Inquest.

It's my brother's Inquest on 21st July'10. It has been almost five years since my brother died in hospital on a psychiatric ward. My brother was also bi-polar for all of his adult life. He had had many episodes before he died and had always recoverd except for July'05. My brother died in Hillingdon hospital on 23rd July'05. My husband got the call at about 9am; he was told that my brother had died. It was 2 days after he was re-admitted; 2 days after the 21/07 bombers were caught.

On 21st July'05 my brother was taken back to the psych ward by my husband after going missing from the hospital. All the staff, nurses, doctors and ancillary staff were crowded round the TV watching the bombers being rounded up. My brother needed to be re-admitted but nobody could be bothered to do their job, they just wanted to watch the TV.

While my brother was waiting to be re-addmitted he was very agitated and upset; my husband was with him. I was in another part of the hospital; I couldn't face waiting for him to be addmitted, go throught the upset and heartache - I didn't have the stomache for it this time - I was feeling flakey. My brother begged my husband not to leave him there in the hospital, he was actually crying and begging my husband. My bother never ever cried. He told my husband that they would kill him if he was left in the hospital again; he meant the staff would kill him. We didn't believe him as he'd been in and out of hospital so many times before. We thought he was being paranoid and trying to get out of staying in hospital; he had always made it difficult for us. We didn't think anything of it. We were wrong. They did kill him. I truely believe that.

My brother was drugged up as soon as the formalities were over, when the staff tore themselves away, finally, from the TV to re-addmit him; they gave him an injection to dope him up. They should have stopped a drug called Depakote because they were giving him a massive dose of drugs to knock him out. My brother's consultant didn't tell the nurses to stop the Depakote. My brother was being given too many drugs.

I was phoning the hospital every 3 hours or so to find out how my brother was. I was told he was asleep every time I phoned. I didn't visit my bother the next day. He'd been in hospital 1 night. I would normally have gone to see him. My brother's social worker did see him that day; he was up and going to make a cup of tea apparently.

That evening around 6pm my brother was having problems breathing. A doctor was called from the main hospital. The doc checked my brother over. He said all was ok and if the staff were concerned they should call him again as he was on duty during the night. My brother went to bed that night and never woke up. He was 42 years old, he left 2 sons of 13 years old and 17 years old.

The next morning my brother didn't get up for his meds. When the meds had been given out the staff checked on my brother. He was on the floor of his bedroom, not breathing. The nurse who found him raised the alarm. Somebody gave him mouth to mouth resusitation. The crash team were called from the main hospital; they worked on my brother for 45 minutes. They shocked his heart God only knows how many times, injected his veins with drugs dozens of times and also stuck a needle into the side of his neck with drugs to bring him back. (Later I was shown a yellow plastic hazard waste bag, one third full of needles, syringes, tubes, dressings, plastic wrapping, ect.). Too late. He was gone.

During that 45 minutes none of us were called. My father should have been called as next of kin. My brother was divorced from his wife; his children were too young to be informed first. We should have been told that my brother was fighting for his life. When the crash team gave up hope of bringing my brother back, a nurse called my husband. My husband, in shock told me what had happened. For some reason I knew the news I was going to be told. We weren't used to getting calls early at the weekend. I knew something was wrong. It was obvious that the news was bad and it was about my brother.

We got out of the house as quickly as possible to go to the hospital. My brother-in-law was living a minute down the road from us, my husband and I decided to ask him to come with us to the hospital. I wish we hadn't, there was no need. What we didn't do was go to my Mum and Dad in West London, 20 minutes away and take my Mum with us to the hospital. Unfortunately Hillingdon hospital was nearer to me so we went straight there without thinking things through.

We got to the hospital, were taken into a small room and told that my brother had died, he'd been found on the floor not breathing. We were asked if we wanted to see him; we did want to see him. We were aksed to be as discreet and quiet as possible before going in to see my brother; the staff didn't want the other patients upset. My husband, my brother-in-law and I went in to see my brother. He was laid on the bed, covered with a blanket. He had a white sleeveless vest on. It was horrid to see him lying there dead. He looked asleep. I sat on the bed next to him, I cried. I touched his face and stroked his hair the way my Mum used to stroke his hair. I think somewhere in my head I knew that my Mum needed to be there and I was doing what she would have done. I felt so sad that he had been alone when he died. He had no one to tell him that they loved him. He may have been trying to get help. He may have had problems breathing. We would never know. Within a minute or two the ward manager who had brought us in to see my brother had tucked the blanket under my brother's feet and was holding on to my brother's feet and bouncing him up and down on the bed as if it were a ritual or custom. I wish I had told him to stop! It wasn't his brother, it wasn't my ritual or custom. But I didn't tell him to stop. I couldn't do anything. I couldn't think at all. I could see my brother lying in front of me dead. He would never get up again, he would never see his children again and my Mother would be devastated.

After a short time with my brother we went out to meet with my brother's consultant Dr. Hllade. He seemed relaxed and a little blase about my brother's death. He didn't seem worried, concerned or upset at all. That was unsettling and upsetting. We asked him questions about my brother. I don't know what I said or what he said to us. If I had had my wits about me I could probably have got a lot of useful information from that doctor. Unforunately I didn't have my wits or anything else useful about me.

I had already informed nisha about our brother's death. She was on her way to our parents home. I went home to Mum and Dad to tell them of the death of their son. My Mum opened the door. I was going to sit her down and tell her my brother had died; I didn't get the chance - as we all went into the living room, my brother-in-law told my Mum her son was dead, while she was still in the hallway. I couldn't believe what he had done. He had shown no respect, no humility and no humanity or love for a fellow human being. As soon as I realised what he had done I looked at him and made it be known, without words, exactly how dissapointed I was, not that it made a jot of difference to him. My Mum was devastated as I knew she would be. The apple of her eye, her favourite child, the son gifted to her by God, had died and left her bereft.

After that the boys had to be told. That was very difficult and sad. I can't imagine how they felt that day or in the years after their Father's death. It has been an awful ordeal for the boys. The younger one hasn't coped at all well after his Father's death. He has had very little support from the extended family on both sides. The older son has done better and seems to have come to terms with his loss although not without problems.

My brother's Inquest has been far too long coming. It will begin being heard on 21st July'10, the same day he was re-admitted to hospital 5 years ago. The inquest will close on 23rd July'10, the same day my brother died 5 years ago. Who ever thought or didn't think about this has some questions to answer as well as the inquest having questions to answer.

I don't think we will ever know what happened to my brother on that day 5 years ago. If the Inquest had been heard within a year or two, we may have got some where nearer to the truth.