We, the underrepresented, demand urgent reform in how Georgia handles individuals experiencing suicidal thoughts. It is unacceptable that those who need help the most are treated like criminals, locked up without proper care or compassion. The current system fails to provide the support and treatment necessary for those in crisis, perpetuating stigma and causing further harm.

Key Issues:

Criminalization of Suicidal Individuals:

In Georgia, individuals expressing suicidal thoughts are often detained under the 1013 hold, treated more like criminals than patients in need of care. This approach exacerbates their mental health issues and discourages others from seeking help.
Lack of Proper Mental Health Treatment:

Facilities like Ridgeview Institute prioritize bureaucratic processes over genuine care, leading to neglect, mistreatment, and further trauma for patients. Those experiencing severe depression, anxiety, PTSD, and suicidal thoughts deserve comprehensive, empathetic treatment, not punitive measures.
Insurance Fraud and Legal Loopholes:

Ridgeview Institute and similar facilities unlawfully extend patient stays beyond the legal 48-hour 1013 hold, driven by insurance coverage rather than medical necessity. This exploitation leads to prolonged suffering and violates patient rights.
Violation of Patient Rights:

Patients are often misinformed about their rights and the procedures for discharge, leading to illegal detentions and further vulnerability. This systemic failure needs to be addressed to protect individuals seeking help.
We Demand:

Reform of the 1013 Hold Process:

Ensure that individuals expressing suicidal thoughts are treated with compassion and provided with immediate, appropriate mental health care rather than being criminalized.
Improved Mental Health Treatment Facilities:

Establish and enforce standards for mental health facilities to provide comprehensive, empathetic care. This includes proper medication management, access to specialists, and respect for patient rights.
Accountability for Abusive Practices:

Investigate and hold accountable facilities like Ridgeview Institute for their abusive practices, including neglect, insurance fraud, and violation of patient rights.
Public Awareness and Education:

Increase public awareness about the rights of mental health patients and the proper procedures for seeking and receiving care. This will empower individuals to advocate for themselves and demand better treatment.
Why This Matters:

Mental health issues, including suicidal thoughts, should never be treated as crimes. Compassionate, effective care is essential for recovery and well-being. By reforming the current system, we can create a more supportive environment for those in crisis, reducing stigma and saving lives.

Join us in advocating for the rights and dignity of individuals experiencing suicidal thoughts. Sign this petition to demand immediate reform and ensure that those in need receive the help and care they deserve.

 

 

 

 

My story:

I am writing this letter with a heavy and frightened heart. I am writing this letter to speak out about the injustice and mistreatment I have suffered in the last couple of weeks. They might say I was a patient who fell through the cracks, but no one talks about what falling feels like. With this letter, I hope to convey the meaning of the feelings I felt. I hope other patients that I was admitted with speak up about their sexual abuse, sexual assault, physical abuse, and neglect. I am speaking up for the women that are still traumatized and unable to do so. I am speaking up for the women currently being held against their will not being told their rights. I am speaking up for the women that were medically neglected, physically abused, and sexually abused. 

It started on Saturday May 11th, 2024. I have many health conditions, but this by far has been the most unbearable and has declined my quality of life. Needless to say, the worst day of my life was happening again. A flare-up day. As I am screaming in pain on the toilet, I suddenly remember being on the floor in so much pain I couldn't move or speak. I must have fallen off. People like to ask you to rate your pain from 1-10, and man have I experienced many 10s in my life, but nothing compared to this. There is a level of pain that your body can reach that you have no scream left in you. As I lay on the floor, I wondered if something was wrong. Maybe this wasn't just a normal “flare” or episode but something in my system burst. I asked my husband to call 911, in hopes today could be the day they find the thing that is taking my life. Little did I know I was walking into what would be the scariest week of my life.

After you go through something severely traumatic, you know, the kind of trauma where your body was so violated that panic is the only response you have. As my flare-up was coming to its end, the paramedics rushed to the bathroom to see me having a severe panic attack and repeating “please, there’s something in my stomach, I can’t do that again.” I remember I couldn't stop saying that phrase. My husband said I looked crazy. All I knew was I needed medical attention. As they rushed me to the hospital, I kept thinking maybe today is the day my life changes. I just need one doctor to care. 

As I arrived at the ER, everyone kept asking me hundreds of questions and I was so traumatized by the event I could barely tell them what just happened to me on the toilet. The pain was unimaginable, indescribable, so much so that I blacked out apparently and that's why I was there. I heard a kind nurse say “yeah I remember her, she's been here before for stomach pain” how sad that this is my routine. Nevertheless, in the extreme pain I was still in, I answered the nurse's questions. “In the past month, have you had thoughts about suicide?” -Not Really. “Can you explain” -I don’t want to hurt myself and I never would, but due to all my health issues I have decided to start the process of looking into physician-assisted suicide. Legally of course. And that was the end of that… 

As soon as they heard that living was hard for me the medical treatment stopped and the concern for my safety started. Or should I say their standard procedure when someone speaks those words. Of course, I have no clue what was happening at this point because I was in severe pain and still waiting for medical treatment. I had to strip my clothes and put on what looked like a mix between prison clothes and scrubs. Then “security” came aka my guard. We waited 6 hours before we started to question if anyone was coming to help me, take a scan or anything. We asked to speak to someone and a nurse they placed outside my door to (babysit) me stated a social worker was coming. The social worker spoke to me and explained they wanted to 1013 me, basically sending me to a psych hospital for 72 hours. I have been in therapy for a while and am an advocate for my mental health so I was okay with whatever they deemed right because I trusted the system. 

I asked her when I was going to get medical attention and she said she would ask the nurse to come. Hours later a very young, rude, and ego-filled nurse popped in and asked me what I needed. I said I would like to be seen by a doctor. He stated that I was fine and just had GERD. I started to get upset at this point. GERD? GERD is a condition that has to be diagnosed by an upper endoscopy which I know they did not complete and not to mention the day prior my GI did one to biopsy a mass I have in my stomach. I 100% know I do not have GERD. I asked him why he thought I had GERD due to the fact that I have none of the symptoms which he would have known if he would have asked about my medical history and current symptoms. I felt unheard, misunderstood, and abandoned. The social worker came back and stated that I was medically cleared and ready to be transported to Ridgeview. Still in a lot of pain I asked her how I was medically cleared if I had never seen a doctor. She said she would look into it. The doctor finally came about 8 hours after admission. She stated there is nothing she can do for me and I need to go back to see my GI. She wasn't willing to do any scans or testing. The only testing she did was my CBC (normal), drug test, and alcohol test. I am in pain and all they are thinking about is sending me off to a psych hospital without addressing my pain or conditions.

Yet they are so adamant about 1013ing me. I didn’t really understand why. The social worker stated it is because they feel like I am a danger to myself. I asked how? I have never tried to harm myself and I would never. I thought as an American citizen I had rights to make informed medical decisions about living with conditions that are beyond livable. I guess I didn't. My husband went home to pack a bag for me for the 3-day stay that was coming up. As they transported me from the hospital bed to the van at 3 a.m., that is when my nightmare began.

I was shoved into a van that looked nothing short of a prison van. This is when the fear started to creep in. It took us an hour to get there, and they put me in an “intake room,” which is just like the movie's example of a psych ward. Cameras stared at me in this empty room with one couch. I was staring at the wall for hours and had trouble sleeping because of the bright lights that they had in the room. I was in that room for 9 hours total. I was still in pain and scared. I thought this place might help me in some way, but I was beginning to see that this was a prison. One lady came in shortly after I arrived and told me that since I had valuables, they needed to go in the safe, so she made me sign off that Ridgeview had my phone, wedding rings, wallet, Kindle, headphones, and pills. Then another woman came in a couple of hours later and did an intake assessment. She asked me if I went to college and if I had siblings. Really odd questions. Still struggling to get to sleep, another woman came in and finally explained to me the process. She explained that a 1013 is just cautionary to make sure I won’t harm myself. I was confused because I never stated I would just up and jump off a bridge, but nevertheless, she said in 72 hours I would be out. She asked me if I wanted to start the process of my discharge; I said yes. 

I remember being quiet, disoriented, and scared out of my mind. She stated I needed to be strip-searched and then taken to unit E1. Yet another prison-like occurrence. After a few more hours, we finally hopped into a normal humane-looking van and drove to E1. As I am walking into this unit’s community room, where 20 other women stare at me and the nurses at the nurse’s station look, I start to feel uncomfortable and uneasy. I am still in a lot of pain as I sit and wait for the nurses to give me my clothes my husband brought and allow me to shower. I sat there for about an hour with no one acknowledging my experiences but another patient. They finally called for lunch, and I wasn’t sure what to do but I followed everyone into a small cafeteria. As soon as I opened my styrofoam to-go box, I burst out crying and ran out into the hallway. I started to realize that this wasn’t a safe place, and I was being held against my will. A tech told me I needed to be in the cafeteria whether I ate or not. I tried to explain to her that I couldn’t eat that type of food. Heavily processed food irritated my already hurting stomach more. She said I have to eat, or I’ll starve. I told her I was in pain, and she stated that a doctor would be seeing me. It’s part of the intake process. That I should be seeing “medical” and a “psych.” I was relieved. I waited for hours and hours. No one came, and I was still in pain. I asked to go to my room to lay down, and the same tech said I could. 

I walked into my room and knew that this was definitely not going to be a “healing” experience. No sheets, just a mat on a piece of wood. Thank God I had my blanket from the hospital. I slept for a couple of hours until dinner and still didn’t have my stuff that my husband brought. It wasn’t until after dinner that the tech said to come to the counter, and she will go through my items and see what I can have from them. She took away my books because they were “Christian” and also said that I couldn’t have two of my three shirts because they were “Christian” as well. I was left with three pairs of underwear, pants, and one shirt. I was devastated that I couldn’t have my Christian items because that is my identity. I felt like my rights as an American were being violated, but everyone said I had to remain calm, or they will keep me there longer. 

I was determined to get out in 72 hours. As the night came to a close, I was scared and still in pain waiting on the doctors to come. It was hard to sleep with no real blankets and only thin sheets on a mat. We had to sleep with our door wide open and the bright lights of the hallway peeking in. The techs would shine a flashlight in our faces every 15-20 minutes every night. It was terrible. On day two, Monday, about 40 hours into my 72-hour hold, I still haven’t seen a medical professional. I asked the daytime tech and nurse again, and they said for sure by today I should be seen. I also walked up to a therapist and asked what steps I need to take to be leaving tomorrow because that would be the end of my three-day hold. She laughed and said that’s not how this works. She said everyone stays 7-10 days. I walk away feeling scared and panicked. I was being pulled away from my support system, my faith, and my medical treatment. I knew I had to remain calm because I wanted to seem stable so I could leave. 

Someone on the staff (some medical professional, I was guessing) finally asked to meet with me on Monday midday. I was excited to finally get this misunderstanding cleared away. My goal was for her to speak to my care team and specifically my psych so they could let Ridgeview know about my medical conditions because 1. I need my medication, 2. The living conditions were triggering my PTSD, 3. I wanted my psych to explain that I am in a good place mentally and I have come a long way; it’s just that I live with chronic pain so of course I am going to be depressed sometimes. I remember my psych telling me a couple of weeks before my Ridgeview admission that “I was doing as well as someone in my position can do.” I needed her to say this. 

As I walked into the intimidating consultation room, she asked me to sit down, and at the time, I didn’t know who she was. She started asking me questions, and I started to assume she was my psych consultant that they said I would have. She asked me for a rundown of my psychological conditions: depression, anxiety, and PTSD. She asked me about my medical conditions. I told her that I had limited scleroderma, mass cell activation disease, endometriosis stage 2, and a gut nerve problem that they are in the process of diagnosing a neuroendocrine tumor. She asked me if it was like IBD (Crohn’s disease). I told her that I was misdiagnosed with that for 4 years, and now they are trying to go a different route. She said to me, “This sounds psychosomatic,” which is something you do not tell someone that is fighting hard for her health. I told her no, it is not all in my head; I do not have any psychological disorder that is causing random pain. I told her I have many conditions that have in fact been diagnosed; I just am waiting on this gut diagnosis. 

This is when she began badgering me. She started asking me questions fast to the point where it was hard for me to answer, and it was obvious where she stood. She said you’ve done all these tests, and nothing is wrong with you; that means it’s in your head. I tried to not let that get to me and continue to remain calm because again, I was determined to get out of there. I’ve never been spoken to like that. I told her that I believe I do have a condition, and God will heal it; I am just in the process. She asked me if I was Christian or a believer in God (something like that), and I told her yes. She said, “You must not be right with God because God doesn’t allow his people to be sick.” I told her that wasn’t my belief and God isn’t a genie in a bottle that can grant me all my wishes. Sometimes He allows us to endure for a season, and she starts to badger me again about how I might not believe in God and how I am obviously doing something wrong because I am still sick. She said, “You are saying you have faith, but you don’t because you are still in pain.” She was attacking me about my faith, my beliefs about God, my interpretation of the Bible, etc. My heart at this point began to sink because I knew that she wouldn't be my advocate to help me get out of here. I asked her if I could have my pills, and she said she could give me the Cymbalta, but the rest medical has to approve (the rest are the ones I really needed). She said based on everything, she is not really sure what “this facility can do for me since a lot of my stuff is medical.” I thought thank God maybe I will be released since she doesn’t think I am a danger to myself. She asked me if there was anything else I needed, and I told her no, that I am in pain waiting on the doctor, and she said the doctor should see me today. That was the end of that. Her name is Victoria and she is an NP come to find out.

I go back into the community room in a lot of pain, still. I find a spot on the wall that I can fold up my knees to my stomach because pressure sometimes helps the pain. I didn’t participate in “group therapy” because I was in so much pain. I asked to go to my room because of the pain, and the nurses said no, that the only people allowed in their rooms were people who were medically cleared. I told her it is the end of day two, and I still haven’t seen someone. She said that medical usually comes at night, so I have to wait. And so I did. I waited and waited. Day three comes around, Tuesday, and I find out that weekends don’t count when it comes to a 72-hour hold. I still haven’t gotten my meds, and I am starting to now feel my mass cell activation act up. I get super bad hot flashes, and my skin starts to burn. I went to the morning nurse to ask when I am going to see the doctor because it is my third day here, and I still haven’t seen anyone. She said, "Why do I need to see someone?" I told her because I was told medical comes and consults with us to medically clear us to be here and make sure we are okay. I told her I have a lot of health issues and I need to go home. I have to re-explain everything for the 4th time because when every shift changes, there is new staff. 

She asked me what meds I needed because she can add them. I’m like “what…” if nurses could add them, why has it been 3 days, and I am still asking? I told her all the meds, and she said she will add them. Med time came around, and a different nurse didn’t give me my other loratadine. I need two of those and one montelukast in order for my mass cell activation to not go crazy. She said she would call the doctor and ask about the mix-up. Thank God, I thought. She apologized and told me that the doctor said that they can’t give me the 2 loratadines because it is against Ridgeview policy. I told her this is what my doctor prescribed for me, and I told her I need to be released so I can take my normal meds, and technically today is my third day here. She apologized again and said there was nothing she could do and restated again that people usually stay here 7-10 days.

 I began to get upset, and I called my husband like I usually do every couple of hours to update him and my stepdad. My husband and stepdad said they called up there, and the staff said I was seen by the doctor and I was getting my meds. I started to get angry at this point. I wasn’t getting treated properly, my mass cell is starting to get out of control, my skin is on fire, people around me have horror stories of this place’s mistreatment, I was being treated like a prisoner, my stomach is still in pain, and it has been 3 days since I have had a bowel movement, which is not okay for my gut issue. I needed medical attention, and Ridgeview is refusing over and over again to get me the help I needed. 

There was a patient crying, and I went up to her. She said she has been trying to see someone for days too because she has been bleeding out of her rectum. I am at this point sick. I kept thinking to myself, we must have some rights. We can’t be held against our will with no real medical treatment. Not to mention how we are all struggling with our mental health, and this place is adding to our anxiety, stress, and unsafety. I asked one of the techs who I need to speak to if I have a concern about how the staff is treating us. She said there is a patient advocate. Thank goodness. I called over and over again and didn’t get any answer. I called the next day. No answer. Come to find out there isn’t one because she quit. Wednesday rolls around, my last official day even though I have been there 80 hours up to this point. I am still determined to get the heck out of here, so I ask my husband to call a lawyer friend, and they tell me to ask the nurse to sign a 1010 stating I want to leave. I asked the nurse, and she said I need to first sign a 1012 stating I want to be here, and then tomorrow I can sign a 1010, but it can still take 3-5 business days to process. I am sickened and scared because it is day 4, and still no bowel movement. I need to see the doctor today no matter what. I asked the nurse, and she told me yesterday I was on his list, and now since he didn’t get to me yesterday, then today at the latest. I called my husband and told him they made me sign a 1012 before I can sign a 1010 to want to leave. My husband and stepdad were upset because they were unsure if I really needed to sign that, and we were all hoping that by signing that 1012, it didn’t mean me having to stay longer than I have to.

I believe it was Wednesday or the day before when Derek and Victoria, management for the E1 unit, were walking around. Derek introduced himself to the group and stated that if we had questions or concerns, we should bring them to him. I asked to speak to him, and he said gladly, but I never heard from him again. I asked him again, and he forgot. I fell through the cracks once more. I asked the tech Caitlyn, who was truly the only staff member that treated us like humans, and yes, I speak for all the patients. She said she told Victoria, and Victoria said she would meet with me about my needs, but once again, I fell through the cracks and never heard from her.

At this point, I had never advocated for myself so much in my life. I was drained and afraid for my health because I knew if I didn’t have a bowel movement soon, a flare-up would come, and they do not allow my medical THC inside to ease the pain. After dinner, I saw a tall man in a white coat hanging around the nurse's station. My roommate Drew told me that was the guy she saw last Thursday who does medical. His name was Dr. Greg. I was one of the first to leave dinner, so I walked up to him and asked if I could speak to him. Without looking me in the eyes, he raised his hand in my face and said, “Not now, I need to meet with my patients.” I said, “Yes, I understand. I have been trying to meet with you since Sunday,” and that’s all I was able to get out before he upsetly said, “Do you know who I am? I am Dr. Greg. You do not speak to me directly. If you have concerns, bring them to your nurses,” and walked away. Another gut punch.

On Wednesday, I also signed my 1010, stating I wanted to leave. A couple of hours later, Dr. Greg approached me at the nurse's station. He asked me what I wanted to speak to him about. I told him that I had been in pain since Sunday and had been asking everyone I could to speak to him. He looked concerned and told me that no one had put in a referral for a medical consultation. He said the nurses would put one in if I needed something. It made me sick. At that point, I had addressed my pain and need for a medical professional at least six times. Either way, I asked him if we could have a consultation. In a rush, he said, “Why? What do you need?” I told him that I have many medical conditions that need to be addressed by medications I can't take here and by specialists that I do not have access to here. He said, “Okay, but what are your symptoms? What do you need? I can write you a prescription.”

I explained quickly that it had been almost five days without a bowel movement and that I needed to go to the hospital because I would have a flare-up. The normal over-the-counter laxatives don’t work, and they usually give me something stronger, but it induces a really bad flare-up. He also said he was aware of the med issue and explained the hospital protocol again about not being able to give me the meds. He said he would prescribe me magnesium citrate and this would make me go. He said he wasn't sending someone with constipation to the hospital. He said I could ask a tech to be in the bathroom with me, then walked away. I was annoyed because he prescribed me something without fully getting my medical history. I was also very scared. He seemed to have no problem letting me have a flare-up there.

I spoke to a night nurse and explained the situation, again. I thought that if I explained how bad my flare-ups are, maybe she would understand that I couldn’t have one there. I explained, in front of another patient as a witness, that when a flare-up starts, I am screaming in pain for a couple of hours. I told her that I start to sweat uncontrollably, my skin starts to feel like it’s on fire, I get extremely dizzy, and I need someone to hold me up on the toilet. I told the nurse that it was so bad that last Saturday I blacked out and had to call the ER. She said, “Okay, well if the doctor said you aren’t going to the ER, there isn’t anything I can do.” I asked her if I could take the medication in the morning because I knew I would be up all night in pain, and she said no. She said the prescription was a “one-time thing.” She said it’s now or never. So I had to have a flare-up in the middle of the night or stay constipated. I was in awe at the lack of empathy. I was extremely scared, but I had no choice. I had to have a bowel movement there whether I had support or not. As I was drinking the bottle, I was reading the “do not take if…” section and I had all of those symptoms. I brought this to the nurse's attention and she said, “It is fine because the doctor cleared it.” What… Whatever, I drank it. The only hope of getting out of there was to show them how terrible these flare-ups are and maybe then they would understand and take me to the hospital or release me to my specialist.

I explained to my roommate Drew what might happen to me just so she was prepared. I felt bad for her to see me like this, but there was nothing I could do. I told her to get the tech if it happens because Dr. Greg said she could help me. Sure enough, not even 30 minutes after lights out, my stomach started to really hurt. I started to moan, knowing that the worst was yet to start. The flare-up was coming. Drew quickly went to get the nurse and all I remember is being doubled over on the bed, crying in pain. The nurse kept asking me what’s wrong as if she didn’t hear me explain to them that I would have a flare-up if they gave me this medication. “Talia, what’s wrong?” over and over again. I was in so much pain I couldn't respond. Finally, the pain was mild for a couple of minutes and I told her that my flare was starting. She said, “Okay, well if the pain gets bad, let me know.” Drew and I were in awe at her lack of care. I laid down and a minute later the real flare started. I started crying again, and Drew got the nurse. The nurse told me to walk to the nurse's station, like what?? I could barely move, but I tried anyway. I slowly walked, in so much pain, through the hallway with all the other patients I knew I was waking up with my cries. I knew the flare-up would get much worse without my meds because I know my body and this has happened before. I asked to go to the ER and they said no. They walked me to a room. Solitary or isolation marked this room. I couldn't believe this. Because of my screams at this point, they secluded me. There was a toilet there and this is when the flare started. I screamed for hours in extreme pain as my colon felt like it was exploding. Every ten minutes or so (who knows, there is no clock) the nurse checked in. “Are you okay?” Hell no. I am screaming and you aren’t doing anything. At this point, no one could hear my cries because they isolated me. Help wasn’t on the way. When I thought it couldn’t get worse, it did. I started to fall over faint-like. She told me, “Hold on to the rail. Lean on the wall.” I tried my best with no help whatsoever from her. I remember screaming for help. Begging for the pain to stop. The nurse walked in her last time and told me to take some pill. I asked her what it was and she said, “It will help.” At this point, I was desperate, so I took the pill. I started to feel weird. My body started to feel limp. I was still in so much pain but I couldn't scream. I went to lay down and I felt like I was in sleep paralysis. I wanted to scream in pain, but I couldn’t really move. It was terrible. After hours of this, I finally was able to sleep. In the scariest room, with cameras looking at me, bright light shining on me, and a tiny window overlooking the nurse's station. This was utter hell and the fact that they said I might be released next Tuesday was terrifying. My roommate was supposed to leave, but they kept her beyond her discharge date and many other patients said the same. I didn’t understand why I was there. If I have been there more than 96 hours, without important meds, without access to my medical specialist, without physical access to my family or therapist, for what? The psych clearly stated that there is nothing they can do for me here.

I woke up the next day, Thursday morning. I walked out of isolation because they didn’t lock the doors, thank God, and everyone was in the community room staring at me. You could tell their faces had pity written all over them. I walked the stride to my room. Broken, scared, traumatized by my body and by the lack of medical attention I received. I couldn’t stay there another day. I was determined to get the hell out of there. I spoke to a therapist named Arpiefiny and told her I absolutely needed to speak to someone. I told her I had asked to speak to Derek, Ietta (the discharge person), my therapist (we were assigned one yesterday), and I still hadn’t gotten the chance to. Arpiefiny seemed concerned. She said that Mia, my therapist, said I was on her list and she was going to talk to me yesterday at the latest. She said she would follow up.

I called my husband and explained what happened last night. He was upset and told me that his lawyer friend wanted us to specifically read my 1013. He said legally they couldn't hold me against my will if I finished my 72 hours and the psych doesn’t see a reason to keep me. After the call, I asked the daytime nurse for my 1013. Alisha was kind enough to give it to me. As I was reading, I saw that it states a 1013 is to see if admission is necessary and within 48 hours of arrival at the facility, the hospital must sign a 1014, 2014, or release me. I was shocked because I had been trying to get out for five days at that point because I needed medical attention. I asked Alisha about this policy and she said, “Yes, most patients don’t know their rights.” I was very concerned and frustrated. It seemed like they had been keeping me against my will. The facility did not release or sign a 1014 or 2014 within 48 hours. I was told that I had to be there seven to ten days no matter what, and no one could explain to me the exact reasoning. I called my husband and my stepdad on a three-way call and told them to tell the lawyer and do whatever they could to get me out because now there was blood on my toilet paper and I knew they weren’t going to do anything. I asked the day nurse to see the doctor because of the blood and still nothing. I was in pain and no one cared.

One of the patients said for me to look at the PATIENT RIGHTS AND RESPONSIBILITIES document since I had a lawyer involved already. I read them and wow. Ridgeview violated 14 of the 24 rights. Was I surprised? No, but it made me sick. Between the violation of the 1013 and this, I hit my limit. Patients cried every day because they thought they would be released after their five-day mark just for the psych to say that since insurance covered more days, they would have to stay. I felt like there was no way any of this was legal. The patients started to hear that I asked for my 1013. Multiple patients started to ask me what their rights were and how they could access their 1013. I spread the word that they have the right to know their treatment plan, look at their 1013, and ask questions. The nurses started to become upset.

My stepdad called and stated that he submitted a claim through our insurance, stating that Ridgeview was conducting insurance fraud. They were not treating me medically, and they had no right or reason to keep me there. Finally, towards the end of Thursday, I went up to Arpiefiny and asked for an update about Mia. She then took me straight to Mia’s office. My so-called therapist, whom I had yet to be introduced to when we were supposed to be having daily meetings with them. I sat in front of her and explained some of my experience there and told her I would like to be released to get medical attention for the literal tenth time. She said she would bring me up in her patient meeting tomorrow. That was the last night I was at Ridgeview.

The morning of Friday, 120+ hours after admission, they said I would be released that day. The last ten minutes I was in E1, Nurse Alisha started to get upset with me. A patient came up to me and said, “Talia, how are they letting you leave?” I told the patient that I demanded to go because I needed medical treatment, and Alisha said that was disrespectful. She said I was “rallying” people and now everyone wanted to see their 1013 and documents. She said patients were now trying to leave and they were there for a reason and needed to be there. I told her I have the right to speak out against the treatment I received there, I have the right to share the patient rights with others, and if a patient asks me what the process is to view their 1013, I have the right to walk them through the process. She was upset because the women started to speak up and ask questions about why they were there, why they were there against their will even when they were voluntary, and how to read their documents. Disgusting.

I was released minutes later, traumatized and in panic. I begged my husband to take me now, but we needed to get my “valuables.” My phone, wedding ring, Kindle, headphones, meds, and wallet were all being held still. We waited in the lobby for hours and then hours. The front desk lady told us that they must be at the hospital (the ER that sent me). I explained to her and Derek (the manager) that I signed a document there that stated Ridgeview had my items. They said that document didn’t exist. I was once again gut-punched. They said there was no proof the items were ever there. I was distraught. Panicked that after going through all this neglect and trauma, I wanted to leave and I still felt like they were holding me captive. The front desk lady told me to write down my missing items and if they ever found them, they would give me a call. Again, injustice.

This was on Friday. During the weekend, we called to check in on the status of the “search” and many didn’t know what we were talking about, sent us to voicemails, and never tried to help. The following Tuesday, we decided to go in person to try again. After waiting for three hours in the waiting room for management, I called the police. I explained to them the situation and that I did, in fact, sign the paper and I just wanted Ridgeview to care and check the camera. The COO finally came out and spoke to us with the police. The COO stated that “he will look into it.” On my way home, I remembered I have a tracking device on my wallet, and I looked up the location. It was in Ridgeview’s security room. Still driving home, I screenshot the location and told the COO. He said he would look into it, again. Days went by. Friday, he finally called and said he located the items. No apology. Nothing.

This place is obviously corrupt, but what is most concerning is that this is a place people are supposed to go to get mental health help and support, not come out traumatized, neglected, abused, and looked down upon. I am here sharing my story on mental health and the system. Ridgeview needs to be held accountable for their actions, inactions, and treatment of mentally ill patients.

I hope you'll join me in speaking up, sharing my story, and changing the mental health system.

Patient Rights That Ridgeview Violated
PATIENT RIGHTS AND RESPONSIBILITIES
(Provided by Ridgeview after asking) These are 14 of the 24 total rights. Below are the ones that were violated.

AS A PATIENT YOU HAVE THE RIGHT:

To be fully informed as evidenced by your written acknowledgment, at the time of admission and during your stay, of the rights and responsibilities listed below and of all rules and regulations governing patient conduct and responsibilities.
I was not given this and aware of my rights. The staff treated us like animals and like we were in prison and “we get what we get.” Another patient told me we have certain rights as a patient and asked me to ask the nurse for them on my day 5.

To be encouraged and assisted to understand and exercise your rights as a patient, free from interference, coercion, discrimination, or reprisal and to expect staff to be aware of your rights as a patient.
We were not encouraged to understand and exercise our rights. The last ten minutes I was in E1, Nurse Alisha started to get upset with me. A patient came up to me and said, “Talia, how are they letting you leave?” I told the patient that I demanded to go because I needed medical treatment, and Alisha said that was disrespectful. She said I am “rallying” people and now everyone wants to see their 1013 and documents. She said patients are now trying to leave, and they are here for a reason and need to be here. I told her, no, I have the right to speak out against the treatment I received here, I have the right to share the patient rights with others, and if a patient asks me what the process is to view their 1013, I have the right to walk them through the process. She was upset because the women started to speak up and ask questions about why they were there, why they were there against their will even when they were voluntary, and how to read their documents.

I spoke to Nurse Alisha the Thursday before my Friday release and asked her to see my 1013, she thankfully gladly showed it to me. As I was reading, I saw that it states a 1013 is to see if admission is necessary and within 48 hours of arrival at the facility, the hospital must sign a 1014, 2014, or release me. I was shocked because I had been trying to get out for 5 days at that point because I needed medical attention. I asked Alisha about this policy, and she said, “Yes, most patients don’t know their rights.” I was very concerned and frustrated. It seems like they have been keeping me against my will. The facility did not release or sign a 1014 or 2014 within 48 hours. I was told that I have to be there seven to ten days no matter what, and no one could explain to me the exact reasoning.

To consideration of your privacy and individuality, and to be treated with consideration, respect and full recognition of your dignity, individuality, personal values and beliefs, privacy in caring for your personal needs.
They took my religious books and stated I couldn't have them. I spoke up on day three to another nurse and asked her to explain the policy. She stated my religious beliefs could offend another. She said the best she could do is submit a request for a standard Bible. I explained to her that I need more than a Bible. Reading a Bible is not fulfilling my religious beliefs and practices. That is a generalization for Christians. Nondenominational Christians do more than that, and there is a specific Bible that I personally need. She stated there was nothing she could do again.

I requested to see a medical professional (not psych, but someone that can assess and address my medical needs). I was told 4 times by nurses within 3 days that Dr. Greg was coming and that they will let him know. I was in pain for 5 of my 6-day stay. I asked to see the medical professional more than 10 times. I also was not getting my correct meds on any of the 6 days I was there. I asked for the staff to speak to my PCP, and I asked for them to send my medical team an ROI so they can advocate on my behalf, and Ridgeview nurses stated they would twice and did not. Ridgeview nurses finally stated that they can't give me those meds there. If they can’t meet my medical needs, they should have released me. For a full overview of the medical neglect, please read my full story.

To know by name and specialty, if any, the staff members responsible for your care; to expect staff to make a reasonable response to your requests.
We had no clue as patients about the professionals on our team and what they do. I had to ask patients what kind of support they got so I could ask the nurse to speak to whomever.

To obtain consultation from another qualified doctor of your choosing; to request a change in your doctor.
I asked to change my doctor, and they said there is only Dr. Greg. I also requested to change from Victoria, the psych lady after she was attacking me, and they said I have to ask her. I told the nurse I don't feel safe to do so, and the nurse said that was the only way. I felt trapped.

To expect reasonable access to care and continuity of care which includes schedules of services and at what times staff and services are available.
I was not able to access all of my meds or able to access care when requested.

To be fully informed, prior to or at the time of admission and during your stay, of services available at Ridgeview and of related charges.
I was never informed, let alone “fully informed,” of services. I found out day 3 or 4 that we could speak to a therapist. The Ridgeview patients have an unspoken rule that anytime someone is new we get to orientation or direction of Ridgeview so the patients go up to the new ones and explain the process.

To consent to proposed treatment; to be afforded the opportunity to participate in planning your treatment program; to refuse to participate in research or statistical studies; to request a review of your medical record, unless it is determined by your doctor to be detrimental to your physical or mental health, and request changes in information you feel is inaccurate.
I was never offered to participate in planning any treatment. I kept asking why I was there and what value they would bring to me by withholding my support system, coping skills, therapist, and everything else that supports my care.

To make care decisions; to appropriate assessment and management of pain; to be informed of unanticipated outcomes of care.
I wasn't able to make any care decisions, I advocated for my health more than anyone there and was refused pain management. I was sent into isolation when the pain surpassed a screaming point. I was never asked what my pain level was.

To be free from neglect, exploitation, and mental and physical abuse.
Read my full story for examples of this.

You may approve or refuse their release to any individual outside of Ridgeview (medical records).
I asked for an ROI 2 times to get my doctors to be able to communicate with Ridgeview and was denied.

To attend regularly scheduled religious services and to be assisted in exercising your rights as a citizen unless it is inadvisable for medical reasons.
I asked to speak to a chaplain or anything of the sort because I am religious and they were not letting us view church on the TV.

To retain and use personal clothing and possessions as space permits unless to do so would infringe on the rights of other patients, or when inadvisable for medical reasons.
I was denied my religious books and personal clothing even though they met guidelines.

To initiate and request review of a complaint or grievance, according to posted hospital policy and procedure, and to receive a response in writing.
I asked to speak to the management over 4 times with no response. I asked to speak to Victoria (over unit 1), Derek (over unit 1), Ietta (over discharge),  Patient Advocate (apparently one existed but they wouldn't answer to phone come to find out they quit). For 6 days I asked to speak to anyone who would listen and who could help but I continued to fall through the cracks