Tag Archive: Unprofessional Behaviour


Back to Highbury Hospital

My music went off Sunday night when my battery went on my Kindle Fire.  A minute after it had been off Andy, a nurse I know from years ago here, came in and asked me to turn my music down.  I told him it was already off and he said keep it off.  We got into an argument, me asking why he was making an issue of it when it was already off, saying he just wanted to assert his authority in that way, he said just keep it off, I kept asking questions and the only answer I got was just keep it off.  People like him make mashed potato out of people like me.  After he went I shouted that I did not get my degree to have a male nurse behaving towards me as if he had husband or father rights from pre-women’s lib days, and he came back in, stood with solid, challenging presence while I was in bed.  He likes to make a joke of everything.  He wouldn’t go.  In the end I spat on the floor as what seemed like the safest option.  He sniggered and eyeballed me as he left.  Earlier I had had a black male nurse, one of a team of black nurses godding all the time, move on me really aggressively, backing me into my room for saying something.  I might have been talking about a United Nations report from 2008 that says forced psychiatry is torture.  They have been saying the fact that they are black should make no difference, but in some contexts I think it has to, because of cultural differences in male/female relationship attitudes.  And I have never met a racial group more likely to be actively calling on God as their authority on this locked ward where people are subjected to unwanted physicality.  As a Christian who does not believe in that I don’t want to hear it, though I got fed up of hearing Colin Dye do exactly the same thing from his platform.  But it isn’t professional behaviour from anyone, anyway.  These guys are also intoning the word ‘medication’ in exactly the same way they say ‘God’.  I think they are causing a lot of confusion and distress.  Screaming, sorrying, people saying they love Jesus.  From their tones as I hear them now, and their demeanour since I got here, it could not be more obvious to me that these staff have something to hide.  I am glad to have these realizations but now do not know what to do with them.

Sunday night got out of control, though.  I heard another woman say she was uncomfortable with what he had done.  I said I had told him the night before about my sister’s death and her first birthday on 9th March since she died.  I asked what kind of a man does what he just did to a grieving woman.  No response.  It sounded as if the police were out there, I started to shout about abuse on the ward and my story.  When I mentioned Lorraine they went quiet.  Nothing else happened and I don’t know what came of it.

I was so upset and frightened and, inexplicably, ashamed and embarrassed, I didn’t care take my tablet to the office to be recharged.  Monday morning I had a headache which I have had all day, I’ve just taken some paracetamol for it.  When I went to the office Monday morning to get it charged I knocked on the door and a female staff member stared at me blankly for 5 seconds of so.  I said, ‘yes, there is someone knocking on your door, please don’t look at her so blankly’.  She said she had something in her eye, I said I hadn’t realised, I had just thought it was one more incident of the same nature as others.  The black male nurse at the desk looked me in the face laughing at me.  Looked away again, looked back doing the same thing.  People looking away, making rude and disgusted faces.  Shutting the door on me.  I was so upset I was shouting again, they kept making threatening noises, I went back to my room and had my back to the door, trying to keep them out and calm down on my own terms.  They were stood outside talking about me, so rather than say they were lying or being unreasonable I just kept repeating ‘yes’.  They broke the door seal so that it opened both ways.  I was already calm enough for my liking, just wanted to drink my tea.  But they wanted to win the fight and they forced me to take two Lorazepam.  I tried to refuse, being on a Section 2, but they said I had to take it.  They jerk when I am relaxed or feel in control, it is bizarre.  I wanted to throw the water in his face, but threw it out of the window instead.  I felt he wanted to make me feel provoked into throwing it into his face.  Is it bad style for me to say it is upsetting me to write this?  Eventually I took my tablet to be charged, lay on my bed and fell asleep, and no one woke me for lunch.  I suppose it might have been the tablets.

Around 3.30 this same nurse was standing at my door saying I had to see the doctor NOW.  I said I had just woken up and could he see the next person before me.  I was told no, he had to see me now.  I asked to be given 10 minutes, he said no, you have to come now.  I said to ask the doctor, and we argued back and forward on this a few times, me saying that flexibility and negotiation is what normal people do.  In the end I said if he did not ask the doctor for 10 minutes, because he was saying he wouldn’t, and if I missed my appointment because of that, I would make a complaint about him.  So he went, leaving my door open, came back and said he had got 15 minutes and I had to come now, I said we had a few minutes, he said he had said 10 minutes.

Anyway, I realised last night, having tried to understand what it was I was supposed to do with the physical and emotional state I felt in post-Lorazepam, that I had just been left to myself to get on with it.  Nothing said, no debriefing, feeling completely altered in confidence and everything.  This is how it has always been, they make you take this stuff then never refer to it again.  The deed is done, end of.  In the early days when they have me Droperadol, no longer used, it was a REAL knock out thing.  But I was up, late evening, with a nurse, and I was telling her how I felt, wilting all over the place, and she told me off for being self-pitying.  A couple of the female nurses who had been involved on Monday morning looked at me with a sort of smile without acknowledging anything, and a couple of seconds later I turned back to them and said, ‘are you happier now I’ve been drugged and the status quo has been restored?’.  A couple of seconds later they were gone.

One of the female nurses who was being rude to me and said her name did not matter when I asked has turned out to be the deputy ward manager.  The ward manager is away until Wednesday.  While the male nurse was ordering me about, before he medicated me, and I said that post-women’s lib most men don’t get away with talking to women like that, a female nurse said in very strong terms that he was not abusing me.  I said “‘mummy, daddy’s abusing me’.  ‘No he isn’t, you naughty girl, go to your room and shut up’.” , because that is the approach they are taking to me.  They are making victims and scapegoats out of me and others who lose it.  Now the others know my side of the stalking story, though, and how 100% of mental health professionals have forced it on me for 22 years that it is not happening.

Someone said what happened here on Sunday night had not been mentioned in handover.  I think I was abused and assaulted this morning and earlier I was thinking now I have been more or less sent to Coventry by the staff over it, and ostracised.  Everything is OK, it goes without saying, is what they seem to be trying to maintain.  Abuses happen, this happened, abuse or not.  It’s over.  No aftercare over it, no support, no one is talking about it.  And this IS as I have always known it, as it has always been handled.  It happened with my sister, too.  So maybe it is across the board.  I have always accepted that is the way it is until last night, when I thought if I am feeling so disorientated and lost trying to deal with it on my own, maybe they should NOT be leaving us on our own after these things.

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This Morning

So, what happened this morning?  R in the wheelchair told me it was either Sue or Sharon who said she had legs, she should use them.  When she told me that they were both sitting opposite me and she just said the one sitting opposite, so that is as close as I have it for now.  They started whispering together and laughing.  It came up about Sue swearing at me and telling me no one liked me again, and she said I had no proof.  They told me I was boring and my blog, which they say they haven’t read, is boring.  They told me I don’t know how to use my brain and that I am paranoid.  Sue said I was paranoid when I was saying about her swearing etc.

OK, I don’t have proof, but she and I both know, and I know she is lying.  She lies even to say she isn’t lying.  What sort of person says that another has no proof when they are expressing that kind of concern and offense?  I believe I should not need proof.  They have almost absolute power over me and I think that I should not need proof in the same way that a person reporting a past sexual offense against themselves does not need it.  We are that vulnerable.  I hope it turns out that I do not need proof.

They were all shouting at me this morning and laughing at me and letting other people, patients, shout at me.  They kept taking their side and using them to have a go at me.  I tried to talk to the doctor about what was happening and they wanted to hang around outside the door and watch, as if I was dangerous, so I said I would talk to someone else.  Jesus said the same thing – why have you come at me like this?

I couldn’t eat lunch, it was too spicy.

Whatever these people want, I will not work with them.  They are Nazis.  I will not have it said that they are working with me by my consent.  I’m not sure what they think they are trying to achieve, if it is not just trying to disempower and humiliate me.  Helen was there again, Steve who was responsible, so I was told, for the decision to not even help me with my bed.  Steve stayed laughing in the background, the women worked me over.

It started because I was told I needed to be out of my room so they could do a cleaning audit, and I let them bully me out.  I wasn’t dressed, I hadn’t showered.  When I pointed that out Sue gave me an empty stare and said ‘tough’.  I’d had a bad night because a woman on my corridor kept slamming the door again, I think it was Kerry, but I’m not sure.  It also could have been staff.  When I wanted to go back in my room Sue was sitting there and she said ‘she won’t come out again’, then we got into an argument about my right to stay in my room, and the fact that they can’t manhandle us out if we are not a danger to ourselves or anyone else.  As I said last night, they know it is the only place I have and they are taking full advantage of that. They were saying the other patients were all out and I said they didn’t have to be because the law protects us.  They were goading me, with complete disrespect.  They stripped me naked and insisted I stay among them in my distress, with them tossing me around on their horns.  I’ve had the hospital as my only home for nearly 16 months.  It has always been untenable.  I told them I would probably be gone within a month because accommodation and discharge is being talked about, and one of them threw up their hands and said hurray, or something to that effect.  Two of the other patients started on me, one said I should be in prison or in a hostel and that they were going to phone the police.  She got on the phone and asked for Scotland Yard.  I told her I would happily be in a hostel but they wouldn’t let me go.  I’ve got to wait until after 4th September when my Care Co-ordinator gets back from leave, unless I can find out from my advocate that there is a quicker way of doing it.

I had a dream last night that I was looking after Brian May’s house for him while he was away.  I also dreamt about the whole of the original Queen cast, but their hair was up in frizzy bunches on each side of their heads, while they were singing.

Oh, apart from putting me in the wrong all the time they asked me if I wasn’t sick of the sound of my voice.

Of course my constant fear about my blog is that it isn’t making the difference I want it to make, that in spite of all the clicks people don’t read it and they do think it is boring.  All I can say is that I am a real person coping,or trying to, with a terrible situation.  And I think I have something to say which should be taken seriously and should make the difference I keep saying I want it to make for myself and for others.

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