A 3am thought: Anxiety and our healthcare system

I have gone from somebody who thought they were having broken sleep occasionally to a heavily pregnant someone who regularly sees the early hours of the morning these days. I suppose (as everyone is quick to tell me) I can look at it as practise for those broken nights of sleep and night feeds soon to come (and if all the "advice" givers are to be believed a quality of sleep which will remain firmly in place for the next 18 years at least!)  

Although somehow I don't quite think being up with a newborn is going to be nearly the same as being up with a hot chocolate and catch up TV but we shall see. 

Anyway it is on these early morning wake ups that I often lie there thinking about entirely random things which usually I can do nothing about there and then (if at all.)  

Last night, I was reminded of the lengthy and ridiculous journey I had to take in order to finally find out what was "wrong with me." As far as I remember my journey started at about 18 years old, I had a funny turn at work and became dizzy and upset with blurred swimming vision. I burst into tears almost immediately afterwards and my boss reluctantly sent me home from work where I feel asleep for the rest of the day. Following this I went to the Doctors who of course sent me for blood tests (their answer to most things) but also an ECG and further monitoring of the situation. When everything was returned normal I was instructed to simply return if it happened again. 

Whilst I did not have any more "episodes" something had changed,  I felt more restless and my emotions were wilder, I began to fear going to work everyday (tough when you are working 6 days a week 9-5.30!) I began to see the cracks in the emotionally abusive and not particularly great relationship I was in. It was then that I escaped something I had gotten good at! I spur of the moment handed in my notice and decided to go to University to get away from it all in lovely Bath. 

Sadly I was followed by unsuitable boyfriend who not only decided to go to university but he also picked the same course!! I was made upset by this but again still no major "episodes" in fact I had sort of pushed the whole thing to the back of my mind. 

What followed my move to Bath was several agonising months of emotional turbulence and teary phone calls home. I enjoyed living on my own and going to university it was everything else I was struggling with, I went through three or four different makes of contraceptive pill and not one nurse made any connection to the emotional symptoms I described and those evil little pills. I drank a lot because It made evenings alone more bearable and made evenings out watching my boyfriend doing all but physically cheat on me with his new "friend" all the more bearable. I also self harmed as a coping mechanism.

I made regular trips home on the coach or train to see my friends as I had been basically stopped from making any at University by that boyfriend. Such trips often ended in tears when it was time to go home.  

Not once did I think to go to the doctor and explain my mood, I put it down to my situation or hormones. The fact the nurses at the clinics weren't concerned made my assume it was just me. Eventually the terrible relationship ended, unfortunately not soon enough and the damage (which would take me years to really truly get over) had been done. By this time I had dropped an unhealthy looking size 8 and was done with University altogether.  

The next stage

Fortunately I fell into an easy and happy (perfect) relationship with a longstanding friend (flirting acquaintance) who is now my husband, he is absolutely fantastic and has been a great support through my journey-but that is for another time or maybe later. 

So back in London, I found a decent job, moved in with the new man and felt generally better about most things. Something was still not right however, sometimes I would cry for no reason or fly wildly off the handle having a mental breakdown style go at my partner. I continued to change pills and to wonder why I felt the way I did when I was essentially happy. Some days I couldn't bear to get out of bed or do very much at all whilst other days I had manic bouts of cleaning and baking.  At work I was forever worrying about what I would do when my contract was up rather than enjoying and immersing myself in my year as a theatre apprentice. 

Finally, the year was up and despite my partner telling me not to worry or rush getting other work I felt I should and landed a shop job. what followed was some of the worst few moths of my life so far!  My relationship began to suffer as we rarely saw one another, the shop was far from our house but close to my parents so I ended up sleeping there for back to back shifts, the shop owner was one of those insane unreasonable control freaks who tells you to do one thing and disappears for the day then comes back only to tell you the thing you spent all day doing (which she asked you to do) hasn't been done properly and to undo it. The shop was crowded and you spent large portions of time entirely on your own in the store. 

I spent a lot of time crying through tiredness and feeling low, I developed some kind of continuous crippling cystitis (which Doctors were unable to shed any light on) I continued to change pills, I stopped drinking to try and alleviate the cystitis, I spend days at work holding back the tears induced by the evil shop owner, I struggled to remember when I was meant to be doing anything and began to feel miserable even when I was out with my friends. My partner continued to tell me I didn't need to work (wish I had listened) I repeatedly went to the doctor with all manner of complaints, none of which they were able to help me with. I would feel dizzy and short of breath at the prospect of work after a day off.  

I am appalled that still no Doctor was able to see there was a mental issue at this point!  

Stage three

I managed to get a different job in a Theatre in London, but those few months in the shop had left a mark which would haunt me for many years afterwards. It was a backwards job where our busiest time was just before we went home when you are tired and ready to leave. At first I was okay, the dread about going to work had gone and I was eased in gently, after a while however the 40 hour week and sometimes 10 hour shifts back to back started to take their toll. physically I looked great, I had lost the weight I had gained in the last two jobs,  and was finding time to laugh and go out with friends. However I was burning the candle at both ends, sometimes going out on the piss with friends after a 10 hour day and followed by a 6 hour day! My Cystitis had disappeared and I had allowed myself to drink again I found it helped with the dizziness, If I felt drunk when I was sober I might as well get drunk. (I could see how easy it would be to become a dependant alcoholic to hide the feelings. ) 

I began again to not see my partner often, he worked Tuesday to Saturday or Sunday to Thursday and my hours were all over the place,  the outbursts returned as I felt insecure and abandoned (even though this was not the case at all!) I continued to agonise over situations, cry randomly and became increasingly self conscious. 

The episode

Then it happened again, It had not happened since the very first time but it happened again about three years after that first episode I found myself in the middle of a long back to back of shifts at varying lengths I was about to return to work after lunch when it hit me.My fingers numbed first of all and my heart hammered in my chest. I could barely open my water bottled with my clumsy hands,  then my vision began to slide away so it appeared I was viewing everything through a drunks eyes or a Vaseline lens or maybe even from outside my own body! My hands were numb and did not look like my hands, my breathing began to quicken. Luckily a colleague came through and saw me and said I didn't look right I struggled to tell her that I didn't feel Right as the numbness moved to my face. I had to go out to the box office and tell my boss I needed to go home. I could barely hear him and was sure I was sure that i must be either shouting or whispering. I walked myself wobbling back to the train station and managed to get on a train without crying, I spoke to my partner and explained, he was worried but hoped I got home safe. Once on the train the breathing slowed and my entire body was taking over by pins and needles. I felt exhausted and it was all I could do to make it home before falling asleep. 

I took myself to the Doctors. STILL NO DIAGNOSES! I was put on a different pill (again) and fobbed off with the verdict "I believe you have some kind of fainting spell disorder." I was also sent for more blood tests, hearing tests and eye tests and told it was probably migraines. 

Return to work

I returned to work without the usual excitement, I found myself worrying about going back and worrying it would happen again when I was serving a customer! I had to rest more after shifts and found myself feeling tired all the time. On days off I would cry, sometimes my partner would find me in a heap on the floor. 

I began to get pins and needles or numb tingles in my hands and a spaced out feeling. I would need to escape to the break room regularly to breath and have water till the moment passed.  I rang the nhs helpline one day when I awoke to a particularly dizzy feeling of impending doom, headache and pins and needles. the sent an ambulance and I spent the day in A and E waiting for someone to just tell me what was wrong!! After blood and urine samples the Doctor finally saw me only to tell me it was migraines and to stop drinking red wine and not eat too much chocolate and get my eyes tested. (I didn't even drink red wine!)  

Escape 

I began to look for a new job, my previous drive to be high flying and successful and in management in Theatre had been completely crushed by the helplessness of this terrible sense of impending doom. I felt weak and useless. How could I be a high flier if I couldn't even handle my current job. I decide to take drastic action and look into education, this would give me shorter days and holidays to recuperate. 

I continued to spend days crying and shaking and eventually on a day off my partner drove me to A and E after I complained that I STILL had a headache and that I had felt fuzzy and numb all day as though I were not real. I am not sure he fully understood but he insisted I go. four hours later and after blood and urine tests I was seen by a young Indian Nurse. She came in and asked me to explain everything, she was nodding with a knowing look all the while I spoke. eventually she stopped me and said, You are suffering from anxiety and possibly depression, these "episodes"  are panic attacks. 

OH MY GOD. I burst into tears and she stroked my hand. Little did she know that she had just given me the most useful piece of information, maybe even life saving. It had taken me five years for someone to tell me what on earth was wrong me. Of course I still felt terrible but just knowing what it was that was up lifted a huge weight off my shoulders and my headache began to clear. Go to your GP she said. 

I booked a GP appointment, began to research anxiety and depression and continued to search for a new job and a course to take convinced now that being closer to home and doing fewer hours in a less fast paced industry would be massively helpful to me.  I continued to get fuzzy fingers I started calling them but now I knew what it was I could calm myself down with breathing exercises and at least become a little less well panicky about what was happening. I still had a couple of full on attacks which continued to push me back in my confidence and return me to a place of wondering if my life would ever be normal again. I continued to cry and feel tired but I had an answer!!

The Doctor

The Doctor appointment was a disaster. I waited over an hour to see him and then he said "well I don't think that's the case, I mean what have you got to be anxious about?" 

WHAAAT!!! How can you be a Doctor and not know what anxiety is! I stormed out of the surgery and went to register elsewhere. 

In the meantime I found a different job close to home in a school, I enrolled on a training course and left the Theatre. I felt relaxed and positive that the change would be good for me. 

The new Doctor

I began to self manage my anxiety, I researched and researched, I began to do more exercise and eat better, I began to meditate and write things down as a way of coping. I still had dizzy days and helpless days and days where i would mull over conversations and situations over and over but they were fewer now and I had the support of my partner. I was able to talk openly at work about my issues so they were aware and I felt less afraid of having an attack. I learnt to recognise my warning symptoms and manage them accordingly.  

I saw a new Doctor...he changed my pill and prescribed some drugs. I sighed and didn't take them I had, read a lot of bad stuff about taking the drugs. I made another appointment with a different Doctor and finally someone who understood, I talked through my experience and where I was at and she recommended therapy. I could have gone back and kissed her. 

I started therapy and had a year or so of sessions before stopping. I didn't fix everything there but I learnt so much about myself and unearthed so many reasons and triggers for my anxiety that had been buried. I learnt how to find those myself and understand that yes there isn't always a reason why you feel the way you do but usually if you look deep enough you can find a cause or a trigger. 

So it took me a total of four or five years before somebody in our health care system effectively managed to diagnose and prescribe treatment for my anxiety. Still today I face issues with Doctors over it. 

I find this worrying and appalling that mental health can be looked upon in such an uneducated and dismissive way.

I want to just say Thank you to my Husband for being there through my whole awful journey I couldn't have done it without you.