by Ms. Jeanette D. Bartha
This is the final essay in the Consumers Taking Action series which has examined malpractice litigation against mental health professionals. The following are solely my observations and experiences and are not that of a psychotherapist or lawyer.
We were two days from trial and it was time for jury selection. My attorney Nathan, his assistant and I, walked to City Hall were potential jurists had already gathered in a courtroom to fill out personal information and opinion statements. The dark-paneled room had vertical windows decorated with oversized drapes that hugged the edges of the windowpanes like hair framing a stoic face. The sun illuminated oil paintings of distinguished men of the court that hung in a neat row behind the judges’ bench. The flag of the United States of America boldly held its position, as did the state flag. The jury box, a wooden structure with two rows of bulky chairs was filled with potential jurists.
As I took my seat at the plaintiffs’ table in the center of the room, I glanced at the people who occupied the jury box knowing they would determine the fate of my case and, in some respects, my future. At that moment, I realized that my allegations against my former doctor were being taken seriously - very seriously. Although Nathan had been working diligently on my behalf for years, the complaint was served, expert witnesses had written reports, and depositions long ago completed, until that moment I was not convinced that I would be taken seriously. Sitting at the plaintiffs’ table before the bench I was no longer the bedraggled former mental-patient. I was a competent woman accusing a doctor of psychiatry of medical malpractice and negligence. I would be heard until there was nothing left to say.
While the judge and lawyers argued the merits of the case and negotiated the defenses’ last chance to offer a settlement before trial, I remained at the plaintiffs’ table silently because I could not be a part of the procedures. I am hard pressed to recall another situation to rival the discomfort of those tedious hours. I looked up, I looked down, I analyzed the faces in the oil paintings and thought about their lives – occasionally, I looked into the eyes of the potential jurists and wondered. Would they grasp the intricacies of therapy? Would they favor me or hang me out to dry? How can I convince jurists that my former doctor was operating outside the standard of care and that other doctors would not have treated me similarly if given the same circumstances?
I had already decided to accept a reasonable offer in an effort to spare my family the stress of a trial. More than anything, I wanted my day in court, wanted to face my former psychiatrist and publicly state the unethical treatment he provided, but allowing my family to heal was more important. Unexpectedly, Nathan returned to the table and ushered me from the room informing me that settlement had been offered – I accepted. It would be reasonable to assume that litigation was over, not so. Attached to the settlement offer was a confidentially clause, commonly referred to as a gag order, barring me from discussing the case or writing an article such as this. Nathan and I had discussed the gag order which I chose not to accept even though it is common in malpractice suits. Refusing to accept the gag order could have resulted in years of postponed payment, or actually trying the case, but it mattered not.
By this time, I had lost over a decade of my life between treatment and litigation and I was willing to wait as long as it took to preserve my right to talk about my case. Eventually, the gag order was reduced from barring me to talk or write about details to only barring me from naming names or identifying the place where the maltreatment had taken place; Nathan and I determined it was a reasonable concession. Now, it was over.
In summary, the purpose of this series was to demystify the legal process and to illustrate that one person’s voice can make a difference both personally and culturally. Consumers in the United States who have taken legal action against mental health care providers have not only held individual therapists accountable for their actions, but subsequently the entire psychology profession has been held accountable, forcing it to police itself as never before. Individual states are re-examining licensing procedures and, in some instances, have banned certain psychotherapeutic techniques. North Carolina and Colorado, for example, have banned rebirthing therapy – the latter imprisoning Connell Watkins and Julie Ponder for negligent child abuse resulting in the death of Candace Newmaker. Many insurance companies no longer award unlimited coverage and refuse to fund certain treatments, such as recovered memory therapy, once believed to be on the cutting-edge of psychiatry, but proven to cause harm in many cases.
I leave you with this. Consumers can take responsibility for their psychotherapy by educating themselves about the types of treatment options available. It is imperative to check with state licensing boards to determine that the individuals you choose to appoint to your treatment team are professionals in good standing. Technology affords consumers the ability to research and comprehend psychotherapeutic techniques and also offers the opportunity to investigate specific mental health professionals before commencing with treatment. Consumers have the right to be treated and diagnosed properly and to trust that therapy will do no harm.
Consumers Taking Action Series
Part Four: Finale & Conclusions