Scene 9: The Blame Game

Now more than ever, I needed to know who was responsible for this.

It doesn't make any sense. Think about it! Why was she in there in the first place? It was because she’d become a danger to herself, and she needed help so bad, she couldn't do it by herself. She couldn't be trusted by herself. So, as logic would have it, she shouldn't have ever been alone.

It shouldn't have been possible.

So where was the staff? Huh? I’d like to know that. I mean, they have to have 24 hour staff, watching the patients at all times, right? So what was going on? At the very least, there’s security, right? They would have seen her get up, leave her room, and go into the staircase.

She shouldn't have been able to hurt herself.

She took her own life on their watch. They need to be exposed. They need to be shown for how incredibly incompetent they are. I’ll make a film. I’ll make a documentary.

I’ll put them on the spot. I’ll pretend it’s just a project I’m doing for a class or something and it’ll be just informational, and I’ll get one of them on camera.

What was Sheila Pallier specifically diagnosed with? Did you have more than one diagnosis? Where is her file? What does it say? What medications was she on when she was here? Which, if any, were working at all? Didn't you notice any behaviours of hers that could have prevented this? How many times has she been in here? How many times has she been in places like this?

Did the shock treatment work?

What medications had she tried to overdose on before this? What kind of ways did she try to take her life before? Have you ever even tried anything besides medications and shock treatment? Do you even know what her triggers were?

And then I stood before them. They invited us to the hospital. All the staff that worked with her, and we sat around a big table. And what did I say to them?

Nothing.

I could see it on their faces, and I truly decided, even if I didn't understand, that they weren't to blame.

So who was?

She removed herself from us a lot. I would go up to her when she was in bed, and I’d try and talk to her. She would just be laying there sometimes, maybe asleep, but other times, she’d get upset and defensive, essentially telling me to go away.

It must be nice. I really mean that, it must be nice sometimes to be able to withdraw, and be responsible for absolutely nothing. I mean, she wouldn't even get up sometimes to take a bath, or get ready, or anything really. And then, if she did, we all had to walk around on eggshells, waiting for the next outburst or accusation.

I guess this would be the best way to remove herself from us completely.

I’ll never get the chance, but what would I say to her if I did?

Nothing.

I know the truth. I know who’s really to blame. It’s me.

What did I do when she needed me the most? Nothing. I’d see her laying there, and I’d just get frustrated, and I rarely offered any words of encouragement, or any help at all. If she’d yell, I just wanted her to stop, and I felt like we were all victims of this lady who wouldn't give us a minute of peace. That’s how I felt about my mom.

How would have that made her feel? I didn't need to say it. She'd know.

And then, I abandoned her. I abandoned her so many times. The minute I was out of High School, it was off to some different city, far away. As soon as she was in hospital, it was maybe a couple of visits, and then never again. With a “see you real soon” no less.

There was so much I could have said to her, and I didn't. Now, there was only one way to let anyone know how I truly felt.