot that she was really my first home, Nan's house, cuddling on her lap, hot water bottles and warm lemon when I was ill.

I left it all behind and now she is gone and I can't turn back time, no matter how much I wish I could, no matter how much I beg and bargain with Gods I don't believe in.

I phoned them tonight, Samaritans. I sobbed, I'm barely coherent, everyone goes through guilt when they are grieving.

Not like me I say, I am to blame. I left her. Grandad told me, a few weeks before the overdose, I know you are busy but don't forget about your Nan. I forgot her, I left her. Now she is gone too.

Tuesday, 24 November 2009

Leucotomy, Tribunals and Placements

I have just started a new placement.
It's an older adult ward, which I was extremely worried about - for my own health.
I don't really feel ready after losing my Nan. This will probably be my hardest placement yet.

On another note, I have to wear a uniform... euurrrrggghhhhhhhh.
The two hour commute (each way) isn't fun either.

One of my new service users underwent a leucotomy forty years ago. I am intrigued, and this person really brightened up the afternoon.

I have my DLA Tribunal tomorrow - I'm shitting myself. Literally, it might help my chances? Kidding... Has anyone seen the preperation that N putd herself through in Poppy Shakespeare (or indeed read the book)? Something like that maybe?

Monday, 9 November 2009

I <3 Journalists

This concerns me.

I am worried that an action which could have been purely appalling practice, is being linked without question to mental illness.
I'm sure anyone in nursing has met or heard of people who have mistreated those in their care without having a mental illness. A quick look through the NMC's enquiries would tell you that.

It has been reported that this lady was diagnosed with Bipolar Affective Disorder at the age of 19, and later with "paranoia". The lady is now 52, and has been nursing for 20 years. How does this article help the public to understand that a family member or collegue who has a mental illness is not going to do something like this?

This sort of reporting disgusts me as it instantly assumes that the behaviour must have been because of the diagnosis - have you never heard of someone who is "sane" doing something which is against human morals?

This concerns me due to my own mental illness. I disclosed my history when I applied, and had to get a letter for occupational health from my psychiatrist to state that I was mentally fit to work. My illness has not affected me professionally, except for times when I have been less-than-ok and missed some time. I, luckily, am able to see warning signs that I am becoming unwell. I can recognise when my mental state would affect my practice, and that is when I don't work.

Some people, due to their illness, are unable to identify warning signs, or become unwell very rapidly. Since being diagnoses as probable Bipolar II, I have been increasingly concerned about such things as "Fitness to Practice". I'm quite confident that I am able to manage myself and my illness - I would rather take some time off than endanger my service users because of my poor mental state.

However, it does concern me in terms of my future, my career.

This p*sses me off.
Mental illness often makes people prone to committing crimes.

Sunday, 8 November 2009

Some Nursing Stuff, and A Bit of a Moan

I didn't OD and I didn't self-harm. I did feel rather sorry for myself, which I'm now quite embarrassed about.
I've been having some issues with a female friend recently who I think I am realising doesn't really make me feel that great. I'm really questioning why I'm friends with her, and I've realised a lot about how she makes me feel. I don't really want to carry on being friends with someone who refers to me as "poor" and herself as "posh totty", because she has Andrex-on-the-go and a DKNY purse. What do I have? Value bog roll. I do have a DKNY purse - it was a present. I plan on selling it.

Ah. I think I've just answered my own question of whether I want to be friends with her...

Uni stuff. Oh, Cellar_Door, you are soooooo going to agree with me on this....

My university has a pass mark of 40%.
You need to achieve two units at over 60% during the second year to qualify for the BSc Hons - we have received the marks for 2 out of the 4 units which qualify for this.
I had a butchers at my course-mates marks - it anonymous, but I wanted to see if there will be enough of us to run the BSc Hons - if there isn't, I'll have to defer for 6 months and join the next cohort.

So, here goes...

4 people, including myself, have achieved 2 out of 2 units at 60% or more, and will be offered the BSc. Whether they accept it will be a financial decision, as you do not get the full bursary, and more people may achieve the required marks in the next 2 units.

6 people have failed to achieve 4o% in either of the 2 units for which we have received marks. These were not "near misses" either. None of their marks were above 30.

It concerns me. A lot. Not that don't worry about failing, about having a bad day and ballsing it all up. But I already worry that 40% is still a low pass rate. And yet people still consistently fail. Why are people allowed on the course if they are unable to make the required grade? The university is allowing, or even encouraging them to waste 3 years of their lives.

The 40% pass rate worries me because I think that the syllabus which we are taught and tested on contains only the bare essentials. So people are becoming qualified nurses, with only 40% of what they need to know. Now that scares me.

Tuesday, 3 November 2009

Stop Telling Me I "Look Well"

I don't feel well.

I feel numb and overwhelmed, all at once, and I want to stop thinking about my medication. I want to stop adding it up.

A 40 year old man, with non-insulin dependant diabetes, and no other health conditions took 19g of Venlafaxine. He did not ingest any other medications or alcohol, and within 9hours it proved fatal.
He weighed 106kg.
I weigh around 55kg... so I should, technically, need only half that dose.

I have purposely not collected the 24 x 75mg tablets that the pharmacy had to order. However, I reckon I still have in the region of 8g.
And some fluoxetine.
And 20-something Citalopram.
And about 30 ibuprofen, just for luck.

This is spinning round and round in my head until I want to bang it repeatedly against a wall. I self-harmed, superficially, last week. The first time in a very long time. I used the vegetable knife, it wouldn't go through the skin initially so I used the tip to open up a small wound and then sawed at it until I could think again. Six small cuts, on my calf.

I keep thinking about my boyfriend's Stanley knife. I only found out he had it the other day - he was talking to a friend about using it for cutting the griptape on a skateboard, and now I know it is in the flat, and I have a pretty good idea where it is. I want it.

I don't know if I want to die. I just want all the shit to stop. I want to feel normal, not like I'm trying to speak to people through several feet of ... something... like a thick, jelly-like substance, a barrier between me and the world.

It could be so much worse... and that just makes me want to face the world even less.