it makes a refreshing change to read serious contributions on a topic which remains firmly taboo for many people, irrespective of their occupation.
As somebody who has suffered from depression, in varying levels, most of my adult life, there is NO stigma attached to admitting as much, at least as far as I'm concerned. The effects can be very debilitating and the adverse effects both in person, and on your friends / family should never be understated.
My first encounter came in the RAF in the late 70's, in Germany. I knew something was wrong and duly approached the chain of command in an attempt to resolve it. One memorable "interview" summates matters.
It was conducted with a J. Engo. feet on desk, saying he had no interest in my personal problems so you sort it out.
And some wonder why I have nothing but contempt for the "managerial capabilities " of the Eng / Admin Branches, even more so when a reprise as it were, albeit in different circumstances, has taken place in more recent times. At some point this will come into the public domain and it won't make pretty reading.
I went to see a M.O, at Bruggen, who listened ( which was a start ) and suggested a visit to Wegberg may be "useful "....thus I ended up having a couple of days there. The psychiatrist was, frankly, pretty damned good.
Once the causal factors had been identified, I was rapidly sent on my way , given about 10 days leave, and advised matters would be resolved.
They were...... and after returning to Bruggen, my circumstances changed, quite significantly, thanks entirely to the intervention of the medics. Whether those responsible for my circumstances suffered any detrimental effects on their careers, I will never know. Hopefully, they did.
The lighter side.
Only the RAF could decide it would be a good idea to admit me, before 17.00, on a Sunday, in Germany. Some on here will recognise the initials and personalities of what followed.
Enter "Phoenix Gliding Club" and one K.K. He decided the best way ( alcohol was, I have to admit, involved in the planning stages) to get me there was....in the Motor Falke and I am probably the only patient to arrive at Wegberg in this manner.
Off we went therefore, had a couple of field landing practices en-route and I duly plonked it onto, or into, the airfield. It was at reception that matters became "more entertaining"....cough !....after the form filling bit, was asked how I had arrived Car ? Service transport ? Friends?....erm, nope, came by glider actually. The medics face, bless him and given my destination, was, as they say, a sight to behold.
Arrive on the ward and the consultation takes place on Monday. Tuesday night, have some visitors from the GC, thoughtfully bringing some liquid therapy.
In my room is an alarm bell. One G.F. wonders out loud, what happens when.....the sound of running feet transpires, only to be greeted by a broad Scottish accent dryly commenting as to the fact he was a "wee bit slow there laddie".....and the late Pete Rock ( R.I.P ) ...shaking hands with the plants and socially introducing himself as it were.
One "less than impressed "medic retires threatening dire consequences for my visitors.
Later that evening.....I knew a nurse at Wegberg at the time, quite well so to speak, and she decided it would be a good idea to offer some decidedly non prescriptive therapy which, I have to say, worked very well. As we know, you can't disobey a direct order from your superior officer.
I left on the Wednesday morning.
Back to the serious side, and I understand the potential ramifications for service personnel, but, if you do find yourself suffering from a condition that affects 1:4 of the population,
please, forget any of the "stiff upper lip / man up / macho" garbage.... and seek professional help.