Last night I went to the hospital.
I called an out-of-hours doctor and after speaking to me like a person, which is rare I thought, she made me promise her I would attend hospital before 'doing anything drastic'.
Since she was so nice, and I did promise, I went. I'm autistic and shouldn't go out by myself but since I live alone and nobody I knew would go with me, I went alone. It was horrible! The bus, the drunk people, the noises and questions...
Before I got to the reception lady, when I was on the bus, I wrote down everything I thought she would need for me to sign-in or whatever it's called: name, date of birth, doctor, reason for attending etc.
I wrote on the paper that I would wait outside the doors by the ambulances because there were many people in the waiting room and it was loud and unpredictable. I don't like that.
After a very short time, a nurse came out and said hi, showed me into a room and asked some questions. The nice doctor I spoke to said I should hold anything back so I told her everything. She was shocked; almost as if she never heard of this or something.
I was then taken to a small, quiet waiting room. She said I would be the next person to see the doctor and then, if the doctor agrees, it would be likely that I would have to speak to some kind of highly trained therapist.
Four hours went by. When you're autistic, four hours in a strange place with strangers coming in and out, shouting, crying, cheering and everything is a personal hell.
When I was called, it wasn't the doctor I was seeing at all. It was three people from something called the crisis team. The only one who talked had a strong accent so I could barely understand her. I suppose the other two were there for her protection or something.
We went into a room about three metres squared with four of us. It was very bright. With so many people in such a small place, I felt like I couldn't breathe.
I tried explaining this to them, With the added stress of feeling like life in pointless, having self-harmed and not had it treated and feeling like I've been lied to, I told them we need fewer people, I need somebody I can understand, and I need this now please. They said none of this was going to happen.
So I left.
My phone has been ringing all morning from private numbers or caller ID withheld. I have arranged a good home for both my cats so all I need to do now is pack my bags. It'll be like going on holiday!
I don't know why I'm telling you, any of you, this. It's supposed to help so I've read.
This doesn't feel real: this keyboard, the screen, and I don't know why nor to whom I'm writing this. Nothing is left, there's nothing to live for. And since making my decision, I'm happier than I can remember ever being. What does that say?
I called an out-of-hours doctor and after speaking to me like a person, which is rare I thought, she made me promise her I would attend hospital before 'doing anything drastic'.
Since she was so nice, and I did promise, I went. I'm autistic and shouldn't go out by myself but since I live alone and nobody I knew would go with me, I went alone. It was horrible! The bus, the drunk people, the noises and questions...
Before I got to the reception lady, when I was on the bus, I wrote down everything I thought she would need for me to sign-in or whatever it's called: name, date of birth, doctor, reason for attending etc.
I wrote on the paper that I would wait outside the doors by the ambulances because there were many people in the waiting room and it was loud and unpredictable. I don't like that.
After a very short time, a nurse came out and said hi, showed me into a room and asked some questions. The nice doctor I spoke to said I should hold anything back so I told her everything. She was shocked; almost as if she never heard of this or something.
I was then taken to a small, quiet waiting room. She said I would be the next person to see the doctor and then, if the doctor agrees, it would be likely that I would have to speak to some kind of highly trained therapist.
Four hours went by. When you're autistic, four hours in a strange place with strangers coming in and out, shouting, crying, cheering and everything is a personal hell.
When I was called, it wasn't the doctor I was seeing at all. It was three people from something called the crisis team. The only one who talked had a strong accent so I could barely understand her. I suppose the other two were there for her protection or something.
We went into a room about three metres squared with four of us. It was very bright. With so many people in such a small place, I felt like I couldn't breathe.
I tried explaining this to them, With the added stress of feeling like life in pointless, having self-harmed and not had it treated and feeling like I've been lied to, I told them we need fewer people, I need somebody I can understand, and I need this now please. They said none of this was going to happen.
So I left.
My phone has been ringing all morning from private numbers or caller ID withheld. I have arranged a good home for both my cats so all I need to do now is pack my bags. It'll be like going on holiday!
I don't know why I'm telling you, any of you, this. It's supposed to help so I've read.
This doesn't feel real: this keyboard, the screen, and I don't know why nor to whom I'm writing this. Nothing is left, there's nothing to live for. And since making my decision, I'm happier than I can remember ever being. What does that say?
