While an involuntary hold is necessary at times, working against our patients engenders revolting feelings. We often rationalize involuntary holds as illustrative of sincere compassion for our patients’ suffering and an attempt to lift them out of such tragic conditions. Our patients regularly do not feel our compassion when we are making an argument in a hearing for the restriction of their rights. They see our efforts as an attempt to lock them away “for their own good” because of society’s discomfort with homelessness. As such, we wonder whether our role becomes one of doctors for society, prescribing a treatment for the emotional distress of the community, and at times for ourselves, rather than that of the patient.
One may be perplexed as to how a celebrity could be considered gravely disabled. Celebrities generally have enough income to afford food, clothing, and shelter. One could justifiably ask why an individual with no history of violence would be considered a danger to others. Similarly, one may wonder how, in the absence of any reported attempts to engage in self-harm, with no visible marks of self-harm, someone is determined to be a danger to himself or herself. The bafflement on the part of one on the outside of these determinations can be sharply contrasted by the desperation felt by family members whose loved ones with mental illness appear to meet those criteria yet are consistently turned away by mental health programs and hospitals.
Not uncommonly, it is families advocating for involuntary hospitalization – while lamenting our strict criteria – that prevent doctors from intervening until some tragic fate befalls their loved ones. They criticize what they consider to be too-stringent mental health laws and are infuriated by seemingly obtuse insurance policies limiting care to patients. Most of our colleagues working with those who have severe mental illness share the frustration of these families over the scarcity of psychiatry beds. Therefore, it is particularly shocking when the most mediatized story about conservatorship is not about how hard it is to obtain. The story is about a singer who was seemingly safe, caring for herself, and yet still ended up on a conservatorship.
We wonder whether there is a question of magnitude. Are homeless patients more difficult to place on conservatorship because society sees a lesser stake? One could argue that Ms. Spears and other celebrities would have so much to lose in a single episode of mental illness. A week with mania or psychosis could cause irreparable damage to their persona, opportunity for employment, and their fortune. On the contrary, many of our patients on conservatorship have little to their names, and no one keeping up on their reputation. Triers of facts should ask themselves about the nature of their motivations. Envy, a desire to live vicariously through celebrities, or even less ethical motivations – such as a desire to control and exert authority over those individuals – can influence our decisions.
Throughout the past year, when asked about Ms. Spears, we have pointed out the obvious – she seemingly has a life incompatible with meeting criteria for a psychiatric conservatorship. We have outlined the role, history, and limitations of psychiatric conservatorship. We have shared how such cases are often approached, when required for our own patients or when asked by the court to do so. We have discussed the significant oversight of the system, including the public conservator’s office, which frequently refuses petitions outright. There are hearing officers, who, in the early stages of this process, weigh our case against that of the patients, aided by passionately driven patient advocates. There is the public defender’s office, which, at least in San Diego, vigorously defends the rights of those with mental illness. Most importantly, there are judges who adjudicate those cases with diligence and humility.
As the story has continued to be in the news, we have had numerous conversations about Ms. Spears’ conservatorship with colleagues sharing strong opinions on her case. Many of these colleagues do not have forensic practices and we inevitably find ourselves responding along the lines of, “It is easy to say this, but quite a different thing to prove it in court.” It is hard not to imagine testifying in such a high-profile conservatorship case; testifying, in front of jurors, about a celebrity who may have engaged in what some considered to be unusual behavior.
Conservatorship laws are not about the minutia or criteria of a specific mental health disorder. Patients do not meet criteria for conservatorship by having a certain number of delusional thoughts or a specific type of hallucination. Patients meet criteria for conservatorship because of state-enacted laws based on social factors – such as danger and self-care – the population wishes to treat, even if against the will of those treated. Under this light, one must recognize that a conservatorship trial is not just about mental illness but about how society wants to care for human beings. Psychiatric illness itself is not grounds for conservatorship. Oftentimes, severely ill patients win a hearing for grave disability by simply accepting a referral for housing, showing up to court clothed, and eating the meals provided at the hospital.