Post by Mike on Apr 15, 2012 0:40:05 GMT
CASE NOTES:
Recorded by [CONFIDENTIAL], Assistant Psychologist (Trainee).
Patient:
Nicholas Deborough, a.k.a. “Nicky”/"Debbie"/"Debris"
Unemployed, of Grangetown, Teesside
NHS number: [CONFIDENTIAL]
Nicholas Deborough, (33), referred to hereafter as "the patient", received treatment in the period [CONFIDENTIAL] at St. Luke’s Hospital, Middlesbrough, as a result of the diagnosis of a Schizophrenic episode of a Paranoid type (incorporating Delusions of Grandeur and Auditory Hallucinations). At this stage, it remains possible that the patient in fact experienced an incidence of Schizophreniform Disorder; the diagnosis may be reviewed pending receipt of long-term data.
The patient's condition was reported to the relevant Approved Mental Health Professional (AMHP) by their nearest relative on the date [CONFIDENTIAL]. Following an emergency evaluation by the AMHP and subject to the consent of their nearest relative, [CONFIDENTIAL], (39), the patient was hospitalised under Section 3 of the Mental Health Act 2007. A course of antipsychotics was initiated immediately upon arrival at St. Luke’s Hospital. Following observations during the initial 72-hour period of involuntary commitment allowable under said Act, the AMHP recommended that the patient be detained for a minimum of 28 days while treatment continued as per the relevant clauses.
Despite struggling to respond to medication and cognitive-behavioural therapy (CBT) at first, during this period the patient's outward condition improved considerably. Subject to a further evaluation after 28 days, it was deemed appropriate for the patient to re-enter the community subject to a Supervised Community Treatment Order (SCTO), dated [CONFIDENTIAL].
Following their return home, the patient expressed considerable distress and anxiety due to the reintegration process, as a result of which their AMHP prescribed an acute course of antidepressants alongside the patient’s ongoing antipsychotic medication. The AMHP additionally recommended a number of local community/support groups to assist the patient in reducing feelings of social isolation. The patient will continue to attend regular sessions with the AMHP for the foreseeable future.
"DEBRIS"
1. REVELATIONS
"And then I heard the voice of God, and I was changed." And the world became grey and devoid of life against the splendour of the illuminating light. “He said, ‘Listen to my words: When there is a prophet among you, I, the LORD, reveal myself to them in visions, I speak to them in dreams."
And the Voice spoke, and never ceased, revelation overflowing; the river of consciousness that burst its banks and swept aside the feeble ephemera of the Norm. “The prophecy of one who hears the words of God, who sees a vision from the Almighty, who falls prostrate, and whose eyes are opened.”
The blazing epiphany of purpose aflame on the Sinai of the mind's third eye; the innumerable names of God to be innumerably etched in brick, and plaster, wood, and flesh. The ecstasies enshrined in Idumaea, brought closer with each fevered invocation.
“Where there is no revelation, people cast off restraint; but blessed is the one who heeds wisdom’s instruction.”
The sleepless prophet, bloody-fingered and gaunt, heeds not the encircling gloom.
"For the night is dark, and they are far from home; lead Thou them on!"
2. THE JUDAS UNVEILED
And whence come you, emissaries of Rome? Is this to be the new Gethsemane? You crowd the splintered doorway, trampling the unanswered mail, faces pale and impervious to faith. Grim you are in the solemnity of your calling, with the restraints of thorns and a proclamation of Law; the righteous spits upon such valedictions. And thus invoked, the Voice sayeth unto thee:
Was the Via Dolorosa thus strewn with litter and broken glass? The Gehenna of the wretched, a place not of skulls but burnt-out cars? And who would name this to be so?
"He who eats my bread lifted up his heel against me."
With a clatter of bottles and a reproachful curse, the apophasis of betrayal reveals the downtrodden brother; fatigue-ringed eyes peering round the doorframe, bleary with the iniquities of drink. A betrayer's kiss from cyanosis lips and the acrid taste of cigarettes.No silver pieces to weigh against the guilt for the unmasked Iscariot mumbling empty platitudes, shame burning the broken veins of his face, and recoiling from the gaze of his redeemer.
"But woe to that man through whom the Son of Man is betrayed!"
And to those who gathered there sayeth He: "You do not have in mind the things of God, but the things of men." And a great voice cried "Let us go hence!"- and darkness came thereafter…
3. JUDICIUM DIVINUM
Cast down by the priests in white who speak in tongues of a third commandment unknown to the book of Truths; and the blood that is innocent of the fire shalt be impassioned like the Christ in this mockery of Gabbatha, where the indecency of Reason greets the Name with derision. The Voice rings out in the silence of the Soul: "He will fulfil the desire of them that fear him."
Left to moulder in this Gaol, restrained and reviled; they that imbibe the poisons of impiety, the mingled wine and gall sheathed in another form, and with indomitable faith prevail, are absolute and wreathed in the blessings of the just. In repudiation of the debasing mass who proclaimed the impotence of Pilate, and now bequeath the contempt of the faceless herd upon the servants of the Lord.
"He will make your righteous reward shine like the dawn, your vindication like the noonday sun."
4. SPEAKING IN TONGUES
[Instrumental]
5. METAMORPHOSIS
In this tower of Babble; forty days and nights condemned to a wilderness of the mind, recoiling from the absence of the Voice. There is no pain; He is receding. Scoured and seared of ecstatic faith, dirtied inside by cirrhosising purgatives and baptised with the caked grey matter of banality. In the uneasy peace preceding wakefulness, the inescapable names of God - inchoate formations in the pre-dawn frost, daubed in vain by the withheld world beyond - glimmer reproachfully on the windowpane. Gazing with discouraged resignation at collapsing parapets of iron-dark sky; torn and billowed by ice-sheathed tongues of wind, to crumple its swollen hide upon the claws of charcoal-blackened trees that like silhouettes of staggering broken figures paw inanely at the leeched horizon. A fever-dreamed chaos of coagulating shadow disgorging their polymorphous forms like its rejected young, too far gone in cold to scorn the indifferent sky.
“They did not love their lives so much as to shrink from death.”
The final pale smear of voyeuristic sun peers suspiciously through shreds of cloud, tattered by the beginnings of new snow, like peeling flakes of universal viscera - the begrimed albino underbelly of retreating night.
“Surely they intend to topple me from my lofty place; they take delight in lies; with their mouths they bless, but in their hearts they curse.”
The every-day-the-same is a memory to repress, amputating time, sliver by precious sliver. Each second is a shard of disintegrating meaning, stifled by the smothering benumbed.
“If only they were wise and would understand this, and discern what their end will be.”
Agents of absence encroaching with each tick-tick-tick; Longinus' spear held delicately between their fingers, eyes blank with the stupor of the Norm, to dispassionately break the morn beyond repair.
“I rise before dawn and cry for help; I have put my hope in your word.”
6. DESIRE OF THE AFFLICTED
To the grey priests of Absentia; such is the beauty of the judgement, as briefly dazzling as the puncture-wounds of sun. Reopening lesions in a morning sky as blanched and inhospitable as a linoleum floor. A theatre to parade this phenocopy of redemption; this barely -living sculpture of shimmering smoke and mirror, clagged with the clinging caliginous strands of einheitspsychose.
It quivers with the undertow of dread concealed.
A mugging parody of expiated sane-shapes; a coracle of lies launched in desperation to float the judged upon the sea of stagnant certainties.
The petitioner to the Sanhedrin - the keepers of the Gates - begs for the stigmata of mercy. The mark of the leper for the misshapen waxen doll whose face is now their fingerprint, its mashed blank vacancy staring eyelessly at naught, dolled up like Everyman to take another bow and suspend disbelief for another day. To receive its disfigurement with gratitude and fall between the cracks in peace.
7. MARK OF THE LEPER
[Instrumental]
8. BEING-AS-DEBRIS
Every day the same, in the wastelands of the shrivel-souled. Time was broken and a new world forged, all chilly grey blurs and smudges that murmur a glossolalian flux. A cancerous mantric dirge, the residue of purgatory’s myriad voices, corroding meaning from the anguished clamour of life.
“De profundis clamavi ad te, Domine; exaudi vocem meam!”
In its un-emotive mutters, signifying nothing - “But answer came there none.”
For there are strange hells within the minds delusion carved.
Every night the same; a single burn-scarred bulb dangles flickering overhead, a bauble of lifeless luminescence depending from the ceiling cracks like a spider from its web. Like a scarecrow’s head raised impotent against the shadows that swarm all hungered in the corners of the room.
The enfeebled pulse of the lamps outside the window is like a palsied hand gesturing through the dirty pane, signing relentlessly the futility of outside.
“Si iniquatates observaveris, Domine, Domine, quis sustinebit?”
Cradling the homunculus of stigma like an unwanted child; a pale distended thing that only clings and shivers. And psychic wounds that ceaselessly change shape.
Static shivers in the stale still air, a distressed asthmatic murmur; the screen spills a welter of washed out ghosts, like a fluttering eyelid peeling to reveal a cataract of corrupted, deluding light that ruptures the confining dark with spectres that never were, its dissociated buzz a nest of dying insects.
The wrong remains the same; the world is cruel that names this Panacea and withholds its wonders, the elusive slivers of that forbidden bliss. And life? A Gordian knot of numbed deceptions before a flaming sword that spurns its right to strike.
“He will make your righteous reward shine like the dawn, your vindication like the noonday sun”, they said.
But the sun turned grey and cold as dust.
And He is silent.
Recorded by [CONFIDENTIAL], Assistant Psychologist (Trainee).
Patient:
Nicholas Deborough, a.k.a. “Nicky”/"Debbie"/"Debris"
Unemployed, of Grangetown, Teesside
NHS number: [CONFIDENTIAL]
Nicholas Deborough, (33), referred to hereafter as "the patient", received treatment in the period [CONFIDENTIAL] at St. Luke’s Hospital, Middlesbrough, as a result of the diagnosis of a Schizophrenic episode of a Paranoid type (incorporating Delusions of Grandeur and Auditory Hallucinations). At this stage, it remains possible that the patient in fact experienced an incidence of Schizophreniform Disorder; the diagnosis may be reviewed pending receipt of long-term data.
The patient's condition was reported to the relevant Approved Mental Health Professional (AMHP) by their nearest relative on the date [CONFIDENTIAL]. Following an emergency evaluation by the AMHP and subject to the consent of their nearest relative, [CONFIDENTIAL], (39), the patient was hospitalised under Section 3 of the Mental Health Act 2007. A course of antipsychotics was initiated immediately upon arrival at St. Luke’s Hospital. Following observations during the initial 72-hour period of involuntary commitment allowable under said Act, the AMHP recommended that the patient be detained for a minimum of 28 days while treatment continued as per the relevant clauses.
Despite struggling to respond to medication and cognitive-behavioural therapy (CBT) at first, during this period the patient's outward condition improved considerably. Subject to a further evaluation after 28 days, it was deemed appropriate for the patient to re-enter the community subject to a Supervised Community Treatment Order (SCTO), dated [CONFIDENTIAL].
Following their return home, the patient expressed considerable distress and anxiety due to the reintegration process, as a result of which their AMHP prescribed an acute course of antidepressants alongside the patient’s ongoing antipsychotic medication. The AMHP additionally recommended a number of local community/support groups to assist the patient in reducing feelings of social isolation. The patient will continue to attend regular sessions with the AMHP for the foreseeable future.
"DEBRIS"
1. REVELATIONS
"And then I heard the voice of God, and I was changed." And the world became grey and devoid of life against the splendour of the illuminating light. “He said, ‘Listen to my words: When there is a prophet among you, I, the LORD, reveal myself to them in visions, I speak to them in dreams."
And the Voice spoke, and never ceased, revelation overflowing; the river of consciousness that burst its banks and swept aside the feeble ephemera of the Norm. “The prophecy of one who hears the words of God, who sees a vision from the Almighty, who falls prostrate, and whose eyes are opened.”
The blazing epiphany of purpose aflame on the Sinai of the mind's third eye; the innumerable names of God to be innumerably etched in brick, and plaster, wood, and flesh. The ecstasies enshrined in Idumaea, brought closer with each fevered invocation.
“Where there is no revelation, people cast off restraint; but blessed is the one who heeds wisdom’s instruction.”
The sleepless prophet, bloody-fingered and gaunt, heeds not the encircling gloom.
"For the night is dark, and they are far from home; lead Thou them on!"
2. THE JUDAS UNVEILED
And whence come you, emissaries of Rome? Is this to be the new Gethsemane? You crowd the splintered doorway, trampling the unanswered mail, faces pale and impervious to faith. Grim you are in the solemnity of your calling, with the restraints of thorns and a proclamation of Law; the righteous spits upon such valedictions. And thus invoked, the Voice sayeth unto thee:
Was the Via Dolorosa thus strewn with litter and broken glass? The Gehenna of the wretched, a place not of skulls but burnt-out cars? And who would name this to be so?
"He who eats my bread lifted up his heel against me."
With a clatter of bottles and a reproachful curse, the apophasis of betrayal reveals the downtrodden brother; fatigue-ringed eyes peering round the doorframe, bleary with the iniquities of drink. A betrayer's kiss from cyanosis lips and the acrid taste of cigarettes.No silver pieces to weigh against the guilt for the unmasked Iscariot mumbling empty platitudes, shame burning the broken veins of his face, and recoiling from the gaze of his redeemer.
"But woe to that man through whom the Son of Man is betrayed!"
And to those who gathered there sayeth He: "You do not have in mind the things of God, but the things of men." And a great voice cried "Let us go hence!"- and darkness came thereafter…
3. JUDICIUM DIVINUM
Cast down by the priests in white who speak in tongues of a third commandment unknown to the book of Truths; and the blood that is innocent of the fire shalt be impassioned like the Christ in this mockery of Gabbatha, where the indecency of Reason greets the Name with derision. The Voice rings out in the silence of the Soul: "He will fulfil the desire of them that fear him."
Left to moulder in this Gaol, restrained and reviled; they that imbibe the poisons of impiety, the mingled wine and gall sheathed in another form, and with indomitable faith prevail, are absolute and wreathed in the blessings of the just. In repudiation of the debasing mass who proclaimed the impotence of Pilate, and now bequeath the contempt of the faceless herd upon the servants of the Lord.
"He will make your righteous reward shine like the dawn, your vindication like the noonday sun."
4. SPEAKING IN TONGUES
[Instrumental]
5. METAMORPHOSIS
In this tower of Babble; forty days and nights condemned to a wilderness of the mind, recoiling from the absence of the Voice. There is no pain; He is receding. Scoured and seared of ecstatic faith, dirtied inside by cirrhosising purgatives and baptised with the caked grey matter of banality. In the uneasy peace preceding wakefulness, the inescapable names of God - inchoate formations in the pre-dawn frost, daubed in vain by the withheld world beyond - glimmer reproachfully on the windowpane. Gazing with discouraged resignation at collapsing parapets of iron-dark sky; torn and billowed by ice-sheathed tongues of wind, to crumple its swollen hide upon the claws of charcoal-blackened trees that like silhouettes of staggering broken figures paw inanely at the leeched horizon. A fever-dreamed chaos of coagulating shadow disgorging their polymorphous forms like its rejected young, too far gone in cold to scorn the indifferent sky.
“They did not love their lives so much as to shrink from death.”
The final pale smear of voyeuristic sun peers suspiciously through shreds of cloud, tattered by the beginnings of new snow, like peeling flakes of universal viscera - the begrimed albino underbelly of retreating night.
“Surely they intend to topple me from my lofty place; they take delight in lies; with their mouths they bless, but in their hearts they curse.”
The every-day-the-same is a memory to repress, amputating time, sliver by precious sliver. Each second is a shard of disintegrating meaning, stifled by the smothering benumbed.
“If only they were wise and would understand this, and discern what their end will be.”
Agents of absence encroaching with each tick-tick-tick; Longinus' spear held delicately between their fingers, eyes blank with the stupor of the Norm, to dispassionately break the morn beyond repair.
“I rise before dawn and cry for help; I have put my hope in your word.”
6. DESIRE OF THE AFFLICTED
To the grey priests of Absentia; such is the beauty of the judgement, as briefly dazzling as the puncture-wounds of sun. Reopening lesions in a morning sky as blanched and inhospitable as a linoleum floor. A theatre to parade this phenocopy of redemption; this barely -living sculpture of shimmering smoke and mirror, clagged with the clinging caliginous strands of einheitspsychose.
It quivers with the undertow of dread concealed.
A mugging parody of expiated sane-shapes; a coracle of lies launched in desperation to float the judged upon the sea of stagnant certainties.
The petitioner to the Sanhedrin - the keepers of the Gates - begs for the stigmata of mercy. The mark of the leper for the misshapen waxen doll whose face is now their fingerprint, its mashed blank vacancy staring eyelessly at naught, dolled up like Everyman to take another bow and suspend disbelief for another day. To receive its disfigurement with gratitude and fall between the cracks in peace.
7. MARK OF THE LEPER
[Instrumental]
8. BEING-AS-DEBRIS
Every day the same, in the wastelands of the shrivel-souled. Time was broken and a new world forged, all chilly grey blurs and smudges that murmur a glossolalian flux. A cancerous mantric dirge, the residue of purgatory’s myriad voices, corroding meaning from the anguished clamour of life.
“De profundis clamavi ad te, Domine; exaudi vocem meam!”
In its un-emotive mutters, signifying nothing - “But answer came there none.”
For there are strange hells within the minds delusion carved.
Every night the same; a single burn-scarred bulb dangles flickering overhead, a bauble of lifeless luminescence depending from the ceiling cracks like a spider from its web. Like a scarecrow’s head raised impotent against the shadows that swarm all hungered in the corners of the room.
The enfeebled pulse of the lamps outside the window is like a palsied hand gesturing through the dirty pane, signing relentlessly the futility of outside.
“Si iniquatates observaveris, Domine, Domine, quis sustinebit?”
Cradling the homunculus of stigma like an unwanted child; a pale distended thing that only clings and shivers. And psychic wounds that ceaselessly change shape.
Static shivers in the stale still air, a distressed asthmatic murmur; the screen spills a welter of washed out ghosts, like a fluttering eyelid peeling to reveal a cataract of corrupted, deluding light that ruptures the confining dark with spectres that never were, its dissociated buzz a nest of dying insects.
The wrong remains the same; the world is cruel that names this Panacea and withholds its wonders, the elusive slivers of that forbidden bliss. And life? A Gordian knot of numbed deceptions before a flaming sword that spurns its right to strike.
“He will make your righteous reward shine like the dawn, your vindication like the noonday sun”, they said.
But the sun turned grey and cold as dust.
And He is silent.
