St Helen’s Hospital speech
Hello,
My name is Ryan Posselt. I’ve been a frontline Paramedic for 14 years.
WE KNOW that St Helen’s provides critical in-patient and out patient mental health care to Tasmanian’s state wide. WE KNOW that many of the services offered by St Helen’s are not duplicated within the public system and that the closure of St Helen’s WILL result in complete loss of some mental health services in Tasmania.
WE KNOW that clients who seek treatment through St Helen’s are less likely to have acute mental health crisis and therefore less likely to access emergency mental health services through an already under pressure Ambulance, Police and The Royal’s Emergency Department.
WE KNOW that emergency departments are overwhelmed with increasing numbers of patients, and on top of that, WE KNOW that emergency departments are often inappropriate for people suffering from a mental health crisis and in-fact, they can make it worse.
The closure of St Helen’s will result in worse outcomes for anyone requiring mental health care. And in Australia, WE KNOW that 2 in 5 people will suffer a mental health crisis at some stage in their life Anyone here today, may require mental health treatment in their lifetime, it does not discriminate.
But I am not here today to tell you what we know. I want to share deep life stories and messages from two frontline emergency services workers who have required inpatient care at St Helen’s for PTSD that they acquired while protecting you, the public, and while coming to your rescue in your moment of need.
I want to stress a very clear trigger warning for the next few minutes, and I’ll give anyone who wishes to step out, a moment to do so.
My name is Pete, I was an intensive care paramedic, at the pinnacle of emergency healthcare, flying on the rescue helicopter, before I was struck down by PTSD
My PTSD was probably bubbling along since 2014 when I did a long and protracted helicopter job involving a 3 year old run over during a west coast 4WD trip. It ended with me cleaning up the boy's face and talking his Dad through how to tell his wife their son had passed away. I stayed with him when he told her. I'm crying writing this to you today, it is still so vivid.
I can't remember when I was formally diagnosed, maybe 2018 or 19. But it was triggered in June 2018 by me going lights and sirens to my own house after my daughter overdosed for the first time.
I was not that involved clinically, but clearly a very difficult and traumatic situation. She was ok after a night in the hospital.
Having a bath was very soothing for my daughter after this and it was her go-to whenever she got wound up.
During her first bath post overdose I suffered vivid flashbacks to a job where a 15 year old girl had taken her life in a bath. At the time I spoke with the mother and brother about what we were doing while caring for her and what to expect in those moments. I also spoke to the father on the phone in Sydney. It was one of a small number of jobs where I cried on the scene. My daughter, was also 15 at the time
So, while my daughter was in the bath I would pace the house with extreme anxiety, panic attacks and the vision of her suffering the same fate in our bath.
After this incident, I had about 2 months off before doing a graduated return to work and returned to full duties and hours in October 2018. I struggled through the next 2 months, determined to stay in the job I loved so much.
In December 2018 at the end of a long night shift, I attended an 18 year old girl who'd self-harmed. She had everything that my daughter had. Same diagnosis. Same medications. Same self harm pattern. Even the same dress sense.
She was basically an 18 year old version of my daughter. It was brutal. I started 4 weeks of leave after that shift, but I was back to square 1 in terms of my recovery and capacity to work. It was the last time I'd do a full block at work with Ambulance Tasmania.
After my leave I began a second graduated Return to work in January 2019. This one was much slower and progressed from a day a week to doing 3 consecutive days per week over months. But I was really struggling at this point. My confidence was so low and my brain that was usually so reliable was failing me. I had a few jobs where my brain just went completely blank.
In June 2019 I was doing some training but I just couldn't get things to make sense. I was supposed to be on road the next day but I walked into the managers office and said I wouldn’t be coming in. I walked out heart broken knowing I would never be back.
The next 2 years were the darkest and hardest days of my life. The symptoms are too long to list, but daily things like getting up, showering, dressing and eating became like climbing Mt Everest. Leaving the house was incredibly difficult. Shopping was terrifying. I constantly felt unsafe and under attack from things that shouldn't be threats.
Treatment wise I started with a GP and psychologist who I'd had for a while. But the antidepressants weren't working so I started seeing a psychiatrist. That started a rollercoaster of different medications with side effects galore. My meds have been stable for a while now. I hate how many I take and hopefully I’ll be able to get off them sometime
My first hospitalisation was in June 2020 to a PTSD ward in Melbourne that was really aimed at ADF.
Next up was St Helens where I had ECT in September 2020. After my first treatment I didn't know where I was, who I was and why I was there. But the staff were awesome. I'm sure I was a very needy patient. I am told I used to forget where my room was all the time. I also had severe headaches and the staff were great at trying new things and advocating on my behalf.
In 2021 I had another admission to St Helens for TMS. The staff were again great at trying to improve my comfort. They tried different treatment delivery and different positions. Tried different timing and types of analgesia around my treatments to try and get the best outcome. St Helen’s continues to play a crucial role in my recovery.
Another first responder, Kelly, wanted me to tell you this:
As a former police officer who has PTSD, I want to share this with you:
The inpatient services at St Helens Hospital are lifesaving and vital for our emergency service workers and veterans. Triggers, hypervigilance, suicidal thoughts, and nightmares are just some of the symptoms of those suffering with PTSD. St Helens provides a safe place when you are at your worst, and the dedicated Doctors, nurses and support staff provide a supportive and caring environment.
Who is going to look after you when things get too much at work, and the pressures and traumas build up, and you start having flash backs?
Going home to your families, and the visions and smells from your day at work follow you home making it hard to concentrate and enjoy life.
St Helens Hospital is that saving place.
As we all know, the ED is busy, overcrowded and noisy. Being in a place where there is too much going on can cause triggers and a heightened state of anxiety, leading to a serious decline in mental health. It is embarrassing and degrading.
The closure of St Helen’s will lead to more first responders and veterans suffering in silence with mental health, failing to seek medical treatment and having poorer outcomes.
When you are brave enough to put your hand up and I say, “I need help”, you deserve the best access to health care there is and to be treated with respect and dignity.
TMS, ECT, and other inpatient programs and treatment, combined with day programs at St Helens Private Hospital all contribute positively to mental health outcomes in our society.
Pete’s story is heartbreaking. I worked with him on-road and he was a highly competent and caring paramedic, a true leader and the sort of person you know has got their life sorted.
Kelly’s message is on point. We cannot afford to lose the critical services provided at St Helen’s.
I’ll leave you with this thought.
Many years ago, anthropologist Margaret Mead was asked by a student what the first sign of civilisation was. The student expected her to talk about clay pots, tools for hunting, grinding-stones, or religious artefacts.
But instead she said that the first evidence of civilisation was found on a 15,000 year old archaeological site. A fractured femur that had healed.
She explained that in the animal kingdom, if you break your leg, you die. You cannot run from danger, you cannot drink or you cannot hunt. Wounded in this way, you are meat for your predators.
A broken femur that has healed is evidence that other people have taken time to stay with the fallen, bound the leg, carried the person to safety. And they have tended to them through recovery. A healed femur indicates that someone has helped a fellow human.
“Helping someone else through difficulty is where civilization starts,” Margaret Mead said
And she is right. What type of civilised society would allow people to suffer when there are options to ease their pain? What type of community would object to caring for people who care for them? What type of leader would allow their servants to suffer unimaginable pain as a result of their service?
Jeremy Rockliff. For these reasons I call on you to guarantee that no services will be lost and no patient disadvantaged as a result of the closure of St Helens Hospital. Do the right thing and place it in public hands.