by Alicia Gould
We are here again with the dreaded highs and with the fear again that I have lost my Dad as I know him. I’ve been so exhausted that I’m not even sure how I have the energy to even write this right now, but I do, and I am and maybe it’s my therapy and maybe it’s my way to try to end the stigma that is still there.
My Dad’s mental health has slowly deteriorated over the last few months, and this has meant that he is now in hospital again.
The high started with him refusing to take his medication so he was then assigned to a member of what they call the “Home Team,” who would come daily and check that he was taking his meds. He then went on to obsessing about buying cars to the point where he was getting taxis and buses on a daily basis (he can’t drive at the moment) to visit car garages to try and buy cars. At one point he had put down £600 in deposits in one week. The problem was he had tried so many times to finance a car that he couldn’t get credit but the more he was told no the more he tried. We were at our wits end.
I had been in constant contact with the Home Team to update them and at that point they weren’t sure he needed hospitalisation but that soon changed.
When I found out that he’d actually been driving, knowing that he had no license, and that the car purchasing was happening more excessively I knew I had to intervene. To give you some background, he had been banned from driving for a year after a high and then the Doctor wouldn’t give the go ahead for him to get his licence back because of his bipolar – despite his insistence – and the fact that he also has a tremor in his hands. They are currently still trying to establish the cause of this.
Trying to get him hospitalised once I knew about the driving was not as much of a challenge as he was now deemed a danger to himself and of course, other people. The fact that he hadn’t been taking his medication for 5 days also met the criteria.
We had a meeting arranged the following day with the psychiatrist who thankfully agreed that he needed admission. He was put on a Section 2 which is compulsory admission for 28 days. I felt such a sense of relief in some ways but obviously upset that it had come to this once again. My Dad was not happy in the slightest and threatened to carry on not taking his medication if he was hospitalised.
Things went from bad to worse. Once he was admitted they had to switch his anti-psychotic meds as they worked out that it was having a negative effect on his heart! The first few weeks were very hard. I was going to visit him every other day and he was still refusing some of his medication. He was extremely agitated which made him verbally abusive to almost everyone he came in to contact with and it really wasn’t pretty. Nothing he said made sense anymore, and his obsessional behaviour was through the roof. He was allowed access to his mobile phone and the bombardment of calls were just constant.
My Dad is also a very heavy smoker and has had the most horrendous cough since I can remember. He was permitted to go outside by himself to smoke his cigarettes more recently, but he abused that trust a couple of times – once disappearing off to a car garage and another time to come home. I’ve actually taken it upon myself to call the car garages to request they don’t allow him to make a purchase. During this time, he also tried to get the section reversed by appealing through a tribunal who thankfully took guidance from the Doctor who advised that he was not well enough to leave – even much so they changed the Section from a 2 to a 3 meaning that he could be detained for up to 6 months.
There were moments during those first few weeks that I really struggled with my own mental health. I felt so anxious. I couldn’t sleep, my heart raced. I didn’t know when it would all end. Would I have my Dad back? Would he ever be the same again? Is that it? Have I lost him now for good? What do we do for the best? Am I doing enough? Have I been a good daughter? Is what I am seeing just him or the illness? I’m not even sure what is the illness and what is my Father anymore.
All of these thoughts were going through my head. It was a huge amount to take on, it’s still a lot – I am grateful to my support network for helping me through this.
It’s been almost 2 months now since he was admitted, and he is still in Hospital. His mental health has improved, and we have weekly meetings with the Doctor and the hospital staff to assess the progress. It has taken time and he is still not quite there yet, if he ever will be, but I am praying that he has turned a corner. At the moment he also has some physical issues caused by medication etc that also need to be investigated. The Doctor has now granted him some leave to come home every so often, so hopefully that is a step in the right direction.
Unfortunately, the thing I have found the hardest in this whole situation is the lack of understanding. Mainly from people who my Dad was closest to, not wanting to be around him anymore. I don’t think it’s because they don’t care, I genuinely think it’s because they don’t understand the illness and can’t relate to it, and they also can’t deal with the abusive and obsessive behaviours, so the easiest thing is to just not be in touch and not make it their problem. I can understand how they feel to be honest because many a time I have been at the brunt of it, but he’s my Dad and rejecting him is not an option I am willing to take – no matter how hard it all is.
To end this off I would really like to say a huge thank you to all the Hospital team at The Mount in Leeds. They really are amazing! Nothing is ever too much trouble and the way they have cared for my Dad, under all the circumstances, and the support they have given to us as a family has been incredible.
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