The NHS (National Health Service, the free healthcare system that means Britain is even worse than the USSR, yanno? ;)) isn't one body, it's a load of little, interconnected, localised bodies, and they don't all have the same specialist services. If you require a service outside of your area, then your NHS trust has to pay for you to use the service in another area. It's a weird system, so let me just give you an example... the NHS area that I live in doesn't have any specialist eating disorder service, just a general therapy thing. When I was really ill, then I had to go over to Leeds for specialist therapy. When they decided that I ought to go in as an inpatient at the facility in Leeds, then they had to apply for NHS funding from my area, despite the facility in Leeds also being an NHS one, and I'm not sure how likely it would be, but there gen was a possibility that I might not have gotten funding. There are not exactly excess funds within the NHS, to put it lightly, so the different trusts are almost petty where it comes to funding people from outside their area.
I do have a point with that little lesson, there. My hometown (holiday home? Hahaha) is Scunthorpe and my university town is Colchester. All my treatment now happens in Colchester; that's where I'm set up with my GP, psychiatrist, CPN (community psychiatric nurse), therapist etcetcetc. I've been going up and down the country this holiday for my therapy appointments, but 'cause I've not had anywhere to live in Essex (the contract on mine and Ellis' new flat starts on Wednesday, it's exciting but would be far more exciting if I didn't just have to activate my credit card to pay for it. Terrifying) over the last month, I've been to therapy but only really travelled down for that. The powers that be have found out that I'm actually livin' the northern dream right now (I make it sound so much more interesting them finding out actually was, when in fact I just, yanno, told them) and aren't dead thrilled. My CPN has dropped me and my therapist is threatening to unless I can prove that my permanent residence is in Essex; he gave me two weeks last Thursday to get my arse down there properly.
So that's what I'm off to do, early next week. I've been dreading it 'cause I really, really hate being alone and with uni being out, I'm limited to fuck for company. Ellis isn't moving into our flat until October and everyone else is scattered, although at least I'll be near Willis 'cause she's an Essex girl. I'm trying not to be too negative about it though, 'cause obvzzz sitting and feeling shit about it isn't going to change the fact that I have to do it, have to get a new CPN and see my doctors and so on and all that balls. We won't have the internet immediately and I won't be able to take down a tele on the several trains it takes for me to get down there, so that's going to make it tougher and make me feel lonelier, but I'm trying to dress it up around how good my phone and internet package is so I can still communicate and that (Facebook is malyf), and maybe it'll be good to take a break from the world, just to take a shit tonne of books and retreat.