‘The facility felt like a correctional facility’: How my girl was broken by a healthcare system meant to help her

It grew clear to me in that defining moment that the psychiatric ward where my daughter was admitted had all the characteristics of a secure institution.

Our daughter had relied completely in the healthcare providers. We had followed suit. That faith broke when she was moved from our area clinic to the specialized ward at Huntercombe.

As we got ready to depart, she walked calmly toward the hospital van alongside me and her support worker, who held her close before watching us leave.

As the medical van door opened at our destination, the intimidating institution stood ominously. We were greeted and led up a flight of steps through air-locked entrances, with each door locking behind us as the staff member waited for every mechanism to secure before moving forward.

The unit was totally secured and completely dark, with my eyes rapidly tiring from the blinding overhead lights. We were taken to a transparent area that staff referred to as the “observation post”.

The Heartbreaking Separation

Ruth’s hand slipped into mine, head down as they told me it was time for me to go. “But I didn’t get her comfortable into her room or greeted the team yet,” was met with: “Parents aren’t allowed on the ward.”

I asked a second time, and they agreed I could see her room, just once, but then I had to leave without delay. It was facility rules.

Even now, I awake suddenly in the night with my heart racing as I revisit walking through the common area to Ruth’s allocated area. The basic amenities included a solitary bed and basic furniture, with unopenable windows.

The voices became distant as they explained there would be a changing attendant every hour through the day and night who would “observe Ruth”. I set down her luggage on the floor. Ruth sat, frightened, on the bed and then I was ushered out.

Suddenly, I found myself locked on the other side those secured entrances, holding a piece of paper that told me I could spend time with my child for sixty minutes, twice a week.

How could I have agreed to this?

A Tragic Loss

{Our daughter, Ruth Szymankiewicz, passed away on February 14th, 2022 at 6:29 PM on the children’s ICU at John Radcliffe hospital in Oxford. She was taken immediately from Huntercombe hospital, an government-contracted but commercially operated youth psychiatric facility, where she had been allowed to harm herself lethally previously.|Our child passed away on February 14, 2022 at evening in the {pediatric intensive care unit|