Growing anxiety

Yesterday was a bad day for my anxieties. It started when I found a message from the Fox indicating there were some messages for me on the answerphone. I duly listened. It was a friend I hadn't heard from for some time. She sounded distressed so I hastily rang her.

She, too, suffers mental health problems although in her case she suffers from paranoia. She'd had another breakdown. Although she reckoned she was now a lot better, she was trying to put together what events of the last week or so were real. In her own mind things really happened but she is aware that during such episodes her reality is not the same as other people's. She's been left feeling persecuted & terrified. Was a neighbour actually taunting her, or had what happened been a series of odd coincidences? She'd turned to me in the hope that I would a) believe that these things had happened, were real to her & they weren't just a figment of her imagination to be poo-poohed, b) be able to suggest some sort of more probable & more logical explanation of what happened, & c) be able to give her some reassurance that she wasn't somehow being manipulated by some evil person to react in the way she had & which was beyond her control. I did my best. She went away happier & feeling she had something more reasonable & sensible to consider as a solution to recent events.

Thinking about her mental health problems reminded me about my present anxieties over the renewal of my Disability Living Allowance. In the post later in the morning a letter duly arrived about the benefit. They advised me they'd come to no immediate decision & would be writing to my GP. My GP has always asked to be forewarned about any such queries. So I duly rang the surgery to let him know, only to discover he had retired earlier this year & I had been automatically allocated to another doctor at the practice. Great! That means that the GP who gets the letter won't have even seen me, will probably not have any idea who I am or the problems I have beyond any that are recorded on my medical files.

Unfortunately my diagnosis is one that, in most case, does not result in such severe consequences as it does in my case. Most people to do not end up in permanent pain & becoming wheelchair users. For all I know this new GP may be someone who will happily write I have no difficulty cooking, for example, as I have no upper part difficulties as one GP did once. I have yet to work out how you cook without walking to the kitchen, going from cooker to sink to work surfaces to fridge, possibly moving heavy pans full of hot food at the same time, without using your knees & legs.

All I could do was indicate that I would be more than happy to see my new GP before they reply to the letter he/she will receive to answer any questions they may have concerning my abilities or otherwise. In the meanwhile my anxieties mount. I'm not sure I could cope with yet another dispute & possible tribunal over my benefits.

When life goes quietly, & the Fox helps me as much as he does, I can cope reasonably well, but I am aware I don't cope well with extra stress. Thoughts of suicide quickly come to the forefront of my mind. I know that sounds melodramatic but it is a reflection that depression is never far away & I'm not confident that I would be able to continue to resist such urges.