Mr G Johnson Illustration

On Sunday, I woke up. I felt sad. There were some thoughts in the back of my head. Nothing I’ve not dealt with before. I’m used to the background noise of certain ideas.

I went through the day as normal. My fiance and I went for lunch with some friends. It was nice. We went home, we had a lie down.

And then I knew I would be a danger to myself.

The background noise wasn’t in the background anymore. It was vivid compulsions. I was going to do what I was thinking.

I texted a friend. I told them what was happening.

‘Do you have a specific plan to hurt yourself?’

‘Yes. I’m sorry.’

‘Then you need to go to A&E love’

I started crying. I couldn’t move my body. My fiance turned to me and got scared. He asked me what was wrong. I couldn’t talk. He got more scared. He climbed on top of me. There was so much fear in his eyes. Eventually I showed him the texts.

It’s a bit fuzzy. He looked up what to do. He asked me more questions. I managed to whisper some answers. I slowly tried to get my body to move. To obey me. A foot. A leg. An arm.

The NHS website agreed with my friend. I’d been texting my friend. I was scared he was right. I was scared I’d be sectioned on the spot. I was scared they’d do nothing. I was scared they’d turn me away.

Somehow I managed to go and put my shoes on. We decided to go for a walk to calm down. But we both knew where we’d be walking to.

It’s a ten minute walk to the hospital, normally. Normally I don’t have a broken foot. Normally I’m not clutching my fiance’s hand and crying and apologising.

We made it. He checked me in. We went to sit down. It was Sunday evening, they were pretty busy.

Eventually I got called for triage. They asked me some questions I was able to answer. But then I just started crying. She asked me not to leave. She said she’d worry about me if I left. She told me it would be a long wait but she wanted me to see the doctor. She said she’d worry if I left.

A&E is a grim place. We saw interactions that were unquestionably about domestic violence. A drunk lady was going round making friends with everyone. She asked why we were there. We didn’t answer.

I kept talking to the friend who told me to go to A&E. I talked to another friend. They kept me company. My fiance was there but he was worrying about me. It’s hard to comfort someone when you’re that worried.

3 hours after I arrived the doctor called me. It was the same one who’d seen me a week and a half before when I broke my foot. He asked  me some questions. Checked my blood pressure. Checked my body for infection. I didn’t cry then.

He told me I wasn’t an immediate danger to myself or anyone else, but they wanted me to stay overnight to talk to a psychiatrist. He asked if anyone was with me, and said I should go and get him. I did. I’d already texted my man that they were admitting me at this point. We sat down. I started crying. We started figuring out what to do. I apologised. He went to get my things and I was taken to the observation ward.

They sat me down. And then I was alone.

I was okay for a minute.

I think I was okay for another minute.

I was still alone.

I started crying. How had things got this far? How could I have done this to my fiance? What was going to happen?

How had things got this far?

A nurse got me a jug of water.

And then I was alone.

I kept crying. I grabbed my head. I had stopped thinking. I was just feeling. I started hitting my head. I kept hitting my head. I hit my leg. i don’t know how long this went on for. But I had to be punished for the pain I had caused. For ending up there.

Eventually my fiance came back. He found me. He couldn’t stop the shame but he held my hands firmly to stop me hitting myself. He held me. He asked the nurse to explain what was going to happen now. They told me what was going to happen tomorrow, but not what I was meant to do until then. How I was meant to sleep on an examination bed with no sheets. How I was going to be safe.

He couldn’t keep me completely safe. I was attacking myself. Teeth. Nails. Fists. I scared him. I hurt him, emotionally.

An hour later the pharmacy dispensed my regular antidepressant and I took it on an empty stomach. I had cramps for hours.

My fiance got them to sort out the bed and checked that I’d be watched. They told him I would be. He hugged me and kissed me and he went home.

I was alone.

I was scared.

No one watched me. No one checked up on me. Hours later someone checked my blood pressure. She asked if I wanted a cup of tea. I said yes.

I noticed the light on my phone had started flashing. A friend who was on holiday had seen my man and me tweeting that we needed things to cheer us up. I told him where I was.

He told me to ask for a sedative. I was scared to. I didn’t want to ask for a pill I might not get. Eventually I found a nurse and asked. They gave me some diazepam.

I told my friend I wanted to hear about his holiday. And i started crying because I didn’t think I could. Whether I was locked up in hospital or dead, I didn’t think I would hear about his holiday. And I can’t actually express how much pain that thought caused.

He told me to get some sleep. I got 2 hours.

A friend from the internet who happens to work in that hospital started chatting to me in the morning. They asked how I was. I took a photo of my surroundings. He asked what i was doing in the A&E observation ward. I told him. He told me I did the right thing. I told him I was scared. He told me to tell a nurse. To show them the texts. I told him I couldn’t waste their time. So he talked to me. He told me about a friend he made years ago.

My fiance came back. I cried. I told him about the night in jumbled sentences. He hugged me. They brought me breakfast. We waited for the psychiatrist to see me. He called into work and told them he wouldn’t be in.

Eventually a lady showed up. She said where she was from. There was a student with her. I was taken to an interview room, but someone else had started using it. I was taken back to bed while they found another one. They found one. I limped there.

She asked me questions. I didn’t cry until she asked if I was looking forward to anything. I thought about how I was going to see my friend who had been on holiday on Thursday.

I thought about how I might not make it.

I cried.

She talked about the options. The best one in their mind being discharged home and getting home visits from the crisis team. The other, if I didn’t feel safe enough, being admitted to the ward. I thought they might admit me.

I went back to my fiance. We hugged on the ridiculous bed. We planned for me being admitted. The psychiatrist was discussing me with her team.

Someone came and asked which of us was the patient. She offered me lunch. I asked for a curry. I’m a fussy eater, and it was the least worrying thing they had to offer.

The psychiatrist came back. She told me I would be discharged, that they would send home visitors. She gave us the crisis line number. 24/7 support. She told my man to hide the knives and the pills in the flat.

I ate my curry. We went home. We got lunch from the shop on the way. I told my boss I wouldn’t be in for at least a week.

And now it’s Thursday. I’m going to see my friend tonight. He’s going to tell me about his holiday. The knives and pills are still locked up. That was awkward when I had a headache on Tuesday. I have seen friends. I have seen my therapist. I have scared the shit out of my man and I have shouted at him and I have cried at him and I have hugged him and kissed him and loved him.

I think I’ll need next week off work too.