A sense of belonging…

Claire Molloy (top) and
Pauline Flint (bottom)

It’s an honour to have Pauline Flint, a former patient who now volunteers on Taylor Ward at Tameside Hospital, share her story for our guest blog. Volunteers’ Week starts on 1 June and we are so grateful to all our volunteers. They give their time to help others with a generosity of spirit, kindness and compassion that fills our hearts.

Best wishes

Claire

Pauline Flint

I was invited to write a ‘blog’ about my journey to becoming a volunteer with Pennine Care, so here goes. 

Anyone who knows me in person would probably be smiling at me using words like ‘blog,’ as I have no technological skills and even less understanding of its terminology.

I have been a volunteer since March 2019. And on the whole I have found it a very rewarding experience. I also feel very humbled to have become a volunteer on Taylor ward, because my experience of Taylor ward prior to this had been many admissions as an inpatient.

Shall I say that I am now rather mature in years. My childhood was rather grim to say the least. My family had little money; my mother was a nurse, my father had spent a large part of his life suffering from different illnesses, and I have a brother a little older than myself. We lived in a rather rundown house, which was owned by my nan who also lived with us.

The situation was extremely cramped, relationships strained, and I was abused because of it.

Despite all the poverty, relationship problems and abuse, when I left school I went to college, where I met my closest friends, and I am still in touch with them today.

As we got to the end of our college life, we started going out ‘clubbing’. One of my friends set me up on a blind date with a lad called Graham when I was 18. We married when I was 20 and he has now been putting up with me for over 40 years - we still get on so well.

My first job was as a nursing assistant at Offerton House, which was an old hospital looking after adults with learning difficulties. At that time the term was mentally subnormal (horrible).

I applied to do my pupil nurse training in order to train as an enrolled nurse in mental health, a level of trained nurse that no longer exists. And if my view counted, I would say that the enrolled nurses – whose job was to ensure the ward was running smoothly and the patients were receiving the care they required, while the registered nurses managed the office, did the ward rounds, and did staff rotas etc - is one that would be better brought back into use.

I worked as an enrolled nurse on what was then the new acute psychiatric unit at Stepping Hill hospital (whoops giving away my age now) for two years.

I was about to move onto pastures new, when I found I was expecting my first baby. I gave birth to my first daughter Rachael, in 1984. I went back to work part-time, but it wasn’t to work out for me, and I ended up working at what was then Hyde hospital with people with dementia. I thought I wouldn’t really like it, but needs must. As it was I loved it, on the whole the staff were lovely, the patients could be difficult and challenging at times, but the work was extremely rewarding.

However, two years later I found I was expecting again, and working hours at the time were just totally unsuitable, so I left my nursing job.

I had a child minder for Rachael, and it turned out we were expecting our babies at the same time. We became good friends. We had many long talks together about child care, and the lack of nursery provision at the time. 

And, after many discussions and some initial training, we opened a playgroup in 1988.

We were very successful in our work, my business partner was already a well received member of the local community, and at last I felt I had found where I wanted to be. I was a member of the local church, I had a lovely home on the edge of Werneth Low country park, a loving supportive husband, and two beautiful bright children, both doing well at school and with their own hobbies and friends. More than I could ever have imagined.

However in 1995, black dark memories came back to haunt me, to this day I have no idea why. 

For the very first time I opened up the dark part of my life to my close friend and business partner, who encouraged me to speak with my husband. I thought talking about these dark secrets would make them go away, but although I followed advice and sought help from other agencies, I went into a deep depression. Visits to the GP and various types of antidepressants did not help and I became very ill. 

I was referred to the psychiatrist and my nightmare got worse, with ECT treatment and a long time as a patient in the day hospital. However I made a recovery and retrained as a registered mental health nurse. I was luckily still under the care of an excellent care co-ordinator. 

As I was doing so well, my GP, who had been concerned at the high dose of medication I was on, decided that a reduced dose would probably maintain me. But within two weeks I started to become ill, recognising the symptoms I had previously had - emotional instability, bad tempers for no reason, excessive tiredness, horrible. I contacted my GP and community psychiatric nurse, and was advised to increase the meds again, but for whatever reason they just didn’t help.

And so I ended up leaving my job, and once again found myself on what seemed like a long unending journey to find an answer to my problems.

This period of illness/recovery, lasted nearly 17 years, I would also undergo further courses of ECT as that would help lift my mood, and different types of anti-depressants, which unfortunately didn’t render my mood stable, and so I would deteriorate yet again. 

I was admitted to hospital many times. Usually I would refuse to stay, but as I was considered a danger to myself, I would be placed on a section of the mental health act. My last admission to hospital was in 2012 when I had become very low in mood and felt completely dark inside. 

It was like fighting a battle that I was never going to win.

I had planned to end the battle by ending my life. People say you have so much to live for, but I just felt like a burden - that the pain inside was endless, and there was no hope of a life worth living. I was admitted on section 3 of the mental health act which was renewed at least twice and my hospital stay was approximately 2 1/2 years.

It was eventually decided to change my medication to a drug I had been on during my first recovery phase, so I didn’t expect it to work. But like a miracle, it started to have the desired effect, and I was finally well enough to be discharged.

Feeling better, being in recovery, and being finally discharged and home, is supposed to be a good place to be and I had wanted it for so long. But due to my long illness I had lost a lot of confidence, my husband and my daughters were always supportive. But I had few friends, those who had been close had moved on with their lives and I felt I know longer fitted in. On top of this I suffer from problems with my memory, that I attribute to the many courses of ECT I have had.

There I was at home, with my family feeling ok, but not knowing what to do with myself.

I was offered a support worker; I said ‘no’ at first, as I wanted to be away from all things ‘hospital’. But my family encouraged me to try and so Georgie came along. She was great, the first couple of times we met we talked, she got to know what I liked doing, how I had always wanted to turn the small upstairs room into a craft room. The third time we met she asked to look at the room, and started suggesting ways it could be done, then helped me to sort it out and get it done. She began to introduce me to other groups, with other people who had similar interests - baking, crafts etc - and I gained more and more confidence in myself.

As it grew I went back to church, and became involved in projects there. I set up a group we called Time to Talk; to help with this, I went on courses at MIND. I had also still had some involvement with the mental health unit, having been asked to be an inpatient representative on the acute care forum. I knew some of the staff who attended, especially Bernie Connolly, ward manager on Taylor ward at Tameside, who I have known for shall I say quite a few years.

I overheard Bernie at one of these meetings asking if they had had any luck getting a volunteer in to work with the recovery and inclusion team. I also heard the answer, which was ‘no’. I had always been under the impression that if you had been a patient on the ward, maybe because there might be patients you know personally, or perhaps nurses maybe finding working alongside you rather than looking after you a bit difficult, that you could not volunteer on that ward.

But at that point I had been well for years with no admissions, so I thought I would just muscle in and said, “I’d love to do that, if I was allowed”.

From that point, everything moved quite quickly. There were application forms, procedures, and training days. I have now been working with Sam on Taylor ward, who is my immediate manager, for about two years on and off, what with Covid 19 and its rules. He has always been very supportive. I can ask him if I need any help with anything, but I also feels he trusts me well enough now to tell him if I am having problems or not managing something or a situation very well. 

When I first started on the ward, I had training in order to be able to hold keys needed to gain access to certain areas on the ward, I also have to wear an alarm. The keys were very difficult for me to take at first. As these had obviously been used in the past to keep me out of areas, and to keep me safely ON the ward. It felt really odd to have a set of my own, I asked Roger (security) if he really was happy about me having them! 

Mostly, I love working on the ward, indeed I was a finalist for the Pennine care community award - placed in the last three. 

Alas I didn’t win, but I felt so proud to have just been nominated. I love what I am doing and it’s so rewarding when a patient has said they have no skills and no concentration to do anything, but then completes maybe a colouring or some sewing with you, and shows so much gratitude for your help. 

I know it has encouraged them sometimes when they have said, “But you have no idea how it feels to be me and be here” and my reply is one of “No, you’re right, I don’t know what it’s like to be you, but as for being here, I do know how it feels”.

This often opens what has seemed like a locked door, and they realise that I have had the experience of mental illness and its problems, and other people’s lack of understanding of how it is to suffer the pain of an illness that is mostly unseen by others. The comments such as “Pull yourself together”, or “Look at all the nice things you have, stop being selfish”.

This awareness can sometimes help them open up, feel a little more relaxed and maybe even try a craft, or just sit and have a chat, rather than just hide in their room.

Despite my initial worries regarding being accepted by staff - some of whom had known me previously as a patient - I really needn’t have had any. They have all accepted me, given me lots of support, and when they have time they have joined in.

I do find it difficult witnessing some scenes of abuse towards staff, mostly verbal, that sometimes cannot be helped because of the patient’s illness. I also need my own support sometimes that comes mostly from family, but I also have attended our Trust’s health and wellbeing college. I find the courses very helpful, even if I might have done the work before I find it a good way to keep myself on track, and remind me that my own mental and physical health is as important as everyone else’s.

I have also been part of the PALS lived experience group, and was able to attend a course on mental health first aid because of this. Had I not had that opportunity, I could not have done the course as I would not have been in a position to pay for it. This course has proved extremely helpful to me, being able to offer advice and where appropriate give help, during this pandemic.

During the last period of lockdown, although I was allowed to volunteer on the ward if I had wanted too, I had felt particularly under strain. I decided as well that as I had certain child care obligations, it would be safer to stay at home. Since I returned I have reduced my time to one half day. Hopefully once the Covid crisis is over, and I get myself organised again I will go back to two half days.

However I wasn’t totally idle during the last lockdown, as I volunteered to help at the Pennine Care trust headquarters, as part of the escort team, taking people for their vaccinations and escorting them out. It helped me keep a bit fitter since I no longer go to the gym. 

Finally, if anyone ever needs encouragement to make the step to becoming a volunteer, I would say give it a try. You don’t have to take the same role as myself. The volunteer staff could probably guide you into the right work for you. Give it a go, it gives me a sense of responsibility, with the advantage of taking a break when I need to.

And most importantly, it has given me back a sense of belonging and being needed that I thought I would never have again. 

I would like to say a massive thank you, to all those who were involved in my care during my illness. And an even bigger one for accepting me into my present role.