Sadness has reached new depths (how is that possible?) with the arrival of the unit records through a superhuman effort from my mum, and eventual delivery of these records via several emails from the NHS trust regional director and her PA. The back story is now available. And what a distressing and harrowing tale it is.
These records provide the most devastating account of LB’s time at the unit. I haven’t opened all the emails. The ones I’ve read detail LB’s confusion at being at the unit, his consistent expectation (hope?) that his mum would come and get him. His desire to come home. The hours and hours and hours spent watching DVDs.
Nonsense care plans/risk assessments. Yawning pointlessness. Shifting choices, non action, destruction. They even gave him a maths test with equations. The dude couldn’t count to 10. What a fucking waste of everything.
I should have gone and got him.