Discharged…

So I was discharged on Friday.

I think my reason for discharge was more down to the fact they don’t know how to help me, than me being any better. The current bed shortage probably had something to do with it too. They are struggling for beds and suddenly they are trying to send us all home.

My consultant suggested that staying any longer would not be good for me. The longer I stay on the ward, the harder it will be for me to leave. You get used to the routine, doing nothing all day. You really can’t help but become institutionalised, living in the safe bubble of the ward. The real world gets stranger and scarier by the day. I was getting more and more scared about leaving. It was an easier life in there and I could just about cope with existing. Being home has been a shock to the system and I realise now how much I’d settled into inpatient life.

It feels pretty risky to discharge me. I know I can’t stay in there forever, but I don’t feel particularly safe. I felt safer on the ward, although in reality I probably wasn’t. I wasn’t on escort during my last week and I could have gone out and done something, but of course it’s the evenings and nights I find most difficult and I was always kept safe then. My consultant didn’t seem to be taking the risk very seriously. She seems pretty convinced I don’t mean it when I say I still want to kill myself.

I nearly didn’t get to come home last week. It was agreed that we would meet with my new care co-ordinator on Thursday, so they could work on a care plan before I was discharged. Unfortunately she wasn’t in work for some reason and my consultant was reluctant to let me go without a CPA. By this point I’d accepted I was leaving on Friday and I didn’t want things to change at the last minute, so I managed to convince her to let me go anyway. We agreed that I would be placed under the crisis team until my care co-ordinator sees me this week. They’re not visiting me, but I’m on the list so if I call they can respond quicker. The likelihood of me making the call, even if things are bad, would be slim, but it was enough to satisfy my consultant.

Then on Friday they closed the ward due to an infection outbreak. Probably Norovirus, a stomach bug had broken out. Patients and staff we dropping like flies and the decision was made to close the ward. No one in, no one out. There were doubts over whether or not I’d be able to leave, but permission was sought and I was allowed to go. I felt fated to never leave.

I also had chest/upper abdomen pain, which was pretty bad on Friday morning. At first I just assumed indigestion, but when it still hadn’t gone away by the second day I was starting to worry. I knew I should bring it up with the ward doctor, but with the stomach bug running wild, I knew I wouldn’t be able to leave if I showed any sign of being ill. I decided to keep quiet, but as the pain got worse on Saturday I was starting to regret it. Managed to get through until today and saw Dr N. He said it could be related to the Reboxetine and has given me some meds that should help. We shall see.

At first, it was a nice novelty to be home though. Not getting woken up at 7am, by a noisy nurse shouting “Good Morning”. Food that isn’t lumpy and grey. A doggy to give cuddles. Internet access and my normal phone. Being able to go out without planning it. It all made a nice change. I even got breakfast in bed delivered to me for valentines day (aww).

Sadly though, the novelty is wearing off and reality setting in. I feel pretty awful at the moment. Nothing has changed. I’m grumpy and anxious. The smallest thing is making me snap. I went to Creative Remedies and instead of making me feel better, I felt worse. I just wish everything would go away.

Anyway I have to stop writing. I want to try and write about my time on the ward, but not sure I’ll get much chance. I wrote a lot in my diaries, so I hope I can use some of it for a few entries.

Hope everyone is okay. Let me know your news! xx