Mental Health & Why It Needs An Overhaul
I recently finished writing an article that is being considered for publication. I spent years on trying to write this in the correct way and put myself and those I love under an extreme spotlight if it does get published. I pushed those I love away in order to protect them and I sent my final story to editors for last revisions. I severed relationships and made those who care about me feel like I hated them just to ensure that they canât be tied to it. However, I will publish my story here in the chance that the final copy does get rejected. Even if it does get published, I know that the editors will do what they want with it, so hereâs my final raw article. I only hope it helps people in the end. I never wanted to lose those I care about but the thousands vs the few gave me limited options
Several years ago I did something. I did something that people who know me will get angry at. I'm okay with it. Because several years ago I embarked on a journey to ensure those that need help get that help.
Let me start from the beginning. I innocently walked into a job interview for a personal care worker position. For those of you that don't know, a PCW job is someone who helps care for a less able person with their daily routine, i.e cooking food, taking medications, going to appointments. Basically daily tasks that you and I do without second thought. I desperately needed a job and I figured, âwhy notâ? I enjoy helping people so let me help.
I took this interview and I failed. However, that's not where my journey started. I had no second thought about it and ended up moving on.
Fast forward a few more years and once more I needed a job and so I re-applied. This time, it was different. The original person who interviewed me never actually put into my file that I had interviewed the first time. When I mentioned I had interviewed before the person looked at my file and looked at me and said âwe have no record of that.â (That should have been the first red flag) However, the difference this time is that I answered all their buzz questions about helping people. However, this company, was well known for high turnover rates and I was taught how to answer the questions. So it came to no surprise to me when they told me that I was qualified. What did come as a surprise to me was that they wanted me to come back for another interview, except this time, it was for a Mental Health position I hadn't even considered.
After I interviewed with this individual I was hired. After I went through training, I went to this facility. I cannot name it, however I can say it was used by Brown County Treatment Center and Green Bay Crisis.
Upon my arrival, I shortly learned the manager that hired me had been relieved of their position. I learned later on that the individual had been sleeping with their subordinates. This should have been a second red flag but I didn't question it.
I spent a few years at this facility with patients who needed help. These patients had been unknown to me, yet, they were well known to the B.C.C.T.C and Crisis. These were patients who drastically needed help. Whether it was depression or schizophrenia or first time suicidal patients.
The biggest complaint I had heard from these individuals was that they were constantly shuffled around and mostly forgotten by their case managers. Not because the case manager didn't care but because the case manager was busy with all their other cases. They had been left at a facility that was mainly only there to babysit.
I had never seen so much red tape in patient care. I had gone to the emergency room with a cough and had been treated quicker than these patients. These patients who had far worse conditions then I had ever had.
Eventually a manager had been hired to run this facility. This manager was strictly by the book. We had no full time manager before this and we had learned to deal within a gray area. Yet, no matter how happy the clients were, we had to do everything by the book.
At this time, I could no longer be a part of this and slowly worked my way out. I eventually found another job in a completely different field. Then, I ran into some old patients I had been with. We talked and I learned that their treatment plans were still only treating them for the most drastic arguments that had landed them back in treatment instead of long term care. That's when I had enough.
I thought about how can I help? How can I use my experience? How can I make sure they don't just keep getting bounced back and forth? I started looking back at my experience working in the field. That's when it hit me. The whole time I was at this facility, I had watched as people were discharged and committed suicide, or got re-admitted cos they weren't treated properly. These people weren't being treated, they were being pawned until they seemed ârightâ by B.C.C.T.C.
It took me a few years but I finally worked up the courage to do what I thought would help. That's when I undertook a position that will undoubtedly harm my credibility. I decided I would get myself admitted / committed.
I took drastic measures and got myself admitted. This is where the first fault lies. I posted a message that got people worried. Yet, it wasn't the people who I posted the message to but 3rd party individuals who saw the message and called for a welfare check (These people are the most important in any crisis).
What happened next absolutely blew my mind. When people are talking about suicide, or presenting signs of suicide, you should expect an officer trained in mental health. Instead I got five officers who were not trained in mental health throwing me in cuffs. Instead of being asked, âhow can we help?â, I got told I needed to â...come outside or we will come in and take youâ. I decided to not be manhandled.
I went with what they requested. I had no shoes, no socks, no glasses. I was in shorts and a tank top. They immediately put me in cuffs and started searching me. I asked if I could get my glasses and they just turned me away and walked me to a patrol car. They told me I wasn't under arrest yet it felt like it.
At this point they took me to Crisis for an evaluation. I waited over close to an hour before someone finally interviewed me. I answered all their questions and I made known I had worked in mental health. Instead of asking more in depth questions, Crisis decided to commit me even though I answered all their trigger questions correctly.
At this point it was 5 in the morning. So I was transported yet again to go to a facility for a blood draw. Upon arrival I was placed in a bed in the emergency room. Not in a waiting room, not in a corner room, but instead occupying a bed. Where I was fully coherent, joking with the officer who transported me. I spent almost two hours occupying this bed which should have been used for emergencies. The reason was âbecause the county pays for occupantsâ. That's another red flag.
The nurse eventually came in. Upon her informing of me my rights, she asked if I would submit to a blood draw. I asked her âwhat I don'tâ? Her response was cold. âIf you don't submit we will tie you down and take it ourselvesâ. When I stated you just told me my rights she informed me the officers put on the paper work I was unwilling to go with them. Yet, I had.
I argued no further and they took the blood draw. Eventually I got transported to the B.C.C.T.C. I thought this was definitely where this ended. Upon intake, which was almost four hours later at this point, I informed the individual that I knew the system and then named off several of the individuals I knew were case managers or caregivers.
What happened next blew my mind. This individual had no desire to follow protocol. This individual just told me to sign papers. Never informed me of HIPPA, never asked if I understood, just wanted me to sign. Luckily I knew the paperwork but for those who don't, this is a huge problem.
Finally I went through intake. If you think getting processed into jail is drastic, this is the same routine. Instead of treating the patient like they are in crisis, they are treated like they are a prisoner. They have no rights. You do what we say type of mentality.
I was walked to my room. The door shut behind me. Now, I really felt like I was in jail. The light switch was only dimmed to one possible light out in the entire room. The bed was a jail cot. With a simple blanket and pillow.
I didn't sleep. I wanted to see how the night went. The only thing they did correctly that night was hourly room checks. Was it non invasive? No. Was it prison like? You bet. Loud, quick, open the door and slam it shut. Just what a person in crises needs. To feel trapped.
The next morning my door was opened. I was told it's time for breakfast. Did I get asked? No. The door was thrust open saying âIt's breakfast time Mr. _________â. They didn't even try to hide who I was. I thought that was weird, until I walked out and saw my full name written on a white marker board. Not only they did they treat you like a prisoner at this point, they made you fully known to everyone around you. So much for HIPPA.
I declined breakfast. I was informed I'd see a doctor that day. Never saw a doctor. When I asked, âHe never showed up.â At least that was normal from when I worked in the other facility.
That first day I didn't see a doctor. What I did see right away? A person with paperwork for insurance. I didn't even see a counselor. I wondered to myself how can this be? I stayed in my room.
Throughout the day, I was never asked how I was or if I wanted to talk. Just informed it was time to eat. The next day I was told it's time for group. Immediately I wondered how is it time for group if I never got diagnosed or questioned about my state. Then I was told it was mandatory. I declined. I was told that it was okay but it had to go on my file. I fully expected to be dragged out. Yet, being told your file would get marked and not being asked why was just as worse.
I continued to deny food and group. When I asked to make a call, I had to make it in front of everyone. Not allowed privacy. Why? Cos I was committed and had no rights outside of being recorded. Now this was really feeling like jail.
The next time the doctor was in, I was denied because they were too busy. So they had once doctor for the entire facility? That's certainly what it felt like.
After finally declining food the third day, I finally met with a counselor. When they asked what I liked to do they gave me books and magazines to read. At first, I finally felt validated. That was short lived as I never saw them again unless I wanted to attend group.
On my second to last day, still declining food, I attended group. Mainly because I knew at this point if I wanted to leave I had to appear compliant. Yet, this whole time, there was my name being announced fully by every worker, and outside my door, not caring about HIPPA. So much for client care.
That did the trick. The next day I saw the doctor and he discharged me with no conditions. What just happened? I was suicidal coming in. I was lead away in cuffs. I was committed by Crisis. I was violated of HIPPA. I was told I had to comply. When I did, I was released.
This is the injustice that happens every day to people that really need help. I saw this happen constantly to those who went through the cycle. I watched as people were left in facilities for almost a year with no right, no voice, no choice.
I finally got it. I finally understood why these people felt second rate and kept getting recycled. I watched as people faked their way out only to commit suicide shortly after their release. I watched as people didn't trust the system and wouldn't talk to those who wanted to help.
Let me end with this. This isn't about blaming the peace officers, the facilities, the caregivers at the facilities, the doctors, or those who truly care. This is blaming the system. In the time I worked for a government facility, to my time purposely experiencing it, this is not what the people in need need. The system needs a drastic overhaul.
The police only did their job. They weren't trained to do it because very few officers are trained for mental health situations. Crisis was overwhelmed and were quick to push people on their way because they only had 2 people working on a hotline when they needed more. B.C.C.T.C sidestepped protocols because they weren't properly trained (i.e., I shouldn't have been there once I dropped several names of workers). The county doctor couldn't see me because they were so overwhelmed with case loads that they just wanted to do what was minimal.
Brown County is one of the most resource rich counties in Wisconsin. Yet situations like this happen every day. However, many people rely on the county. Something needs to change. Something has to give. We spend millions of dollars on a lot of things, yet those who need us most, go under the radar and funds get diverted.
Mental health needs a drastic overhaul. I did not write this article to blame any one of those involved. I wrote this article because it's time that we properly funded and helped those who need help. It doesn't just start or end with the city, or county, or state. This is a nationwide issue. Every day thousands of people go every day getting the bare minimum because not enough money gets to the right place. I wrote this article in hopes that people will see that if someone like me went through this they can only imagine how much worse it is for those who keep getting recycled through the system.
I used to joke with my ex when she asked why I had two phones. I always made a smartass comment that it was because I worked for the government. In reality I had started putting my sources together and recording my time in my line of work. I wanted to ensure that I did not entangle others. While this is my draft, if it does get published, I did not want others to get hurt.
If you or someone you know is going through similar situations in public mental health care please contact an advocate. You are helping them and thousands of those around you.
