My FND story:

My Story: Three Months in Hospital

Tw: Talk of self-harm, suicide and abduction.

On May 1st, 2025, my life changed in ways I could never have imagined. That morning started like any other, but it ended with me in an ambulance being rushed to Derriford Hospital in Plymouth after collapsing in the shower. I had experienced a seizure after a major self harm incident.

The paramedics wasted no time upon arrival, I was taken straight into resus, hooked up to multiple monitors, and kept there under close watch. I stayed overnight in that department, surrounded by beeping machines and a constant flow of staff. It was my first taste of just how unpredictable and overwhelming hospital life can be.

The next day, May 2nd, I was moved to the acute short-term stay ward. The staff there were kind, understanding, and sensitive to my mental health struggles. At this point, I realized this wasn’t going to be a short visit. Something bigger was happening, though I still had no idea what.

A few days later, I was transferred to a stroke ward. This was deeply confusing for me. At just 18 years old, I found myself surrounded by elderly patients, many of whom were confused. I didn’t feel like I belonged there, and I was still searching for answers as to why I was having seizures. While on this ward, I underwent an EEG which revealed that my seizures were non-epileptic. This led to my diagnosis of Functional Neurological Disorder (FND).

But not everything went smoothly. One day, I had a seizure in the bathroom and was left there for over an hour, alone and vulnerable, because the staff didn’t know what to do. That same night, I was moved again, this time to a neurological ward. I ended up staying there for two and a half months.

This ward was much better in terms of care for my seizures. The staff knew what they were doing. However, during this time my mental health declined drastically. I had a serious ligature incident that resulted in me being placed on a Section 5(2). For weeks, I was kept on 2-to-1 constant observation while I received daily therapy to try and stabilize my mental state.

I’ve battled depression and anxiety for years, but this period pushed me to the limit. Slowly, after a few weeks, I stepped down to 1-to-1 observation, except when I went to the bathroom, where I was allowed some privacy. When I was eventually taken off 1-to-1 and placed on a bay watch, I felt an enormous sense of pride. Mentally, I thought I was beginning to find my feet again.

But physically, things were deteriorating. I was having at least five seizures a day, along with severe dystonia and tic attacks. Then, about a week after being stepped down from 1-to-1, I suffered another serious self-harm and ligature attempt. I felt crushed by disappointment in myself. I was put back on 1-to-1, this time with security staff present.

Not long after, I experienced a severe FND flare-up where I lost all movement in my body. This was not the first time but it is always one of the most frightening experiences of my life. Thankfully, with the support of the physiotherapy team, I managed to walk again within a week. That recovery gave me a spark of hope.

Discussions began about my discharge. The hospital decided it wasn’t safe for me to return home and suggested transferring me to a rehabilitation unit for FND. They found me a place, but it turned out to be a unit that specialized in brain injuries, not FND. When I questioned this, the hospital bluntly told me, “We’re going to use you as a test for future FND patients.” I was horrified.

One weekend, while walking back from the bathroom with my 1-to-1 support, I collapsed and hit my head badly. Because I was on blood thinners, an emergency MET call was made, and I was placed in a neck brace for three days until my CT scan came back normal. This incident delayed my discharge, but eventually, on July 17th, 2025 at 12 p.m., I was transferred to the new unit.

I lasted just 13 hours there.

The unit was painted in dark grey walls, with no natural daylight. The furniture was dark, the doors were able to be locked from the outside with nothing from the inside, and the environment felt unsafe and prison-like. Within the first hour, I had a seizure, yet the staff just stood and watched. The lack of care pushed me over the edge, leading to another serious ligature attempt that required paramedics. By 1:30 a.m. on July 18th, I was back in Derriford Hospital via ambulance.

On arrival, the paramedics urged doctors to keep me on a trolley in case of another seizure. The doctors insisted I sit in a chair instead. Approximately an hour later, I had a seizure and collapsed to the floor. While I lay there, I heard a doctor say, “This is why I don’t generally take FND patients.” A nurse confirmed my seizure was real, but the damage to my trust was done.

I was admitted into the majors section of A&E, where I ended up stuck for four days during another flare-up that left me completely immobile. I wasn’t given personal care, food, or help with drinking. My disabled mum and dad had to step in. At one point, a nurse threatened to strap a cup to my bed, saying, “We don’t have time to keep coming in and offering you food and drink.” My dad was furious and demanded I be moved somewhere more appropriate.

I was transferred to a short-term ward for six days, where another mobility rehab unit was mentioned, but it was in Peterborough, six hours from home. I declined. The distance was too overwhelming for me mentally.

After another failed ward transfer and being repeatedly shuffled around, I ended up in a ward where I stayed for about a week. Meetings about my discharge resumed, and the hospital kept pushing for Peterborough. Physically, I knew it might help, but mentally, I knew it would break me therefore I was adamant I was not going. Staff on this ward made cruel comments during personal care, like, “You’re too heavy to roll,” and “You have a disgusting smell,” while spraying me with deodorant instead of actually washing me. It was degrading.

Then, on July 30th at 6:30 a.m., I was put in the back of a transport van without my consent and taken to Peterborough. I had no ability to resist because I still had no movement in my body. During the journey, I had a seizure that lasted over an hour, used up an entire oxygen canister, and when it ran out, staff were told by my old ward manager to “just keep driving, they’re behavioural seizures.” The seizures did not stop and the transport paramedics ignored this and called 999 for more oxygen as I was using so much.

When I arrived, I immediately broke down. The environment was unbearable, I was screaming and swearing and I begged the staff to let me go home. My parents hadn’t even been told until three hours after I left Derriford. My dad came straight to collect me, but I wasn’t allowed to leave unless I was discharged back to Derriford.

On the way back, I had another seizure at a service station in the back of my dads car, resulting in a 999 call and an overnight stay in Worcester Hospital before being discharged back to Derriford. Meanwhile, the police had been sent to my mum’s doorstep in Plymouth after Derriford called them, worried about me being discharged with the state my mental health was in.

Back at Derriford, I was placed in a cubicle in A&E, only to be told I would not be re-admitted. On August 1st, 2025, I was officially discharged, signed off by the Director of Nursing and the Chief Executive, and sent home with no physical movement in my body and no support for my parents, who were unable to provide the care I needed.

Being home was crushing. I was moved straight into bed, where I lay alone for days, broken both physically and mentally. Although since then, I’ve been making progress physically, however my mental health is still deeply scarred by the trauma of everything I endured over those three months.

I hope that my story can be shared enough for people to recognise that although FND is drawn from psychological trauma/emotions the physical symptoms are 100% real. I hope people understand that being called “fake” or “behavioural” can be so degrading that we give up asking for help. This needs to be changed and more stories need to be heard. Thank you.

Want to join me in making a difference? I’m raising money to benefit FND Hope -UK, and any donation will help make an impact. Thanks in advance for your contribution to this cause that means so much to me.

More information about FND Hope -UK: We promote awareness of FND through education and raising public understanding in England and Wales. We are dedicated to supporting those individuals affected with functional symptoms by advancing research into practical applications for the prevention, treatment and recovery of FND.

We are uniting patients and their families from the UK with leading researchers and advocates to pioneer a new standard of care for FND throughout the world.