"Why was I not referred to this team in the first place?"

A Mental Health crisis team official and doctor visited my house, accompanied by 5 police officers. I thought the doctor looked embarrassed by the situation.

I am in my seventies, have an arthritic knee and use a walking stick. I have a heart murmur. I am a law-abiding retired civil servant with almost 50 years loyal service to my country behind me. The only offence I have ever committed was speeding, once, in 1985.

So why 5 police officers were brought to my home was never explained to me. They stood in my living room with nothing to do. For the Mental Health Crisis Team to bring so many police on their visit seemed to me to be a waste of police time, and a waste of public money.

The mental health official brought a legal document that claimed I was unable to look after myself. This was untrue. The previous day I had taken my car for service & MOT, been shopping, been to a cinema, used a tram and bus, and cooked a meal. How could that be defined as being unable to look after myself?

On the face of things, it seems the Crisis Team mental health official did not accurately represent my situation to the magistrate who signed the document.

After some discussion, I reluctantly agreed to go to a NHS mental health facility, Millbrook Mental Health Unit in Nottinghamshire, for assessment of my mental health. I was taken to the hospital in a police car as an ambulance was unavailable. The police officers were polite and friendly and treated me with respect. They were a credit to their employer.

This could not have happened at a more inconvenient time. My car was in the garage service department overnight, awaiting parts. I was prevented from collecting it, as I was detained in hospital under S.2 of the Mental Health Act.

I felt that I had, in effect, been abducted by the State in the form of the NHS. It felt more like communist East Germany in the 1970s than England in the 2020s.

Little if any consideration was shown to me by most of the NHS staff. Many of those I encountered were uncaring towards me. They seemed oblivious to the fact that I had a life outside the ward! To be fair to them, they seemed stressed and over-worked. A few members of staff were kind and caring and talked to me in a friendly way. But they were the exceptions.

I was given a tablet every morning without being told what it was, or what it was for. I refused to take it until a doctor explained to me exactly why I was being given this medication. For all I knew it could have been an error! I had been a patient in the hospital for 5 days before a doctor bothered to come to see me to tell me about the tablet. Once I had been informed, I agreed to take it.

The ward was intensely hot. Every morning I woke up with a dry throat after poor quality sleep. Being locked up for bi-polar seemed to me to be wholly unnecessary. The doctors seemed to have a box into which they were determined to put me, whether I fitted it or not.

They asked questions about my spending habits and I pointed out that I don't gamble, spend my money carefully, on necessary home improvements etc, and have never been in the red with my bank account since I opened my account many year ago. But they appeared to want to portray me as some sort of wild spendthrift!

The doctors confiscated my mobile phone and laptop. Quite why I did not know, A doctor came to talk to me, but after 5 minutes had to dash to a meeting, almost in mid-sentence. Seemingly that meeting was more important than speaking with a patient.

A virus swept through the ward, and I caught it. It wasn't COVID but it was the worst cold I have had for 20 years. I would not have caught it if I had not been locked in that hospital ward, unable to get fresh air outside because of building works.

My fellow patients were nice people. While a few were clearly mentally ill, I could not understand why some of them were there. I sat up with one patient, talking, trying to help, as they were traumatised and had lost their memory. I was doing the staff's job for them but did not get a word of thanks. They left me to get on with it.

While deprived of my phone I had to borrow the ward phone a basic mobile for the use of patients.

My elderly brother, who lives a couple of hours drive from the hospital, planned to come to see me and talk to the staff about why I was being detained. He said that on the phone I sounded perfectly well to him.

The morning he was due to visit there was heavy snow. I wanted to phone him to warn of the weather and advise him not to come. He is an early riser, and at 7.30am I requested the ward phone. The nurse in charge refused to give it to me, even though I explained why I needed it. I made a complaint to the hospital PALS team about her.

My phone and laptop were eventually returned to me. When my section expired I was released. I left the hospital feeling traumatised and more ill than I went in.

Thanks to the excellent care I have since had from the Intensive Home Care team, I am now recovered and signed off to my GP.

Why was I not referred to the Home Care team in the first place?

I told the Crisis Team people I was willing to be treated as an out-patient but they ignored me.