A Tale From The Edge of a Mental Health Crisis

Pancake day was the day Claire was sectioned. Call it divine intervention, call it a lack of beds, she was back at home in time for Easter.

I can’t imagine what the period in between was like for her. I have an insight into what it was like for her husband and their children. And I know what it was like for me – hovering on the edge of events as they unfolded.

This is my tale.

On pancake day, Dan called from work. Could I pop over to theirs? He was regretting ever heading out. Something wasn’t quite right. Nothing he could put his finger on. Not the usual signs, but still, could I see what I thought and maybe help get the kids to school? He just needed a second opinion.

My first text to him advised I thought Claire was just a bit pissed off, as would I be if she had rocked up to mine 30 minutes before the school run with only a vague reason and three extra kids. No need to worry.

On the school run, after she acted mildly agitated – re-checking book bags, re-doing hair – I got back to Dan. My text reads, “I think it’s worth calling the GP, but I think it’ll be OK [kissy face emoji]”

We safely delivered the oblivious kids, and things quickly became more concerning: questions being answered a minute or so after I originally asked them; a trip to the shops to look at the newspapers as it was important that ‘things were checked’.

Dan met us. We agreed I would go to work, and he would call the doctor. If the GP could come, we confidently felt a crisis could be averted. Of course, the GP never came.

About 1.30pm Claire ran away. A friend of mine later asked why 6ft plus Dan couldn’t have just stopped 5ft nothing Claire. When, a little down this page,  I detail what it did take to get Claire to safety, you will understand why I politely told my friend to fuck off.

Dan called the police who were remarkable in accepting his description of past episodes (important medical records have been lost). They promised to help but, resources being what they are, they  would have to wait until a change of shift.

While Dan was on the phone to the police, he texted me and I called the school. Confident this was a safeguarding issue, the Head calmly and professionally suggested all six of our children be collected by me before 3pm to avoid a potentially upsetting confrontation with Mum. She was a rock.

After running out of my new job, running to the primary school, and running them all home to mine I drew the curtains, turned the music up high, and began immersing six children in pancake making. I did all I could to ensure a mother who I love could not find her children, and to ensure those same children did not think about their Mum. I realise it was hardly having the worst of it that day but, just for the record, it was quite possibly the most soul-destroying two hours of my life.

It took me a week to physically recover from that moment (headaches, nausea, shaking hands). Imagine what it’s going to take for people closer to Claire than I am. Imagine what it’s going to take for Claire.

By this stage Claire had lost all sense of time. She was spared the gaze of the 3pm school run. She arrived to collect the children at 4.

The school called immediately they saw her, and were a little surprised when  I said we wouldn’t come to collect Claire but instead insisted that they call the police.  Ten minutes later they called back to say the police were there and that they now understood the need to call 999. Our calm, professional Head sounded emotional and shaken.

As the police arrived at the school, so did Dan (who had been walking the streets since 1.30 looking for his wife), and my husband (who had also abandoned work in order to help). Another 5 minutes later the back up police car came, followed shortly after that by the police van. The police were amazing. But even with their compassion, common sense, and strength of numbers it still took over 15 minutes to get Claire to safety (I repeat, friend, ‘fuck off’).

It took a long while for the ambulance to come. It took a longer while to find Claire a bed in a suitable unit. She was eventually placed somewhere 50 minutes away from her home. Fortunately, the car park was free and parents were able to chip in towards petrol, so Dan could afford to visit frequently whilst not worrying about money. Money is envisaged to be a bigger worry than ever, now that he has had to take nearly two months off work.

And then Claire entered a facility, and we entered the woefully inadequate mental health provision that serves the UK.

Dan kept a log of who phoned him with updates. He stopped writing down names after the tenth one.

He tried to keep a record of their advice, their approach, their short-term plans for caring for Claire. He stopped doing this when conversations changed and contradicted themselves so many times, he could no longer make sense of what he had written down.

On the 18th April there was due to be a meeting with Claire, the family, the doctor, and a nurse to discuss transitioning a return home.  On the 11th April, Claire was moved to a facility nearer where she lives. Things were looking up.

Out of the blue, on the 12th April, Claire phoned Dan to tell him she was to be discharged and that he was to collect her. Dubious given recent events, Dan called the hospital to verify that this was the case. It was.

He brought her home without having any access to notes, the promised meeting, or even so much as a fridge magnet with a checklist of things to look out for.

He awaited the home visit scheduled for the 13th April. Someone popped in. They were lovely, chatty, ‘busy’ and apologetic that they couldn’t stay long enough to conduct the meeting.  They promised someone would be over later this week.

Meanwhile, we are left not knowing the best way to help Claire, no idea of the short, medium or long-term strategy. We have read from the excellent Mind resource that in order to manage her condition she ought to receive medication, talking therapy, physical exercise and – ideally – a creative outlet. We don’t know if her condition makes her either willing or able to do any of these things.

We assume a mother wouldn’t be sent home to her children unless she could resume full parental responsibility. No professional has said otherwise. Still,  those closest to Claire don’t think she seems quite herself yet so Dan is taking a further six weeks off work, just to be sure – well, as sure as anyone can be with no medical training and no reliable channel of support and communication.

We *think* she will now go back to having her medication provided for free.

We *think* she will have some reprieve from the stress of having to find paid employment – there should now be a small (ever decreasing) pot of benefits available to her.

But we don’t know much more.

I don’t even know that it is my place to tell this story – I strongly suspect it is not. But I’m emboldened by Prince Harry, Heads Together and Bryony Gordon’s Mad World  podcast series. Apologies if I am speaking out of turn, but I want to play my small part in removing the stigma around mental illness.

Maybe when words start flowing, cohesive actions will follow – I hope that now you have read my tale, you don’t begrudge me for trying anything I can in order to achieve that.

5 thoughts on “A Tale From The Edge of a Mental Health Crisis

  1. Jo says:

    Dear Abby firstly I’d like to say how terribly sad I feel for you, your SIL, her man and children. You’ve really held back on what this earthquake is doing to your family but I can imagine all too easily.
    Last year my 5′ something niece rugby tackled her two beefy 6’5 relations who arrived at her grandparents house when she went haywire at 5 am and left one of them with a bloody face. In her first placement in a secure unit she was attacked by a fellow patient in a mixed ! ward and left with a bloody nose. Even a few hours there left me reeling from the experience. Several months later she was released by now without a job and back living with her mother where she is still. At least she doesn’t have 3 young children.
    I’ve dealt with other psychotic incidents in the past and empathise with your initial reluctance to talk about mental health in the family. For what it’s worth I feel Claire is one of the ‘lucky’ ones to have you in her life and others who care deeply. I can hear how badly rattled you’ve been though and it’s clearly an ongoing thing for you all. Trumpet blast for the headteacher and police – thank goodness for them. Really hope your new boss is as understanding. You’ll hear this from others but I just wanted to remind you to somehow find an hour or even half an hour a day for yourself. Without the kids – a walk in the park, shouting in a closed car, a rant to a close friend. Do tell me to fuck off politely if it seems impossible, I think writing this post and others like it is important. It all helps Claire, my niece and the millions of others this happens to every day. So thank you. Jo X

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Clare Flourish says:

    On benefits, they depend on her work over the last three years, paying national insurance. If Dan is off work, they may be entitled to means tested benefits. Disability benefits depend on whether it is long term, over the next six months I think.

    A friend is not talking therapy, but the talking therapy may be you. Good luck to all of you.

    Like

  3. shortfield9 says:

    Oh my goodness – thank you for writing this. It will surely help. We are also trying to get help for my 12 year old granddaughter; contradictory advice, lack of joined up thinking and appropriate facilities seem to be the order of the day. We will continue to try to get help for her and us.

    I do hope your sister in law and your families get the help you need and deserve. We will put our combined efforts into making our voices heard. All our love to you and your families. Stephanie

    Like

  4. sabretoothedchickenstour says:

    Sorry to hear about the hardship of going through this situation. All we can do is the best we can with what we have got and our efforts to acquire any resources which may help us move positively forward. Sounds like you are all lucky to have each other & the help of others in your community. Wishing you all, especially Claire, health and happiness in the journey ahead.

    Like

Tell me what you're thinking

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s