Helpless

I think my first experience with someone with mental health problems was when I was seventeen. I think I may have been on my way to the shop that was just over the road from where I lived when I saw a woman, obviously in a distressed state, walking down the road talking to herself. I went after her to see if I could help.

I remember the woman wasn’t dressed properly, although I don’t remember what she was wearing. She had slippers on her feet, and she held an unlit cigarette to her mouth. As she walked down the street she looked straight ahead, not even noticing my presence. She kept repeating herself over and over again saying “My husband has left me, my son has gone, and I don’t know where I am” I remember the inflection in her voice so clearly as if it was yesterday. I kept asking her if she knew her address. Could I take her home? Was there someone I could call for her? She didn’t see me or hear a word I said; she just carried on walking and talking, repeating the same thing over and over again. When we got to the bottom of the road, she crossed over and started walking back up the other side. “My husband has left me, my son has gone, and I don’t know where I am” I had no idea what to do to help her. I didn’t want to leave her to get help because I wouldn’t have been able to find her again.

"Portrait of a Woman Standing in a Street at 11.23 am"
by Phillipa King

I saw a Vicar sitting in a parked car going through some paper work. “Great” I thought, “he’ll know what to do”. I tapped on the window and he wound it down. I explained to the Vicar about the woman, pointing her out to him as she walked past on the other side of the road. “Yes, it’s very sad” he said looking over at her, and while he gave me a sermon on how sad it was she wandered off and I lost her.

I went inside feeling very disturbed by what had just happened; not just because the Vicar seemed so unwilling to get involved, but because I had no idea how to help the woman and I was worried about her. I felt utterly helpless. The experience stayed with me for a long time afterwards.


These last few days I have struggled with similar feelings, as a man I know who suffers from Bipolar took a life threatening overdose at the weekend. He was violently shaking and vomiting, hallucinating and passing out. When the ambulance arrived he refused to go to hospital, and so the ambulance crew left him behind.

Like the Vicar, his brother refused to get involved and I, after all my experience with Mr Man, still had no idea how to help. The best I could do was to suggest that his daughter call the out of hours doctor and explain the situation, hoping that the doctor would then make the necessary arrangements for a psychiatric assessment, but her Dad said he would never forgive her if she had him admitted, and he headed for the door. The last thing she wanted was for him to fall unconscious somewhere and to choke to death on his own vomit so, worried for his safety and feeling emotionally tied, she agreed not to call anyone. It seemed the only thing his family could do was to take it in turns to stay with him and hope that he recovered.

The feeling of helplessness in a situation like this is compounded by professionals passing the buck; an ambulance crew who drive away instead of calling an ambulance officer or a GP; then two days later a psychiatrist who refers him to a GP, and a GP who merely “urges” him to go to the hospital the next day for a blood test. If professionals are this unwilling to help, who else is there to turn to? Where is this mans Care Co-ordinator? Where is his CPN? Where is his Care Plan? What does this man have to do before his needs are taken seriously?

If it’s as difficult as this for a man with people looking out for him to get help, how many more are slipping through the system without a person who cares for them to demand services on their behalf?