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Ruins of St. Paul's, Macau
Well, it did not take long for our host Lui to tell me about his brother: paranoid ideas, hallucinations, strange behaviours. From his account, there was no doubt that his brother was suffering from Schizophrenia, a sort of typical Castle Peak Mental Hospital case that I used to have to treat soon after graduation, but not so often in the British children clinics and hospitals.
The brother was put on the more traditional tranquillisers that were standard at the time. This was before Clozapine became the gold standard for treating schizophrenia in most countries, and in China in particular.
What Lui wanted to know was whether he should do what his brother’s psychiatrist in Macau recommended, to put him in a mental hospital.
Lui had heard horrible stories about the goings on inside these institutions. He was so worried that he set up a flat solely for the purpose of keeping his brother under round-the-clock watch. He wanted me to give my professional opinion. Was the arrangement going to do his brother harm, and would his brother be better off in a mental hospital?
The next day Lui picked us up to visit the flat. He was quite happy for my brother-in-law to know what was going on. In those days, many Chinese families still saw mental illness as a secret to be kept from outsiders.
“Without him, I would never have found you, Dai Foo!” Dai Foo, literally big master, the way Chinese respectfully address doctors.
I was not really prepared for what I was about to see.
The three-bedroom flat was furnished and equipped to provide “secure” accommodation for his brother. Two maids were employed to look after him and they worked in shifts so that there would always be someone to guard him and see to his needs. Fancy looking sliding aluminium doors were installed in such a way that the maids could be kept “safe” from the sometimes violent schizophrenic patient. These latticed doors formed secure partitions between rooms while allowing visibility and the patient was never allowed into the kitchen. The doors were designed such that at meal times, the maids could put the food on the table in the dining room, retreat into the kitchen and lock the partition before letting the patient into the dining room. Not difficult for a man in the aluminium business!
On Sundays, Lui would take the patient out to see the parents and have a nice meal, accompanied by one of the maids.
What could I say?
This businessman had as good as set up a private asylum for his brother. In his sitting room, he had installed for him a television with one of the largest screens one could buy at the time. He had two good carers. He could go out once a week for a family meal.
You can probably guess my answer.
Certainly not: “This is all wrong; you should let your brother go to a mental hospital!”
We were treated to another sumptuous meal in Macau that evening, before we took the ferry back to Hong Kong the next morning. It was just as well, as we must leave Lui free to spend time with his brother on Sunday.
The New Book:
The Cockroach Catcher II: Attempted Living
Cockroach Catcher-Seven Minute Cure
