Rachel's Story

For our Better Care = Safer Care campaign, Rachel talks about the inadequate, unsafe care her mum has received in hospital.

Trigger and content warning: suicide.

My mum is now in her seventies. In truth, mental health has shadowed her whole life, but it was sixteen years ago when everything came to a head and our family changed forever. Looking back, it feels like a journey that has never really stopped.

The first time I became truly aware of how unwell my mum was, I was in my twenties. My parents were going through a difficult separation, and it seemed to trigger something profound in her. One day I received a phone call that changed everything. It was the police.

They told me they had found my mum on the railway tracks after she had attempted to take her own life. I remember feeling completely numb. The impact on our family was enormous. We all loved my mum, but none of us knew how to cope. It caused arguments, divisions and tensions between relatives, all trying in different ways to manage an impossible situation. There was very little support for us as family members, despite the fact that her illness affected all of us.

Over the years, Mum spent periods in mental health hospitals. The staff were often kind, but the environments never felt therapeutic. As a visitor, I found them intimidating and unsettling. They were noisy, chaotic places that felt more frightening than nurturing or safe.

For some of the time, Mum was supported by a community mental health team. But she was discharged relatively quickly and largely left to manage alone, prescribed medication, reviewed periodically, but simply expected to get on with life.

Earlier this year, everything deteriorated again after Mum suffered a serious fall and broke her thigh bone. What followed exposed just how fragmented care can be when physical and mental health needs collide.

While in hospital, it became increasingly clear that Mum was struggling with paranoia and severe mistrust of others. She became convinced people were stealing from her and struggled to engage with family, staff and the physiotherapy she needed to regain her strength. As she was moved between wards and facilities, vital information repeatedly failed to follow her.

The communication failures were devastating. Mum was discharged without me being informed. I only discovered she was home after receiving a text from my aunt. Shortly afterwards, carers found she was missing. After a search around the village, a friend found her sitting on a bench in the community gardens, soaked through, confused and delusional.

Despite contacting the crisis team and social services, nobody came out to assess her. It took two days before a doctor confirmed she needed to be sectioned. There were no mental health beds available, so she remained in a general hospital where she stopped washing, eating and taking her medication. During that stay, she developed a Grade 3 pressure sore. Throughout the process, our family repeatedly had to retell her story because records had not followed her, and at one stage medication that should never have been in her possession was discovered in her handbag.

Today, Mum is in a mental health hospital, having been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. She has suffered multiple falls, and our family is still trying to navigate a system that often feels impossible to understand.

I've been struck by the lack of continuity and communication. Every time I call, I speak to someone different. It is difficult to build trust when there is no consistency. If it is hard for me as a family member, I can't imagine how difficult it must be for my mum, whose illness already makes it hard to trust others.

I know people in the system work hard, they care, but many seem burnt out themselves. And if they are feeling that way, there’s no wonder that ripples down to the patients and their families.

After a lifetime watching my mum move through mental health services, I've come to the conclusion that these environments too often aren't places of healing, recovery or hope. For patients and families living through the reality of mental illness, that makes an already devastating experience even harder to bear.

Why am I telling my story? I know what it costs when people don't feel safe, seen or heard. I was the daughter nobody asked how she was coping. My mum was the patient who fell through every gap. We deserved better. Every family does.

Take action today

Add your name to support safer mental health care. This year, we'll be pushing for improvements to inpatient mental health care and updating you on ways to get involved.