Julie's relationships with her many professionals have varied depending on her mood, how comfortable they are in their role, and how much power they have over her. Most of the time she has got on very well with them, though their have been a few tantrums - on both sides, I have to say.
My own relations with the professionals have been chequered. It is a very difficult thing to write about. You can't escape the fact that you are totally dependent on these professionals, particularly if your child ends up in the hospital. Occasionally her life depends upon them, and often her well-being. We know we are lucky to have a hospital within relatively easy reach - CAMHS units are few and far between and many people with sick children have very long distances to travel. I have also met many professionals who have really inspired respect - people who not only do a job from which most of us would flinch, but do it with extraordinary dedication, humility and willingness to learn. I am not just talking about consultants here - though ours are certainly very good - but some of the most inspiring people that we have encountered are care assistants, working for very low wages, for long hours, who bring a real love and commitment to their work.
But having a daughter in hospital is a stressful experience, and since there is no way of choosing the hospital or the treatment on offer, parents can feel that they have lost control of the situation. After a year and a half, there is bound to have been the occasional tension between family and staff. It is also an inevitable part of the illness: in hunting for ways to stabilize and support someone with mental illness, staff have to delve into all aspects of family life. At times it can feel as if all privacy and dignity has been stripped from you. To take one example that we met early on: during inital assessments, staff often ask the parents, in front of their children, if they themselves have experienced mental illness of any sort. I cannot have been the first mother who had had depression earlier in her life but had not yet got around to discussing it with her children. You are the most important thing in your child's universe - why would you even want to tell them that a long time ago, before they were born, you felt so sick and desperate that you were close to ending your own life before they even started theirs? If I had thought of discussing it with my children, I had assumed it would be when they were adults, perhaps with children of their own, no longer at risk of finding it destabilizing. But no, here I was, expected to haul this earlier episode out of the dark and discuss it in detail with a perfect stranger in front of my daughter for the first time, as if I were discussing a trip to the dentist. Worse still, I was expected to reveal any episodes that her father might have had, although he was not even with us at the time. It felt like a betrayal of my partner, and I politely refused, earning myself a stern rebuke.
Wow! That's tough. As someone who has a family history of suicide and mental illness, I know what a tough line you walk with your children. You want them to know that they need to tell you if they're ever feeling so sad and hopeless, and yet you don't want to put any ideas in their head either. You do what you feel is best for your own child. While most healthcare professionals are kind and CaringBridge individuals, doctors are not God. You know your child better than they do and sometimes you have to what's best for your child, despite what the doctor thinks.
ReplyDeleteAck! Caring individuals. That's what I get for trying to post from my phone!
ReplyDeleteYes, that's the crux of the problem, isn't it? You want to say "yes I've been there" but you don't want to dwell on it in case they feel compelled to go there too. Daughters do like to copy their mums!
ReplyDeleteLoved the autocomplete! It's amazing what curveballs you get, isn't it?
As a teenage girl who has spent some time hospitalised because of mental illness, I have experienced this from the perspective of a child only discovering her parents' own struggles while in the midst of her own. Having my mother's illness revealed to me rather reluctantly in a family therapy session left me feeling both more vulnerable and guilty. Suddenly, at a point in my life where I felt terrified and confused anyway, my mother was shown not to be the invincible person I desperately needed to believe she was. Furthermore I became intensely afraid that my own illness would impact negatively on my mother's health - something which still plagues me. While I suppose a family history of mental illness could be significant, from personal experience it needs to be dealt with more sensitively and should be allowed to be revealed to a vulnerable child in the way the parent - who understands more fully the impact it could have - desires.
ReplyDeleteI hope this makes sense and that you don't feel I am out of place for commenting.
Not out of place at all - at the end of the day it's the most important thing that anyone could say. I put up with the intrusion because I would do anything to help my daughter - but nobody thought to ask her if it was what she could handle either. Sounds as if your experience might have been similar to hers.
ReplyDelete