At one time
or another we have all said something we regret. For Christina Schumacher that “something”
happened last summer. Christina was in
the midst of separating from her husband, claiming reasons of domestic
abuse. At the time, she told her sister
that if anything ever happened to her children she would kill herself. Christina and her husband had a 17 year old
daughter and a 14 year old son.
On December
18th Christina’s estranged husband and their 14 year old son were found dead in
an apartment. Dad had strangled his son
and then hung himself.
The next day
Christina went to her regularly scheduled appointment with her
psychologist. Her doctor had decided,
before she arrived, that she should check herself into the hospital psych ward
and had the police ready and waiting in case Christina disagreed.
She didn’t
agree, she wanted to be with her 17 year old daughter through their grief. This however, was not an option and she was
taken to Fletcher Allen Health Care where she remained for the next 5½ weeks.
Christina was
released, by order of a judge, about a week ago. The judge stated that he saw no legal reason
she should have been committed or should remain in the hospital and ordered her
immediate release.
Christina’s
story raises some questions about the doctor/patient relationship in a mental
health setting. What rights do psych patients
have? How can we best assess their capability
to make decisions? What is the line
where involuntary commitment becomes necessary?
I understand
the concern the psychologist must have felt, and how difficult it must be to
determine if a patient needs to be committed.
What if Christina had been unstable and harmed herself or her
daughter? I am sure the doctor felt
there was enough information from their past meetings to warrant the decision
of commitment.
However, we
never really know how we will react to tragedy.
We often say things like: “I could NEVER do that.” Or “I would flip out
if that were me.” I am no stranger to
this kind of thinking, before my dad ended up in the hospital last fall my
internal monologue was: “I wouldn’t be calm talking about taking someone off of
a ventilator…especially someone I loved…I would be a puddle…there wouldn’t be
enough tissue in the world…” Yet, there
I was, in the exact situation I most feared, calm, collected, and making the
tough decisions with tissue to spare.
What we say
we will do and what we do are often worlds apart. Christina’s psychologist would have been wise
to keep this in mind during her appointment that December day.
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