That damned depression. That damned Black Dog.'I just want to be normal.' It's not a big ask, is it?That damned depression — wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.It squeezes the life out of you; makes you feel like an outsider —Outside the game of life that 'normal' people seem to play so well.
Our friend's not doing so well. The normalcy she craves has left and gone away. There's now a chasm between her and the game of life.
The Black Dog has caught up with her. Not surprising, mind you; it's been chasing her for 20-odd years.
She got tired; couldn't run anymore. Nothing left. So up to the emergency department doors she went: 'Doctor, nurse ... anyone, I can't run anymore. The Black Dog's too fast, too strong. I'm worn out — just want to be normal.'
They heard her ... sort of. Into a tiny room she was sent ... to wait.
To wait to be seen by someone; someone with expertise, someone who 'gets it'; someone I can see and smell and shake hands with, please.
It was a pretty long wait, not because the psychiatrist and other mental health professionals were too busy that night, but because there weren't any on deck.
That's the norm these days ... the local mental health system has adopted a new model of care.
It's a crisis centred approach; reactive rather than preventative.
More a nine to five system too; a lot less expensive — not that money has anything to do with the cut backs. This is a 'better model'.
The wait's over for our friend. Into another room she goes to be greeted by a big television screen beaming-in the face of a distant expert: there'll be no human contact with mental health professionals this night; no shaking of hands.
It's a shame, really, because this isn't a fair reflection of the local mental health team stationed on the ground. They're a compassionate, committed group of professionals. But, like the talented busker who has been tossed an extra 12 balls to juggle in the middle of his act, things get dropped.
We are asking too much from too few — and it's people, not balls, that are being dropped.
The consultation with the TV screen expert is underway — it's not easy conversing with a screen when you're desperately ill; isolated and alone. Perhaps the expert also finds it hard. She also cares, no doubt. It's just that the