If you’re looking at this blog for constructive and helpful guidance on dealing with mental health issues, it’s probably best to look elsewhere. Readers – well, the reader – of my recent blog My Ever Changing Moods (now corrected) read that I had given up with the private NHS provider which had promised to make contact with me and didn’t. I have written to ask why they didn’t call. I won’t hold my breath that they will. But today, there’s another setback. A charity which offers cut price assessments and therapy was also suggested by my GP and I’ve now had a reply from them. The reply is along the following lines:
Dear Rick,
Sorry you feel a bit shit. It must be horrible.
Anyway, we’re full at the moment and we’re not taking on any new patients. Sorry. Really, really sorry.
Sincerely,
A mental health charity that’s oversubscribed.
PS We didn’t read your lengthy email properly so you obviously won’t get any comments about what you said about assessments for things like ADHD/autism/PTSD etc
PPS Mind how you go and don’t do anything silly
PPPS Did I mention how sorry we are?
Of course, these are not the actual words used. Nothing like them. It’s how I read stuff. The difference between what the words say and what they actually mean. Either way, the end is not nigh: it’s now.
All of my hope is gone. Here’s a summary of where I am:
- The NHS has nothing to offer people with severe clinical depression, unless they are suicidal
- Their private ‘partners’, trousering taxpayers’ money to line the pockets of their shareholders, appear to have next to nothing to offer
- The one charity recommended to me by my GP is oversubscribed
- The waiting list for what I want – an ADHD/PTSD/autism assessment – is between 3.5 to 4 years
- The private company I wrote to about ADHD/PTSD/autism haven’t even bothered to reply. They probably concluded that if I was asking how much it cost then it wasn’t worth replying because I wouldn’t be able to afford it.
- Antidepressants for ever
At least I now have certainty. The certainty that barring a fortunate lottery win – and it must be my turn by now, surely? – the light at the end of the endless tunnel was always an oncoming express.
I’m saying it’s all over because it is. Whether I have come to terms with the end of my long – oh God: which word to use? – struggle (that’s definitely not it, but it will have to do) to get better, only time will tell.
Tonight, I’m tired and weary. The one big gain is that I now know how many people care, even if I now know that some people I thought did care, probably don’t. I’m going to bed now to sleep on it, or more likely lie there wallowing in a pool of self-pity.
As Seasick Steve once put it, I started out with nothin’ and I’ve still got most of it left. Hopefully, see you tomorrow.
