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The new job… Sit down / do what you are told…

Over my time of getting better and being in recovery I have had a constant theme running though and that is changing my core role. This is not about a job title but more my attitude and my position.

If you ask most people in healthcare we have unwritten rules, one of those is I do the healthcare and I very much to not do being the patient. It is uncomfortable and feels discombobulating. I have found with the condition I am often hyperaware. When walking down the road for instance I constantly this the worst will happen. To a unsuspecting viewer I must have looked like a fat Kevin Costner ready to pounce and touching my invisible earpiece.

If you look around you there can be perceived dangers & response to them everywhere. I would notice fire doors open, fire alarm points, cctv cameras and such like. I would often look at people and think what is he doing, where is she going? The shoulders are back and eyes are very much open. I felt I would be mugged or I would see a medical incident. This would prove slightly tricky on a romantic meal when every second person that had an innocent cough would be about to have a fully occluded airway post choking!

This is common symptom with PTSD but it has also been hard at my days at the hospital. As a psychiatric hospital you obviously see patients in talking groups that have self harmed or at risk of suicide attempts. If someone was upset and left a group or even if they walked off from one of the nursing staff. I would start to move into my former role in my mind. What do I need to do? What should I do? What are my CPR protocols?

I guess this is potentially my brain wanting to cling on to being a frontline first responder but it has been a learning process of becoming the patient and not being the guy who does the looking after. I had to understand I was at hospital and was now firmly on the other side and need to lay back, shut up and be cared for by the experts.

I was running at 100 miles an hour with constant flashbacks and nightmares. This emotionally made me drained and also I was continually adrenalised. It takes a heck of a long time to become balanced and a feeling of calm. I needed to get that calm and order to become ready for EDMR and the active 1:1 sessions to actually dealing with the core images that have messed me up.

Next time I will touch on the 1:1 EMDR and how it works and the difference it is making.

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So why am I here…

The crisis & How I got closer to it than I ever thought…

“CLOSE THE BOX”.

This is my very first blog post. The very first, I have never done, never thought I would and incredibly scared that no person will ever read it… or even what if they do?

It all started with one nasty job, job is what we call the incidents we go to in the service. I thought I was fine and it would be just like all the others. It would go in that box, the many boxes which we place the shit, the death, the pain, and family tears and the feeling of what if I did this…. – These boxes are excellent, not only do they work very well, we all have a subscription to the most secure lock up in the Fort Knox…. We smile, we bants, we take the piss constantly out of each other. The boxes are sealed and we move on.

I moved on over and over again. I even decided the best way to close the box was to open another one. “I need a nasty job” – I used to crave the rush, the adulation, the feeling of being special when at a party at proudly saying I was a frontline paramedic. I need another one… Another job to get over the last, and another and another…. Hmmmm I sound like an addict….

The problem is when one box just won’t close the rest of them are a bloody jack-in-the-box open it comes, another and another and another…..

I suddenly started thinking at first about stuff I dealt with and then as the stress increased, chest pain, breathing fast… oh crap I am having a panic attack… I am bloody pathetic, why am I feeling like this, you are going to end up in one of those “nut houses” – you are weak, weak get this shit together… close the box, close the box. clooooooooosssseeee the box.

So that’s episode 1 – I can’t write more today…

BackStreet’s Back, Not Alright.

Last night I did the unthinkable. I signed up for the list of clinicians willing to back into the National Health Service for at least the next six months. I haven’t done a blog for a while so appologies for that. I am good, in fact really good. The focus now on life is looking after my two little brats and being daddy day care. I have also got into a new hobby which is radio presenting…. I literally am living the dream Alan Partridge Style. It is likely that if I ever do get to do it professionally than my slot will be even earlier than Alans “up with the partridge” – likely 0300 – 0400, just to ensure only the drunk or stoned are listening.

Leaving the NHS has been like a grieving process, taking out the PTSD for a bit. This is saying goodbye to normality and all that one knows. I loved my friends in the service, I loved them. We made each other laugh, cried together and found the funny side in the most messed up of situations.

I have moved on. I was ready to practice clinically again but likely doing private event cover and potentially some lecturing at Unis. Essentially Nee Naws and were over and I am so bloody pleased about that. This means no violance, no people calling 999 for sore throats or a stubbed toe. That said when I stubbed my toe it I personally wanted HEMS to land in the garden immediately… It was up there with man flu crisis.

The country and the world is facing a crisis which we have never had in peacetime. This is war. People will die. – I am just this second listening to a clip from LBC, a ITU Constultant called Dr “Jack” who just said this experience of seeing this potential hell will change him forever. https://youtu.be/tQD4B_hmdvo

This will change me again, C-PTSD and its recover has changed me as a person.

So many of us have suffered and suffered for years of the shite we have witnessed and the way the public has demanded us like an amazon order at 0200. “Its your job, I pay your wages” rubbish rubbish rubbish. – I never want to go back. I never want to go back. I must go back.

We all became Doctors, Nurses, Paramedics, Ambulance Control Staff, AHPs, Reception, Porters etc etc to make a difference. We all must now treat this like it is a War. There will be casualties but our duty with any skills is to fight it head on.

Not again…

Yesterday I talked about the kindness campaign and essentially thinking before we tweet after the tragic passing of Caroline Flack.

Today yet again another brother or sister in green, red or blue has died. The press release from West Midlands Fire Service states he was on duty when Firefighter Andrew Moore was found dead after taking his own life.

This is another example of a colleague who must have been going through unbelievable pain. Thoughts to his family, friends and cremates.

https://www.wmfs.net/news/ffmoore/

Statement from WMFS

We are extremely saddened by the death of one of our firefighters on the evening of Sunday 16 February 2020.

Firefighter Andrew Moore, aged 50, was found dead at Wolverhampton fire station where he had been on duty on the night shift with colleagues from Red Watch. He had taken his own life.

Chief Fire Officer Phil Loach said: “Andrew’s death has come as a great shock to the entire service. Our thoughts and deepest sympathies are with his family, friends and colleagues.

“One of our senior officers informed Andrew’s family of his death. We will continue to provide them with all the support they need at this very difficult time.”

Members of West Midlands Fire and Rescue Authority (WMFRA) observed a minute’s silence in memory of Firefighter Moore at the start of this morning’s meeting at our headquarters.

Councillor Greg Brackenridge, Chair of WMFRA, said: “Our thoughts are very much with Andrew’s family. I know that his death has affected many people, within and outside of the service. We will ensure that we do all we can for those who need support.”

Having joined North Yorkshire Fire and Rescue Service in September 1993, Andrew transferred to West Midlands Fire Service in May 1996.

Flags at WMFS sites will be flown at half mast from 8am on Monday 17 February.

Socially Tweet Tweet

It’s 5 AM and for some reason I can’t sleep. I am feeling ok but I realise I am wearing my wife’s bathrobe, more comfy than mine and the pink shade suits me better.

It has been announced last night that the television celebrity Caroline Flack has taken her own life. This news is obviously horrendous and for all those that knew her devastating.

The front pages of the Sunday papers will be plastered with this news, as we know those same papers would be the ones that were critiquing her very recently including during her original court appearance for alleged offences against her partner. She is of course not guilty of any allegations now as there will never be a trial.

The issue for contemplation here I feel is quantity of hate and entitlement for constant public comment. A person in the public eye is seen as public property and somehow due to fame and likely perceived riches somehow that means a person can metaphorically shout directly at their face through social media platforms.

If one person said something hurtful to us then it may mess up our day, hour or even week. Imagine hundreds messages of hate. Yes it might be interspersed with fans saying how great you are but I am sure they just get shut out in a persons head.

I know I have to think harder and then double think about my response to messages on Twitter. It is easy to jump on the bandwagon against normally for me a political figure & even more so when they do calculations wrong for police numbers on the radio. ( you know who I am talking about) That said I must remember to be kind and think how would behave if they said hello standing at a bar or when having a can of mojito the tube. (I just broke my own rule in the next sentence, bugger)

We are human, we won’t be perfect but maybe this tragedy can remind everyone to reset and think again before clicking send. Twitter in particular for me can be pretty risky at times as whatever a view you can have many many people will be agreeing with you. That can get those endorphins flowing and kick arse feeling of grandeur when a top celeb retweets something I said.

The instant gratification of the number of likes be that a photo of the kids or a tweet can become a problem and like any addict the desire to be ‘liked’ becomes the unconscious goal. The looking back again and again on the phone. The notification on the iwatch…. when the likes don’t come, it’s time to ramp up with something more controversial perhaps ??

I hope it might be the wake up we all need.

Please do subscribe, share and ironically like – follow me on Twitter jimmybuk

Video Nasties & Football

The so called stiff upper lip I think is still in play, it may not be so obvious. In terms of X is going through a relationship Brakedown or Y is drinking a bit too much then us guys chat.

Men will be Men; Boys will be Boys. We are told we never grow up and essentially maybe it’s true. Attitudes to male mental wellness are changing but in my generation of late 30s and even more so in my parents and definitely in their parents it was very much about stiff upper lip.

If however we have a long term mental health problems then maybe we don’t quite so much. It’s very easy alright… Family well? Oh lovely thanks Dave. Another pint?

When we do think that things actually are getting too much then it can be a stage where things have got tricky. I often say to mates to properly check in with themselves and use one of online tools for depression (PHQ-9) https://patient.info/doctor/patient-health-questionnaire-phq-9 or the (GAD-7) for Anxiety https://patient.info/doctor/generalised-anxiety-disorder-assessment-gad-7

These are simple questionnaires used by GPs & Healthcare professionals to assess if you maybe suffering from these common MH conditions.

This year has had some great campaigns with the FA delaying every game by one minute to get people to talk. It is powerful stuff and massive respect has to go to the HRH Duke of Cambridge for his work in this area and his honesty of the challenges he has faced working on the East Anglia Air Ambulance.

The Campaign Against Living Miserably (CALM) state that suicide amongst men is the most common cause of death under 45 and each day 18 men will die.

This is not just 18 men but families, friends, colleagues all being impacted. It’s huge but maybe by actually spending a couple more seconds asking how things are for your mate and really listening it could make all the difference.

Having an excuse to talk and meet is always good too, be it at the football or when shooting zombies in group shoot-em-ups but mates actively listening and showing they give a crap.

I know for me this has made the world of difference. We need to all maybe sometimes say “oh it’s shit” when people ask how we are than just “yeah good mate”.

Unless you are actually good then say to everyone why your on top form because that too is awesome and learning why we are happy can be useful to our buddies. My mates are normally happy because they have been allowed to get away from the kids and drink beer and play call of duty till their fingers hurt.

Lights, Camera….The Silk Scarf & Pretending to be a Tree.

I start this one with sharing a little surreal time at hospital this week. I was asked to be a tree. Yes a tree. I enjoy the am-dram thing and always felt I was an undiscovered talent who imagined myself shouting “Get out of Ma’ Pub” on Eastenders of such like. I therefore was excited to do so called drama therapy. This would be a bit of a change from the sit in a circle and talking CBT etc I have been doing.

It was not drama, I did not have lines… Lots of throwing a cushion and my name is… your name is… I like to play golf, I like to read. My back was up and I am thinking my insurer is paying lots of good cash for me to throw a bloody cushion.

The facilitator moved out a chair in front of us and then said to get our chairs and sit in front of said empty chairs. Oh great, more hippy shite I thought. She then invited us to talk to our 7 year old self, and then reply by sitting in the other chair as the 7 year old. It was interesting and lots of “It will be ok” “You will do alright in life”.

I enjoyed it, but I thought that the therapeutic results were limited. It came to the following week and I was down for the same session. The view I have always had is might as well do it, as nothing to lose. I arrived and this time, it was a so much smaller group.

We didn’t need to do any introductions and we just went into it. This time she had lots of scarves with her… (oh god, Really). I was asked to think about patients I have dealt with and potentially they had died or very injured. I used the silk scarves to put around the room and was told to start saying goodbye to them all. Rigggggggghhhhhhhhht I very thought, this is bonkers and I got embarrassed.

Now James, I believe you have had some children die when you have been at work? Yes indeed. She gave me a cushion (she likes them) and one further scarf. Now this one is one of those babies James. I started to gently fold it, very very carefully. The rest of the bodies (scarves) were just chucked on the floor.

I felt my heart beat quicker, it’s hard to swallow and my eyes slowly water until flood and floods and floods of tears came. “Its a F***ing Scarf, I am ridiculous” I think. She then replied with you can now put those memories in a safe place, that baby, that patient, that family, that arsing pain in a safe place.

I was then asked to be a tree and another person then another tree. We all carefully together put that scarf topped cushion underneath.

Sudden feeling of panic, pain, my neck was stiff and my eyes started to fill up… I started to cry and cry and cry oh and cry a bit more. A rush of relief and safety came to me, I was finally letting go. Letting go of the images, the sadness & strangely guilt for not being “strong” enough.

I moved forward in my recovery. I cried for the pain I have seen and the pain my friends and colleagues have from this trauma. If being a tree or playing make believe with a silk scarf makes you feel better, than I am sold.

Thanks so much as ever for reading and if you enjoyed please please share, comment, and subscribe xx Captain. x

The Boss ( of me)

Sooooooooo firstly apologies I haven’t written for a while. This week I have been pretty well, I am starting to reduce the amount of flashbacks & nightmares. I even have a situation where I do get them but I am not scared or traumatised just “oh ok, that’s pants”

My treatment at hospital is EDMR, https://www.webmd.com/mental-health/emdr-what-is-it

Which essentially is about desensitizing the nasty shit. You go right back to the horrendous images but in a safe place of a hospital consultation room.

It really works & I am making progress but what my psychologist has found is once one box is put to bed another box is popped opened. The problem with a career in the 999 services is sometimes you don’t even know the box existed, and completely forgotten the incident. This has come as a big shock when that jack-in-the-box goes SURPRISE!

The new trauma effecting me can be incidents I went to ten or even more years ago and I can’t remember any details really. So it’s hard to reprocess as I don’t know what I actually dealt with at the time. I have the constant feeling of did it happen like that & search my head for exact details. The reality doesn’t matter too much really as what is important is what my brain remembers.

The difference between PTSD and Complex PTSD is often the images of trouble are from many multiple incidents. This for me is now the big problem, but I am feeling better,

“I am ready to crack on with life”. “I am better”. Just not completely…. “Ok I am a little bit better”… “Oh I have a long way to go”…(Bugger)

The reason why I called this post “the boss” is that I have had to make other people the boss of me right now because I cannot fully trust my decisions in future plans. I can do the important things and I am sure I have full capacity but with the general feeling of the best thing to do in life.

In the last week I told my best friend I was really excited for a role I had been approached for. It was spot on for me. I am ready. I am…

Her response was no, not now. You are not ready. I was put out by this, and tried to convince her for a good five minutes that I was. She was very calm & kind in her approach when she suggested that if I needed to convince her for five minutes then essentially I am convincing myself.

That feeling deep down when you know not only are your loved ones right, they also know you completely and likely better than you know yourself…. Grrrrrr it’s annoying!

The problem with a serious mental health illness is that just when you think you are on top, it can bite you in the derrière. I have had to trust, not just experts but those that love me. They are the boss… For now.

Jingle Bells, Batman Smells…

I haven’t written for a bit, this is due to the joys of the festive season. I have had the perfect Christmas. Family all together, eating lots of Turkey, farty ball sprouts and CAKKKKKE. The other thing that I had was depressions, lots of bloody depression.

Now as you see from the start, I had a bloody wonderful Christmas and yes I enjoyed it so very much. I was loved and treasured by my loved ones. Depression and mental illness does not get the message that it’s Christmas.

I found myself sad but only for very short periods, but when they were there they really were so clear. I also had sudden anxieties about being too unwell to enjoy the day. What if I let everyone down? What about our family hosting? Yes, it went well last year, but maybe that was me being a mere flukey Mcfluke face.

My C-PTSD is very much around people taking their own lives and the aftermath, you naturally think about them too, I would like to say that the flashbacks had Santa hats but alas not.

In a very positive way though I felt this year as if every present under the tree meant so much less than anytime, being loved and cared is priceless. I don’t know if telling the kids that they could only come in with their Christmas stockings post 7AM this year, as daddy has been poorly, is quite fair, but at least I had a couple hours more kip than last years 5AM wakeup.

My former colleagues in the service often put up pictures of the start of their shift in the ambulance service, Santa hats and the trucks adorned with tinsel. Big big smiles, I look at them and wonder how many will be still smiling after the run of shifts is over? They will be away from family, Cold, Tired, potentially and now ever more likely hungry and thirsty from not having a meal break. At least Mary & Joseph could get their head down for a little rest. In the NHS and emergency services they do this for you, because they care about you and want to be there when shit hits the proverbial fan with your health or safety.

I subscribe to a Facebook group in which we all share our mental wellbeing in the job and where we are at that time. I saw one post at the start of the season stating they planned to be smashed on whiskey in between his vile shifts because that’s all he had. He also said he was scared of not being pissed as then he might start thinking about how much he wants to not be here.

So I am afraid not the most fun post but we are talking more, we need to keep doing it and most of all give a huge cuddle to those you love because for me that was the best Christmas present of all.

Wishing you and yours a very Happy and Healthy New Year xxx

(and thanks so much for reading, commenting and sharing!)

Eyes wide Asleep….

This post will be slightly different as unlike the others I am in the present. I will continue the story of my treatment but I wanted to get down on paper, well on MacBook, how I am feeling right now.

The feeling of sudden depression is something that most people I am sure will have felt and even if its just feeling a bit low for the day. I am doing well right now and having far less flashbacks and really looking forward to Christmas. I therefore can’t understand for the life of me why today of all days I wake at 0400 to huge anxiety and then a feeling of complete and utter crap.

I guess everyone has been in bed, eyes wide open and desperate to forget whatever is going through ones head. I find when it is dark flashbacks or at least the resemblance of them come in. It isn’t a full movie or even a scene but a very short snippet. A couple of frames, it is normally the worst of the worst. The sick messed up highlights. I almost prefer it when it is longer as its normally just one incident. These bastards were flash here then another, then another… I know the best course of action is to go downstairs, get tea and try to distract myself. The difficulty with this is I am too shattered and now depressed to do it.

I am in the situation where at least I can now recognise my depressive illness and I know it won’t last forever, I may even be ok for the rest of the day, but the feeling of complete ‘everything is shit, I should not feel like this!, Don’t let down the children’ is real. The fact that we talk about mental illness now and that I am even doing this blog doesn’t reduce the feeling of shame and uselessness.

Even my normal tactic of listening to some camp disco is not working right now! When Night Fever or ABBA is not improving my mood then we have a situation. If people know me personally, they will know I am a natural grinner, I like to smile. I got fed up with the psychologist suggesting it is a mask because I didn’t then, and I don’t now, think it is.

I don’t think people who smile and are extroverted are putting on a mask – just that at times we continue that when are hurting and that is because that is our normal state and we want to get back to it. I guess faking it to make it as it were.

The big question is when the rest of the house wakes up, am I going to be smiling or just dive under the duvet and write off today? I am pushing for the former and we need to get ready for Christmas.

Ok rant over! I will feel better later, I know I will… I hope.

Sit Down & Lets get D&M (Deep & Meaningful)

It came to the first day in the hospital. I was given a blue folder and sat in my first group session. The psychologist kept asking ‘why are you here?… How does that make you feeeeeeeeel?’ I got more and more cross at this constant barrage. I was sure he had read my notes. Why the hell does he not just read it them? He even suggested that I was addicted to the feeling of importance of being a paramedic. He told me I smiled too much and that I was hiding.

I came out of there livid. I only wanted the one to one sessions to start with the EDMR therapy. I didn’t bloody need some academic who has never been in the world telling me I was essentially an arrogant bastard. I was so angry I wanted to scream, but I am a nice guy, I am here because I have seen horrid sights.

Eventually at the end of the session he smiled, and while stroking his ample beard in a quizzical way he said ‘so how do you feel now, James?’ I told him I felt anger, hurt, and I didn’t know why he made me feel like this.

“I made you feel like this so that you feel, you haven’t felt for far far far too long, yesssssss?” (he was Scandinavian).

The irritating git was right, he was spot on. I had been an expert at suppressing my feelings, and that was the problem. In the service we have our defences, often that is in the form of humour and gags. I was called out on that as well… “You are the class clown, yesssss?” He was again bang to rights. He wasn’t having any of it, I couldn’t smile, I couldn’t use my normal humour, I was rabbit in the headlights and I had to suddenly confront that I have been hiding this for years. Those pesky boxes were stupidly opening up all over the place and this irritating psychologist was very aware of it…. he was going to open every single one of them.

I felt completely pants, far worse then when I walked into the hospital. This is not what I had in mind by treatment. I felt like I had been hit by a bus and it hurt really bad. I know now that that was his plan in total… to make me feeeeeeeeel.