ABSTRACT
Towards the end of January I was having regular ECT sessions. As the weeks went by my sleep pattern did begin to improve slightly. Initially I was only managing two or three hours’ sleep spasmodically. I would lie awake just listening to the sounds of fellow patients sleeping. I would wave at staff as they did the occasional round, shining torches on us, but they just told me to go to sleep (I wish!). I was very, very lonely during those hours, often crying and rocking myself for comfort. This particular ward policy did not encourage patients to be up in the night as I had discovered. In reality, those hours were the worst of my whole stay. Many times I had to fight the urge to hurt myself but as the logical, balanced side of my brain began to work again these urges subsided. Usually by 4 a.m. I might have gone to sleep and then I would be woken up at 6.30 a.m. for a cup of tea, an hour and a half before breakfast time. Several times I just muttered ‘no thanks’ but was told off for being lazy! How I wanted to yell at them, ‘Don’t you realise how vital sleep is to me – I’ve hardly been able to sleep for months and you’re waking me up telling me I have to come and have a revolting cup of tea?’
