Today I am due to meet my fourth NHS counsellor. Continuity? What continuity? I have promised myself not to rant at the poor lady. After all, it is not her fault and NHS counselling time is like gold-dust, not to be wasted. The fact that I could have topped myself without anyone (except Lynne) noticing or caring says it all about the state of the NHS at present. The fact that I have come through the dark times totally unaided (with the distinct and glowing exception of poor Lynne) is more by luck and my inner strength ( or cowardice? ) and nothing to do with NHS help, or the lack of it, unless they work on the theoryto self-help makes you stronger. If that is the case perhaps their staff should take heed as three of my previous "counsellors" have fallen foul of depression, hopefully not due to listening to me, but more likely lack of NHS cash, sheer frustration and threatened redundancy.The only successful one works for a hospital over 200 miles away, bless her.
Anyway, that's my rant out of the way for today, hopefully.
To save valuable time and to quickly bring my "new counsellor" up to speed I printed off paragraph one of this blog and presented her with it. She seems to know her stuff and brought me up to date with the state of her department, apparently managed by a bunch of politically motivated morons ( no surprises there ). Whilst acknowledging the fact any help she could have provided was required a long time ago. She accepted I ( and Lynne ) are very near sorting things out for ourselves, but wishes to show the service she feels we should have received and has asked for a couple more consultations before we disappear on Tardis Two, allowing her time to officially close my case, to which I agreed.
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