Hospitalised - we breathe again. Can we move on?

Hello, and good evening. Well, here we are at what may be the end of this story (about our family's troubles this week).

See my earlier posts for the saga of my son Tom's bingeing, and his inner mental distress, and his efforts to be taken seriously by the NHS mental health services. His behaviour over the last few days was a real cry for help. He admits he felt suicidal at one time, and he was behaving as if endanger ing himself did not matter. Almost every time, when found and taken to hospital, or a police cell, after collapsing drunk somewhere, he discharged himself (sometimes too early) and ran out to drink even more. Last night the weather had broken, it was raining hard,a nd he was out ont he seteets in only light clothihg. EW had no news of him when we went to bed - had searched for him ouselves by car, in the area where he had made a late, drunken call from, and tried the local hospital twice. In the morning - I fell asleep exhausted at midnight - the police rang thinking Tom was in the local hospital. They had found him and taken him there later last night, after we had called.

They had not been able to get through to the hospital this morning: just after that the phone rang again. It was Mr. E.J., from our church - who is Tom's and my "shepherd" - or spiritual mentor. He said Tom had made it over there - a 40 minute train journey involving a change of trains, to Acton, inner West London. E.J. kindly agreed to drive him back here. While on the way, I rang the local mental health services to arrange an interview with an emergency psychiatric officer. We quickly dressed, got some things together for Tom, in case he was admitted, and set off after E.J had brought Tom here. E.J even helped Tom to have a wash, and change his clothes. Tom was surprisingly fit and strong after his night on the streets (he's quite robust) - but he was trembling with withdrawal symptoms. His last drink had been about 11 pm the night before.

We thanked E.J and drove off. Got to the local M.H. hospital quickly and were seen soon. Dr. A., Tom's new psychiatrist, was able to see him, and myself; she had seen him only once before, when he was still OK. I told her what had happend. Tom told her how he felt, and gave some idea of what had been going on in his head. He could not remember much of where he had been. He admitted to haveing felt suicidal on one of the days. He was not feeling violent or persecuted - but he asked to be "sectioned"; he felt agitated adn had the shakes. She decided to admit him to an acute ward at Roehampton Hospital - the Pagoda Ward. He would be a voluntary patient, but his status could be altered if he tried to get away or did not co-operate. He agreed to this. My husband Dave came back with the car and we drove T. over to Roehampton (near Putney) - an old early 19th century hospital, now extended, with huge long corridors inside. (It also deals with othe areas of sickness than MH.)

We had a long wait to be seen by the doctor on the ward. Meanwhile Tom was introduced, had some food and water, and we met some of the other inpatients, wandering about. Some came up and said things to us. One or two were quite lucid and helpful, others said things that were confusing or bizarre. The ward was locked, so Tom could not get out as he had done before. He was in as voluntary, but in practice he could not get out yet. Later on, after he had detoxed, he would be allowed out to attend his training centre (in horticulture, back in our district) and to visit his church, or maybe go to an AA meeting if they deem it fit. Tom was even more agitated during our wait - he had major shakes and was foot-stamping - obvious withdrawal symptoms from his alcohol, and may be from not having his medication for several days. He kept asking when the ward doctor was coming. In the end, after I had been interviewed to get Tom's background including his earlier psychiatric history, the doctor (psychiatrist) came on the scene. She was a small Indian lady, and very capable.

Tom was then given some more chlorodiazepone, quite high strength, and after another dose he felt calm enough to lie down int he room he had been assigned. The ward manager was also of Asian origin - maybe Malaysian. She assured us that Tom would get whatever medication his state required, and things would improve. Tom's underlying mental state could be assessed after he detoxed. After 2 or so hours there, Dave and I left for home. There was just a sense of relief that at last Tom was now in a truly safe place - in good hands, and he would no longer be out on the streets, risking death by accident, beating up, overdose or hypothermia - and WE could at last draw breath, go home, have some food, relax, and a GOOD NIGHT'S SLEEP!!

We drove back through the beautiful Richmond Park - a therapy for us, so shattered by what we have been through. The turf was brilliant green, and and longer grass glowed golden in the sun - the trees cast their shade, and we passed close by a large herd of small dappled fallow deer, mostly stags, as we drove along at the slow limit of 20 mph. There are lots of deer in the park. Dave too began to feel better - his head was "shot" by all the stress, but his driving never fails. Back home I cleared up a bit, made some calls (to doctor (our GP), Tom's alcohol counsellor (he missed 2 sessions, spending the money on 'dodgy' internet use instead) and the training centre, where he had missed a supervision appointment. I put Tom's last set of dirty clothes in soak, than got myself a coffee and a salad plus sandwich lunch. All I'd had until 2.30 pm was a snatched banana and muesli bar, plus tea and biscuit. Dave had eaten even less. (He is never really hungry - just has breakfast muesli and a light evening meal!)

My good friend Jane rang to find out how Tom was. She was pleased to hear the better news, but said it was "disgusting" that the health services did nothing to help until it got so desperate with Tom - but "he's in the right place - and when shall I see YOU again?" I hope to see her next Monday - had to cancel seeing her yesterday. I texted people in our church to give the news, and told them about visiting hours - Tom could be visited by other people after tomorrow, perhaps. It's in afternoons or evenings till 8 pm. My sister H.B. does not yet know what happened, since last Saturday when I phoned her. I am seeing her tomorrow and will tell her then. Similarly, Dave will tell his step-dad Eric - the only close family he hs left. Eric is 87, so we must be gentle in how we tell it. No-one else need to know - my other relatives are not so close andlive quite far away. I have two half sisters, both married with quite young teenage sons (plus a baby girl for one), but they don't have to know all about this. They do know Tom has some problems, and I have recently confided in their mother, A., who was my father's second wife. She is quite understanding, despite having tempted my father away from my mother in the past.

So we are now picking up the pieces. I am also having to think about prparing for myt eaching again in mid-September. I do need some breathing space. I also have a large shorthand transcribing voluntary job - on our church leading Pastor's major sermon from a recent big meeting. The church newsletter is awaiting that! So I must make a start. I may not "blog" quite so often for the next few days. (Perhaps you people will be glad of the break...!) Tomorrow I will pick up some photos from our local Jessops' camera shop - still languishing there for a week, and see my sister for tea. We will visit Tom in the evening and take him some more clothes and his toothbrudh, which I forgot to pack for him. Our house is a total mess, and needs cleaning. Normality beckons - at least for a while.

Thanks for reading this - if you have been. I hope it reassures some people out there (relatives and friends of a substance-addict or mentally ill person) about coping when there is a breakdown or crisis. The mental health services should and could have got moving on Tom's case a lot sooner - but there we are. I had help from my faith, but some days I was exhausted, despairing and started descending into self pity and anger. My husband was surprisingly strong, considering his own mental health is fragile; his thinking powers and memory has been badly affected though, and at times he ws very angry with Tom (he realises Tom can't help it once he's started drinking). I realise he could not handle this alone. Teamwork is better in a crisis. We managed not to fall apart in our marriege, though we had 2-3 very harsh arguments, getting on each other's nertves, and disagreeing over minor things.
In hindsight, we have done quite well. Thanks to God - for protecting us all, for keeping Tom going - and to our church friends for their true support; they value and love Dave as well! ALso to Jane for supporting me. Now let's try to enjoy what is left of our summer - its rather unsettled, but still warm. It is our 39th wedding anniversary in 2 days' time - we were married on August 14th 1965 (the swinging 60s - and it actually was for us!).

Cheers for now - love and peace,
Tigey

PS - One day soon I will explain why I am so fond of tigers (especially the Royal Bengal Tiger of India) - and why our cat is also called "Tigey" as a nickname!