It's Mental

Welcome to 21st century Britain, the 6th richest country on Earth, where the health service is free to all at the point of need..

Labour health minister Aneurin 'Nye' Bevan created the National Health Service on 5th July 1948, making last month the start of its 70th year of existence. Founded on socialist principles, who can deny the success of the British health service, which is still often cited as 'the envy of the world'.

Sadly, everything the NHS stands for has been eroded to the point of destruction, by successive governments of all shades, with systematic mismanagement, deliberate under-funding and creeping backdoor privatisation. Much more could be said here, but the scope of this piece will be intentionally apolitical wherever possible.

This is one man's experience of what can only be described as 'the desperate struggle to get treatment'..

Before I begin, may I point you to an earlier article I wrote regarding my journey on the good ship mental health. To briefly summarise, I have bipolar affective disorder and a history of depression and anxiety, controlled with mood stabilising medication. I have been stable and functional for the last few years. I am currently suffering from a high-functioning anxiety disorder which I have had for over 6 months. I take beta-blockers to help alleviate the symptoms. I have had cognitive behavioural therapy, which sadly failed to be suitable. I have also tried an anti-anxiety drug called buspirone but the side-effects made continuing treatment intolerable.

I have been referred by my G.P. to the local mental health services team. I initially saw the psychiatrist who agreed with me that the answer is not medication. He referred me for psychological services for some intensive therapy and told me there would be a wait of up to 2 weeks for an assessment. That was 3 months ago. Today my loving wife made another of our calls to the team for help, as my anxiety is not getting any better and I am becoming increasingly difficult to live with. The receptionist was patently rude and dismissive. She eventually offered a call back 'later in the day'. That is what passes for urgent care for a family in crisis now.

The thing is, unless you've been living under a rock for the last few years, you know the state of the NHS. You know the terrible policies of this government, and previous governments, going back many years, have brought the system to its knees. You know waiting lists are getting longer and longer. You know mental health is the poor cousin of physical health. You know that despite high profile campaigns, and bold statements by the prime minister and health secretary, that mental health provision is actually getting worse. You know getting treatment for mental ill-health in the UK is a postcode lottery. You know all the reasons and excuses, and the truths and the lies being told about the state of things - but none of that helps you get better.

The urgency of need in my case cannot be overstated. The anxiety disorder I have makes me agitated to the point of anger and aggression. Although never physical, I regularly find my extreme discomfort and agitation comes out as mood swings, bad temper and fits of rage. It must sometimes feel like emotional abuse, such can be the nature of the passive-aggressive bullshit I subject my wife and children to. A life of dealing with mental illness has taught me well, and I use every trick, tool and technique in the book to get through each day. I am constantly learning new things to help me. Despite all of this it feels like, overall, things are gradually getting worse..

Is it too much to ask that when you pick up the phone in a crisis there will be a reasonably quick response? If I had cancer, diabetes, asthma, a degenerative disease or any other physical condition and hit crisis point, even with the problems of the NHS, I could rightfully expect and receive the urgent and attentive medical care I obviously require. Instead I am literally left to rot, my family left to pick up the pieces. And, ultimately, I don't have an ounce of blame in my thoughts for the system. The blame lies squarely and solely with the damn government, which is just great - a further depressing thought to add to the mix.

This is what happens when you fail to adequately fund and resource the professionals who only want to treat their patients, and treat them well. This is what happens when the interests of big business and plutocrats are put ahead of patient care. This is what happens when good people vote for awful politicians with awful policies, and continue to vote for them even when it is obvious they are awful. This is what happens when amazing medical professionals are underpaid and undervalued and morale is on the floor. This is what happens when good management and essential reform are abandoned in favour of cuts and outsourcing. This is what happens..

I'll just keep waiting, holding things together with whatever reserves I can find, ever thankful for the loving support of my family, friends and work colleagues. My eventual therapy will no doubt be extended even further than anyone thought, to deal with the guilt and remorse complex I have developed at the unnecessary suffering I have put my family through whilst waiting to get treatment. I can see so clearly now how those who aren't fortunate enough to have much support end up getting so much worse, simply waiting to get the treatment they need - and how some just can't hold on at all..

One thing is certain. Nye Bevan isn't just turning in his grave - his ghost is haunting parliament and screaming at the bastards who got us to this point.

It should never have come to this.



Copyright ©2018 Richard C. Greenlow. All rights reserved.