Hospital scare: It happened to me, too

Budget cuts might be necessary, but so is the protection of health-care professionals,

This week, the Montreal Gazette published an intimate and thorough look at the personal safety of employees at the Montreal General Hospital. While some readers might have found the accounts of assault shocking, I did not. Unfortunately, it happened to me, too.

In September 2014, I was a third-year medical student doing a mandatory psychiatry rotation at the MGH. Most of my time was spent in the locked psychiatric ward, where I had the opportunity to work with an excellent team of psychiatrists, specialized nurses, patient attendants and security guards.

One day near the end of the rotation, I was interviewing a patient in the TV room. We were alone, and I felt at ease and safe. Nothing in the previous eight weeks would have suggested I should feel otherwise.

However, I didn’t notice when another patient entered the room. Years of medications had ensured his shuffle was slow and silent. We had never spoken before, but a history of violent outbursts marked him as someone to avoid. By the time I saw him in my peripheral vision, it was too late — he was blocking the only exit.

A moment later, his hands took the shape of guns pointed at me. He told me he wanted me to die, and began to move closer. I knew that staff members on the floor would be at the other end of the ward, supervising the bulk of the psychiatric in-patients. I was on my own.

He lunged at me before I had a chance to scream. He put his hands around my neck and began to squeeze.

I couldn’t breathe. The edges of my vision went black, and the room began to fade away.

The fact that incidents like this are still happening is, in my opinion, unacceptable.

Time seemed to be moving quickly and slowly at the same time, and I went from feeling scared to feeling empty.

Then, suddenly, I became aware of a big man tackling my aggressor to the floor, emerging seemingly out of nowhere. Air began entering my lungs again, and my brain started to register what was happening. The patient I had been interviewing was screaming at the top of his lungs, and his screams had prompted help to arrive.

Soon the man who tried to kill me was taken away, and I found myself surrounded by a team of caring doctors, nurses and patient attendants. Still weak and gasping for breath, I reflexively moved my hands to my neck. One of my saviours held me and guided me to the couch; otherwise, I would have fallen to the floor.

The next few hours were a blur. I vaguely remember a nurse filling out an incident report and me signing it. I was examined by a doctor; there were scratches and bruises on my neck. Eventually my mother picked me up and took me to her home. She hugged me and cried. I could not be alone that night at my own place. I felt numb.

It’s been 3½ years since the incident. I don’t blame my colleagues for what happened. The employees at the MGH are excellent at what they do.

I haven’t set foot in the psychiatric ward since that rotation ended, and I avoid the psychiatric emergency room at all costs. Both still scare me.

The fact that incidents like this are still happening is, in my opinion, unacceptable.

I understand that budget cuts are sometimes necessary, but so is protecting the physical and mental well-being of those who work at hospitals and often interact with the most vulnerable people in society.

Certain measures are needed to ensure employee safety, like having an appropriate number of security guards and patient attendants in a psychiatric ward, and providing panic buttons to staff.

Regrettably, violence against hospital staff continues. Many of us carry the emotional scars for years. I know I still do.

Melanie Bernstein is an internal-medicine resident based at the Montreal General Hospital.