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Not sure whether to laugh or not.
Posted August 22nd 2012 at 07:15 AM by i_like_black
So yesterday I went for a walk, and went to stand on a motorway overbridge and look at traffic. I admit when I left home I was thinking of jumping, but as soon as I saw how low it was (barely 4m, maybe 5 at a massive push) I threw away that idea because I figured the most likely outcome would be a broken ankle. So I just stood there watching traffic for a while, and counting marked police cars. I got up to 7 (I was aiming for 10, then I was going to walk home), and what should happen but a uniformed police officer arrives to talk to me.
So he wouldn't talk to me until I was completely off the bridge. Apparently a member of the public had called with concerns, he'd driven past a couple of times and seen me still there, and some fucktard from the Salvation Army said I called them threatening suicide. I called nobody. A lady from the Salvation Army randomly came up and had a conversation with me, and we probably passed over the topic of suicide - not uncommon in conversations with me - but I did not threaten to jump and I sure as fuck didn't call anybody.
Anywho we went through the usual, name, address, date of birth, and so on, and then are you under the care of mental health, and I had to say yes, because I am, and because I know it's an offense to lie to a police officer. So he asked the name of my keyworker, and I gave him the name of both my keyworker and my doctor, and I also gave him the number for their office. He asked me to wait where I was while he made a couple of phone calls. I waited where he asked, because I have learned from past experience that one, running from police is a great way to end up in handcuffs/restraint, and two, running from police is a fabulous way to get arrested. And as I wasn't angling for any sort of trouble, I stayed put and waited patiently, although I got bored after ten minutes or so.
He came back eventually, and asked me to wait because he'd called another unit because he'd been advised to transport me to Lambie Drive (where ICT CMHT is based) for assessment. So then, of all things, a paddy wagon turns up. And I'm like, what the fuck, seriously? And he was like yeah, it was the only one available. So I got in the back and sat down.
We got as far as the motorway on-ramp, then they had to stop for a (minor) collision. They started taking the details and so forth of the lady and then remembered they had me in the back, and decided they needed to get shot of me to deal with her. So the cop taing the lady's details got into the back of another police car with her, and the other cop (who wasn't driving previously) became the driver of the paddy wagon.
I shit you not, in the process of travelling from Hill Road to Lambie Drive (about 5km) this guy stalled the paddy wagon at least four times. At least. And then we got to Lambie Drive, and I got left in the paddy wagon, and the cop ran inside, was gone for a few minutes, then hopped back in the driver seat. I'm busy thinking, "what now?", because I was not keen to experience more of his driving, and then I heard him say over the comms thing that Lambie Drive was shutting up shop for the day and he'd been advised to take me back to the hub to get a DAO assessment done. We crossed the road (literally) and picked up the cop who had been driving previously, in the process stalling once more. They swapped drivers, the paddy wagon was stalled once more (it's not a pleasant experience when you're sitting on a metal seat with no form of seatbelt or restraint), and we continued to the hub.
Where I was processed, as per usual, and the processing officers were considerably surprised that this time, I genuinely wasn't doing anything wrong. Bit of a new experience. We talked about this that and the other, I got patted down but got to keep all my clothing, and got put in one of the cells I usually get put in. I was given a sandwich and a juice and told that the crisis team would probably be a while because they were attending a first instance. There were some very loud occupants of the other cells and listening to them got a bit old after a while, so I decided to start counting, purely out of boredom. I had just got to about 513 when the crisis team turned up . . . accompanied by Joti. And I thought to myself, "this does not bode well. . ." because Joti used to be my doctor when I was with the Manukau Team and had a bit of a penchant for using the Mental Health Act on me.
So, unsurprisingly, Joti said she wasn't comfortable sending me home - no surprises there - I said, "nobody's ever comfortable sending me home, sometimes you just have to do it anyway" - and Geoff started the Mental Health Act.
Instead of putting me back in the cell, they put me in the (mercifully empty) drunk tank, where there was at least a T.V. to mark time by. Then Geoff turned up with a JP, gave me the paper starting the Mental Health Act, and my rights. I went back to sitting down and proceeded to turn my rights into seven small paper aeroplanes in varying states of tininess. At some point during this procedure, Dr Bainbridge turned up, said that Khalid saw me on Monday and that basically he had no concerns and was happy to send me home.
I was like, OMFG THANK YOU! I didn't say it like that, but I did thank him. Sometimes it's nice to be given a vote of confidence.
I didn't get to go home straight away though, things had to be cleared with the police and a ride sorted. I ended up being transported back to my place with the crisis team (sans Joti, thank the lord), and got home about 10pm. What a night. I took my meds and slept the sleep of the . . . I forget the word, but I slept fucking amazingly all the same.
Woke up at about 9am, Sam had the radio going and a really good song came on just as I was gaining consciousness properly, so I lay comfortably in bed listening to it, then my cellphone rang. Withheld number. I answered it, which was just as well, because it was Judy, my keyworker, saying that Jens, my doctor, wanted to see me quickly in this morning and could they come over for about 5 minutes or so. So I hauled ass out of bed, got dressed, and had a smoke then sat in the sun until they turned up.
Jens asked me what happened yesterday, and I told him, he asked how I was, I said goot thanks, and his diagnosis was, "well, you seem fine so I'll leave you to it". And I was like, omg, 4 doctors in 3 days . . . just because I'm fine!
So I'm not sure whether I should laugh about that whole experience or not. It wasted a lot of time, but I do, however, have a piece of paper that finds me to be not mentally disordered under the mental health act. I think I might frame it.
Today we did the shopping and so forth, and then a probation officer turned up at my house. Me and Sam both basically said, oh shit. I got given a summons to attend court for a breach of my community work order. Meh, like I'm bothered. The worst they can do is put me in prison for 3 months, so I'm really not bothered. My court date is the 31st of August, so next Friday.
And yeah, that's about all.
Lol at my life.
So he wouldn't talk to me until I was completely off the bridge. Apparently a member of the public had called with concerns, he'd driven past a couple of times and seen me still there, and some fucktard from the Salvation Army said I called them threatening suicide. I called nobody. A lady from the Salvation Army randomly came up and had a conversation with me, and we probably passed over the topic of suicide - not uncommon in conversations with me - but I did not threaten to jump and I sure as fuck didn't call anybody.
Anywho we went through the usual, name, address, date of birth, and so on, and then are you under the care of mental health, and I had to say yes, because I am, and because I know it's an offense to lie to a police officer. So he asked the name of my keyworker, and I gave him the name of both my keyworker and my doctor, and I also gave him the number for their office. He asked me to wait where I was while he made a couple of phone calls. I waited where he asked, because I have learned from past experience that one, running from police is a great way to end up in handcuffs/restraint, and two, running from police is a fabulous way to get arrested. And as I wasn't angling for any sort of trouble, I stayed put and waited patiently, although I got bored after ten minutes or so.
He came back eventually, and asked me to wait because he'd called another unit because he'd been advised to transport me to Lambie Drive (where ICT CMHT is based) for assessment. So then, of all things, a paddy wagon turns up. And I'm like, what the fuck, seriously? And he was like yeah, it was the only one available. So I got in the back and sat down.
We got as far as the motorway on-ramp, then they had to stop for a (minor) collision. They started taking the details and so forth of the lady and then remembered they had me in the back, and decided they needed to get shot of me to deal with her. So the cop taing the lady's details got into the back of another police car with her, and the other cop (who wasn't driving previously) became the driver of the paddy wagon.
I shit you not, in the process of travelling from Hill Road to Lambie Drive (about 5km) this guy stalled the paddy wagon at least four times. At least. And then we got to Lambie Drive, and I got left in the paddy wagon, and the cop ran inside, was gone for a few minutes, then hopped back in the driver seat. I'm busy thinking, "what now?", because I was not keen to experience more of his driving, and then I heard him say over the comms thing that Lambie Drive was shutting up shop for the day and he'd been advised to take me back to the hub to get a DAO assessment done. We crossed the road (literally) and picked up the cop who had been driving previously, in the process stalling once more. They swapped drivers, the paddy wagon was stalled once more (it's not a pleasant experience when you're sitting on a metal seat with no form of seatbelt or restraint), and we continued to the hub.
Where I was processed, as per usual, and the processing officers were considerably surprised that this time, I genuinely wasn't doing anything wrong. Bit of a new experience. We talked about this that and the other, I got patted down but got to keep all my clothing, and got put in one of the cells I usually get put in. I was given a sandwich and a juice and told that the crisis team would probably be a while because they were attending a first instance. There were some very loud occupants of the other cells and listening to them got a bit old after a while, so I decided to start counting, purely out of boredom. I had just got to about 513 when the crisis team turned up . . . accompanied by Joti. And I thought to myself, "this does not bode well. . ." because Joti used to be my doctor when I was with the Manukau Team and had a bit of a penchant for using the Mental Health Act on me.
So, unsurprisingly, Joti said she wasn't comfortable sending me home - no surprises there - I said, "nobody's ever comfortable sending me home, sometimes you just have to do it anyway" - and Geoff started the Mental Health Act.
Instead of putting me back in the cell, they put me in the (mercifully empty) drunk tank, where there was at least a T.V. to mark time by. Then Geoff turned up with a JP, gave me the paper starting the Mental Health Act, and my rights. I went back to sitting down and proceeded to turn my rights into seven small paper aeroplanes in varying states of tininess. At some point during this procedure, Dr Bainbridge turned up, said that Khalid saw me on Monday and that basically he had no concerns and was happy to send me home.
I was like, OMFG THANK YOU! I didn't say it like that, but I did thank him. Sometimes it's nice to be given a vote of confidence.
I didn't get to go home straight away though, things had to be cleared with the police and a ride sorted. I ended up being transported back to my place with the crisis team (sans Joti, thank the lord), and got home about 10pm. What a night. I took my meds and slept the sleep of the . . . I forget the word, but I slept fucking amazingly all the same.
Woke up at about 9am, Sam had the radio going and a really good song came on just as I was gaining consciousness properly, so I lay comfortably in bed listening to it, then my cellphone rang. Withheld number. I answered it, which was just as well, because it was Judy, my keyworker, saying that Jens, my doctor, wanted to see me quickly in this morning and could they come over for about 5 minutes or so. So I hauled ass out of bed, got dressed, and had a smoke then sat in the sun until they turned up.
Jens asked me what happened yesterday, and I told him, he asked how I was, I said goot thanks, and his diagnosis was, "well, you seem fine so I'll leave you to it". And I was like, omg, 4 doctors in 3 days . . . just because I'm fine!
So I'm not sure whether I should laugh about that whole experience or not. It wasted a lot of time, but I do, however, have a piece of paper that finds me to be not mentally disordered under the mental health act. I think I might frame it.
Today we did the shopping and so forth, and then a probation officer turned up at my house. Me and Sam both basically said, oh shit. I got given a summons to attend court for a breach of my community work order. Meh, like I'm bothered. The worst they can do is put me in prison for 3 months, so I'm really not bothered. My court date is the 31st of August, so next Friday.
And yeah, that's about all.
Lol at my life.
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