I am at work at 0530 on the morning the clocks went forward. I am probably about to start having mild hallucinations if I do not do something with myself, it has happened before.
There is only myself and one other member of staff responsible for 14 clients, we have two empty beds. Two staff is more than enough 99% of the time, but woe betide us if anything exciting ever happens. I really enjoy boring shifts due to a surfeit of excitement on previous shifts.
I used to key work for a lady on section 3 of the mental health act. She had been on the ward for a number of months, was quite manic and delusional, having severe problems with her husband, who had left her, and having a relationship with a male patient. Quite a lot going on in her life.
She had appealed against her section as was her right. The Tribunal people came round to see if she should stay on her section or not.
We thought this would be a formality; there was no way this woman was getting off her section.
What happens is the various people involved in the detained persons care give reports, the detainee gives their side of the story (with support, often an advocate or a solicitor) then the Tribunal make up their mind.
My report boiled down to the fact this woman was as mad as a mackerel souffle, away with the fairies and probably not able to care for her children if she went home.
Well this was going to lead to a number of interesting nights.
The Tribunal decided to let her off her section. Which meant we no longer had the power to keep her in hospital and she could leave any time she wanted. This was why she had appealed against her section. Also we could compel her to take her medication.
Sadly her new boyfriend was still on a section. She loved him so much she decided to remain on an acute psychiatric admission ward so she could remain near him. After all their relationship had got physical as we had discovered when entering communal areas.
For the rest of her stay, at least a million years, she would talk to me on every night between the hours of 2AM and 3AM.
By talk I mean scream full on sweary word abuse. She would start by saying something, to which the answer would certainly be no (‘can I go out for a walk round the grounds in my nightie’, ‘can I go and visit my boyfriend on the male ward, in my nightie’)
Then the torrent of abuse would start. I was a bastard, I knew nothing, I shouldn’t be a nurse, I was stupid, I didn’t under stand her, I didn’t understand her love, she and her boyfriend were going to be together for ever and I was an idiot … and so on and so forth.
Mental Partner often says the same kind of thing. Well apart from the stuff about the boyfriend.
Every other member of staff on the ward would vanish at this point. Nothing interesting happened at these times which required my presence elsewhere. Nothing ever happened to protect me from this. If I went to hide in the toilet she would wait for me and restart exactly where she had broken off.
Putting up with this is part of the job. By the end though I was ready to kill, either her or me, I didn’t care. Killing myself would have involved far less paperwork. From her perspective I did have a lot of sympathy. If someone had described me as a useless parent I think there would be some anger.
It always lasted the same amount of time, to the minute.
It could have been much much worse. After all worse things do happen at sea. I shouldn’t really complain.
So I suppose any night where something like that is not happening to me is a good night.
I can’t remember what happened to her. I don’t think she came back through our doors for the remainder of my time there. I think she eventually went home, got her kids back, still in love with her new boyfriend. Her husband started a custody battle with her.
The sad thing was her new boyfriend was well known to have a long and well documented history of violence against women. We could tell her due to confidentiality which can only really be breached in specific situations. This was not one of them.
I hope she is doing well now.
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