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I'll never forget my
initiation into this intimidating institution. On my first day, the nursing
supervisor took a huge set of keys off a hook on the wall and handed them to
me.
She escorted me to a ward, unlocked the door, let me inside, and then left,
locking the door behind her. I stood alone, looking down a long ward that had
chairs on both sides with patients sitting in them. My first thought was,
"What am I doing here?" Terrified, I was ready to turn and
run, but I didn't know which key unlocked the door. Finally, after what seemed
an eternity, a person in white appeared from a side door and came to me. It was
a psychiatric attendant. She gave me directions as to my duties.
I had no medical training or dealings with sick people, let alone the mentally
ill. But I was soon to find out that practice was a good way to learn. I helped
patients bathe, made beds, and counted silverware, (knives, spoons,scissors) to
be sure all were accounted for.
The most terrifying wards, I was soon
to find out were G & H, Ward 9 (a male ward and off limits to female
attendants). This ward housed patients that were criminally insane. They were
the violent wards. Some of the patients were quite aggressive. Most were
restrained, both hands and feet strapped to a wooden bench which was bolted to
the floor.
There was not much medication or treatment for the mentally ill in those days.
Electric shock treatment was one method... in my opinion, the way it was done
was barbaric. Patients were strapped to a stretcher. Attendants held them down
while an electric current was sent through their convulsing body. The rest of
the day, they remained drowsy. Still, I believe it did help some patients.
At first, I found the violent wards both terrifying and exhausting, but you got
used to it. I found the steady noises the patients made the worst. One time, on
the violent ward, I was attacked by a patient.
I had a student working with me as we unlocked a patient in restraints. The
patient got me around the neck in a tight grip. She was a big woman, and at any
minute she could have snapped my neck. I was petrified. I said to the student,
"Go and get help. Call the men." While she was gone, I spoke
to the patient calmly and said it was all right. She finally let go and I got
her strapped myself before the men came. That was the closest I came to being
hurt in 23 years. People think that a lot of cruelty went on in there but I
never saw any. The restraints were necessary for the patients' protection and
ours.
After two years at the Provincial
Hospital, I resigned to be at home with my four children. About this time, the
turnaround in treatment of the mentally ill began. Wonder drugs helped many
patients. Nursing education was implemented for the attendants... By 1966,
there had been amazing changes. My initiation into the Provincial Hospital this
time was a far cry from my first experience. Before reporting for duty, I
attended nursing classes in basic and psychiatric nursing... There were no more
violent wards, and very few if any restraints. Many drugs were being used in
treatment.
There were so many changes that it was hard to believe: Many of the former
patients I had known, some of whom had been strapped to benches, were now
released and living in the community.
At the Provincial Hospital Annex, a farm on Sand Cove Road, life for the
patients was great. They were free to go outside. There were no locked doors.
Some of the men worked the farm.
I retired from the hospital in 1987 yet often think back to many years there
and many friends, patients and staff that I met. The psychiatric attendants'
work took courage, stamina, kindness and perseverance.
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