Home sweet home

I'm home. I'm exhausted, my brain is scrambled, but I'm home. I got back at 10pm last night, after the long transfer from Chelmsford with two patient transport nurses. It's been almost a month and I have missed my kitties. I hated being sectioned and I hated being so far from home.

But Trump is no longer President so big thumbs up to that!

I was ready to come home 10 days ago and appealed my section in desperation and requested to see an IMHA. My tribunal was going to be this Thursday, delayed from last Friday (on my birthday). I'm glad I don't have to do it. And it would've been over Zoom which is rubbish.

Despite spending my 38th birthday at the Priory and adjusting to the fact that what I was hoping to be doing verses the reality was a shocking chasm of difference, this last week I've been distracting myself with another jigsaw puzzle, Miranda Hart's autobiography "Is It Just Me?", "The Split" with Nicola Walker - binged both series' - and "Life", a beautiful TV drama on BBC.

I did go a bit crazy over the weekend. I lost my rag a number of times. I hadn't taken my meds for a few days out of protest, which meant I hadn't slept either. I was wired and tired and angry and frustrated and I felt like a trapped animal. I found the magnetic foam door to my bathroom a great help. I kicked it all over my bedroom. I told the Dr in my ward round yesterday that if she didn't let me go home, I would go mad. I told her I wasn't getting better being stuck in hospital, I was getting worse.

My neighbour visited me on Saturday and I almost wasn't allowed to see her because of Lockdown 2.0 which had started on Thursday. I was ready to kick off big style as she'd driven all this way to see me, but it was ok in the end. We chatted for a couple of hours in the summer house and she bought me chocolates and flowers and gave me an update on the kitties, before I had to be escorted back to the ward.

On my birthday it was sad that Geoffrey Palmer passed away as he is one of my favourite actors. I especially loved him as Lionel in "As Time Goes By" with Judi Dench. 93 is a brilliant age though. In the morning we had drama therapy and we sang and danced to loads of different tunes and then in the afternoon I watched some comedy to try and keep my spirits up.

I only got my section 2 papers last Wednesday, which is just wrong in my mind. I know they have to wait for a patient to stabilise, but still. My ward round a week ago was with yet another Dr who knew even less about me than the Dr I met when I arrived and who sectioned me. 3 OTs have been self isolating so no chance of the 1-2-1 escorted leave I was promised and it was only because we had a patient meeting that we could ask where the hell our care plans were and find out who are keyworker nurse and co-keyworker HCA were.

Is it any wonder that it regularly kicks off on the ward?! There aren't enough staff to patients and I know it's because of underfunding, but when we aren't well, we don't care about the bigger issues. We just want the support and being able to go outside for escorted or unescorted leave is so important. To amuse myself, I linked up with a fellow patient and we've had a great time looking for ways to escape. I almost managed it at lunch the other day. It's like an irresistable challenge! She'd been helping me loads with managing myself on the ward so I could avoid prolonging my stay. She got told off by the nurses for helping me though so she would slip little notes under my door. We're going to stay in touch and meet up once covid passes.