When I was feeling particularly shit last week, I seriously thought about turning up at a mental hospital and asking them to let me in. After all, people turn up at regular A&E with all manner of trivial complaints, so why can’t I? Then, I realised that mental hospitals don’t have separate A&E facilities. You only end up in one of them if you’ve completely lost it and happily – or is it sadly? – I haven’t completely lost it. Yet.

I am getting VERY jealous learning that other people are receiving mental health assessments for all manner of conditions. I read that celebrities (not that I know who they are) Mel Sykes and Christine McGuinness have had ADHD assessments and diagnoses and both have found it “life-changing”. I have to make do with on-line assessments and so far this week I am autistic, bipolar and have severe ADHD, all of which are worthless and meaningless diagnoses since I am not a professional shrink and have little knowledge about the subject, except for being the bluntest tool in the box.

As celebrities, Sykes and McGuinness probably have access to more money than someone who is both unemployed and unemployable and may have sought out private assessments. Now whilst I am opposed in principle to private medicine, if I was loaded enough, I’d go private in order to find out just how mad I am. In fact, if I really pushed the boat out, I probably could, just, afford a basic assessment but nothing beyond that and this brings me to my big fear. What if I shelled out a shed load of money and found that there was, after all, nothing wrong and I was just thick and not mad. There would be no money left and nowhere else to go. My fear is of a negative diagnosis. Just imagine that.

And so I wait for the tomorrow that may never come. It took me two years just to get on a waiting list and a year has gone by since then. Imagine it: three years just to get an introductory appointment. If things go tits up, I might die before I find anything out.

I didn’t used to be like this. Before the terrible British Red Cross years, I coped reasonably well, albeit with the aid of therapy and drugs, but since then the need for an explanation has grown rapidly. All at the same time when a Conservative government has brought the NHS to its knees. Boy, am I unlucky or what?

This week, not so bad and no hospital visits planned. Next week? Who knows? At least I know where they are now. Some I don’t have enough money to enter but some are NHS so if I act mad enough then who knows?