By Erin AnderssenTo read the entire article, click here.Ben Robinson [pictured] spent long months during his hospital stays pacing the halls alone, hoping someone would visit.
Hardly anyone did, except for his mother, even though he phoned friends specifically to ask for company. The people who eventually braved the locked ward at the Clarke Institute never stayed long. “Where are the white padded rooms?” they joked.
“It was a bit of freak show kind of thing,” says Mr. Robinson, a 24-year-old part-time student in Toronto who has been diagnosed with schizo-affective disorder – a condition defined by symptoms of both a mood disorder, such as depression, and schizophrenia. “Like, ‘Whoo, let's go see my friend in the mental hospital.' ”
Even so, those visits made all the difference, he remembers – a few moments to feel “semi-normal,” to talk to someone from the outside and forget that he wasn't free to leave. The nurses, he says, were too busy to spend much time on chit-chat; the patients didn't mix much except to watch TV in silence. Other than a daily 30-minute appointment with his psychiatrist and taking a few workshops, he spent most of his time drinking tea and walking. “It's incredibly lonely and boring in the hospital,” he says. “I needed people to be there as much as possible.”
Mr. Robinson was lucky to get any visitors: Studies suggest that as many as 40 per cent of psychiatric patients never see a family member or friend at their bedside. According to a recent survey conducted at Toronto's Centre for Addiction and Mental Health, one-third of hospitalized patients in the mood and anxiety program received no family visits – and 20 per cent were visited only once or twice. Friends were even less in evidence: More than 70 per cent of the people surveyed said they received no more than two visits, and the majority didn't see a single friend.
There's a reason why psychiatric hospitals don't usually have gift shops: Nobody buys gifts for their patients. “You go into any ward in any hospital, and you will see cards, a balloon or two, flowers, teddy bears,” says Karen Liberman, executive director of the Mood Disorders Association of Ontario. “The psych ward is virtually the only place where you see nothing and nobody.”
Photograph by Deborah Baic of The Globe and Mail.
1 comment:
On the wards where I worked as an intern, resident and psychiatrist in Alberta and BC, people did visit and take relatives gifts. Relatives who lived too far away phoned. Staff and doctors stayed late and free of charge to run parties for each public holiday and the patients decorated the wards. Every evening there would be some sort of activity such as games night, where patients played bingo, or Pictionary or checkers or had a sing song or talent night. If patients wanted to go to the movies and had funds, a group would take the bus to the movies. I put on a Christmas party or New year's party depending on which night I was on duty, people got little gifts or prizes. Same with birthday parties. Staff paid for items. Doctors paid for TV sets and ping pong tables and food and art work and for items that unfortunately some people stole or purposely broke. None of this came from the hospital budget, but it was supposed to be a therapeutic community so we all participated. Nurses arranged for people to come in and help, choirs, volunteers. Patients were invited to whatever lectures were on at the CMH group or the clubhouse during the day if they weren't in group. They could even go over for a free lunch at the clubhouse and each year the clubhouse members cooked an enormous amount of food including turkeys and put on a big party and the patients were invited in one community. I agree there were people whose friends wouldn't visit, but other patients did spend the time to chat and get to know each other. People had their meals at one big table in the dining lounge and got to know each other in groups put on during the day. I remember the nurses at the provincial mental hospital baking cinnamon buns for the patients every week right in the ward kitchen and the patients learned how to cook too.
So, I'm sorry to hear that this was not the experience for the patients and staff interviewed for this article and hope that support groups can change this. A psych ward is not a desirable destination but I know people who have said it really helped them and they appreciated the extra effort that went into making them feel comfortable and knowing if they needed to come back they would be welcomed. Don't give up. It is great that you are alerting the public to the situation you and others have too often faced.
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