My music went off Sunday night when my battery went on my Kindle Fire.  A minute after it had been off Andy, a nurse I know from years ago here, came in and asked me to turn my music down.  I told him it was already off and he said keep it off.  We got into an argument, me asking why he was making an issue of it when it was already off, saying he just wanted to assert his authority in that way, he said just keep it off, I kept asking questions and the only answer I got was just keep it off.  People like him make mashed potato out of people like me.  After he went I shouted that I did not get my degree to have a male nurse behaving towards me as if he had husband or father rights from pre-women’s lib days, and he came back in, stood with solid, challenging presence while I was in bed.  He likes to make a joke of everything.  He wouldn’t go.  In the end I spat on the floor as what seemed like the safest option.  He sniggered and eyeballed me as he left.  Earlier I had had a black male nurse, one of a team of black nurses godding all the time, move on me really aggressively, backing me into my room for saying something.  I might have been talking about a United Nations report from 2008 that says forced psychiatry is torture.  They have been saying the fact that they are black should make no difference, but in some contexts I think it has to, because of cultural differences in male/female relationship attitudes.  And I have never met a racial group more likely to be actively calling on God as their authority on this locked ward where people are subjected to unwanted physicality.  As a Christian who does not believe in that I don’t want to hear it, though I got fed up of hearing Colin Dye do exactly the same thing from his platform.  But it isn’t professional behaviour from anyone, anyway.  These guys are also intoning the word ‘medication’ in exactly the same way they say ‘God’.  I think they are causing a lot of confusion and distress.  Screaming, sorrying, people saying they love Jesus.  From their tones as I hear them now, and their demeanour since I got here, it could not be more obvious to me that these staff have something to hide.  I am glad to have these realizations but now do not know what to do with them.

Sunday night got out of control, though.  I heard another woman say she was uncomfortable with what he had done.  I said I had told him the night before about my sister’s death and her first birthday on 9th March since she died.  I asked what kind of a man does what he just did to a grieving woman.  No response.  It sounded as if the police were out there, I started to shout about abuse on the ward and my story.  When I mentioned Lorraine they went quiet.  Nothing else happened and I don’t know what came of it.

I was so upset and frightened and, inexplicably, ashamed and embarrassed, I didn’t care take my tablet to the office to be recharged.  Monday morning I had a headache which I have had all day, I’ve just taken some paracetamol for it.  When I went to the office Monday morning to get it charged I knocked on the door and a female staff member stared at me blankly for 5 seconds of so.  I said, ‘yes, there is someone knocking on your door, please don’t look at her so blankly’.  She said she had something in her eye, I said I hadn’t realised, I had just thought it was one more incident of the same nature as others.  The black male nurse at the desk looked me in the face laughing at me.  Looked away again, looked back doing the same thing.  People looking away, making rude and disgusted faces.  Shutting the door on me.  I was so upset I was shouting again, they kept making threatening noises, I went back to my room and had my back to the door, trying to keep them out and calm down on my own terms.  They were stood outside talking about me, so rather than say they were lying or being unreasonable I just kept repeating ‘yes’.  They broke the door seal so that it opened both ways.  I was already calm enough for my liking, just wanted to drink my tea.  But they wanted to win the fight and they forced me to take two Lorazepam.  I tried to refuse, being on a Section 2, but they said I had to take it.  They jerk when I am relaxed or feel in control, it is bizarre.  I wanted to throw the water in his face, but threw it out of the window instead.  I felt he wanted to make me feel provoked into throwing it into his face.  Is it bad style for me to say it is upsetting me to write this?  Eventually I took my tablet to be charged, lay on my bed and fell asleep, and no one woke me for lunch.  I suppose it might have been the tablets.

Around 3.30 this same nurse was standing at my door saying I had to see the doctor NOW.  I said I had just woken up and could he see the next person before me.  I was told no, he had to see me now.  I asked to be given 10 minutes, he said no, you have to come now.  I said to ask the doctor, and we argued back and forward on this a few times, me saying that flexibility and negotiation is what normal people do.  In the end I said if he did not ask the doctor for 10 minutes, because he was saying he wouldn’t, and if I missed my appointment because of that, I would make a complaint about him.  So he went, leaving my door open, came back and said he had got 15 minutes and I had to come now, I said we had a few minutes, he said he had said 10 minutes.

Anyway, I realised last night, having tried to understand what it was I was supposed to do with the physical and emotional state I felt in post-Lorazepam, that I had just been left to myself to get on with it.  Nothing said, no debriefing, feeling completely altered in confidence and everything.  This is how it has always been, they make you take this stuff then never refer to it again.  The deed is done, end of.  In the early days when they have me Droperadol, no longer used, it was a REAL knock out thing.  But I was up, late evening, with a nurse, and I was telling her how I felt, wilting all over the place, and she told me off for being self-pitying.  A couple of the female nurses who had been involved on Monday morning looked at me with a sort of smile without acknowledging anything, and a couple of seconds later I turned back to them and said, ‘are you happier now I’ve been drugged and the status quo has been restored?’.  A couple of seconds later they were gone.

One of the female nurses who was being rude to me and said her name did not matter when I asked has turned out to be the deputy ward manager.  The ward manager is away until Wednesday.  While the male nurse was ordering me about, before he medicated me, and I said that post-women’s lib most men don’t get away with talking to women like that, a female nurse said in very strong terms that he was not abusing me.  I said “‘mummy, daddy’s abusing me’.  ‘No he isn’t, you naughty girl, go to your room and shut up’.” , because that is the approach they are taking to me.  They are making victims and scapegoats out of me and others who lose it.  Now the others know my side of the stalking story, though, and how 100% of mental health professionals have forced it on me for 22 years that it is not happening.

Someone said what happened here on Sunday night had not been mentioned in handover.  I think I was abused and assaulted this morning and earlier I was thinking now I have been more or less sent to Coventry by the staff over it, and ostracised.  Everything is OK, it goes without saying, is what they seem to be trying to maintain.  Abuses happen, this happened, abuse or not.  It’s over.  No aftercare over it, no support, no one is talking about it.  And this IS as I have always known it, as it has always been handled.  It happened with my sister, too.  So maybe it is across the board.  I have always accepted that is the way it is until last night, when I thought if I am feeling so disorientated and lost trying to deal with it on my own, maybe they should NOT be leaving us on our own after these things.

Advertisements