The Butterfly Effect

So, how did I get set up as a lunatic who wanted a kidney removed for no apparent reason, suffering from Munchausen and deserving to die.

Bugger me Kitty, I think I help with that one

In 2015 I was referred to a hospital consultant due to a kidney problem. I had whammed that exit from my kidney and had a cyst on it. To say that I was treated like shit is an under statement. I have moderate hydronephrosis in my right kidney and the consultant told me I was born with it. I said no, look at my scans from 2000 where I was sent to a research project by my consultant Mr Nixon. Any problems would have been picked up then.

CAN’T FIND ANY REFERENCE TO THE RESEARCH PROJECT MR NIXON SENT ME ON.

Very odd, but didn’t twig.

The time before last that I was referred by my GP to a consultant was in 2000. I had had an accident at the gym and the first aider dropped me at A&E.
This was at Charing Cross Hospital and I made a fateful decision that day which I truly believe had the butterfly effect.

I decided that I wasn’t critically injured and entered the NHS drop in that used to be based next door to A&E. ” hours later they had diagnosed back and nerve damage and they sent me to A&E with a copy of my assessment – which I handed in – and the promise that I would be seen straight away and receive much needed pain relief.

God knows how much later a doctor approaches. I started to tell him what had happened, but then he started touching my leg and I lost the power of speech. Dr Le Blanc was an Adonis. I manage to tell him about my notes I had handed in and he left.
Great I thought. He’s reading my notes.
30 minutes later he came back and walked straight passed me. I managed to catch his attention some time later and he said there was nothing wrong. I stood and collapsed – he shouted – you probably sprained your ankle.

Went to GP and referred to consultant Mr Nixon.

NOW AT THIS POINT I DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS STANDARD MEDICAL PROCEDURE TO REMOVE SCANS WHEN CONSULTANTS HAVE BEEN MEDICALLY NEGLIGENT.

But, Mr Nixon forgot he had sent me on a test project at Hammersmith Hospital.
I had cancelled my MRI as he instructed. The test project was the earliest date.
As I hadn’t attended the second 20 minute MRI – as I had been through 3 hours of MRI scans and Hammersmith Hospital had also told me to cancel the second scan as “there was nothing that hadn’t been picked up in their scans,”
Mr Nixon discharged me.

A FEW MONTHS AGO I PULLED MY GP RECORDS AND THE REPORT FROM HAMMERSMITH HOSPITAL SHOWS THAT I HAD DAMAGED MY SPINE IN 4 PLACES.

HENCE, WHY IT NO LONGER EXIST ON MY CHARING CROSS MEDICAL RECORD.

OW, THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT AND HOW I SET MYSELF UP.

WELL, MR NIXON OBVIOUSLY THOUGHT I WOULD GO BACK TO MY GP AND BE REFERRED FOR MORE SCANS AND THIS WOULD COVER UP HIS NEGLIGENCE IN DISCHARGING ME WHEN I COULDN’T WALK.

UNFORTUNATELY, I HAD OTHER IDEAS.
I COLLECTED MY SCANS FROM IMAGING AND TOOK THAT TO A BACK SPECIALIST. HE COULDN’T USE THAM AND TOLD ME TO GO BACK TO CHARING CROSS HOSPITAL AND SEE MY CONSULTANT – MR NIXON, WHO HAD DISCHARGED ME, SO THAT HE COULD ASSESS THE SCANS. BASICALLY, NO ONE WANTED THE MRI SCANS, THEY WANTED THE CONSULTANTS REPORT.

I WAS GOING INTO CHARING CROSS, SPARODICALLY, FOR OVER 2 MONTHS. EACH TIME I TOOK THE SCANS IN THEY REFUSED TO TAKE THEM TO BE ASSESSED. I TRIED TO HAND OVER MY NIXON’S REFERRAL LETTER ALONG WITH THE SCANS. NO ONE WOULD LOOK AT THEM. I KEPT GOING BACK AS THE SCANS WERE NO USE TO ME WITHOUT THE CONSULTANTS REPORT.

HINDSIGHT IS A WONDERFUL THING AND EACH TIME I WENT BACK WITH MY MRI’S – I

WAS NAILING MY COFFIN A LITTLE MORE. I HAD BEEN SET UP AS A FANTASIST WHO AD SOMEHOW GOT MRI’S BUT THESE COULDN’T BE ANYTHING TO DO WITH MY CONSULTANT AS HE SAID HE HADN’T SENT ME ON THEM.

THE FACT NO ONE WOULD TAKE THE SCANS, OR EVEN LOOK AT THEM, INDICATES HOW SET UP I WAS AT THE TIME.

IN THE END I LEFT THE SCANS ON THE DESK AND WALKED OUT.

THEN SECURITY CHASED ME AND GAVE THEM BACK.

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W for WTF – tribute to Annabel

Annabel ran around squawking “breach, breach, there’s been a breach. Breach, breach, there’s been a breach.”
With each fresh utterance she feels her inner chicken coming through.
She is no longer mere woman. She has become the pinnacle of evolution.
She is Wonder Bird.
Lustfully she plays with her long plumage. Flipping her erotic feathers whist clucking masterfully.
“Breach, breach, there’s been a breach.”
Annabel clucks and gasps as pain runs through her. She crows at the top of her voice, her pain changes to euphoria.
She pants, catches her breath. Then cries with wonderment.
Proudly she looks down.
Annabel has laid an egg.

V for vulnerable

but not a victim.

I suppose that the next step is to take Chelsea & Westminster Hospital to the Parliamentary Health Ombudsman. Will that achieve what I want?

I want Chelsea & Westminster to admit everything that happened to me.
I want huge changes in how they treat people with mental health conditions.
I want the people who kept me in pain, and tried to limit my life span, tried before a jury.

My abuse in the A&E department at Chelsea & Westminster hospital was orchestrated. The fact they could leave someone in isolation for so long and it not be questioned. Ignoring someone who was begging for pain relief.
The fact that the administrator had the authority to deny my consultant head and arm CT scans. (She knew that they wouldn’t have been able to get me into the scanner and I assume this would have led to another department finding out I hadn’t had pain relief.)

Why not the press? Perhaps but I wouldn’t want to work in a place where this became public knowledge. There are lots of good people working for this hospital. I didn’t see them as they have no training with mental health and didn’t know what to do. What these staff were being told was not the situation and they didn’t have the experience/training to question what they were being presented with.

I will never be a victim because of what happened to me, and if I get my way, nor will anyone else.

U is for Unipolar

The strange thing with depression is that once I accepted I was a depressive, life became so much easier. I go through trauma and I get depressed.

When I was younger I thought it would be so much easier if I was bipolar. At least that way the lows would have been offset.

I can predict when my depression is going to hit as I get a couple of weeks after a traumatic event where I lose everything and 90% of it turns up in the fridge. The fridge becomes a Pandora’s box of wonders. Paint brushes, keys, hats, the odd book – all turn up in the fridge.

I automatically analyse the crap out of everything and I reckon my fridge becomes the Mecca of my belongings as I also lose my appetite at this time. I think it is because I am conscious of not being hungry so keep going to the fridge to try and eat. I must take food out and just leave what I am holding in the fridge.

Unlike the swift mood swings associated with bipolar disorder, I have a couple of weeks where I put together my strategy for how to get through the black clouds to come.

I do this with structure. I am incredibly gentle on myself but don’t allow myself to wallow in self pity. This is my life. This is who I am, so get over myself.
The routine helps enormously as if I have had a really bad day, I can focus on the fact I’ve stuck to my plan and achieved 3 things each day. That way I know that a bad day is just a bad day. I am not going back to the depths of hell.

For anyone reading this who has depression.

Get structure in your life, your head is your own worst enemy.
Be gentle but realise you are not a pathetic useless creature.
And, lower your expectations of yourself. You can always raise them again later!

And my own top tip.

Accept your depression. Whether it is a fleeting moment or a life time embrace. If someone is judging me on my mental health without getting to know me, I don’t want them in my life.

T is for Thomas

This is the hardest thing to write because even by putting the truth down, I feel like I am letting him down.

Dr Paul Thomas was the UCC out of hours doctor who took away the Tramadol and saved my life.

He was amazing as he knew straight away that the Tramadol was causing the seizures. He took all Tramadol away and asked for the discharge sheet.

When I was able to stand, I gave him the discharge sheet and he took it. Read it. Got up and walked out. Wow, I thought, he really cares.

So, it came as a shock to find that Dr Thomas wrote the following:
t1.jpg
t2.jpg

By removing the discharge sheet, it allowed Chelsea and Westminster Hospital to pretend, for a year, that I had been discharged at 10:40 in the morning. This would have been before the first dose of Tramadol had been given at 2:23pm, and, of course, before the first seizure had occurred in the CT scanner.

It was only when I managed to get the prescribed medicines copy of the discharge sheet that the hospital’s story changed and they agreed that I was discharged in the evening of the 19th Feb 2016.

So, to recap. I have been diagnosed as bipolar by an orthopedic consultant Mr Henry Magill 19th Feb 2016, and two days later, the convulsive seizures where my body was so swollen, is a relapse of my bipolar disorder.

I will never back any complaint made against Professor Paul Thomas. He is the man who saved my life.

He chose to falsify what happened but would he have been so eager to cover up for a friend if he had known that the Tramadol – which the hospital have confirmed caused the seizures – had been doubled for my departure?
I hope not.