Dr X

Yesterday was ‘World Mental Health Day’. Twenty-four hours designed to raise cognitive impairment awareness, educating the inflicted they are not alone, and most importantly urging sufferers not to agonise in silence.

Sure, with counselling resources stretched, attaining the professional help aimed at countering cankers of the mind may not be immediately forthcoming. However, we should celebrate the strides made in the last decade, or so, towards the public’s appreciation of, and available treatment for, mental health disorders.

Awareness augmented by days like ‘World Mental Health Day’; an educational conduit seeking to improve all sufferer’s lives. Aimed not just at assisting the afflicted, but also inform the less enlightened folks in the ‘Snap Out of It’ brigade. Figurative vultures who prey on a casualty’s doubts and uncertainties. Individual who wrongly label those impacted as weaklings; after all, they have no visible sign of injury or pain so there cannot be anything wrong with them… Oh, if only they knew!

I have a good friend who has suffered with recurring depressive disorder for decades, who for the purpose of this narrative I shall call Dr X.

Although that alias makes him sound like a Bond villain, to my knowledge, he has never tried to take over the world. My assumption recently confirmed by his 7ft tall metal toothed buddy!

Dr X is a man who, when his 7ft metal toothed buddy is otherwise engaged, gains great benefit to reaching out to me. The misguided fool!… Only kidding. Despite my favoured literally style being on the sunny side, I’d like to think I can pen seriously. Adding, my numerous voluntary activities for cancer charities display my humanity.

Anyhow, on the occasions he opens up, Dr X is candid about the battles playing out in his mind. The good doctor confessing how these cognitive Dunkirks leave a trail of metaphorical collateral damage in his neurological corridors.

Junctures when, even though his mind is shot, he thankfully surveys the battle wreckage with positivity. Knowing his depressive episodes come and go, riding the waves with knowledge he will gain liberty from the darkness. His positive mindset aided further by talking about the stark episodes, along with partaking in creative pastimes; hobbies which tend to hasten his path towards the light.

Old X reveals the person he makes his mental health revelations to doesn’t have to be a qualified counsellor or psychiatrist. Advocating, sometimes offloading to a good listener who is trustworthy and displays empathy is all it takes to ease him out of the episode.

To mitigate against his depressive episodes, and raise his overall mood, Dr X takes daily medication. It is amazing how consuming half a bottle of white wine and twelve Crunchie bars everyday perks him up. Sadly, he cannot get those meds on prescription so, in addition to his diabetes risk from a high sugar intake, his recuperation strategy can be quite expensive.

“What is the moral of this story, Gary?” I hear you cry.

Well, considering lessons learned from my interactions with Dr X, I guess I’m saying be aware you have no idea what people are enduring in their life from a mental health perspective. Consequently, I’m advocating the need for kindness, humanity, compassion, understanding and support… Oh, and if you ever lose your bottle opener, Dr X’s 7ft mate with metal teeth is great at removing bottle tops!

To clarify, Dr X is aware of the prose and has approved my use of it in this narrative. The good doctor giving me the green light to reveal his mental health details, with the proviso his real moniker isn’t revealed within the piece.

A caveat which leads me to assure him “Don’t worry Melvyn Treetrunk; 82 Madge Lane; Ainsley Scragg; West Yorkshire… Your secret is safe with me!”