I was chilling in the ER late last night with an IV dripping into my arm.

The patient next to me, separated by a thin curtain, was a healthcare worker from a COVID unit. They needed mental health help.

They received horrible care from a very nice doctor.

(Thread)

First, why the hell did I even hear it? They definitely have private rooms at Sheldon Chumir urgent care. This shit is personal, and I couldn’t not overhear as I read a book three feet away.

I wont share personal/identifiable info.

This frontline healthcare worker has worked in a COVID unit since January.

They talked about how crowded the unit has gotten. About how much worse patients symptoms are getting, especially over the past two weeks.

They talked about working exhausting 12-hour shifts.

These two particularly horrible weeks this gentle human endured were 100% preventable, and 100% the fault of weak leadership in this province. We should not be a global COVID hotspot.

The torture this human endures is undeniably @jkenney’s fault.

Now let’s talk about the treatment available to this angel working on the frontline of the pandemic.

They’re already on an antidepressant (one I hate, but whatever.)

They begged to see a psychiatrist. They would have settled for a psychologist or counsellor.

But what did they get? A prescription for clonazepam (I’ve taken it - made me a pathetic zombie and solved nothing.)

And told they could come back in a week to maybe see a counsellor with a short-ish wait.

And then they might be put on a month-ish wait list for a psychiatrist.

I regret not ripping out my IV, busting down the curtain, and screaming until this human got the help they needed.

But nothing I could think of saying or doing at the time seemed worth betraying their (false sense of) privacy.

Ugh. I’ve been that person. I’ve needed urgent help, and gotten only vague explanations of possible future strategies. And bad drugs.

I ended up just trying to cope on my own rather than navigate the complicated options. I worry they may do the same.

We should be taking care of everyone who is at the point of needing urgent help.

But we’re not even taking care of our frontline healthcare workers when we’re pushing them to the point of collapse.

Just “take a drug that doesn’t work, bye!”

I wish I could have scooped them up and held on until I could get them real help. I wish I’d made a scene. I wish I’d called every psychologist in town until one could see them today.

I wish.

The regret hurts more than the pain I was there treating.

I can’t believe our mental health care is as weak as it was when I walked into the ER with my blood dripping down my forearms 20 years ago. The “treatment” I got was painfully identical to what this worker endured.

So I say this with certainty: the nice doctor only made it worse

Our mental healthcare is basically this:

“Oh, you’re suffering? Here’s an obstacle course to navigate with no assurance that actual help will come at the end. And here’s a drug that might make it all harder. Have fun!”

Also sorry—I should have put a CW for mental health, self harm, and sad brains on this.

I was rash and ranty after a long night.