final year

Starting tomorrow at 9am through till 4pm. Wonder what’s in tomorrow’s timetable?

When I decided to give up my job two years ago to go back to full-time study and a nursing degree I’m sure there were those who wondered what the heck I was doing. But here we are, two years down the line, all exams and placements passed and with less than a year to go it still seems a little unreal and unnerving. It scares me sometimes when I think how quickly it’s all gone and the learning expected during that time.

A joy? Everything I’d hoped for? Wonderful people doing wonderful things? There have been moments … let’s see what tomorrow and thereafter brings before I come to any conclusion.

Darkness Visible

A few weeks ago I was in the library searching for something or other and in my travels came across this wee gem of a book which I’d recommend to anyone interested in mental illness, especially depression.

In the eighty four pages of Darkness Visible: A Memoir of Madness, William Styron describes his descent into depression through reflection on melancholia, despair, physical ailments, social phobia, alcohol, therapy, hospitalisation and eventual recovery. He gives an extremely moving account of his preparation for suicide, feeling like an observer to an oncoming disaster in an almost theatrical fashion. His attempts to write a farewell note seemed too ridiculous for they sounded either pompous or comical so he tore up all his efforts and resolved to “go out in silence”.

“Late one bitterly cold night, when I knew that I could not possibly get myself through the following day, I sat in the living room of the house bundled up against the chill; something happened to the furnace. My wife had gone to bed and I have forced myself to watch the tape of a movie in which a young actress, who had been in a play of mine, was cast in a small part. At one point in the film … the characters moved down the hallway of a music conservatory, beyond the walls of which, from unseen musicians, came a contralto voice, a sudden soaring passage from the Brahms Alto Rapsody.

This sound which, like all music – indeed, like all pleasure – I had been numbly unresponsive to for months, pierced my heart like a dagger, and in a flood of swift recollection I thought of all the joys the house had known: the children who had rushed through its rooms, the festivals, the love and work, the honestly earned slumber, the voices and the nimble commotion, the perennial tribe of cats and dogs and birds … all this I realised was more than I could ever abandon, even as what had set out so deliberately to do was more than I could inflict on those memories and upon those, so close to me, with whom the memories were bound. And just as powerfully I realised I could not commit this desecration on myself. I drew upon some last gleam of sanity … “

Eloquent and straightforward. Enjoy.

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Day

It seems comedy is the Community Psychiatric Nurse’s companion and for that I’m truly grateful otherwise the time with my mentor would have been far less entertaining! My adventure today involved chasing a patient’s dog around the street trying to get it back into the house because the dog likes adventure you see and sometimes if it gets out it stays out all night and it really needs to come in because I’m going out and what will it do if it comes back and I’m not in (the patient says). Immediately I feel sorry for (a) the elderly patient because she’s getting distressed and the dog’s too fast for her (actually the dog’s too fast for me too) and (b) the dog who’ll be left wandering around all day because no-one’s home. I was thinking this could all end in tears. Probably mine if I catch it and it bites me!

From the window I spotted the slippery menace and darted back outside … a woman with a mission! But we all know what dogs are like. They wait till you’re almost beside them then run away again. I lost count of how many times it did that. The man up the road started to chase it too and the Council refuse collectors seemed to enjoy the show.

I saw the dog was running out of steam and shouted one last time. Maybe he heard the desperation in my voice because he came bounding up to me. This dog whose name had been changed recently (long story), a friendly wee thing who realised he was in for the sharp end of his owner’s tongue. With his tail between his legs he made his way into the house and I was the heroine of the day!

Back inside we heard stories about the bingo (that made me smile), going for walks, hearing aids, dial a bus, the naughty dog eating sausages, learning to read and write at 70, her auntie (who must be about a 100) and a wee trip to the seaside. Nice lady!

Monday’s Bingo

Yippee! I’ve passed and second year is still almost over!

I find it a little strange sometimes that I can get such good results. I’m sure someone is going to contact me to say there’s been a blunder, a huge mistake, a bit of a mix-up but so far it appears not so I smile. Now those who know me know that I hate boasting and am more inclined to understate my achievements than to shout about them from the rooftops. This is my way even though I wish I was different sometimes. Maybe it’s the result of a Presbyterian upbringing and the fact that praise was always hard to come by in our household or maybe it’s just a personality thing. Who knows and it’s not important. What’s important is I felt really good about myself and am pleased that the hard work is continuing to pay off. I’m sure family and friends believe that I’m taking the phrase ‘if a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well’ to the extreme. No? Thanks for your help and support anyway x

Then I had an odd afternoon when I dropped in on a drop-in group specifically for people recovering from mental ill-health. Nothing odd in that you might say, especially for a student nurse specialising in mental health and you’d be right. In essence it’s not odd at all. But when the bingo started I was transported to a certain scene in a certain film. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry quite frankly and left feeling a bit deflated by the whole experience even though the participants were very nice, staff extremely welcoming and everyone seemed to enjoy it.

Nothing wrong with bingo you might think and, again, you’d be right. What am I getting at? I’m not really sure. I spoke to my mentor about it today and questioned the appropriateness of my reaction in a conscientious reflective student kind-of-a-way. Contrary to my thinking she understood what I meant, asking if I saw it as a step backwards instead of forwards. I’m sure that’s what I saw – something from the past – a stereotypical collection of people doing a stereotypical type thing in a stark hall absent of any warmth and I guess that shocked me slightly in 2008. I wondered if this is the best we can do?  I’m not sure what I think.

What I know is they enjoy it, it’s not about me is it, it’s about those that turn up week after week because it’s bingo. Good for them.

Enough said. Move on.

fed-up-ness

I’ve been a bit off colour this week and more than a little bored. Maybe my present fed-up-ness is the result of what seems like a rather long second year and, with only two weeks to go in placement, it’s all becoming a long, drawn out affair.   

Practice placements are always difficult no matter how good they are. This isn’t a contradiction. It’s like starting a new job every ten weeks so by the time you’re starting to settle in you find it’s time for another academic block before another placement… and the cycle begins all over again.

Overall my placement experiences have been fairly positive and I’ve learned a lot even when there appears little to learn. The patients have been great (mostly) and I’ve found most staff, especially my mentors, to be supportive. There have been a few highs and lows especially during the first placement when I found myself (several times) at the point of tears and ending up greetin in the ladies toilet wondering what the heck I was doing. Over the two years I’ve had to bite my tongue on more than a couple of occasions and turn a deaf ear to what was clearly none of my business. I have tried to remain impartial at all times and resist the temptation to get involved in any gossip. No mean feat I can tell you! Not getting drawn into staffing disputes and bitchiness has become a bit of an art and if I’m glad I’m managing to get through unscathed. It’s a mad world.

This week I’ve been wondering where the last two years have gone and can’t believe the amount of new stuff my brain has absorbed in that time.  I’ve also questioned over and over if my skills are really transferrable or is it all a myth. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with me, my brain is full to the point of bursting due to new stuff going in and an over analysis of what’s already there. Maybe I just need to stop thinking for a while.

Sometimes I miss sitting at a desk where I organised, managed, arranged, problem solved and ok controlled certain things around me.  I guess I was happy knowing I was good at what I did.  But that was then. Only this week have I realised what I miss most: creativity, vision, hope and passion and I’m not really sure what to do with that knowledge except take it into a third year with me. 

So here I am, waiting for three results and hoping that tomorrow I’ll be feeling more like myself, more motivated, more engaged and more enlightened.

talking to myself

For a split second everything seemed just right.  I feel quite spiritual in fact.  The sun’s shining, I’m eating chocolate, I don’t feel guilty as I walk passed the gym on the way home … then I start to think back to the events of the day. I should know by now that’s never a good thing.

You know that way you begin to replay things over in your mind?

Today we had to give a presentation. It shouldn’t have worried me but it did. My group arrived to be told that we were in the ‘communication suite’ and we all knew what that meant. Recording!!! We’d been duped! I would’ve worn something different! Well I am female and I wasn’t the only one wishing she was having a better hair day! I suddenly felt under pressure. The last time I felt this nervous was when I was Best Woman at my best friend’s civil partnership, and this time I didn’t even need to be funny for goodness sake!  (As we all know trying to be funny when one is not a naturally funny person isn’t good.)

I’m thinking I’m a bit stressed this week. Too many things needing my time and effort and I’m unable to focus.

I’ll just have another piece of chocolate and not think about it anymore. I’ve got an idea!  I’ll think about something else instead … 

I must remember to transfer the law and healthcare notes I took during this morning’s lecture. Now what was the name of that legal case and what was its significance again? Nope, can’t remember!

I’ll just wait till I get home and once I’ve read through the stuff, I’m sure it’ll all come back to me.

This afternoon’s lecture on dual diagnosis was really good – mental health & learning disabilities. Mmm tricky. I’m reminded of my second semester placement and hiding in the charge nurse’s office during the first week hoping nobody would notice. In the end it turned out to be a great learning experience … well I had to come out eventually!

The chocolate’s nearly finished! How did that happen and I’m only at the end of the road!?

I walk the same route each day … it reminds me of walking home from school (ah the olden days). I’m thinking that each time I pass these same houses I’m eating chocolate and it occurs to me that for three days this week I’ve been eating chocolate each time I pass these same houses. Is this developing into some sort of habit? . Admittedly I’ve had three varieties of chocolate: Monday was chocolate raisins, Wednesday was flake and today was a bar of whole nut (I was off Tuesday).

Last bite and it’s all gone.

I’m home.

 

 

chilled – no really

I finished the stats assigment more than a week ago and have only just submitted it due to the checking, rechecking and, yeah that’s right, checking calculations AGAIN!!!!  Ever so slightly OCD.  I’m certain it was because it was an online submission and I just knew that once I’d clicked ‘ok’ it was gone, forever!        

Anyway, it’s gone now so no point in worrying further … relax, chill, blog, go for a walk or get on with next thing … law and healthcare.  I like that! 

Also need to do some research into hearing impaired patient hearing voices.  Now that’s interesting!

journey

The journey continues to amaze and confuse me. I have no idea where I’m going or indeed why I’m really on the journey except that it feels right. The destination? Not sure but I’m getting closer.

As my journey continues I’m not only struck by the differences in us but also that illness is a great leveller.  This is especially true in mental ill health. Patients come in all shapes and sizes and from all walks of life: educated; articulate; well off and not so well off; those with learning difficulties and with physical disabilities; people living amidst a backdrop of poverty, abuse, powerlessness and sheer desperation. For a lot of them getting through the day is an achievement … for us it’s a place to start.

Psalm 139 tells us we are ‘fearfully and wonderfully made’. Yes we are. Nothing can convince me otherwise and I see evidence of God in the debris of someone’s life as I try desperately to understand the complex issues that contribute to their brokenness.

Some will recover and many will get better … until the next time.

Others will struggle on secretly hoping that their turn will come soon. That somehow, the healthy, meaningful and worthwhile life so many of us take for granted, can be theirs to treasure.

a new semester

Already one assignment is more or less complete and ready for submission, one is currently being worked on as we speak and the other two are simmering away nicely. It all sounds very calm and organised and I guess it is. Perhaps I’m finally getting into the swing of it or maybe I’m less anxious so dealing with it all better or could it be that I’m just having a good couple of weeks and it’ll all buckle under the strain of time restrictions and dreaded deadlines. Who knows. 

This week I began a new placement and have been out on some visits. My mentor seems nice, good at her job so lots I can learn and the team is friendly and welcoming. Full of stories: successful ones; funny ones; sad ones; poignant ones; frustrating ones; not so nice ones. I guess that’s the business of mental health. If I was naïve before beginning my training, I am no longer.

Looking forward to the next nine weeks.

to be human

‘Perspectives on the Human Experience through the Arts’ is my chosen options module this semester and it’s a challenging one. This module is based on the belief that for health professionals to learn what it is to be human they need compassion and appreciation of the uniqueness of individuals. Studying the arts and humanities helps us do just that and though it may sound like the easy option in an otherwise heavy academic year or ‘time out’ to some, it isn’t. Seriously.

By exploring a range of materials, including individual pieces of work created by survivors, we are encouraged to enter into their world and by doing so recognise the things that make us human: vulnerability, individuality, personality, imagination, passion, spirit, breath …

We explore the many different experiences found in childhood through adolescence to old age and end of life issues and discuss the difficulties people face and the reasons why they do what they do in a world that has become too harsh for them to bear.

Reality shocks and not for the first time my awareness is heightened. Most of the material isn’t an easy read and with or without the compassionate heart, one cannot help but be affected.

This poem is from The Memory Bird (1996) Edited by Caroline Malone, Linda Farthing and Lorraine Marce. Published by Virago.

Bleeding
As I watch blood ooze from my vein
Slowly the droplets anaesthetise my brain
The screaming in my head gently subsides
Calmed and sedated, almost mesmerised.

I am losing the struggle to survive
I have to bleed to know I’m alive
The tramlines of war scar my skin
The only sign of battle within.

My life drips on to the barren floor
Tears flow in rivulets under the door
Numbness spreads right through my core
Where is my energy to fight for more?

But these are not for death but life
Do not be alarmed at the way I strive
Marks on my body are a small price to pay
For freedom from Hell and a new dawning each day.