"A void in my soul"-( NHS Complaints - Part 2 ).

My friend and fellow blogger Angus Dei, wrote those words yesterday. I have no monopoly on eloquence, or indeed anguish, but it sums up the effect that the loss of hope has on all that tread the route of the Complainant. Far more succinctly, than any that I have penned. Far more for he, and many others that I call friends, that stand with me in the pursuit of justice and candour, for they have lost loved one's. I have not, although it seemed a close call.

I once said, that this endeavour can be likened to wading through a swamp, with a dagger thrust in your heart, but, yes, there is a void in mine and all those hearts, that battle with a system so designed to make you fail, that it can and often does break the spirit. It is really not the system even, but those that operate it and the framework in which it sits. The Orwellian structure that the NHS has become lends itself to a system of 'them and us', with all the power and resources vested in the state run behemoth which the Complainant must battle. For you to win is virtually impossible; you are very much 'David' to their 'Goliath'.

We none of us, I believe want revenge, but we do want redress. By denying this need by the many constructs they place in our path to any sort of justice, they engender that primitive emotion within us, often to our detriment. We become obsessed, paranoid even to wreak some damage against this implacable monster that robbed us of our well-being, confidence, complacency and even sanity. We 'rage against the machine' often in self destructive and even dangerous ways. Many are wracked with guilt; the guilt of the survivor. We are reduced to automata, thinking of nothing but the events of our downfall. We shun friends and family, make new enemies, often of our friends and even, of the loved one's that are left.

If you are lucky, as was I, before you completely self destruct in a welter of pain and misery, impotent rage and all the damage these inflinct; something or someone brings you to a realisation that it is not your fault. You are neither bad nor mad, just damaged more than you would ever believe possible.  I came close to losing the very thing that made my life bearable, the love of the person for whom I was battling this implacable beast. I sat in tears for long periods, couldn't get my breath, heart pounding, reaching for that cigarette, the bottle of booze.

Taking care of her became obsessive, seeking every way possible to help, to heal, to make me hurt for the pain she was suffering. I needed to pay for the damage to her, for which I imagined I was responsible. I had let them harm her; I could have stopped this, it was all my fault. I am not cured of this, nor will I ever be completely. But victory in the battle with Authority would have helped to heal some of the wounds. Would have assuaged more of the guilt than it has so far. But it has not been so. We are still in the limbo the system leaves you with; waiting for the next episode in the saga of the Complaint.