It’s been an interesting few years for mental health; what was once an ambiguous and silent illness kept out of the public perception has recently found its voice and received an unprecedented amount of attention. Numerous articles questioning the quality of treatment available in the UK and lack of government funding have dominated the media, while an increasing number of public figures campaign against stigma surrounding the subject.
But has all this attention actually made any difference? It’s all very well the government promising radical change and raising awareness of the prevalence of mental illnesses. What remains to be seen, however, is evidence from the frontline of these changes happening.
By way of an unlikely (and unlucky) series of events throughout the past decade I’m now fully acquainted with both the NHS’s physical and mental health services, receiving care for cancer, depression, anorexia/bulimia and borderline personality disorder. Having had first-hand experience of both departments, I can say with some authority that the division between the two is astounding. When my physical health was at risk, the quality and availability of care were exceptional, and I am eternally grateful to my consultants for effectively saving my life. But for the latter, I have been continually let down and disregarded.
Nowhere has this disparity been more evident than in the treatment of my eating disorder, despite the condition having a higher mortality rate than any other psychiatric illness. For the past 10 years this eating disorder has dominated my life, limiting me both personally and professionally. This is something I’ve had to deal with – for the most part – without professional help or intervention, despite the unquestionable role social and cultural factors play in the development of eating disorders. It pains me to say – not least because the NHS is a resource for which I hold the utmost respect and gratitude – that on this occasion the public healthcare system failed to perform.
But when at 24 I discovered a suspicious lump in my abdomen and presented it to the doctor, the speed at which I was referred to specialist services and consequently treated was in complete contrast to the seemingly interminable lists I was placed on for mental health treatment. Priority of the physical over psychological was in this case irrefutable despite comparable fatality rates between the two. In light of the purported healthcare reform, how can this handling of psychological care still persist?
In recent months my bulimia and anorexia has worsened; rapid weight loss, daily binge-purge episodes and compulsive exercising led to urgent admission to an inpatient eating disorders ward. Although this admission has been one of the most trying experiences of my life I’m all too aware of how lucky I am; these beds are unbelievably limited and had one not become available at that time, my disordered and destructive behaviours – which had already resulted in osteoporosis and arrhythmia – would almost certainly have led to sudden cardiac arrest. It wasn’t until speaking to staff upon arrival that I realised the extent of this scarcity: there are currently 34 beds for the entire area inside the M25, 34 beds for an area with an estimated population of 8.5 million. I’m struggling to find any correlation between the appalling lack of resources for a mental health condition with the highest mortality rate and the government’s grand claims of turning the system around.
As grateful as I am for the treatment I’m receiving, all too apparent is the damage that the systematic privatisation of the NHS having on the service. Building work is now under way on my ward to squeeze more bedrooms into an already overcrowded living space. The results will be staff having to cater and care for more seriously unwell patients in need of round-the-clock supervision, already limited facilities (bathrooms, toilets and dining space) being stretched to accommodate them and bureaucracy taking precedence over patients’s needs.
So five years on from Nick Clegg’s speech calling for mental health reform – and after countless parliamentary promises for a change to the system in the years that followed – radical improvements remain to be seen. Stark inequality between physical and psychiatric care and the subsequent economic and social strain this puts on individuals and communities persists, while underfunded psychiatric wards are under intense strain from lack of beds and facilities to properly care for patients and provide staff with the training they need to treat such complex conditions.
Unfortunately under the current government I don’t see things changing for the better any time soon. The Conservative party’s inexorable privatisation of public services has left the NHS in a precarious position. The hospital bed from which I’m writing sits on a ward in one of London’s largest mental health centres. It is in gradual decline as more and more ground is sold to private developers, which seems symbolic of the gradual death of our once globally esteemed social welfare system.
Why can’t the NHS treat my mental health as effectively as my cancer? | Eleanor Taylor-Davis
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