Bruce
Frothing at the mouth certainly worked for me to some extent, Bruce.
First: Mum had a CPN, who appeared every few months when she felt like it, and social worker support. We had moved to our present home very quickly to be closer to help, but I had had to handle most of the move and its endless administration because of JJ's work.
Second: Mum was deteriorating rapidly and stress levels for Dad had reached implode - e.g. every afternoon at three o'clock he was tearing up and down some seven miles to take her to her 'home' to see her mother, where her brother still lives, on arrival at which she would say: I'm not going in there. It was like the Wacky Races; 'Catch the pigeon' became our theme song. Dad is 82 with severely limited mobility and breathing difficulties, but even so was hostile to the support staff who were appointed for a few hours every afternoon, to the point of blatant hostility. He just wouldn't play ball.
Third: I imploded one afternoon when the promised help did not appear and unable to contact any of the above contacted the assessment unit who had started the whole process, even though it was nothing to do with them - it was the CPN's. I can only describe it as an out-of-body experience - I could hear myself but could not believe that I was so hysterical. All civilising influences had disappeared. Fortunately, Rose at the end of the phone, who had some knowledge of Mum, took it off me - in between my apologies for bothering her, she kept telling me that it was OK, she could hear it in my voice. She called me back within the promised 10 minutes with POSITIVE info to get me back on track.
I visited the GP next day to say that I wasn't sure I could continue with things as they were. She did listen sympathetically, given the state I was in (a quivering, snivelling, wretched, out-of-control mess) she'd have been criminal not to and when I explained that I had felt like ripping a potato peeler across my throat as a balm to the intense pressure of frustration and anger she prescribed tranquillisers for ONE WEEK ONLY and which JJ was to administer to me. She told JJ that if ever I reached such a state again, he was to take me straight to A&E! But, as he quite rightly pointed out, surely things should not have to reach such a stage when we were supposed to have all this support! That shook her! As a short term solution the tranquillisers worked quite a bit.
She insisted that I explain all that I had told her to the CPN with whom I had an appointment and the CPN did then start some pretty fast sorting. (Following events have been fraught with their own sadnesses and frustrations, for better or worse? only time will tell.) But in that time some pressures WERE taken away, and people started listening.
You are so right - if people think you're coping, they'll leave you to it. But coping is not living, its a prison and one of our own making because of love, loyalty an awareness of our loved one's dependency on our strength, we don't want to let them down.
I'd say hit on the GP first but tell it like it is, not the way one thinks they would like to hear it. They should at least be able to point you in the direction of all the agencies.
Gawd, I've done it again. On and on like a worn out pair of shoes.
Lotsa
Chesca
