It's been a 'mare of a week. Extra vomit and extra meds is probably the best and most concise way I can sum it up. It was my fortnightly ward round this week, and these, as you maybe know from my previous rants, are always extremely brilliant or extremely terrible- there's never any place in the middle. With my 'disordered personality' (ahem), I'm not really a middle of the ground kind of a person, and, sadly, neither is my consultant. We either really come to blows or are bezzers during my ward rounds, and, typical of the ridiculous mood swings that characterise Borderline Personality Disorder, can pendulate between the two whilst everyone else in the room shakes their heads, like they're watching a particularly quick tennis game. If my ward rounds were a person (I realise what a bizarre statement that is, but just go with it), she would be sectioned for a verrrry long time.
This week, the Good Doctor (he once told me to think of him as God. Seribo), managed to hit on my giant issue over being rejected, by asking if I really thought my current hospital is the best one for my needs. I class as 'complex' and various other grim words, that basically mean that I'm too much like hard work for services, doctors, nurses, some family members and most of my (now past) friends. Consequently, I have a giant issue with rejection. Like, really massive. I know that when it's services it's not always personal, but with every passage between services, I feel more and more hopeless because it's always a move because one more service or person can't help me. When I have a person as the face of a service, like the Good Doctor, it feels also like when friends have cut me out or forgotten me or whatever. I don't know, it hurts. But back to the case in hand, as I told the GD, if this hospital can't help me, nowhere can. The amount of units/treatments/therapies I've tried that have failed me is huge. This is my last chance saloon. It's more than wanting this to work- it's NEEDING this to work.
It was agreed though that everything this unit is doing with me isn't working. I'm not getting any better. I'm sad. I'm anxious. I have numerous flashbacks a week and, in all honesty, given the chance, I'd probably end up doing some serious harm to myself. I'm in the same position that I was when I came, just with a few extra kilo. So we're trying a new thing where they let me do whatever the chuff I like with my eating, as long as my BMI stays above 17.5, so that they can focus on my other issues. I reck it's a better arrangement because way too much focus has been placed on records of my calorific intake, and it means they'll actually be addressing instead the factors that led to this admission... but whether I'll keep my BMI up when I know I won't lose my leave if I don't eat, is, I suppose, up to me. I hope so. Mostly 'cause winter at a low weight is really bloody grim.