This is all too familiar. 😦
Whilst an inpatient in London I was left with untreated very severe, deep lacerations which remained open and bleeding/weeping (including what must have been a fairly severe infection) for over 3 weeks because the consultant there thought taking me to a&e/treating my wounds would be giving me too much attention (ironic, considering I had been under 1:1 observations for 6 weeks) – even though the duty doctor who had attended during the night said I definitely needed stitches. The nurses (who were nice) had no idea what to do with these several centimeter thick, several centimeter wide, messy, hacked lacerations which rendered the ward’s steristrips useless so I was just left. When my mum managed to visit me (she lived several hours from the hospital) she was told that she wasn’t allowed to give me dressings or antiseptic creams, and we didn’t even have the option of seeking treatment for the wounds ourselves as I wasn’t allowed to leave the ward. And this one story is truly the tip of the iceberg!
Blogging now from an unnamed in patient mental health unit (miles from home – I’d never heard of the nearest town) this week has really got me down. Having twice asked for voluntary admission during February & being told there were no beds at all in the NHS then being phoned by the bed manager asking me how far I would be prepared to travel as she was about to phone the ‘priory hotline’ to look for private sector bed (which never materialized) I was very distressed to end up physically restrained by 5 A&E security staff, sedated, handcuffed & transported to an unknown location on a section 2.
At first I thought that was the worst part of my situation, that I had known I was unwell again (my last admission was 8 years ago) but what has shocked me is how downright dangerous the ward is & how…
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