My Adolescent Psychiatric Hospital Experience
*Disclaimer* This post mentions attempts on life, self-injury and dietary restriction. Please take caution and do not read ahead if this may trigger you. Help can be found on my ‘I need help’ page.
“That admission saved your life, I do believe you would not be alive now without it.”
For this post I wanted to share my experience of life in an adolescent psychiatric hospital (UK). One day, when I feel the time is right I will share more of a ‘my mental health’ story but for I’ll share a small section.
I feel this post is important for me because I want to open up about the memories I have of this admission and to do this I feel it needs to be shared. Each year thousands of young people in the UK and worldwide are admitted to psychiatric hospitals. This is only my experience.
I was 16, in my final year of GCSEs at school, when I was admitted to hospital. The reason for admission was ‘worsening low mood and attempts on life’. In the East of England (where my hometown is) there are very few adolescent psychiatric beds – There are only 5 in my county. In fact, Britain has one of the lowest numbers of psychiatric beds in Europe for young people struggling with serious mental health conditions, Britain only has 9.4 specialist beds per 100,000 young people (The Guardian, 2019) and many vulnerable young people are sent miles away from their homes. I was one of the lucky ones, a bed was found for me in a neighboring county just a mere 45 minutes from my home. My psychiatrist at the time was urgently seeking a bed for me in one of the three neighboring counties or I would be sectioned if I was sent further afield. I am grateful for his efforts in this as it made time off the ward and family input more viable.
The first day on the ward was, quite simply, overwhelming. I remember my parents signing a lot of forms and there was a lot of tears from both myself and them. I still didn’t believe that this admission was necessary but when I was sat on that rubber mattress, my parents having said goodbye, it dawned on me. I was there and it was all new.
I was very naïve when I first entered that admission, I thought I would leave ‘cured’. How very wrong I was.
On that first day, later in the afternoon (having refused to leave my room despite encouragement from the ward staff) two other patients knocked on my door and introduced themselves. It’s hard to put into words how much this small act of kindness meant to me, but it was so important; lessening that feeling of loneliness slightly.
The ward had 10 female bedrooms, 2 male and 2 unisex (they changed depending on requirements). There were 4 shared bathrooms, 2 for females, 1 for males and 1 unisex. Also an Intensive Nursing Area (for patients whom needed closer observation), a communal area, a chill room, a lounge, a kitchen/diner with a pool table, the clinic room, the nursing office, a courtyard and separate garden. When first entering the building you would be greeted with a reception/waiting area, surrounded by 2 group rooms and a smaller quiet room.
I quickly fell into the ward’s routine. Essentially, we had a timetable for the weekdays and could chillout or go on leave at the weekends. At the time the routine was annoying because all I wanted to do was hide away and sleep, but in reflection I can see just how important it was. During the week wake up calls started at 7.30am, with breakfast at 8 until 9.15. I quickly learnt that it was better to get up sooner rather than later, otherwise the nurses or healthcare assistants (HCAs) would continuously bother you until you were up. During meals you were expected to sit at the table for 10 minutes, whether you ate or not (if you weren’t on a meal plan). Many of us would go back to bed until Morning Meeting which followed breakfast at 9.15am. Morning meeting was where all the staff (consultant psychiatrist, trainee doctors, family therapist, psychologist, arts therapist, teachers, nurses and HCAs who were on shift) and patients gathered together. Here we would discuss anything that was important or any issues that we had with the ward. We were also (if already discussed during ward round) able to request walks on or off the grounds whether escorted or unescorted – trust me a trip to Tesco was very exciting if you hadn’t been off the ward for a few days. We could also use this time to request a meeting with a doctor etc if we needed it that day.
With it being an adolescent ward (13 years old – 18th birthday) we were expected to keep up our studies. School was usually from 10am until (roughly) 3pm with lunch at 12.15pm for an hour. I was in the middle of my GCSE exams during my admission so I (should’ve) spent my time revising or I would sit my exams (in my pyjamas). When my exams had finished and my peers from home were on still study leave, I still had to go to school but would spend my time painting or playing games (Boggle was great). Patients whom didn’t have exams would either do individual work sent from their school/college or would have lessons with the various teachers (There was a science teacher, English teacher, math’s teacher, headteacher and two teaching assistants). School wasn’t that bad, it was across the carpark, in a building opposite the ward meaning we got a change of scenery and it helped to break up the day. It almost didn’t feel like school – there wasn’t any pressure, and the teachers were genuinely supportive especially if you weren’t ‘in the mood’ that day.
Afterschool we usually had a quick 15-minute break until it was time for groups. Groups usually lasted an hour and varied each day. From what I can remember we had group art therapy on a Tuesday, and a group recovery type group on a Thursday. On a Wednesday afternoon there was also a chance to go to the gym (weight permitting) or play table tennis, but I just spent the time having a quick nap.
Free time usually followed groups, here people would go out on a walk or just chill about in the communal area before dinner. Sometimes we had cooking group in this time too, I would usually volunteer for cooking group as we got to eat what we cooked meaning I wouldn’t have to have the dreaded Cook-Chill for dinner. Cook-Chill which we retitled Cook-Kill, was utterly gross. It was food reheated in a special oven and all of it besides the fish fingers were disgusting. I can sense the smell of it whilst writing this, it’ll haunt me forever. Cook-Chill (thankfully) was only for dinner, as the housekeeper would make breakfast and lunch (she made the best pasta I’ve ever eaten). Due to this reason, I used to fill up at lunch, so I wasn’t too hungry when it came to dinner.
After dinner there was a 30-minute group observation period for those of us whom needed it after meals. Once that was over, we could chill out until bedtime at 10.30pm. This chill time was usually spent playing on the Wii (Just Dance), watching (appropriate) shows on Netflix or painting each other’s nails.
Also, Tuesday’s were ‘Ob’s day’ were you would be weighed, and blood pressure taken with any other tests. Thursdays, (the worst days) were ward round days. Here the patient (sometimes their parents) and members of their inpatient hospital team would come together and discuss any incidents that week, progress and possible dates for CPAs.
CPAs were (horrific) when everyone from your community care team, school teachers from home, your parents, inpatient staff and you came together to discuss your progress more in-depth and discuss possible plans around discharge. I always hated CPAs (usually every 4-6 weeks) as I found it incredibly awkward and difficult to be in a room whilst everyone was talking about me.
During ward round or CPAs you could also discuss the observation level you were on. Observation meant checks every 5, 10, 15 or 30 minutes depending on the level you were on. There was also 1:1 or 2:1 which meant one or two members of staff were with you 24/7, yes, even when you slept or used the toilet.
As a patient in the hospital I received individual CBT therapy, family therapy, meetings with a dietician and art therapy. Art therapy was the main one that clicked with me and is what has inspired me to become an arts therapist in the future. (If anyone wanted me to, I could create a post about the individual therapies I’ve received). Also, due to my dietary intake, I was placed on a food and fluid chart which meant everything I ate was recorded and examined by the dietician or doctors. I was also on medication (This could be discussed during ward rounds too) which would be given at either breakfast, lunch, dinner or evening depending on requirements.
I did gain leave whilst an inpatient. This meant I could go out with my parents for an arranged amount of time, whether this was just a few hours, an overnight or the whole weekend. All patients did need to be 72 hours clear from incidents before they were allowed to leave, and a mini type assessment was given before being permitted to exit. I also gained escorted grounds walk with a HCA each day which I valued because it was a small moment in the outside world.
On a day-to-day basis being an inpatient is not easy. One memory that still sticks out (rightly or wrongly) is the horrific rubber mattresses that would make you sweat buckets, I thought I had wet the bed when waking on a number of occasions. Disgusting, I know. But, most importantly it can be extremely difficult being surrounded by individuals with the same needs and struggles because it can worsen or teach behaviours. Unfortunately, I picked up some behaviours that I continue to struggle with. There were also, some ‘events’ that I saw or heard which I still remember like they were yesterday.
However, some of the patients I met, along with some staff members, are absolutely incredible individuals. I have some bad memories from my experience but also some positive which I still laugh at now. I am still in touch with a few of the patients I met on my journey. We have seen each other in some very dark moments but still continue to support one another. I feel honored to watch them grow and flourish into wonderful young adults. I love them all.
Many of the staff supported me immensely. I wasn’t always the easier patient but that didn’t always stop them caring or supporting. They were all good at their jobs but yes, I did have my favourites. I wish I could go back and thank each and every one of them. I can’t. Instead, I want to thank anyone whom works in mental health (and may be reading this?): Thank you for doing your jobs, we need you and appreciate it. Even with the pressures of the NHS at the moment, you still care and still try.
I didn’t recover during this admission there was no magic miracle, I learnt some behaviours that I shouldn’t have and was nearly readmitted a fortnight later. BUT (it’s a big but) in the words of my community psychiatrist after discharge; “That admission saved your life, I do believe you would not be alive now without it.”
My next post will be about what I have achieved in the 5 years since discharge (so much). I can also do one about therapies I’ve received? Or tips for anyone whom may be facing an inpatient admission? (E.g. what type of clothing to wear etc). Contact me, let me know in the comments or message me on Instagram. (@thebattleinmybrain).
Thank you for reading this, writing it has been as very good distraction from current stresses in my life. I know it’s a long one, I may even edit it at some point because I feel I’m missing things, but I hope the read has been worthwhile and informative. This is only one experience. If you have any questions please don’t hesitate to contact me!
Thanks again and love to you all.
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