No Deadly Lamictal Rash Yet

This is what it is currently taking to keep me alive and kicking – well forget the kicking, it’s more of a dawdle between necessary places.

Morning:

5mg Neulactil

250mg Nuvigil

Currently 50mg Lamictal – dose is being raised a bit every 10 days

2000IU Vitamin D
2 puffs Seretide 500/50

5PM:

10mg Neulactil

8PM:

900mg Lithium

200mg Seroquel

10mg Neulactil

15mg Imovane
2 puffs Seretide 500/50

PRN (when needed):

2mg Xanax

200mg Seroquel

2mg Lorazepam

I’m in hospital at the moment, it’s been 12 days. I’m planning to discharge on Tuesday as I’m getting nowhere and I don’t see how my current state of mind will be any different depending on my location. I can sedate myself more at home, so that’s a bonus. I came in because my anxiety was crippling, it’s still bad but I think I can cope. My mood is low as always, the Lamictal is supposed to help that once I’m up to treatment dose. If the Lamictal fails I’ll be put on an antidepressant I haven’t previously been on – the list is growing short.

I can’t explain in words how over all this I am.

Writing. Stuff. Moving

I've been in the clinic for three weeks and three days. At first I remained very depressed and had my leave taken away a few times and all my stuff put in the nurses' station. I'm much better now, still having the suicidal urges, but I don't think they'll ever go away. I've had 14 TMS sessions and the last four days I seem to have picked up. I know this because people are commenting that I actually look human (they say it in nicer words than that) and I've finally started writing my novel. I had quite a lot of backstory and character development written, but I was too scared to start the actual story. I've finished the first chapter (first draft only, I'm sure it'll change) and made a start on chapter two, I think chapter two may end up being later in the story, but for now it's two. I've got just under 2000 words, which I know isn't a lot, but it's what most of my uni assignments were, so it feels good to have pumped that out quite quickly.

I had some company today, the 6pm minister and a friend, D, came to have communion with me, and then D and I went out for lunch. I'm not too bored at the moment, I'm watching Stranger Things, just two episodes a night, I had to re-watch season one a bit quicker than that so I could be ready for the season 2 release yesterday. I bought a new sim card for my old phone and got a good data deal, so I have better internet than usual when I'm in here. I use the phone as a hotspot. It's pretty crazy that there's no patient WIFI in here in 2017, nearly 2018. There is hope though.

I'm (again) considering a move to Edinburgh. I'm going to ask my psychiatrist if he can get a phone number for any NHS psychiatrists over there. I've sent off an e-mail to a clinic, it looks like the NHS doctors are all in hospitals though. I've emailed my church over there to ask if people often put up notices or ask around for flatmates and just letting them know that I'm looking. I have some very good friends here, but I just don't feel like Melbourne has much to offer me. I always get a feeling of belonging when I'm in Edinburgh. I haven't looked into the courses on offer or if I'd have a hope in hell of getting in, but Edinburgh University is one of the good ones.

I know this is a sudden ending, but my night meds are kicking in, so good night.

Ten

Tonight is my last night in the hospital. I wasn't given much notice; my doctor decided only last night. It might have been a compassionate move to save me from a shared room. When you misbehave in here they can move you for your own safety. I think it's just to be dicks. I told the NUM that if he moved me I'd discharge myself. And if I weren't able to discharge I'd just camp in the hall refusing to go into my new room until they either gave my single room back or let me go home. So the naughty thing. I absconded a little bit. By stealth I got out the door, but then came back after about 30 seconds because the reality of the situation hit me - the police would be at the train station before me, and then I'd be taken to the psych ward I most dread. Not long after my return I needed to calm down, and the best way to do that is by cutting myself, so I smashed a mug in my bathroom and planned to cut my leg with the shards. I've got two pairs of black pants and two pairs of black leggings here, so I'd be able just to let it bleed without needing to patch it up and no one would notice. A nurse came in before I was able to do anything, and very shortly after, my doctor. I probably would have got caught anyway, as what I really want is a long gash from elbow to wrist, sometimes I can just feel what it is I need, and that's it at the moment.

TMS is finished, I was supposed to have 30, but the Dr running the show stopped it at 28 because it was obviously not working. I have been told it could still work, as it can be delayed. I think I'll just see how I feel while I'm at home and if I want to end it I've got a good method now. I'm only home for ten days anyway, Dr wants to do more TMS on the other side of my head - I had it on the left this time, now for the right. Also, he wants to take me off my antidepressant as we both believe it's doing nothing at all. Still leaves me on seven medications though! Ketamine is still a possibility, Dr has sent multiple emails and was going to call someone today. Dr is going away for ten days - one of the reasons for my discharge, and there have to be seven days at home before a new round of TMS - an insurance thing.

So K, how do you feel about returning to the big wide world?
Thanks for asking. I'm looking forward to catching up with certain friends for whom it is nearly impossible to visit me in hospital. I'm looking forward to getting back into the gym and getting my fitness up to a more respectable level; if that brings about some weight loss too, then great, but I think the weight is going to stay put until I'm off Seroquel. I'm looking forward to sleeping in my own bed. The hospital has upgraded to King singles, and I think my mattress is memory foam, so it's been super comfortable, but there's nothing like your own bed - especially when it's nice and big. I should probably use these 10 days of freedom to go to the dentist, there's nothing wrong but I haven't been this year.

Final thoughts: Don't be surprised to see me with tubi grip on my arm/s. Don't be surprised if I kill myself. Ask me if I want to catch up and I'll probably say yes, the busier I am the better; I've only got 10 days to get through, but that can feel like an eternity.

Choo Choo

Today was my 20th TMS, it was supposed to be the last for this round, but since not a drop of improvement has been found, we're persisting to 25. I think it will stop at 25 and my doctor will have to hound the Ketamine trial people, he's also mentioned deep brain stimulation, which I think sounds worse than it is, I've read a little about it, but I'm not going to do thorough research until the idea is officially on the table.

I seriously thought about killing myself yesterday, (the idea comes up every day, but usually I can shoo it away) I went out on leave and ended up at a train station. I sat there for about 45 minutes just watching the trains go by or stop. There's a sharp corner the train has to come around about 100m from the station, if I lay on it, the driver wouldn't see me until he's on top of me, no time to stop. I say lay, not stand because my plan is to place my head on the track so it gets crushed and there is 0% chance of survival. I'm not looking for another cry-for-help attempt; I want to die! The reason I didn't do it yesterday is that I still had six more TMS treatments to go and I had a glimmer of hope that I may feel once again what I had for those few weeks after the last round. Of course with each day passing and no improvement seen that hope fades. I'm on escorted leave only now, so no train for me until I'm discharged.

Why do I want to end it? Why can't I trust that my doctor will do all he can to help me? Well, I'm just worn down. It's been ten years of depression, and the last seven have been brutal. Doing even little things takes it out of me, writing this is hard when I'm sitting on my hospital bed propped up against the pillows I just want to be hugging. It's a lonely situation to be in as this hospital is 40 minutes from all of my friends' houses and about the same for my Mum. I'm always glad to get a visitor, but I don't beg people to come because I know it takes so long. I used to make friends in here around the art table, but I stick to myself now, I've been burned by hospital friends too frequently. I have one left - that's you L. Today I can't really concentrate, I've tried watching something on Netflix and didn't get far. I'm a quarter of the way through a movie, so I'll have another shot at that once I've posted this. But really, all I feel fit for is curling up under the blankets with some music, or perhaps an audiobook on.

To Grandma, I'm Not Going to Run Down The Street Naked

I took these photos for my Grandma, who I think is under the belief I'm in a 1950s style nut house. I wasn't aware of this, but my Mother and Grandma are both concerned about a few days I'll have without Mum's presence in Edinburgh and a week in Manchester when Mum will be traversing Italy. Mum brought it up in a meeting the two of us had with my doctor on Wednesday night; thankfully he was on my side and said that I'm an adult quite capable of roaming around Edinburgh as I desire, he just encouraged me to answer people's text messages to assure them all's well - that I'll do so long as they're not every 20 minutes!

                                                A bed, not a trolley with straps to tie me down!

                                          Shelves, bench and desk - plus a hoard of towles

                                   Exit into the main hospital and my ensuite door on the right.

Some things I've made whilst here. I know the koala is very Australiana, but it's for my (other) Grandma and she'll love it. 

Ensuite, you may notice the lack of shower curtain; some people don't like that, but I always leave them open, so I'm quite happy to go without.

                                                             The rest of the bathroom.

I was unable to take photos of the dining room or the two tea/coffee spaces due to not really being allowed to take photos in here and there's the possibility of capturing other patients.

So as you may guess from the photos, I'm still in hospital and undergoing TMS, it has definitely worked a lot on my mood, but my anxiety is troubling me every afternoon and evening as my meds are wearing off. I take the next batch at 8pm. I don't know how often people come in for maintenance and for how long. I think it's monthly and for a few days, but it differs according to peoples' needs. I hope when I get back from the trip I can relax for a week or so at home before having to come in here for a top up, it may even be a full session since I will have gone eight weeks without any. I'm going home on Thursday, bringing my days at home for the year up to 21, it'll reach 33 if I make it to the trip without needing to come back. Then 6 weeks away!

K

TMS Again

I know all of you have been reading my blog avidly for over five years; so you will remember that 5 years' ago I underwent some TMS (Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation) treatment, that it was effective, but didn't last. Well, I'm starting again today and this time I'll probably go on the maintenance program, which will require one short admission per month. I know that sounds like it's taking over my life, but really it's giving it back. In this whole year I've had 20 days out of hospital in two short stints, I'm so depressed that there are hours' every day when I can hardly move, and I have to rest after doing even the smallest of activities. TMS will take a month, but I can cope with that.

Here's an article on TMS from another hospital; mine doesn't have one, which is interesting since they helped pioneer it here.

Parnate

Two days short of 11 weeks, that's how long I've been in the hospital, and it's not likely to end very soon. I've started a new drug called Parnate, well new to me, it's about 50 years-old. It's a MAOI - Monoamine Oxidase Inhibitor - which comes with a fun diet of things I can't eat. I'm still on an introductory dose, so can't be expecting any miracle mood boost yet. A good thing about it being an old drug is that it's on the PBS, which will help me save money to put toward the UK trip in August/September. I can't imagine still being in here in August, so it's probably safe to let Mum organise the trip with me in the plans. Our family are mostly in Manchester, but we have two in Edinburgh. Mum and I will go to Edinburgh; I'm definitely going up to the Highlands but not sure if that will be alone. I'm also hoping to go to London (and Harry Potter World) and while I'm there why not skip across the channel to France. I think London and Paris will be done alone.

I feel awful at the moment, I've been getting what my Dr called "tactile hallucinations" when I saw him today. It works so that I feel depressed and agitated and then I'll feel myself stabbing my leg, or biting a chunk out of my arm, feel the blood trickling down from the wound. It's lots of fun! Today it's been slitting my throat; the most protective thing about being in here is that if you do anything stupid they call an ambulance and send you off to a nearby hospital with a horrible, horrible psychiatric department; I've promised myself I'm never going there again.

Sorry, I feel too bad to write, I'm ending it here.

Have a good weekend.

K

Where's The Off Button?

I got in early this year, the first admission for the year at 11:30 am 1/1/17!  Since my last post I've been home and back here again following another overdose, there was some drama with the doctors in the hospital the day after I woke up; my support worker is helping me make a formal complaint. I'll write about that here when it's done with. Between the last admission, which was only 6 days, and this I spent about 2.5 weeks at home. There was no event preceding this admission, no overdose, no acts of self-harm; just a mood dip which started off gradual and then on Friday 30/12 took a huge dive. Though I wouldn't have thought it possible to go much further down, on Saturday it did just that, and I sent the simplest of text messages to my Dr asking for an admission, he arranged it within half an hour despite it being NYE, and here I am.

Depression isn't just feeling sad; sadness hardly has a role in it. It's an inability to think of anything but the void inside you. Moving feels like you're carrying a full-grown German Shepherd on your back. I went out for a coffee on Monday and on my way back to the hospital I felt what energy I had sapped. I was ready to sit down in the car-park I was walking through and appear to be a homeless person who'd picked a very unusual begging location. I know this isn't possible, but I was at a depth of depression whereby I felt my heart could willingly stop beating to save me from this feeling. I made it back to the hospital and just curled up cuddling my pillow - also how I spent NYE.

 I'll be seeing my doctor this evening, and I'm hoping to say more to him than when he came in on Monday, I was too down for conversation, he basically got yes and no answers from me. 

I can't write any more. I have loads to say but not the presence of mind to do it.