Stigma Stinks

One would expect, even assume that those in the healthcare professions would hold back on their prejudice towards those of us with a BPD diagnosis.  There are clear guidelines for staff on care of people with a BPD diagnosis and for those who self-harm.  

To keep balance, I will say now, that the majority of people I have encountered in healthcare settings have been perfectly fine with me (even when a little flummoxed at my response to certain situations).  However, when responses are negative it’s so hurtful and undermining of any self- respect we have mustered up in the first place.

I have recently come home from a short stay in hospital.  I had an operation for a non-mental health related condition.  Most of the Dr’s and nursing staff gave me the same treatment they gave everyone else.  Even my consultant, who was actually one of those who I have completely flummoxed by disassociating while in an appointment with him, causing him to doubt my mental capacity to understand and make choices re. my treatment plan without additional support.  This was probably my fault because (for fear of stigma) I had told him about my depression diagnosis but not BPD when he took my medical history.

Anyway, back to the point.  All the staff who cared for me during my hospital stay must’ve noticed the scars and bruising to my forearm, which looked quite bad as I’d had a tricky couple of weeks.  I had thought the bruises would’ve gone by the time I went into hospital – but they weren’t!

Of all those staff, only 5 showed any indication that they had noticed.   

One, with a gentle and caring touch as he checked my pulse, another two with a lingering of stare and then continuing as normal – no change in attitude.  Then a theatre nurse who commented 

“Those are nasty bruises. How did you get them?” To which I gave my standard response of,

“Just a bit of stress relief!”  She seemed a little embarrassed at that and I never saw her again because shortly afterwards I was unconscious till back on the ward.

The final one was the bad one.  A Bank nurse came on duty as the team were short staffed that day.  When she took my blood pressure she asked,

“What happened there?”  I gave the same response as before to which she said “Ah!”  From then on she treated me as if I was scum.  She glared at me if we had eye contact, she snapped at me when I asked if my observations were OK as I was hoping to go home later that day.  Her attitude towards me had completely changed while she was still friendly and cheerful with everyone else.

This triggered off in me a host of other unhelpful emotions and thoughts.  For example,  I was soon convinced that all the staff hated me and were trying to send me home to get rid of me, not because I was ready (even though I wanted to come home!)  My anxiety levels were going through the roof and this was reflected in my blood pressure and heart rate.  I became irrationally tearful and over compensated by getting louder and less appropriate with my humour around the other patients.  I had to battle with the urge to self-harm even more than normal.   I had a resurgence of suicidal thoughts.  My reaction culminated with me packing my bag and trying to sneak off the ward behind another patient who was leaving.  This got me shouted at by another nurse and bundled back to sit by my bed, (I’d had abdominal surgery and carrying and lifting are big no-nos for a few weeks).  This left me in such a state that when Joe finally arrived to pick me up I was a weeping wreck as soon as I was out of sight of the ward staff.

The point of today’s somewhat rambling blog is this.  Attaching stigma to anyone (for any reason) is a crap thing to do.  It brings no benefit to anyone.  It is based on ignorance of a bigger picture and not balanced facts (i.e. even if you have seen your negative beliefs about Borderliners in action, and experienced it first hand, it does not mean all Borderliners are the same or that those who suffer with it the most, can’t be treated and recover).  Stigma exists only to perpetuate a sense of powerlessness to change in the stigmatised individual or group, and to make those who do the stigmatising, falsely feel better about themselves.   Stigma stinks!

Some would say I should put in a formal complaint about the bank nurse but I know there is no point.  First, my diagnosis would work against me.  Those of us with BPD are assumed to be over sensitive, awkward and manipulative and the nurse would say that I was being typically Borderline and paranoid.  Second.  It would just be my word against hers.  No-one else will’ve noticed because no-one else was present in our conversations and the glares and snide looks were subtle.  Third, though what she said and her change of attitude were real, my fears, intrusive thoughts and feelings related to that grew as the day went on, and with reflection, the situation may have been a little exaggerated in my mind by the end of the day.  So – not a case for a formal complaint, but a case study on how those in caring professions need to be professional and not allow their personal prejudices and feelings to affect the way they do their job.  End of sermon!