When mental health services provoke complaints

The Crisis Team that wouldn't admit me or hospitalise me when compulsively suicidal ...

The junior psychiatrist who asked me, in front of my mum, why I didn't want to kill myself or her ...

The support worker who pulled out a knife on me and pretended to stab me with it ...

The worker who confided she had bulimia and she wanted to be "more than client/professional"..

The support worker who said I would rot in Islamic Hell forever if I were to "commit suicide" ...

The NHS mental health team whose phone lines have been down for up to 3 days at a time ...

and perhaps ultimately my suicide attempt in hospital whilst supposedly on suicide watch ...

These are just some reasons I've had to complain lately!

The SHO: "Why don't you want to kill yourself/your mum?"

I think this is a good place to start.  Would you believe I never actually did complain formally about this intimidating and aggressive junior psychiatrist -- my NHS keyworker stayed behind after the incident and spoke to him and I understand he treated everybody else with schizophrenia the same.  As a journalist of some 15 years, I often keep contemporaneous records of conversations with mental health professionals if they cause me undue distress -- here is the full "transcript":

Dr: “Are you feeling suicidal today?”

IB: “No.”

Dr: “Have you ever attempted to take your own life?”

IB: “Yes”

Dr: “Did you plan it first or did you just do it?”

IB: “I planned it.”

Dr: “Do you have any plans to kill yourself at the moment?”

IB: “No.”

Dr: “Do you want to kill someone?”

IB: “Pardon?”

Dr: “Do you want to kill somebody?”

IB: “No.”

Dr: “Why not?”

IB: “Because I don’t”.

Dr: (turning to my mum) “Do you want to kill your mum?”

IB: “No.”

Dr: “Why not?”

IB: “Because I don’t?”

Dr: “But why not?”

IB: “Because I love her and it’s wrong.”

Dr: “You are saying all the right things.  We believe you now.  We are safe.”

The Crisis Team which wouldn't admit or offer treatment

Next, and this time, believe me this was so serious we complained offcially to the local NHS Trust and it resulted in considerable changes to working practices and even staff ...  I was in a desperately low state 3 years ago when I unexpectedly and without warning felt compulsions to kill myself.   I rang the NHS Crisis Team.  I got my mum to drive me up to the local psychiatric hospital with an overnight bag, packed, but they would not admit as I had, in their opinion "no intent".  I was sent back home after a cup of tea and a chat.

The next day, the Crisis and Home Treatment team paid me a visit.  I won't name the Trust or the staff, but the first words were as follows:

CPN: "Hi Ian. I haven't read your notes.  I don't believe in reading peoples notes.  Have you ever considered depot medication?" [injections of antipsychotics]

My family and I were just aghast at this -- I have been totally complaint with medication for the 8 years I've been diagnosed and have never missed more than one dose -- about maybe twice or three times in 8 years.   I was suicidal AND compliant with medication and my acute paranoia was the result of stress and not medication non-compliance.

The CPN offered to admit, but when he got back to base, he discovered the nearest bed was two counties away and I wouldn't get there until 5.30am.  This was 10pm.  Understandably, we decided to tough out that night and resume negotiations with the Crisis Team the next day.

Then the CPN came back round.  The whole Crisis Team then spent 5 and a half months refusing to admit me or offer me home treatment and my the care coordinator wouldn't help either.  It wasn't for 5 months until the consultant psychiatrist changed my medication to a brang new drug that the relentless compulsions to die stopped -- Samaritans guidelines prevent me (quite rightly) from telling you the methods I considered but I was particularly attracted to certain things and by the end of those five months it was almost more than I could manage not to kill myself.   I still get suicidal ideation now -- I've been going through it recently, on Valentine's Day, and since.  I got the same NHS Crisis Team person last week -- he wouldn't event document my call on the e-CPA computer system and told me to ring another area's Crisis Team if I needed to speak again that night.  I have made gentle noises to my NHS keyworker about it.  She has had words ... the outcome -- it's now been documented!

The knife incident, phone lines down, and Islamic Hell

At a local mental health day centre I was just making a cup of tea one afternoon late last year when a support worker pulled out a knife on me in the kitchen and pretended to stab me with it.  This is one of the most dangerous things any mental health worker could possibly do in a mental health setting.  Had I misread the situation and reacted differently -- defensively -- or been someone else, this could easily have been a tragedy in the making. 

I spoke in person to the local manager and made an informal complaint.  The outcome -- the support worker doesn't work on the same days as I attend the service any more.

Meanwhile, back at my local NHS Trust, the telephone lines have been down so often over the past year -- sometimes completely down -- other times, the Crisis Team or all of the Community Mental Health Team and even the switchboard.  I complained to Trust management several times by phone and email.  Indeed initially I just rang up other Trust numbers and said: "Please can you let IT know that all your phone lines are down?".  But the Trust denied it, repeatedly, and even wrote to me and emailed me denying it.  Only once I emailed my MP to say I'd been suicidal and unable to contact the local NHS mental health team for 3 days did they finally admit there was a problem -- and invite me to send in "evidence". Outcome -- this one is ongoing.  The problems with the phone lines persist.

And Islamic Hell.  I am a liberal Christian -- if you don't know what one is, try Googling "John Shelby Spong" -- an American Liberal Bishop I once interviewed for Sunday programme when I was working for BBC Radio.  I had a painful Roman Catholic upbringing, including experiences of abuse.  I believe in Hell, but I do not want to believe that anyone who attempts suicide will end up there.  So when a Muslim support worker preached his values to me and explained the full horror of Islamic Hell and damnation to me in an attempt to keep me safe ... what did I do?  I kept it to myself.  For about a year anyway.  At that point, I became traumatised at the thought previous suicide attempts would mean I would suffer for eternity.  It was only when a very kind young occupational therapist probed me about Catholic guilt that I realised I needed to complain.  I did so informally via my NHS keyworker.  Outcome -- words have been exchanged.

Finally, the suicide attempt in hospital "on suicide watch"

I don't want to go into detail about the worker who confided bulimia and that she wanted to be more than client and professional, as this still hurts, and I am still in the process of trying to return to the mental health service where she so severely broke boundaries, but I have to end this blog with the ultimate complaint ... and would you believe, to this day, despite my parents wanting to sue, I HAVE NOT COMPLAINED!!!

As a result of abrupt diazepam withdrawal 8 years ago (I'm still on a small dose) it became clear that the drug was masking suicidal compulsions and, as I have blogged previously, I spent a day preparing to die.  I lived "the perfect day" -- and it was -- before making final preparations.  At the last minute, a combination of love for my mum and ME/CFS made me reveal my plans to her ... and I agreed to go voluntarily/informally into hospital.

Sadly, the next day, whilst supposedly on suicide watch, I used something I had not had taken off me when admitted to attempt suicide.  It was a bit innovative, and there's no way I'm going to risk anyone vulnerable copying it, so don't even wonder about what I did.

Nobody noticed.  For two days.  Then a student nurse came in and said: "Ian, did YOU do that?".

I said: "No!" authoritatively, scared.

She asked again, even more gently: "Ian, are you SURE you didn't do that?"

This time I just couldn't hold it in any longer.  "YES, please help me."

The following day, when my mum visited the ward, I asked her how the staff had broken the news to her of my suicide attempt and how she was coping.

IT WAS THE FIRST SHE HAD HEARD ABOUT IT.

My mum broke bown in floods of tears.  She was unconsolable.  I was unconsolable.  And ever since, every time I have felt suicidal, this moment has kept me safe.  Yes, there have been times when I've wanted to die, even felt compelled to die, but to picture my mum and those floods of tears.  I will never forget.  And I know that if I were ever to succeed in taking my own life, she would never forget either.