And I have been officially admitted to acute inpatient.
The night before last, my partner and I discussed our options. My options. I desperately wanted to get to next week; however, I confessed to some stashed meds I’ve had around as a safety blanket for a long time, and eventually came to the conclusion that I needed intervention. I cannot lay the full responsibility of my life in her hands, it’s not fair.
We went to A&E and waited. Got assessed and sent to a type of halfway house, where they supposedly carry out further assessments, but de facto took one look at me and fast tracked me onto a ward the moment a bed became available. Then at 1.30am, I was woken to be taken to the ward. Then at 2.30 had a basic medical.
I am exhausted, but substantially safer than I was, theoretically. I’m in a different hospital to my last acute stay, and it is considerably nicer. There has been classic ineptitude throughout, especially with regards to my meds, but hey ho. Here now.
I’m staying until something changes. Further assessments, complex needs team, whatever. I will not go back to a half life where I am fighting constantly. I’m going to take this time and try to heal in whatever fractured way I can, or at least, not keep hurting my partner while I am hurting myself.
I’m going to nap, I think. I’ll keep you posted.