HEROIN IS A DRUG TO MAKE THE WORLD GO AWAY
THIS IS A BLOG ABOUT A LIFE WITHOUT HEROIN
THIS IS A BLOG ABOUT A LIFE WITHOUT HEROIN
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Monday, 17 December 2012
Mental Health Letter Found on the Street
SEEING as I'm considering becoming a Consultant Psychiatrist, or at least a Clinical Psychologist, the following piece of correspondence, found on my road this morning, was of interest. And because I want an office job, I thought I'd practice my typing by tapping it in here. NOTE: I changed the names (have YOU ever met a guy named Potishell?) and NO it is not me. Check the mood report. Does that sound like me? No. Also if it was me, they'd probably note an increased rate and production of speech. [Incidentally the mood section does make psychiatry look like a joke; I would rate my mood as 8/10 and yet Binky says I seem "manic".] Here goes:~
Thank you for referring Mr Potishell Pantswell to services and he was seen on the 21.08.12 and I am now writing with my findings and recommendations.
Reason for Referral: Has a history of mental health problems and you have requested a further assessment of his mental health.
Presenting Problem:
Potishell reported that he is feeling well within his mental state, despite experiencing some residual psychotic symptom (sic). He added that he was not quite sure why he had been referred to us and it was more than likely it was suggested that he would need to be linked in with mental health services.
Mental State Examination:
Appearance/Behaviour: A male, with a medium build, from a Black Afro-Caribbean background. He presented as calm, pleasant and engaged well during the assessment with a good rapport and eye contact established.
Speech: Spoke clearly in English with a normal rhythm, rate and tone observed.
Mood: Objectively he appeared stable within his mood. Subjectively he described his mood as okay and he self-scored his mood as 7 out of 10.
Appetite: Okay
Sleep: Expressed that he is experiencing dreams, which at times he finds distressing.
Abnormal Perceptions: Reported that he experiences visual, auditory and tactile hallucinations. He described that he sometimes see's (sic) vivid lines in different colours, hears occasional voices which he ignores and sometimes feels as if someone is touching his chest and he was unable to describe the type of touch. Currently he reported that his symptoms have greatly reduced, however he still experiences some residual psychotic symptoms.
Concentration: Okay
Delusions: Nil
Self Harm/Suicide: Nil
Insight: Good
Drugs/Alcohol:
Has a past 10 year history of crack cocaine, heroin and alcohol dependence. Currently Potishell denied any current alcohol or illicit drug use. [I bet he's lying.]
Police/Forensic:
Was sentenced to 4 years for burglary [naughty boy! What a terrible thing to do!] and is on probation until 2013 and he has to attend probation twice a week. [How dreadful for him.]
Employment:
Works part time as a domestic cleaner at B&Q.
Finances:
Is in receipt of a part time salary and expressed that he was managing on this salary. [What? In London?? Either he has no interests and cheap taste, or else he's surely working or committing crime on the side.]
Treatment:
Olanzapine 12.5mg daily, which was prescribed 2 years ago.
Summary And Recommendations
A 38 year old male, who is experiencing some residual symptoms of abnormal perceptions in the form of visual and auditory hallucinations. He has currently remained relatively stable on Olanzapine 12.5mg, which was prescribed 2 years ago. Currently there are no risk factors exhibited and No self-harm or suicidal thoughts elicited.
Plan:
1: I discussed his case with Dr Mazooramabakhadan and he recommended that you increase his Olanzapine to 15mg daily.
2: Dr Parper could you refer Potishell to the Neurologist and conduct a full physical health check.
3: Potishell's mental health to be monitored accordingly by primary care services.
4: Potishell has been advised that he can present at our 24-hr walk in service if he is to find himself in a mental health crisis.
Too Hot (And Too Cold Outside)
BLOODY HELL I AM SWEATING like a
I'M DEAF I'M DEAF I THINK I HAVE A PERFORATED EAR DRUM. ALL I DID WAS STICK MY LITTLE FINGER IN THERE AND ~~BAM! I think a hobgoblin or a gnome has been sneaking up to me in my sleep and shoving half packets of crunched up Pringles down there.
WELL I CAN'T BE MANIC. Because I slept HOURS AND HOURS AND HOURS AND HOURS AND HOURS AND HOURS AND HOURS AND HOURS AND HOURS AND HOURS AND HOURS AND HOURS last night.
FUCKING HELL I HAVE TO GO DOWN THE DR'S SURGERY. (WHY DO THEY CALL IT THAT? WHEN DID THEY LAST PERFORM AN OPERATION DOWN THERE?) AND THAT FAT, PATRONIZING, CONDESCENDING, DEMEANING, JUDGEMENTAL NURSE (well she does look at me funny) WILL TELL ME HOW DIRTY I AM AND READ THAT IGNORAMUS OF A BANNER HEADLINE THAT APEARS EVERY TIME THEY LOG INTO MY NOTES SAYING I'M A COMPLETE PSYCHIATRIC BASKET CASE WITH "SCHIZOAFFECTIVE DISORDERS" ~ plural. Like a whole array of cuckoo clocks along the mantle-piece of my psyche.
Well I've got to go. I'm going to terrorize the temp agency tomorrow and shall report back.
O and Binky is going to get me my free Bus/Tube/Train pass so I can GO ANYWHERE. Because the government say I'm mentally deranged. Bye.
Labels:
doctors,
ear problems,
elevated mood,
hypomania,
sleep,
work
Saturday, 15 December 2012
Working Out What to Work At
I'M IN A FUNNY MOOD TODAY ("today being yesterday, Friday). I got to reading books and listening to music and watching Helen Mirren starring as The Queen (yet again) last night and didn't realize how late it was until I saw the foreign satellite box was showing me a time of 2am. Then I went to bed in hat, coat and scarf (because it's that cold and I can't afford to keep the fanheater belting it out all night)... only to wake again at FIVE A.M. unable to sleep. I thought I needed more methadone so I drank that... and went into a long internal rant of the type I usually only make when I have some serious complaint I want to make (usually to the methadone clinic) or some ranting blog piece I want to post but the computer isn't there and I'm rehearsing what I'm gonna say. Or I'm becoming manic. I carried on ranting in a most irritated fashion inside my head till past eight o'clock and then distracted myself by phoning the DSS ("DWP" as they call themselves now) to find out when my benefits are getting paid. Suddenly, at the sound of a kindly human voice, I was most cheerful and chatty. I'm now getting my money on Tuesdays, not Mondays, which put me in terror of the electricity running out on Emergency, so later that morning Binky lent me a tenner.
When I'm on my own I feel stone cold normal. But whenever the phone rings, or I'm in the company of another person ~ whoever that may be ~ suddenly I'm acting and feeling half-drunk: lively and verbiose. I just wish I could keep this good mood going all the time. [And I'm trying to keep careful track of my moods: hence these notes.]
I got to musing about my True Job Prospects (and not the illusiory ones; I mean, if I truly had my pick of professions I'd go for Head of State (obviously ~ and not for a mere four years like a poxy American president ~ it would have to be a lifelong position to suit me... if not hereditary). And if I put my talents to full use, I'd be a bestselling writer. Plus a magazine editor and publisher. And a maker of fine fragrance. And a jewellery designer with lines on sale via Bulgari (for the real stuff) and the home shopping channel (for cubic zirconia). My other ambitions are to design a bestselling board-game and a computer game. To appear in a French film. To release a hit single and make an album. And to become a great poet with my works appearing on teeshirts, mugs, fridge-magnets etc (far better way of making money out of poetry than books! Who buys poetry books nowadays?) And to make bestselling poetry CDs with the poetry performed against a backdrop of whooshing ambience with chirping birds, whalesong etc in the background. These are just a handful of my ambitions. And they are real ambitions. You can think what you like, but with half a chance I will go for them all ~ and I'm fully intending to contrive that chance myself.
But failing that: working for someone else. How the hell am I meant to explain on whatever form I have to fill in (and surely it's NOT the initial application form; that would be just too brutal) that I'm supposed to be a schizophrenic manic-depressive? Who the hell's going to want to employ me then? That's why I need this chat with the temp agency. I'm going to walk in somewhere and give the unvarnished truth (no drug references though, and no medical details except the names of the conditions, of which I have to inform potential employers, in order to qualify for protection under the Disability Discrimination Act 2005. So I was thinking about this, and musing on what the hell would happen if I suddenly became manic enough to believe I can say and do precisely as I please no matter who's watching? Or so depressed I can't be bothered to change clothes or shower for weeks on end? And my life and the prospect of anything better seemed such a morass that I switched off and switched the TV on instead...
Somebody somewhere, please give me some perspective on this. I'm not really mad, (...) right~~? I could go mad again... or I could not. I still hear voices every day, but they're not the ultra-real voices ~ utterly indistinguishable from a real person right next to me telling me things wonderful or irrelevant about myself and the world... I know my voices now are not accoustically real. Example: yesterday the following information beamed at me from the pavement: You are looking wonderful! So I told the pavement, Oh yes I know ~ even if I do say so myself! But I knew this was a psychic dream, not the reality of ordinary people. As long as I can keep the two realities: that of relatively low-grade "symptoms" and that of everyday working people, separate then surely I should be fine enough to work amongst the People myself..?
What should I do? Should I follow my heart, my head or my Dreams? I want to commence writing a novel. But which novel to write? I have ideas for at least four that I could pen tonight. And another ten more ready for next year... I'm only hampered by a wavering sense of morality plus my own inextricable laziness. But ~ ha! ~ come to think of it, I know what I'm writing: VALERIE: THE PRISON EMAILS ~ my "respectable" Australian heroin-addicted narcotics-trafficking housewife and mother's outermost rants.
OK so it's all settled ~~ but before I get a book advance big enough to buy a four-bedroom flat opposite Harrods, should I get a "normal" job too? And can I even do one? The more I think about it, the more terrified I am. I remember office politics. And I remember the stultifying culture of enforced "normality" that prevails in the corporate workplace (two of my old jobs were with large corporations, the type of place that uses its own custom-made software so a weeks' IT-training is required before you can really begin...) Akh. Ukh. I don't know I don't know I don't know. And the British system is NOT kind or understanding to anybody who ever needs to vacillate between work and benefits (which I really wouldn't want to do, but face it there's a chance I might HAVE to...) plus I haven't even considered the fact that I'm still on methadone, still sporadically chipping at the Heroin, still not clean from that drug. I don't drink. At all these days. And I touch no other intoxicating substances apart from heroin and caffeine (the caffeine gets me way more out of it these days anyway)... what am I going to do? And what if I have a cup of tea at work and it makes me suddenly go bipolar?
SOMEBODY GIVE SOME ADVICE, PLEASE!
Music ~~~~~~~ Barber's Adagio for Strings
I love this tune...
William Orbit/Ferry Corsten mix
Longer version of the same (sans video)
Sung version by the choir of Trinity College, Cambridge with transcendently beautiful, mind-expanding cosmic visuals by NASA
Illustrated: Birds of Paradise animation...
Labels:
Binky,
bipolar,
book,
depression,
diary,
DWP,
hypomania,
mania,
mental health,
novel-writing,
Pinky,
schizoaffective,
sleep,
Valerie,
work
Friday, 14 December 2012
I Wanna Job!
Oh and by the way I haven't worked in 16 years and have no references. I don't see why I should keep my background hidden. If I tell my future employer about the chronic fatigue syndrome and bipolar episodes they'll be duty-bound by the Disability Discrimination Act to treat me good!
I desire a minimum £25,000 a year ($40,295) ~ I don't think that's too much to ask. My rent's £200, and when you add on transport (£35.60 weekly for a zones 1-3 travelcard) and the totally unjust council tax, which could easily be about £50 a week, I'd need to be taking home a good £500 to make working worthwhile.
So what do y'all think? Comments please!
I love this song: I was looking for a job and then I found a job and heaven knows I'm miserable now...
THE SMITHS: HEAVEN KNOWS I'M MISERABLE NOW
a truly awful song by an awful group... but the message is spot-on~!!
THIS is WAY BETTER than anything the Smiths could ever have knocked out...
dance music, as a well-known intellectual at my old university once declared "says nothing to me about my life" ... well that may be so, but THIS marvellous track says a million times more than the dreary old Smiths ever could!
QUENCH: DREAMS (SEBASTIAN LEGER)
QUENCH: DREAMS ~ ORIGINAL MIX
this is one fantastic tune!!
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