Cornell Finch

Where I (Figuratively) Spill My Guts

It has taken much to get up the nerve to write this, so please bear with me if it makes no sense. This is also likely to be a bloody long post, so I apologise.

Around 4 years ago I came home from somewhere, I can’t remember where. My wife handed me a piece of paper. She was in tears. She had written to me as she couldn’t find the words to describe the problem. It detailed what she’d been going through for around the last six months and that she was suffering stress and depression.

For four years we coped. Kind of. Regular doctors appointments, all sorts of anti-depressants, beta-blockers and anti-psychotics (not what you think!). Therapy started around Christmas 2005. Nothing seemed to be helping.

Depression and anxiety are very well documented both on the ‘net and in books and have helped me sympathise with what my wife is going through. It didn’t help me to understand. You get these people that you tell them what’s happening and they nod knowingly and say “I know how she feels”. Unless I know that they have been through it, I call BULLSHIT. There’s no way that a mentally healthy person can understand the trauma, the pain, the anguish. The side effects of the drugs.

Skip forward to 08 October 2007. This is now known to me and my wife as Day Zero. She was voluntarily admitted to a mental health institute. I am damned sure it was more traumatic for my wife than I, however I still felt like a complete bastard. I said to the home treatment team workers that came to the house that I thought it was a good idea. I was almost at the end of my tether. Twenty past nine on Day Zero she was admitted. I initially referred to the 8th of October as Day One. I very quickly realised that this was incorrect. Mainly as it was late at night. So it became Day Zero. Day One, the next day, would be where we pushed the past behind us and started with a clean slate. Yes, my wife is ill, yes there is stuff from pre-Day Zero which needs to be sorted but with help from friends and family we can cope with those things and move on to our new life.

I went to my parents home and told them all about what had been going on. They were very understanding, not judgemental and supportive. They offered help in any way they could and at the time I refused saying that I wanted to try and cope on my own. I would holler quite loudly when I needed to.

Thankfully when I did holler they were there (and still are!) in a flash. I had lasted 3 days on my own. I had been to work on day two and been to the hospital. Day Three saw me with a full day at work, home for a few minutes to feed the dogs and then back to the hospital. When I got home at around 9.30 I looked at the state of the house and just burst into tears. I cried like a newborn baby screaming to be put back in. I phoned my parents and they came, picked me up and made the tea. Oh so British. Oh so very bloody welcome! It was at this point that I got my first glimpse (and it was just a glimpse) of how my wife felt most of the time. The house was a mess. There was a pile of washing up. Dog crap on the landing. The TV wouldn’t work either. I felt just like I couldn’t cope.

Friday and Monday I didn’t go to work. Tuesday I phoned the doctor and got an appointment to see the same GP that my wife had been seeing. I knew that she wouldn’t be able to discuss Rach’s case, but she would understand the situation. 25 minutes later I left the doctor’s office with a sick certificate in my hand. She had diagnosed that I have mild depression. She said it was common for a supporter/carer spouse to suffer too. I (somewhat stupidly) refused medication thinking that with a little time off work to sort my shit out I would be fine. Fucking martyr.

Well, two weeks went past and on Day 18 (26 October) I went back to the doctors. I had broken down twice since the first time. The doctor prescribed Citalopram Hydrobromide (20mg once a day initially) and gave me another sick certificate.

I took the first tablet on Sunday morning. I had been to an AWESOME halloween party, hosted by Pam on the Saturday night. With the DST change, I got home at around 0430 BST and got up at 1030 GMT. Took the tablet and thought nothing more of it. Until I started to fall asleep in front of visitors. Damn that was embarrassing. I hope they weren’t offended! I put it down to the drug as the information label says that drowsiness is a very common side effect. Nausia and tremors are very common too.

As I write this it’s Day Twenty Two. My wife is still in hospital. As she’s a voluntary patient she gets to come home when she can. Both afternoons last weekend she was home and on Saturday we went and helped Pam set up for the party. It’s my third day taking the tablets and while the drowsiness has disappeared (I think I was just bloody tired!) the nausea (oh my god I’m gonna puke, no I’m not, yes I am) comes and goes. The tremor however is a different matter. If I sit perfectly still for a few minutes they will stop. They aren’t a massive problem, but I have corrected so many spelling mistakes in this post from hitting the wrong button it’s unbelievable. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it!

The tremor is really strange. You know when you get excited and your hands start shaking? It’s like that, but everywhere. The skin on my torso “jumps” like a nerve has been activated. Think Homer Simpson when the doctor nudges him, not quite as obvious, but it’s the same feeling. If I get up or turn too fast I lose my balance and have to grab something.

My house is almost tidy. My Mum and I have washed clothes that I haven’t seen for around a year. They were all over the bedroom floor. I have found clothes I didn’t even know I owned. We have cleaned two bedrooms, the bathroom (twice), the kitchen, the living room and the conservatory. I have cleaned (inside) all the windows in the house and the outside ones downstairs. I have cleaned woodwork, doors, light switches, floors and walls. My Mum called me houseproud the other day. We even cleared out one side of the (double) garage yesterday!

My Mum and Dad have been superb and I can’t tell you guys how much I love you. Our friends have been superb and understanding too so Pam, Ant, Kirsty, Rich, Brian & Jan and Mark (Cookie) I thank you too.

Wow. That was an essay. I hope that people can understand why I’m not around on the ‘nets too much right now and why it seems I have abandoned my blogs. I’m not Scouting at the moment and The Mini Club has taken a back seat too.

I will try and update fairly regularly with how I am getting on. Thanks for reading this far!