The night I called my own police force for help.
I don’t think I can provide a score as so much has happened since my last update. No idea where to start or what to say. I didn’t feel great yesterday evening and I was wide awake. I went to bed around 10.30pm but again I could not sleep. My head was wired and racing and I had no control over anything.
For some unknown reason, just after midnight I got dressed and went out in the car. I did not know what direction to go in, I thought about Tesco, Starbucks drive through or for a walk somewhere. I ended up down Penarth seafront walking before just sitting on a bench looking out to sea. I am not sure what my intention was or what I planned on doing to myself but I felt like walking out to sea was my only option. My head had gone. I recognised that I needed help before I ended it, so I rang my own police force. This is something which I never thought I would do in such circumstances, being such a proud person. This is a sign of how desperate things had become. I could not even think of the phone number. The police helicopter was not far from me, so I knew there were more important things going on and me ringing made me feel guilty. Surely I could just turn around and go home? No I couldn’t, the rational, intelligent side of me had gone, as if my head had been possessed and taken over my some alien creature.
As soon as I dialled 101 (after googling the telephone number) I regretted it. Should I just hang up? What would happen if I did? What would I do? The phone seem to ring forever, my finger on the ‘end call’ button whilst listening to the monotonous waiting tone. I was too slow in hanging up, but maybe that is what I wanted. I spoke to the call taker and explained who I was and what was going on. I was swiftly passed onto a supervisor (who I happen to know through work, as it was my old response team 3 on duty). My initial reaction was that I did not want an incident created and for nobody to know what was happening. I did not want this talked about. After all I was a Sergeant who was supposed to hold it together. I was happy smiley George (on the surface).
The Supervisor dispatched an officer (who again I would call a friend and knew some of what I had been going through). At this point I found myself leaving the promenade and walking down the steps to the beach and towards to sea. I then hung up, I could not go on. I recall my phone ringing back, did I answer I don’t know but at some point I did. My signal was poor. I was still walking, it was a low tide and I had a way to go walking over the pebbles to reach the sea.
I recall speaking to the supervisor again who kept me on the line until the officer turned up. I remember looking back up from the beach to the promenade where the officer was calling out for me. I made myself known as she made her way onto the beach and hugged me. She managed to get me back onto the promenade and then she made me sit in the police car. All I wanted to do was go home. I was exhausted. The officer would not let me go. I am not stupid, I know the procedure, I know the protocol and I would not be allowed to go. Somehow though I thought this did not apply to me and I would be free to drive home. I tried to run to my car, I wanted out. I remember the officer (not forgetting who is my friend) threatening to taser me. She would have, no doubt to protect me from harm (love you KB).
I sat in the police car alone, locked in whilst the officer went to speak with the Bronze Inspector who had turned up. I had two options and I took the lesser one of voluntarily attending the hospital for assessment. The other option was to be detained under Section 136 of the Mental Health Act (a power which I had used myself many times with people to keep them safe). I now was no different.
My car keys were taken from me so my car could be driven home and I ended up at The University Hospital of Wales (UHW). There must have only been a handful of people waiting to be seen. I was taken to the triage nurse straight away who said that I would have to see the Psychiatrist. Me and the officer sat in the waiting area before being taken to a room. I recall sitting on a sofa with the officer next to me. There was a hole in the way behind me which looked as if had been punched. There was a plastic chair in the corner. I sat there and drank squash. Me and the officer chatted, about what I don’t know, random things, I remember laughing at whatever it was, trying to make light of the situation.
It took about an hour for the Psychiatrist to arrive, and when he did it was stupid o’clock and I just explained everything to him. It was likely that I was feeling that way due to withdrawal and drug switch over. Thankfully after much reassurance that I would be ok and that I would not do anything stupid I was allowed to leave. I was told that I would receive a phone call from CMHT today and a letter would be sent to my GP.
I was brought home in the police car just after 5am. Even though I was extremely tired I was unable to sleep. My head would not switch off and I almost ended up just going swimming. I managed to sleep for about 2 hours before getting up. I messaged ‘A’ to say what had happened and she appeared upset by it all. I also messaged a friend in work as I was concerned about what had been said. Thankfully everything with work was ok but my line manager wanted to come and see me, he arrived at 1130am. My line manager put my mind at rest and also said that he had rang my counsellor who would ring me later.
I also received a phone call from CMHT to make sure that I was ok. Unfortunately I am not able to get an appointment quicker than the one I already have arranged on December 13th.
My counsellor rang me at 4.30pm and we were on the phone for 45 minutes. She wanted to know that I would be safe over the weekend and that I had mechanisms in place if I felt bad again. She suggested that I contact the Dr to see this evening. I rang the surgery straight after my phone call and I managed to get in pretty much straight away. I saw a different GP who prescribed me sleeping pills (Zopliclone).
When I got home from Drs I rang my parents and told them what had happened. I just thought they should know, even though I did not want them to worry and I did not want any fuss. Naturally they were concerned and very supportive. I am glad I told them (at last).
I have had a few messages today which I have managed to reply to. At the moment, mentally I am about a 3/10; its been a really tough day and I hope tomorrow I will feel more normal. Over n out for tonight.