Another Pair Of Eyes

Switch

Time’s a-ringing for changing times, and changing minds. Speaking of changing minds, the video we made to show the effects of stigma on people with schizophrenia was competition-winning. Interviewing policemen? Brownie points.

So, finished psychiatry with a resounding 90% overall and an ‘A’ for the changing minds unit. Win, and it’s out with the old and in with the new. ‘New’ means paediatrics, and having done a week of intro lectures we kick off proper next week. Are you a child living in the Portsmouth region? Now is probably not a good time to get ill. Wait a bit for us to find our feet.

I wanted to just review psych slightly, so that when I am forced to make a decision on something I can glance here and be reminded what it’s like in the world of mental disorders. Psych was not as I expected in some respects – resounding insane people are rare. Those that are aren’t scary, even those who’ve violent histories. Sure, it can get a bit nervous on occasion, but keep a cool head and it’ll all go fine. Most of all, it’s quite sad, especially adolescent psych. Some of the people you see there you just know will never recover, barring radical new treatments, and you can see a whole life ahead of them dictated by hospitals, the community teams, and the Mental Health Act 1983 (amended 2007). Ohyes.

I was also surprised by how much support was in the community. We are endlessly battered with references to the MDT, or multi-disciplinary team, but in psych it was truly evident how interconnected everything was. Community mental health teams, crisis teams, the somewhat-menacing-sounding-but-actually-benign assertive outreach team, all co-ordinating with each other and the hospitals and everyone else. You only hear about it when it goes wrong, but in truth it is a good system. I was less impressed with the support for older persons – this seems to have been somewhat forgotten and filed by the government under the ‘old people get dementia, end of’ – as such the funding doesn’t exist to treat the raft of depression and the less raft-like but ever-present late-onset schizophrenia in the community. Admit, or hope the antidepressants kick in in time/kick in at all. They are good, but only to an extent and unfortunately pharmacy in psych is fairly hit-and-miss. People are individual. Child psych is fascinating but unbelievably difficult to comprehend. Having 2 and a half days on it (clinical time) was completely inadequate to explore this topic.

The all important question is, of course, would I do psychiatry?

Answer is, I don’t know, but I’m not going to rule it out. Now, however, it’s time to switch to something new, and I am excited!

I’ve also switched to a new piece, having finished ‘Everyday’. I may have bitten off more than I can chew…

About

I am still alive, but screamingly busy juggling an assignment, a new placement, the remnant of the old placement, and all the other aspects of student life with an small extra portion of wasted time dedicated to those lovely folks at the SLC who STILL HAVEN’T GIVEN ME A LOAN and I have no more money left. Up shit creek, basically. AANYway.

Busy. Yes. To distract you from this anaemic post, I give you this which I found this and thought was rather funny:

Strangely satisfying, even though its petty. I’ll write something of dubious worth at a later date.

Russian Roulette

I heard this the other day and found it reasonable, much as I hate going along with the crowd when it comes to, well, anything. Still, fairly haunting and despite not being ‘catchy’ per se I find it stuck in my head on a regular basis. Problem is, nothing can really follow it in a playlist. I like playlists, and I like them to be well designed with regard to mood or rhythm or whatever.

This is a big problem.*

*possibly exacerbated by the imminent start of my essay.

Parable

Once upon a time there was a boy who was besotted with a girl. She was perfect to him in every way and he wanted to impress her. He saw all the other boys impressing girls with their knowledge of the world, so he resolved to learn more about it. He read the news every day, and he learned the way politics worked, and he became more skilled at debating that he might impress the girl like the other boys. But as he tried to talk about the knowledge he’d accrued, he found the girls just wanted him to listen.

So he decided that he would become a sensitive listener. He spent hours listening to the girl talk about her problems, offering support and friendly comfort. He became trusted and close to her, but she saw him as a trusted friend and instead of falling for him, went off with another man filled with jokes and laughter.

So the boy resolved to learn to laugh and make others laugh, and this he did. He found jokes and practised banter, getting the balance between offensive and uninteresting just right. He practised dry wit and sarcasm, and he became good at them for they were the national type of humour. He made the girl laugh, sometimes even getting her to cry with laughter, had her laughing so hard she couldn’t eat or breathe for it. But the girl didn’t take him seriously, and they went off with a guy who didn’t seem to have any particularly defining characteristic except for the fact he was kind of right for her.

And the young man realised that actually, that was the way things were. And he resolved to learn patience.

I found this in my Drafts folder, written some time ago. Reading it, I couldn’t see a particular reason why I didn’t post it, so here it is for all to see.

Surgery

Yesterday I had some surgery and today I have inadequate painkillers, but that’s not the point of this post. The post is about feeling inadequate, which coincidentally comes right back to the surgery.

Alright alright, something about the surgery:

I was a day case so it was a pretty minor op but due to the nature of it I was under general anaesthetic. Turns out, GA is quite cool – I remember that I was going to focus on staying awake, and I remember a sensation of cold (but not in a creepy, scary way; more in a reassuring, refreshing way if that makes sense) spreading out from the cannula where the anaesthetic was going in. And then, voila, I was awake again, and an hour of life had passed me by without trace. In fact, despite surgery, I felt pretty terrific, and a little bit drunk. Not quite room-spinning drunk, but definitely this-bed-is-the-most-comfy-thing-ever drunk. I was also talking to the nurse, which was challenging because I could never quite seem to be bothered to open my mouth despite my best efforts. This did, however, pass. Still, GA = fascinating experience, and a perfect illustration of just how much willpower you’d need to make a little headway against a drug. And, of course, a good illustration of how long it takes blood to move from the arm to the brain. Not long, is the answer.

Sadly, however, the painlessness of GA is gone and the local anaesthetic they also administered at the time has now worn off. The cocodamol that I now have available is about as much use as a cardboard boat against the *doctorspeak* ‘discomfort’ */doctorspeak* and I’m basically trying to be as sedentary and as still as I can. Those of you who know me will realise how much effort staying completely still for a day is costing me – I am not impressed. We roll around to the inadequacy – despite it all clearly not being my fault, I feel like I am letting an endless flood of people down. I’m not going to hockey tomorrow, I can’t go to the gym with my housemates, I can’t walk to the shop with my neighbour. I had to ask my friend to drive me to the hospital tomorrow. I might not be able to do the 3-legged pub crawl on friday night, or go to a good friends 21st.

I hate that feeling. Unreasonable as it might be to blame myself for things that are beyond my control, I still do. I feel the tiniest bit helpless and I just can’t stand it.

Heal.

pfftsleeppfft

Apparently, sleep is a bit old school. I had an awesome weekend of true awesomeness involving 7 hours of badminton, two very heavy nights at Jesters, and a seemingly unlimited font of pure enthusiasm which fuelled me onwards through tiredness, hunger and a lack of fitness. It was, in a word, brilliant. Last nights insomnia was less fun, but was my own fault for being lazy. Somehow though, despite having an average of 4 hours of sleep a night for the last three nights, I still feel kind of energised. Hypomania, eh? Hmmmm.

Also:

This is good. Positively enriching and heartening as well.

This is both amusing and unsurprising, and says a lot about the state of the profession.

I’m off to bed for hopefully a whole night’s sleep. Wish me luck.

Two

That’s the second presentation down. 95% average so far. One to go…

I was sitting at my desk last night at the late hour of 10:30. Click.