I was frustrated that I couldn’t do anything to encourage a woman with mental health problems,but then I realised that just listening could encourage
I noticed the colour of her lipstick first: a garish orangey-red; and I inwardly winced slightly as I sat down and looked at her closely. It clashed violently with her skin. As she spoke – short, abrupt answers to my well-rehearsed introduction – my eyes focused on the crevices of dreary pink, and cracking open as her lips moved. A stick,hastily, clumsily, and scrawled over her lips; the colour spilled jarringly onto the surrounding skin. I tried to ignore her lips,and asked my questions. I knew her history, of course; I had quickly flicked through previous clinic letters before I called her in. I looked down at my paper: “Diagnosis? Schizophrenia? Drug-induced psychosis, or ongoing drug-exhaust.” And of course the customary collection of medications – antipsychotics,antidepressants, hypnotics, or opiate replacement. She told me things weren’t great,but life continued. It was the same as her last appointment, and any other appointment that she had attended. I nodded and intermittently mmmm-ed. I thought approximately lipstick colours, or her destitute taste. Continue reading...
Source: theguardian.com