‘The ward appeared as a prison’: The way my child was devastated by a medical system designed to help her
I recollect distinctly the instant it dawned on me that the mental health ward where my teenage daughter was being cared for felt like scarcely better than a secure facility.
Ruth had been deeply trusting. So had we. That all changed the day she was transferred from our community hospital to the specialized facility at Huntercombe hospital in Berkshire.
When we said goodbye, she walked calmly down to the hospital transport with me and the child therapist – who embraced her warmly and waved goodbye.
The moment the transport entrance gave access at the destination facility, the grim building appeared formidable. We were received by staff who guided us up a staircase through air-locked portals, with each door locking completely behind us as the key holder waited for secure engagement before accessing the following.
We entered a completely sealed space that was devoid of daylight, with my eyes immediately straining from the bright clinical illumination. They guided us to a monitoring area that was completely glassed – what staff referred to as the “goldfish bowl”.
The Painful Separation
I felt her hand hold my hand as they announced my leaving was mandatory. My question about not settling her in was responded to by the regulation that “family cannot remain the unit.”
When I asked again, they eventually permitted a quick viewing at her room but stressed that I must depart right away after, as per facility policy.
I still awaken suddenly, heart beating fast as I relive those steps through the communal area, to Ruth’s allocated room. A single bed, a plastic side table. Windows that were sealed shut.
The voices became far away as they explained there would be a different staff member every hour through the day and night who would “observe Ruth”. I placed her bag on the floor. Ruth sat, terrified, on the bed and then I was led away.
Abruptly, I was confined beyond the locked entrances, clutching a paper that stated I could see my daughter for just sixty minutes, only on two occasions each week.
What have I let them do?
A Tragic Loss
{Our daughter, our child, died on Valentine’s Day 2022 at 6:29 PM on the children’s ICU at the medical facility in the location. She was transferred urgently from the treatment center, an government-contracted but for-profit child and adolescent mental health unit, where she had been allowed to harm herself lethally two days earlier.|Our beloved daughter passed away on February 14, 2022 at 18:29 in the {pediatric intensive care unit|
