Abuse In The Mental Health Ward
It's all over the news at the moment about the psychological abuse that has been happening at Whorlton Hall Hospital in County Durham, UK. If you haven't heard, I'll fill you in. The private hospital is an inpatient facility for those with learning disabilities and autism, and is owned by Cygnet (a very established independent provider of inpatient mental health services in the UK). In 2018, journalist Olivia Davies went undercover as a care worker in the hospital for two months, uncovering footage of staff abusing patients via provoking them psychologically, using dangerous restraints for up to 32 minutes at a time for no reason, and using punishment as a way of "calming down" distressed patients. The footage also shows staff members talking explicitly in front of distressed patients, mocking patients in a disgusting manner between themselves and being told my a manager to lie on written reports about correctly using the maybo restraint technique. The documentary is called Panorama and is currently on BBC iPlayer, but be warned- it's difficult to watch. Thankfully, the hospital has been shut down and all patients have been moved to facilities with (hopefully) better care and closer to their families.
So, with this being present in the news right now, I wanted to speak out about my experience of negligence in a mental health hospital. Up until this point, I have only shared this information with very few people, because of fear (and to be honest, the trauma of it). I would first like to say that this ward was closed in 2017, but is now open again under a new name (Westerdale North), however I am not sure if any of the staff still work there, so I can't speak for the ward today, but I am going to name and shame this hospital, for the justice of not only myself, but others I saw being neglected and psychologically abused. This is for you...
November 2016. I was admitted to Lincoln Ward at Sandwell Park hospital in Hartlepool, County Durham, UK for psychosis. I was hearing command voices and I couldn't keep myself safe. I wanted to feel better, and badly wanted to recover to better my future. It seemed that inpatient was the best decision for my wellbeing, and so the crisis team admitted me on a voluntary basis- meaning I agreed with the decision and would not be detained under the Mental Health Act unless I became more of a danger to myself or others. So there I was, in the back of a car with two members of the crisis team in the front, and I was feeling absolutely terrified. I didn't know what to expect as I'd never been to Sandwell Park before, so naturally I was very anxious, all the while paranoid and delusional, which all makes a very scary position to be in.
I remember entering the ward. I immediately noticed a different atmosphere to any other hospital I'd been in previously. It felt extremely depressing. Fellow patients seemed tense yet at the same time, rather empty. It wasn't long before I felt the same and soon settled into what I started to call "the Sandwell shuffle"- basically moving so slowly that your feet don't lift from the floor. It was commonplace for patients at Sandwell Park. Within a few days of being admitted, I felt encumbered in this place, as did many of the other patients (I know this as we confided in each other a lot). By this point I witnessed fellow patients in severe mental distress being completely ignored by staff when they needed help. Staff members would hide away in the office away from patients while there was a lot of screaming, pacing, self harm and drug use. I want to say at this point that the drug use in this hospital was absolutely rife. Cannabis, amphetamines, prescription drugs and one patient even shot up heroin and was very "out of it" in the main lounge, much to the ignorance of the staff. I saw patients get hammered drunk with alcohol they brought back from their day leave (bags were never checked), once again, much to the ignorance of the staff.
A few weeks in, I was in a constant state of distress myself. I was living in a hell hole. A lovely young girl had been admitted to the ward (I'll call her Stacey- not her real name) and became a bit of a target for staff. She would become distressed and hit herself violently. One day this happened in the main area. Staff continued to walk by ignoring Stacey's behaviour, as opposed to trying to calm her down. Within about fifteen minutes, Stacey became a lot more distressed and started smacking her head against the wall really hard, all the while staff were standing watching. Other patients started to become distressed. There was lots of shouting and crying. The alarm was raised and there came a rush of about six staff members, who immediately grabbed Stacey and pinned her to the floor in restraint. I don't know if this was a safe restraint or not, but what I do know is that the less members of staff involved (and without an audience), the better, but in my opinion, restraint could have been avoided. Stacey was carried into her room (at this point she was screaming), pinned down on her bed and injected. As soon as the injection was done, all staff exited the room, left her alone and went back to the office. There was no talking involved, no reassurance, nothing. I was deeply upset by this incident that I went to my room, rocked back and forth and cried my eyes out.
I have to interject here and say that this blog post does not apply to every member of staff that worked at Sandwell Park when I was admitted, just most of them. There were the few, very empathetic workers who tried their absolute best, but unfortunately it was overshadowed by the unempathetic majority.
At this point I want to mention the Occupational Therapy at Sandwell Park. It was pretty much non-existent. This meant that patients had nothing to occupy their time with. We were left with a chair each, TV and each other to rely on. There was a psychologist who I never had one session with (and other patients didn't either), and healthcare assistants that constantly complained about their job. One even went to sleep on the sofa in a side lounge on shift during the day. There was no positivity or enthusiasm from staff towards patients at all. We were left to deal with our problems alone. There was no activity groups or therapy groups. I remember wondering what the psychologist actually did during her shift.
I want to mention a particularly difficult incident that happened to me, as this was the most traumatic for me personally. It was an evening, and I was very distressed. I was hearing voices telling me that I was being experimented on, and that the staff were actually secret service and government workers conspiring against me (I mean is it any wonder I thought that at this point?). In order to keep myself safe, I locked myself in the main toilet and sat on the floor with my head between my knees, trying to block the voices out. A specific staff worker shouted down the corridor, demanding where I was and that my medication was ready. I was scared stiff by now. After a few minutes, it became obvious that I was in the toilet. She unlocked the door and shouted at me to go and get my meds. Of course, I was distressed and not very compliant with her demand, so I turned away from her. She grabbed my arm hard and tried to drag me along the floor all the while complaining how she "couldn't be bothered" with my behaviour because she'd had a rough day, and that I wasn't the only one with problems in this world. She continued to try and drag me, nearly pulling my shoulder out of its socket. She then said she'd had enough of me and vigorously let go of my arm before storming off. This situation could've been avoided by her simply asking a question i.e. "what's happening right now Leigh?" or "tell me what's upsetting you". Instead I got an angry member of staff man handling me. This caused me a significant amount of mental health symptoms, both immediately afterwards, and for a long time after leaving the hospital.
I was inpatient at Sandwell Park five times in total, each time being no better than the last, each time witnessing and being subject to abuse. To be honest, watching the Panorama documentary has brought it all back for me, but I'm not going to suffer in silence. So many people don't have a voice, or don't have the confidence to have a voice, but I do and this is why I've wrote this- for them.
Thank you for reading,
Leigh
So, with this being present in the news right now, I wanted to speak out about my experience of negligence in a mental health hospital. Up until this point, I have only shared this information with very few people, because of fear (and to be honest, the trauma of it). I would first like to say that this ward was closed in 2017, but is now open again under a new name (Westerdale North), however I am not sure if any of the staff still work there, so I can't speak for the ward today, but I am going to name and shame this hospital, for the justice of not only myself, but others I saw being neglected and psychologically abused. This is for you...
November 2016. I was admitted to Lincoln Ward at Sandwell Park hospital in Hartlepool, County Durham, UK for psychosis. I was hearing command voices and I couldn't keep myself safe. I wanted to feel better, and badly wanted to recover to better my future. It seemed that inpatient was the best decision for my wellbeing, and so the crisis team admitted me on a voluntary basis- meaning I agreed with the decision and would not be detained under the Mental Health Act unless I became more of a danger to myself or others. So there I was, in the back of a car with two members of the crisis team in the front, and I was feeling absolutely terrified. I didn't know what to expect as I'd never been to Sandwell Park before, so naturally I was very anxious, all the while paranoid and delusional, which all makes a very scary position to be in.
I remember entering the ward. I immediately noticed a different atmosphere to any other hospital I'd been in previously. It felt extremely depressing. Fellow patients seemed tense yet at the same time, rather empty. It wasn't long before I felt the same and soon settled into what I started to call "the Sandwell shuffle"- basically moving so slowly that your feet don't lift from the floor. It was commonplace for patients at Sandwell Park. Within a few days of being admitted, I felt encumbered in this place, as did many of the other patients (I know this as we confided in each other a lot). By this point I witnessed fellow patients in severe mental distress being completely ignored by staff when they needed help. Staff members would hide away in the office away from patients while there was a lot of screaming, pacing, self harm and drug use. I want to say at this point that the drug use in this hospital was absolutely rife. Cannabis, amphetamines, prescription drugs and one patient even shot up heroin and was very "out of it" in the main lounge, much to the ignorance of the staff. I saw patients get hammered drunk with alcohol they brought back from their day leave (bags were never checked), once again, much to the ignorance of the staff.
A few weeks in, I was in a constant state of distress myself. I was living in a hell hole. A lovely young girl had been admitted to the ward (I'll call her Stacey- not her real name) and became a bit of a target for staff. She would become distressed and hit herself violently. One day this happened in the main area. Staff continued to walk by ignoring Stacey's behaviour, as opposed to trying to calm her down. Within about fifteen minutes, Stacey became a lot more distressed and started smacking her head against the wall really hard, all the while staff were standing watching. Other patients started to become distressed. There was lots of shouting and crying. The alarm was raised and there came a rush of about six staff members, who immediately grabbed Stacey and pinned her to the floor in restraint. I don't know if this was a safe restraint or not, but what I do know is that the less members of staff involved (and without an audience), the better, but in my opinion, restraint could have been avoided. Stacey was carried into her room (at this point she was screaming), pinned down on her bed and injected. As soon as the injection was done, all staff exited the room, left her alone and went back to the office. There was no talking involved, no reassurance, nothing. I was deeply upset by this incident that I went to my room, rocked back and forth and cried my eyes out.
I have to interject here and say that this blog post does not apply to every member of staff that worked at Sandwell Park when I was admitted, just most of them. There were the few, very empathetic workers who tried their absolute best, but unfortunately it was overshadowed by the unempathetic majority.
At this point I want to mention the Occupational Therapy at Sandwell Park. It was pretty much non-existent. This meant that patients had nothing to occupy their time with. We were left with a chair each, TV and each other to rely on. There was a psychologist who I never had one session with (and other patients didn't either), and healthcare assistants that constantly complained about their job. One even went to sleep on the sofa in a side lounge on shift during the day. There was no positivity or enthusiasm from staff towards patients at all. We were left to deal with our problems alone. There was no activity groups or therapy groups. I remember wondering what the psychologist actually did during her shift.
I want to mention a particularly difficult incident that happened to me, as this was the most traumatic for me personally. It was an evening, and I was very distressed. I was hearing voices telling me that I was being experimented on, and that the staff were actually secret service and government workers conspiring against me (I mean is it any wonder I thought that at this point?). In order to keep myself safe, I locked myself in the main toilet and sat on the floor with my head between my knees, trying to block the voices out. A specific staff worker shouted down the corridor, demanding where I was and that my medication was ready. I was scared stiff by now. After a few minutes, it became obvious that I was in the toilet. She unlocked the door and shouted at me to go and get my meds. Of course, I was distressed and not very compliant with her demand, so I turned away from her. She grabbed my arm hard and tried to drag me along the floor all the while complaining how she "couldn't be bothered" with my behaviour because she'd had a rough day, and that I wasn't the only one with problems in this world. She continued to try and drag me, nearly pulling my shoulder out of its socket. She then said she'd had enough of me and vigorously let go of my arm before storming off. This situation could've been avoided by her simply asking a question i.e. "what's happening right now Leigh?" or "tell me what's upsetting you". Instead I got an angry member of staff man handling me. This caused me a significant amount of mental health symptoms, both immediately afterwards, and for a long time after leaving the hospital.
I was inpatient at Sandwell Park five times in total, each time being no better than the last, each time witnessing and being subject to abuse. To be honest, watching the Panorama documentary has brought it all back for me, but I'm not going to suffer in silence. So many people don't have a voice, or don't have the confidence to have a voice, but I do and this is why I've wrote this- for them.
Thank you for reading,
Leigh
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