Saturday, 21 May 2016

remembering the day I found out they'd labelled me with schizophrenia

It was at an eye clinic appointment in our local hospital in Cupar, the Adamson, around 2006, when a nurse taking my details said to me, something like: I see you've got schizophrenia.  I said "WHAT?". 

News to me.  For I'd made a complete recovery in 2003/4 after a menopausal psychosis and coercive psychiatric drug treatment, having to taper the drug cocktail of Risperidone, Venlafaxine and Lithium under my own steam.  Against the advice of psychiatry who said I had a "lifelong mental illness".  I said to the psychiatrist Dr Kloss that I didn't believe in the DSM which he quoted to me at the time.  So I reduced the 800mgs of Lithium per day, the last drug to taper, by 200mgs a month, got off it all, got back to paid work and got back on with my life.

I was very annoyed at being labelled with schizophrenia, a very stigmatising "diagnosis" that is given to people for whom the "treatment" doesn't "work".  Failed paradigm, blame the patient then blame the mother for passing on defective genes.  Family history of.  Then write about them both in "notes" justifying psychiatric abuse.

So I hotfooted it round to my GP surgery and asked about my schizophrenia "diagnosis".  At the time my doctor was a woman I'd known for about 16 years, she'd been there when my mother had died, a mother herself, of triplets.  She told me that they didn't have a database box for "schizoaffective disorder" just schizophrenia.  I didn't know that disorder label was in my medical history, the psychiatrist hadn't said at the time when he pinned it on me.

So I went up to Stratheden Hospital on the way back from the GP appointment to see if I could catch Dr Carey.  I did manage to get him and I wasn't happy [an understatement].  He said that he would write to the GP about it.  I told him that I'd already sorted it.  But of course it wasn't sorted and the disorder label is still sitting in my medical notes despite being inaccurate and stigmatising.  For once they label you with a mental disorder, to justify their coercive treatment, it sticks like glue.  Or like dog's mess on the sole of your shoe. 


Some photos from yesterday on the East Sands at St Andrews, a therapeutic interlude:

finishing off an ice cream 99 cone

St Andrews harbour

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