As I’m being increasingly swaddled in the bri-nylon sheets
of middle age (comfortable, slightly uncomfortable, OUCH STATIC ELECTRIC SHOCK,
and repeat) my sense of historical time is wobbling around more and more
alarmingly. Last week can feel like distant history, while 40 years ago can
become a blink of a(n?) historical eye [“Now children, imagine a time when
people didn’t have computers or mobiles, duvets hadn’t made it to the UK, push-button
phones were a bolt from the future, and you had to go to a shop to buy music
played by putting a needle on to a big black plastic plate”]
It was in this mood that I went to our spankingly
refurbished University library (“Look! A tree! Indoors!”), which still finds
room on its gleaming shelves for all sorts of old books, reports and
statistical publications. I was looking for things that might give me some way
to think about what’s happened to inpatient services for people with learning
disabilities in England. Are the supposedly specialist inpatient services still
existing the tail-end of the old institutions or are they mainly newer services
that have been developed? What clues do we have about what has changed and what
may not have changed very much for people with learning disabilities living in
specialist hospitals over time?
One way for a nerd like me to think about this is to look at
old statistics about services for people with learning disabilities. In this
blog I’m going to pull out a few statistics from a report on hospitals for
people with learning disabilities in England collected 40 years ago, in 1976
(DHSS, 1980). It’s quite a comprehensive report (and very revealing in its
assumptions about services for people with learning disabilities) so I’ll only
pull out here some bits and pieces that I think might be relevant to 7 days of
action.
The first thing that hit me was the sheer number of people
with learning disabilities in hospitals in 1976. As of 31st December
1976, there were a total of 52,725 ‘available beds’, with 48,959 people living
in them. 9% of these 48,959 people were children under the age of 16. It’s also
worth reminding ourselves how big many of these places were – by 1976 hospitals
were gradually shrinking, but there were still 12 hospitals with over 1,000
people living in each of them.
What were people living in these hospitals doing in 1976?
Just over three-quarters of people (75.5%) were ‘occupied’ on the day before
the census, categorised in quite revealing ways: 12.0% of people were in
full-time education; 18.5% of people were engaged in ‘industrial’ activity,
19.5% of people in ‘handicrafts’, 17.4% of people in ‘social training’, 9.7% of
people in ‘hospital service departments’, 1.5% of people in a local authority
training (day) centre, and 2.1% of people in open employment outside the
hospital. Although inpatient services now classed as ‘specialist’ would argue
that they are catering for more ‘complex’ people, I wonder what people placed
in inpatient units now are doing on a daily basis? As far as I’m aware, we
don’t have an equivalent national picture for inpatient services today.
By 1976 there were also minimum standards in place for
hospitals for people with learning disabilities. These minimum standards are in
some ways set so low as to reflect how appalling these hospitals were, but
again I wonder from the accounts of people and families how many current
inpatient services would meet all of these standards?
The first set of minimum standards were about staffing
ratios (reports around this time are very exercised about staffing ratios –
while high staff ratios are certainly no guarantee of good support, very low
staff ratios are probably a guarantee of poor support). The first minimum
standard was 1 member of medical staff (i.e. a doctor) per 250 people – out of
61 hospitals with more than 200 residents, 3 hospitals failed this standard.
The second minimum standard was 1 nurse per 4.4 people – 3 hospitals failed
this standard too. The final minimum standard here was that 3.5-6.1 hours per
‘bed’ per week should be spent on the time of ‘ward orderlies and domestics’ –
fully 53 hospitals failed this standard.
The second set of minimum standards was about ‘amenities’
for people living in hospitals. How this was defined I found quite shocking.
First, each bed should have a minimum of 50 square feet in ‘night space’, the
equivalent of a box room around 7 feet square – 11 hospitals failed this
standard. In addition, there should be a minimum of 30 square feet of ‘day
space’ per person (there’s no definition of what this ‘day space’ should
consist of) – 8 hospitals failed this standard. People living in hospitals were
also supposed to have a personal cupboard each (just one per person, mind) – 10
hospitals failed this standard. People were also supposed to have personal
clothes (only for each ‘ambulant patient’ though) – again, 10 hospitals failed
this standard.
To my mind these minimum standards are in many ways an
artefact of an institutional era, but nagging away at me (thinking of Steven
Neary’s experience in the ATU about his clothes, for example) is a question
about how many inpatient specialist units now would meet all of these minimum
standards?
Finally, reading through the lists of hospitals 40 years ago
was an eerie experience for me. Some of them have been bulldozed, and some
converted into schools, luxury hotels, complexes of executive flats, or NHS Trust
HQs. Many of them are still (sometimes under different names) providing
specialist inpatient services for people with learning disabilities 40 years
on, in 2016. Below is a list of ‘special’ inpatient units or wards listed in
1976 (I’ve kept the original words for how units were described), picked out by
me as claiming to provide similar functions to specialist inpatient services
now. At the end of 1976 there were 923 people in these specialist units, with
an estimated further 700 people with learning disabilities ‘accommodated in the
private sector under contractual arrangements with the NHS’ (Department of
Health and Social Security, 1980). How many of these places are still going, 40
years on?
Special in-patient
units or wards (selected by me, relevant to ATUs) 1976
Location Type Number of beds
Prudhoe & Monkton Investigation
& assessment 35
Prudhoe & Monkton Behaviour
disorder & psychosis 22
Northgate & District Security
(locked) 41
Northgate & District Security
(locked) 38
Brandesburton, Cherry Burton Security (locked) 46
& The Beeches
Aston Hall Emotionally
disturbed adolescent 60
Aston Hall Security
(locked) 50
Little Plumstead Security
(locked wards) 60
Leavesden Interim
Regional Secure Units 100
Harperbury Security
(locked wards) 21
The Manor, Epsom Security 12
Royal Earlswood, Earlswood Security 30
Home & Farmfield
Queen Mary’s Children
– mental illness 26
Tatchbury Mount & Locked
Ward 43
White House
Burderop & North View Child
Psychiatry 20
Coleshill Hall & Security 75
Over Whitacre House
Greaves Hall Security
(adolescents – locked wards) 30
Mary Dendy Psychopathic/disturbed 55
Brockhall Security 79
Calderstones Security 14
Royal Albert Security
(locked wards) 66
Wayland Behaviour
disturbance 8
TOTAL 931
References
Department of Health and Social Security (1971). Better services for the mentally handicapped.
London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office.
Department of Health and Social Security (1979). The facilities and services of mental
illness and mental handicap hospitals in England 1976: Statistical and research
report series no. 21. London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office.
Department of Health and Social Security (1980). Mental handicap: Progress, problems and
priorities. A Review of Mental Handicap Services in England since the White
Paper “Better Services for the Mentally Handicapped”. London: Department of
Health and Social Security.
I worked to get people out of Leavesden, Harperbury and Cell Barnes in the mid 90s. On one of many visits to Leavesden, there was a man on the ward thumping his head against a wall so hard you could hear his skull cracking. I tried to intervene and called a nurse to help him and the nurse that came grumpily told me that she was the only nurse there at the time to support 25 people. What was even worse was that this man spent so much time thumping his head against a wall that nobody heard him anymore- he was just part of the normal hospital noise.
ReplyDeleteHarperbury is now the Horizon Trust - I was still trying to get people out of there 8 years ago. Smaller houses with more staff but still a barren and depressing world for the people that live there, year on year, because there is nothing or them in their communities.
Last visit to St Andrews Hospital was 2 years ago. Despite all the money that goes into it, it felt like walking through the set of Prisoner Cell Block H. An impersonal holding pen for the victims of poor commissioning.
2 years ago, a Huntercombe hospital over on the borders of Hertfordshire had better decor and modern building with some decent staff but still smelt of urine and disinfectant, and a strong sense that the person I was trying to get out was a cash cow ie. not ready for discharge when all he needed was some decent support in his own home.
Nothing has changed, really.
Thanks so much for this comment - experiences like yours are crucial for understanding what's really going on in a way that numbers can't.
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