Sunday 8 January 2012

Breakdown

As my husband and I sat in the physiatrist office I felt like I was watching the scene from outside of my body.  I sat huddled in the chair hugging myself as the doctor and my husband Kenny discussed my behavior and past traumas.  Dr Raham, was suggesting to Kenny that I needed to stay in the hospital for 4-6 weeks to recover.  I sat in a state of shock. 4-6 weeks surly he had made a mistake, I’m not that ill.  I thought I would be having a weekend stay at the most.  Kenny thanked the doctor and it was arranged that I would go home for a few hours whilst they sorted out the paperwork and my insurance funding and I would be admitted later that evening.  It felt surreal.  As we drove home I felt in a state of shock 4-6 weeks I’m not that ill I protested to Kenny.  He just looked at me with such sadness that said yes you are.

The next few hours felt strange, Kenny spent a lot of time on his phone talking about me to various people as if I wasn’t there and making child care arrangement for our boys.

Shall we go for lunch Kenny suggested?  “I can’t believe that it takes a nervous breakdown for you to take me out for lunch” was my answer.  So we went for lunch, it was like an elephant was in the room with us.  An hour ago we were just told that I was suffering from post natal depression and had had a nervous breakdown and here we were sat eating lunch like any normal couple discussing what I needed to pack for my stay at The Priory. I felt like everyone in the room knew I was a nutter, like there was a massive neon sign with flashing lights above my head saying “CRAZY LADY”.

After lunch the surreal normal day continued.  We went to the supermarket and bought toiletries and tracksuit bottoms for me, came home and packed.  Kenny then went through my suitcase to check that there was nothing sharp hidden which I could harm myself with.  Part of me just couldn’t understand his behavior towards me “am I that bad really” I questioned?  “yes you are” he answered.  We walked our dog in pretty much silence whilst I tried to talk him out of taking me to the Priory.  “I’m fine” I pleaded, “I’m much better” I begged,  Kenny never once backed down, “No you are not fine, you have to go I am sorry.   I can’t cope with your behavior anymore, you are no longer my Jo, you need professional help“His words cut like a knife, how had this happened to me?

We returned home and I had a shower and *smoked a cigarette out of the window of the bathroom like a naughty teenager, I even put a towel at the bottom of the bathroom door as I knew Kenny would not approve.  I was so anxious and this was exactly the time when I would previously have self harmed but Kenny had hidden all sharp objects so the cigarette was another coping mechanism.

*Most depressives smoke
Dr Gregory A Ordway, a Professor of psychiarity at the University of Mississippi Medical Centre and collaborator Dr Violets Klimek, compare brain tissues samples from long term smokers with samples from non-smokers and conclude that chronic smoking produces ‘anti-depressant-like’ effects on the human brain.  This may contribute to the high incidence of smoking and difficulty to quit in those who are depressed.  Archives of General Psychiatry, September 2001.  In 2006 researchers at Duke University
Medical Centre gave nicotine or placebo patches to a group of non-smokers diagnosed with depression, then measured their symptoms using standardised questionnaire.  They found that those who wore the nicotine patch for at least 8 days experienced significant declines in depressive symptoms.

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