Waiting, waiting, waiting…

So, I won’t be seeing my psychiatrist until March 29th as his schedule is completely jam-packed. This is a problem for me, as I have finally settled on wanting to try something to help my cycling moods and I want to chase up the DBT referral I got last year. Yes, I have been waiting exactly one whole year and STILL no sign of therapy. And I’ve been offered no other alternatives to it.

I’m an incredibly impatient person, which is remarkable considering h

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One whole year ago – and still no sign!

ow long I’ve waited for things in the past. Last week I finally got an appointment with an immunologist to investigate the constant attacks of urticaria and angiodema I’ve been battling for sixteen years – the last time I saw someone about it was roughly four years ago when a consultant told me that their suspicion was that I possibly had a lupus-like condition that was causing the attacks. Lupus is kind of serious, right? I’ll write another post about my skin woes another time, because it’s a very long story.

I called up the health centre where I see my psychiatrist, and asked if
they could bring my appointment forward, but apparently he’s fully booked until May. Luckily, the lovely receptionist put me on the cancellation list, so if anyone drops out of an appointment I might have a chance to see him sooner. I’m not holding my breath but I would appreciate an earlier appointment. I was reminded that if I needed urgent care that I could see the Duty team during opening hours – oh yes, the ever-so -helpful and sympathetic Duty team. The ones who were surprised at just how well I could voice my panic and despair, and struggled to comprehend why I could be so clear and yet still suicidal. Urgh.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re lucky to have the NHS and I’m against any idea of privatisation, but mental health services in this country are stretched so tight, it’s no wonder so many patients feel left out in the cold.

Luckily for me, the people in charge of my volunteer position have been so supportive and understanding of my situation, they’ve been so flexible with my shifts and very open with communication too. Always a bonus when you have BPD, I hate the idea of people talking about me and making assumptions. Like, “Oh she’s always missing night shifts, probably can’t be bothered,” or “This is the second Tuesday she’s missed, has she got a problem with me?” That’s been a huge plus for me, and reminded me of why I spend my time doing what I do.

…I really struggled to write this post tonight. My brain feels like it’s only half-functioning tonight. Probably going to have an early night and get back to full capacity(ish) tomorrow.

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About Claire

Well-groomed tomboy. I have no idea what I'm doing, but I hide it well.
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