‘The unit appeared as a prison’: The way my daughter was broken by a health service designed to support her
I recall distinctly the instant it became clear that the psychiatric unit where my adolescent child was being treated felt like scarcely better than a prison.
Our Ruth had placed her trust in the medical establishment. We had followed suit. That faith collapsed when she was moved from our community hospital to the psychiatric intensive care unit at Huntercombe.
When we departed, she walked peacefully down to the hospital transport with me and the child therapist – who embraced her warmly and said goodbye.
The moment the transport entrance gave access at the new location, the austere structure appeared formidable. We were greeted by staff who led us up a staircase through air-locked portals, with each door shutting securely behind us as the attendant waited for secure engagement before accessing the following.
The unit was completely enclosed and completely dark, with my eyes rapidly tiring from the blinding overhead lights. We were taken to a glass-enclosed space that staff nicknamed the “goldfish bowl”.
The Heartbreaking Separation
Ruth’s hand slipped into mine, head down as they told me it was time for me to go. “But I haven’t settled her into her room or met any of the staff yet,” was met with: “Parents aren’t allowed on the ward.”
After repeating my request, they allowed me a momentary visit to her room, but required I exit promptly afterward, citing institutional rules.
To this day, I wake up during the dark hours with my heart racing anxiously while remembering that journey through the communal zone to Ruth’s assigned space. The space contained only a individual cot and synthetic table, with sealed windows.
Their voices grew distant as they described how a different attendants would monitor Ruth every hour. I put her bag on the floor. Ruth remained sitting on the bed, visibly frightened, before I was ushered from the room.
In an instant, I was sealed away from the secured portals, holding a form that limited my access with my daughter to just one hour, two times per week.
What have I allowed to happen?
A Devastating Outcome
{Our daughter, our girl, passed away on 14 February 2022 at evening on the paediatric intensive care unit at the medical facility in the location. She was taken immediately from the mental health facility, an NHS commissioned but privately run youth psychiatric facility, where she had been allowed to harm herself lethally previously.|Our Ruth passed away on Valentine’s Day 2022 at evening in the {pediatric intensive care unit|
