The Unit. Day 1

Saddest time ever. But we keep telling ourselves it’s a necessary stage to help LB. He’s been sectioned now. Twice since yesterday evening. And was restrained in the night. On the plus side, we can visit between 10am – 8pm and it’s close. It’s easy to pop in for 10 minutes and the open door policy gives some confidence in how the staff are treating the patients.

It’s a building rather than a ‘ward’, designed in a circular shape so you can walk down the bedroom corridor, into the dining room through to the lounge and quiet room and round to the front door. Spacious, clinical, warm and clean. The staff don’t wear uniform and it wasn’t that clear at first who was staff and who was patient. Kind of hilarious.

The other four patients are youngish. We hung out in the lounge last night, waiting to get the OK to be there (after a bit of a mix up about ‘beds’). “Do you like fishing?” Rich asked one guy who was watching some fishing programme on the big TV. “Yeah, love it. I caught five fish!” “Cool! What kind of fish?” asked Rich. “Normal fish”, he said, cheerfully. Jenny* sat quietly chatting to herself about her trip to Londis the next day. She ignored LB when he asked her what she’d ‘got’.

Today our visits were about setting LB up with home comforts. I took in the rest of the coffee cake with a mobile DVD player and his Eddie Stobart box sets. He was pretty agitated when I got there and had a right old tough nut character watching his every move from his bedroom door. Tough Nut took me to the kitchen to get a knife to cut the cake. “They always find the first couple of days hard,” he said, kindly. LB ate the cake. His first food since he’d got there.

The second visit, with my newly appointed (she doesn’t know it yet) advocate Fran, was to drop off some more DVDs and money to buy snacks. He was calmer but sad. He wants to come home. He wants to go to Trax.

sackboy1The third visit with Rich was about pimping his room. A poster of the London Underground and Beatles album covers. He was asleep mostly, endured a bit of a cuddle and asked for  Series 2 to be put on his DVD player. He hadn’t touched his dinner.

So. A long day. And here’s to the Coffee Cake Fairy working a bit of magic. LB needs it.

*Pseudonym.

A different home

Not sure how to introduce this, after the high of yesterday’s Charlie’s Angels post. So I’ll just say it:

LB’s now an inpatient in a local psychiatric learning disability unit.

Whoah. What? What? What? Whaaaaat?

I would be shrieking if I read this blog regularly and read such a random, unexpected development. Sorry for the rip roaring pace. But that’s how life rolls in the strange world of non-information, uncertainty and general crapness that is health and social care.

The story was left with LB heading off to town with Sue and Tina. And a new (non) school timetable. Through a series of texts and conversations with a good mate/little bird during a long meeting at work, I found about a learning disability/mental health unit, five minutes from our house. Fifty metres from LB’s psychiatrist’s office. Yep. In the three conversations I’ve had with her, in two of which I raised serious concerns about risk of harm to himself or others, she didn’t mention, reassuringly, that there was always the option of a proper inpatient assessment so close by. We thought there was only out of county provision but this is the case for under 18 year olds, not adults.

Hearing that the town trip with Sue and Tina was cut short through agitation it was obvious that LB was moving into a space that was becoming increasingly small. And pretty much unworkable. It was time to act.

There followed a (bizarre and surreal) process that led to a call around 7pm confirming he had a bed. It was time to pack his bag.

There aren’t any words to convey how this feels and I ain’t going to demean it by trying.

I hope he’s in the right place for him, and gets some proper help.

Home feels very different without him.

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