The one that got away (part 2)

When people leave the ward, either because they're discharged or because they've been transferred, I forget about them. I think it's an autistic thing. I simply don't keep people in mind. If they're here, they're here. But once they're gone, and they're not a part of my occurant experience, I no longer think of them.

So, when Emily went to the PICU, I forgot all about her. I noted the fact that I could watch a DVD without it being turned off half way through. I noticed that the ward was quieter. But that was it. To be honest, I didn't think she would ever come back to this ward. The severity of her illness seemed to be unremitting. When she was transferred to the PICU, it was by wheelchair. Her level of disconnectedness was terrifying.

It was a mere two weeks later when she returned. And OH MY GOD. The difference was incalculable. She was dressed, walking properly, talking normally, eating normally. And, most amazingly, she was carrying her baby son. This was a different Emily.

She was better. Like, properly better. Everyone crowded around her to ask how she was. Everyone wanted to get in on this success story.

It turns out that Emily remembers next to nothing about those days, and weeks, when she was 'gone'.  They are, perhaps fortunately, lost to her.

Emily was suffering from post natal psychosis. Everyone has heard of post natal depression. But I suspect that not many know about this much more extreme chemical response to giving birth. It struck a chord with me because my sister had recently given birth. Once I knew what was wrong with Emily, I couldn't help but try to imagine my sister in the same position. And all I could think was that, if it happened to her, she would need the total support of her family and friends. She would need to be treated with respect, dignity, care, patience. But most of all, she would need to be treated by people who understood her condition, and who held onto the hope that a return to normality was just around the corner.

These things are often missing when it comes to mental ill health.

But Emily went home a few days after she returned to the ward. She needs follow up care in the community for a while. And within 3-6 months, she will be discharged from the community team.

Mental health problems can happen to anyone, regardless of age, class, race, gender, co morbid disabilities. And people DO get better. Properly better. A mental health crisis, even one as severe as Emily's was, is not the end of that person's identity nor future. It is , in many ways, akin to a burst appendix. Emergency, and life saving, medical treatment is absolutely necessary for a short time.

But only for a short time.

So, the next time you hear about your friend who is depressed, or the mad uncle who everyone ignores, why don't you remember Emily. Hope is never gone. Respect and dignity are cathartic.

Recovery is always possible.