Enough

It's all too depressing. Too repetitive. Too enervating and just too... I don't know. I've run out of adjectives and expletives. Chucked out of hospital. No follow up care. Just lies. The unit says that they referred him. The unit they 'referred' him to say that they've no information about this. So he's back to the future. Tramping around the streets. Scared to go home. Phone 'stolen.' Beaten up by a 'gang.' Hungry. Tired. Strung out. Feet in a terrible painful and raw state because of an infection that he picked up he doesn't know where. Could be Thailand. Could be Egypt. Either way it could be Bilharzia or Leishmoniasis (however you spell it) but no one is doing anything for him and he isn't responsible or capable of looking after himself and he resents me for 'butting in' on his very 'busy and productive life.'

Where do we go from here? Sue the hospital? Maybe. Lack of care. Negligence. The Crisis Team could care less. The hospital additionally. Just joins the psychiatric army on the street. 2010 and I'm told by the very nice man at one of the numbers I called for help that it's 'only going to get worse.' That the consequences of the last hideous, vile, repugnant Labour government means that there's yet still more 'reorganisation' and less money will be spent on mental health.

I want to take the computer and slam it onto the floor. There's no one to speak with and they all pass the buck and no one will take any responsibility. What point my writing a book? What point this blog? Does anyone read it who cares? All this money they spent on a new cafe and they 'discharge' the most needy because there's no funds. They arrange parties for 'employee of the month', while withholding medication. 'The NHS is breaking up,' the nice man told me. What a surprise. It's now an enterprise that's only interested in breaking even and targets and fulfilling criteria and stats. The ill? Sod them.