So I arrive at the NHS hospital in Ipswich after the police have me checked out at A&E in Ipswich general hospital.

I am greeted by a lovely man who shows me to a side room and makes me a cup of tea and some toast.  It is explained to me why I have arrived under police escort.

I am quickly seen by a social worker and I explain how I came to be in Ipswich.  As far as I recall the police has contacted my nearest relative, my father, and given the name of the hospital to which I had arrived at so that he knew I was safe in their hands.  My social worker quickly decided that being miles from home was not conducive to my care and explained to me that I was to be transferred to a hospital nearer to home.  I decided to go out for a cigarette in the hospital garden whilst transport was being arranged for me to go to hospital in Kettering, St Mary's.  In my infinate wisdom I thought that smoking cigarettes after seven years cessation was good for my cause, something which four months later, I will later come to regret.

Three hours later I arrive through the front doors of Kingfisher Ward, St May's NHS hospital.  Again I was taken to a side room where an on-duty doctor came to see me.  He took details of my children, parents, siblings, my colleagues, friends and associates.  He asked me how much debt I was in,? Do I do drugs? What medication am I on?  The list is endless.  Here he explained to me that I was being kept on admissions ward for 72 hours as an involuntary patient and that my section clauses had now been lifted.  I was then sent out into the admissions communal area and left to my own devices.  A nurse was sent to me and I had the contents of my handbag checked over for sharps, medications and illegal substances.  I had all my remaining medications taken away and locked on the hospital on site clinic.

The next few hours were a bit of a blur.  I paced around a lot and made tea which we were allowed to help ourselves freely to.  I sat down for lunch with the other patients and again for dinner.  It wasn't until the evening that I spoke to another patient.  As the evening turned to night time I watched, as one-by-one, all the patients were called to the clinic for their evening meds.  I wasn't called.  I went to the office and asked where my meds were as I was supposed to be taking my new course of anti-depressants today as prescribed by my GP.  I was told by the nurse that it was the doctors discretion to not begin me with a new course of medicines just now and that I was to await 'ward-round' to discuss this with my allocated psychiatrist.  I was informed that this would be after the 72 hour observation period. "THREE days?!?!" I exclaimed, and I was hurried off with no real sense of concern on the nursers part.  It was like it was standard practice to her.  I guessed this was a regular occurance. So I went to bed. I was off medication for so long now already, what would an extra three days matter?

The next evening I received a visit from the local police.  The police officer that came to see me, his visit was short.  He re-iterated the fact that I was no longer an involuntary patient under the mental health act, but now a voluntary patient and he stressed that trying to leave under this new criteria would not be beneficial to me.  I nodded and agreed.

One more day passed and still I'd only conversed with the one patient at meal times.  I went out regularly to smoke.  15 minutes cigarette break per hour was granted on this ward for patients to indulge in, on the patio.

A further day passed and no-one had come to speak to me.  I was literally left to my own devices.  I was unmedicated and coming down from a huge overdose of hypnotics and alcohol.  I was getting increasingly anxious, distressed and agitated.  I informed the staff that I wanted to leave.  This place was no good for me it was making me worse.  All I was doing was getting highly agitated, claustrophobic and disassociative.  However much I wanted to leave it wasnt going to happen unless I forcibly chose to leave by means of escpape.  I was sent an on duty doctor who came to try and calm me down.  I had a brief chat about the way I was feeling and he prescribed me 1mg of Lorazepam.  This was a drug unbeknown to me.  A drug in the benzodiazepine group that sedates and relieves agitation.  I took this drug on doctors orders after tea time that evening and within 30 minutes I felt drunk.  My hands went numb, my head went light and my speech became slurred.  At 10pm I was called into the clinic for 7.5mg of Zopiclone, a sleeping pill that I was familiar with.  I took the Zopiclone and that night I slept undisturbed for 10 hours.

I woke up the next day with a spring in my step.  I seem to have a high tolerance to prescribed medication.  Even though the Lorazepam and the Zopiclone did what it was supposed to do at the time of administration  I didnt wake up feeling groggy or hungover.  Today I  was to be seen by my assigned psychiatrist.

My ward round appointment quickly came around and I was called to a quite side room.  In the room was the psychiatrist, a scribe (the on-duty doctor I was seen by upon arrival) and the nurse on charge in the ward that day.  Again they went over my previous history regards to friends, family and associates.  My psychiatrist wanted to know in detail how and why I ended up in Ipswich, miles away from home.  Again I explained why and stated that it was my aim to kill myself on the first night in the hotel room which I had booked into.  In this meeting it was decided that I was to start a new medication called Topiromate.  Topiromate is actually an anti-convulsant drug given to suffers of Epilepsy. But is used in the field of psychiatry as a mood stabiliser.  The meeting, although more intense than the preliminary meeting with the on-duty doctor, was short and I was asked to leave and return to the communal area.

The next day I was awoken and given the new starting dose of Topiromate.  Later that day I was approached by the same team in the meeting from the evening before.  They explained to me that keeping me in hospital would not be conducive to my well-being and that they had agree some leave from the hospital grounds would be beneficial to me.  I was informed that I should leave the next day and return the following week.  I was advised that this course of action was of interest to me to try and rehabilitate myself on my own, in my own surroundings and community, and it would be a good opportunity for me to see my children.

I expressed concern over the amount of leave they were grating me.  They wanted me to go home for one whole week and return the following week.  They were of an opinion that should I work well with the leave, I would be fit for discharge on returning to hospital for review.  I was not happy with this.  I felt fragile. I was unmedicated and alone.  But alas I was sent home the following day with one weeks worth of TTO's (medication to take for the duration whilst out on leave).

I left the hospital in the afternoon of that following day and I caught the bus home armed with one weeks supply of 7 x 100mcg Levothyroxine (for my underactive thyroid), 14 x 1mg Lorazepam, 7 x 7.5mg Zopiclone, 14 x 25mg Topiromate.  So total of 42 pills.... you can only guess what happened next????