Refusing to eat and declining a feeding tube: Capacity at issue

By Celia Kitzinger, 21st April 2022

The hearing concerned an application from an NHS Trust (represented by David Lawson) to insert a PEG-J tube under general anaesthetic and then to deliver clinically assisted nutrition and hydration (CANH) to a young woman (P) who was admitted to hospital having fractured her femur and is now refusing to eat.

She’s saying she doesn’t want CANH – but both parents (who are also parties and litigants in person) support the Trust’s application.   

The case (COP 13913343) was heard (remotely) across three days (5th, 7th and 8th April 2022)  before Mr Justice Williams sitting in the Royal Courts of Justice. 

I didn’t observe on the first of these dates but did watch on 7th and 8th April 2022. I had asked to observe on 7th April not knowing that the case was “part heard” (this is usually indicated on the listings), and so was surprised to be joining a hearing that had already started two days earlier, and for which (as a result) there were no opening statements from the parties.  This meant that it was initially difficult to orient to what the case was about and what was happening[1]

As there was no opening summary (the judge did not permit one due to time constraints), I’m not sure what took place at the initial “urgent” hearing on 5th April 2022, but I think it must have become clear that there was a problem with making even an interim declaration about P’s capacity to make her own decision about CANH, and that the judge must have declared that an independent expert could be appointed.  I base this deduction on the fact that (proposed) counsel for P via the Official Solicitor (Emma Sutton, on the first day of the hearing) expressed concern about the evidence on capacity because it was based on:

  • evidence from the treating consultant psychiatrist (Dr K) that P lacked capacity to make decisions about nutrition and hydration due to a delirium arising from a urinary tract infection; that infection was resolving, following which he thought she may regain capacity; and 
  • evidence from a consultant liaison psychiatrist (Dr B) that P does not have any significant psychiatric illness, although she’s depressed and has an “adjustment disorder” following the breakdown of her marriage, but that her current refusal to eat does not relate to this disorder.

Emma Sutton also queried the need for an “urgent” decision, given that P’s weight seems relatively stable at present, and she is willingly receiving IV fluids and vitamins, and has mostly “normal” levels[2].

It appears that an independent expert consultant psychiatrist (Dr Ty Glover) was appointed following the hearing on Tuesday 5th April and that he was asked to assess P’s capacity and best interests.

He visited P in hospital the following day (Wednesday 6th April) and the court received his report in time for the hearing on Thursday 7th April (the first day I observed).  

In his view P does not have capacity to make her own decision about CANH, and it’s in her best interests to receive it. 

By this point, the court had also received a new capacity report from Dr B (and I think from Dr K too) saying that P had regained capacity to make decisions about CANH due to improvement in her physical health, the urinary tract infection having been treated. In Dr B’s view,  there is no suggestion that P’s capacity was compromised except when she was delirious from infections.

From Thursday morning onwards, then, everything hinged on which way the judge – confronted with contradictory capacity assessments – would decide about P’s capacity to make her own decision about CANH.

If P can understand, retain, weigh and communicate information relevant to the decision, then – in accordance with the Mental Capacity Act 2005 – she has capacity to make that decision. The choice as to whether or not to consent to a PEG-J tube is hers, and hers alone.  It cannot be forced upon her, even if (as her doctors say) she may die as a result of her refusal. If she has capacity to make her own decision, the court has no jurisdiction.

If, however, there is evidence that P cannot understand, retain, weigh and communicate information relevant to the decision, then it is the responsibility of the judge to make a decision in her best interests.  That decision, it was pretty clear from the outset, would mean court-authorised CANH, likely with restraint, and subsequent psychiatric and psychological support to mitigate her distress at being treated against her will. 

P objects to anyone else making the decision for her.  She was in court throughout the two days of the hearing that I observed, appearing on screen from her hospital bed.  She said clearly in court on Thursday: “I feel that I am able to make decisions about my health”, adding that she would accept support and “guidance” with decision-making.  

Her family (a sister and both parents were in court) had informed the judge that – although they want her to have treatment – they know that P is an independent person and she would be “fuming” or “seething” if the decision were taken out of her hands.

Some background

The Official Solicitor’s two position statements gave some useful background about P and her life.  

She’s in her early thirties and was born with cerebral palsy, is a wheelchair user, and only has the use of her left hand. There’s no clear psychiatric history.  She’s been treated for depression and anxiety, and a possible brief psychotic state in response to infertility treatment. For a long time, she’s also had a “dysmotility of her oesophagus and stomach” (which will not improve). This means that treatment (i.e., delivering formula feed via the tube) would likely be long-term. 

There is general agreement that she’s now depressed, having recently suffered some significant negative life events.  She’d been hoping to become pregnant via IVF and it became clear last year that has failed. Also in 2021, she separated from her husband and moved out of the marital home to live with her mother. And then she fractured her femur when she fell as a hoist slipped while her mother was transferring her.

She’s lost a lot of weight during the three months she’s been in hospital.  That’s because she’s mostly declining to eat – not entirely, but enough to cause dramatic weight loss, and (possible) malnutrition and electrolyte imbalance.  On admission on 4th January 2022, she weighed 59kg (just over 9 stone). By 22nd March 2022 she weighed 39.5kg (just over 6 stone).  As the judge, Mr Justice Williams, said several times, that means that she’s lost a third of her body weight over a three-month period.  

I don’t know why she’s refusing to eat: she wasn’t asked in court, and there is no explanation in the position statements I’ve seen.  The expert psychiatrist in court said he’d found no evidence of fear of weight gain or body image concerns, nor is she actively suicidal or seeking to die (though he reported that she’d answered affirmatively when he asked her if she sometimes felt it would be better if she just didn’t wake up).  There was mention at one point of P “not communicating when she’s asked why she’s not eating”. 

She does not see a problem with her weight and does not believe that her health (still less her life) is at risk from not eating.  She has what she calls “good days” and “bad days” – and as it turned out, the first day of the hearing was “a good day” (said the barrister for the Trust) when “she managed a lot of food”.  

In the past, P seems to have been treated as having capacity in relation to CANH.  A gastroenterologist who’s been involved in P’s treatment since 2015 provided written evidence to the court, which was referred to in oral argument. Back in 2015,  P seems to have consented to insertion of a PEG-J tube.  The following year, she refused reinsertion of a PEG-J after the initial one was accidently dislodged, and she managed adequate nutrition over the following years, despite being intermittently troubled with various degrees of difficulty of swallowing, nausea, sickness and constipation, which were managed by the gastroenterologist and his team every four to six months.   

This gastroenterologist’s view was that P has always previously been accepting of treatment when it was really needed – such that now she either does not understand how unwell she is from a nutritional perspective, or she doesn’t want to get better. Both of these, he says, are out of character for P.

Thursday 7th April 2022

First Witness: expert consultant psychiatrist – P lacks capacity and forced treatment would not cause lasting harm

The expert consultant psychiatrist, Dr Ty Glover, appointed by the Official Solicitor, gave evidence on the morning of 7th April 2022.  He’d been appointed at very short notice, had been sent P’s medical records but been unable to read them because “the password didn’t work”, and had squeezed in a visit to P on his way back home from a long drive to see another patient the Official Solicitor  had instructed him to visit hundreds of miles away.

On arrival at the hospital, he’d found that Dr B, one of P’s treating psychiatrists, was with her conducting hisassessment, so he’d had to wait outside for his turn, and he’d talked with P’s father while waiting.

In court, Dr Glover said that P has a “genetic predisposition” to suffering from a “depressive disorder”,  inherited from her maternal grandmother.  The combination of some “fairly tough” life events and “being vulnerable to anxiety and depression anyway” makes it “not surprising” that (in his view) she’s developed what he calls (referring to the International Classification of Diseases (ICD) F33.3) “Recurrent depressive disorder, current episode severe with psychotic symptoms”. 

He found P to have feelings of “worthlessness”, “lethargy” and “a lack of self-worth”.  There is “a lack of worth P gives to her life, the lack of future she sees”. He described one symptom of her depression as “psychomotor retardation”: “You ask her a question, like ‘how are you feeling today’ and there’s an abnormally long pause before you get a response, and because I’m impatient I fill the gap and ask another question like ‘has it been a good day?’.  I asked her father, ‘is that normal for her?’ and he said, ‘no, she usually chatters away’.”[3]

He attributed her not eating to her depression: “when you’re depressed you tend to go off food.  I always think if I became depressed, that wouldn’t happen, because I quite like food – but she’s always had gastroesophageal problems, and she’s had difficulties in that domain before, in 2016”.   

Although he said she had psychotic symptoms associated with depression, when asked by counsel for P via the Official Solicitor (Pravin Fernando): “Did you observe any psychotic features in P yourself?”, Dr Glover said he had not.  He seems to have been relying on what P’s father had told him in a conversation outside P’s door, while he was waiting to go in to examine her: “Her father was fairly certain she suffered from hallucinations – seeing and hearing things that aren’t there.  [Her father’s] evidence was so clear and compelling that I knew the diagnosis before I went in to see P”.  He believes that the “almost certain presence of psychotic symptoms also undermines P’s capacity…. It’s very difficult to retain capacity in a psychotic world”. 

Dr Glover said he thought it likely that if P were treated against her will (with CANH and anti-depressants) she would likely regain capacity to make her own decisions about eating and drinking in about  8-10 weeks. 

Until she regains capacity to make her own decisions, the proposed treatment plan involves restraint, the use of mittens to prevent her dislodging tubes, and a period of one-to-one nursing.  Dr Glover did not think that forced treatment would have any significant or long-lasting impact on P. He thought the anaesthetic plan was “very sensible” (“the use of anaesthetic drugs will really mitigate some of the acute emotional upset that would go with any operative procedure”).  He also emphasised the importance of family and nursing staff “rallying around and helping” which “will minimise any significant psychological harm” associated with having her wishes overruled.  “And then you just have to hope that the nutrition is established and as her capacity comes back, she agrees with the feeding.  The treatment panorama in 6, 8, 10 weeks’ time might be completely different.”

The judge summarised the situation by saying that “everyone is agreeing that if she were her normal self, she’d be agreeing to the treatment plan, so I think when she gets better, she’d realise why it was done against her wishes. But is there any risk of her losing faith in her family?

If she goes back to who she was two-plus years ago,” said Dr Glover, “I think she would understand the roles people played in this and that people were trying to look after her – including her family”. 

The judge reflected that he was “very conscious of P listening to this and how she will be conscious of decisions being made about her, rather than by her, and how that’s going to affect her, going forward.”

A significant intervention from P – “I am able to make decisions about my health”

I got the impression that the judge was ready to make a decision at this point, based on Dr Glover’s evidence.  

But of course the consultant psychiatrist for the Trust disagreed Dr Glover on the matter of whether or not P has capacity to make her own decision about CANH – and the judge said to counsel for the Trust, David Lawson, that “if you’re relying on his evidence, I’ll have to resolve the dispute between the two psychiatrists”.

Counsel for the Trust said that the Trust was now “minded to accept the evidence from Dr Glover” (i.e. that P lacks capacity to make a decision about CANH), thereby clearing the way for the judge to go ahead and make a decision. 

The judge checked that the Trust no longer wished to rely on Dr B’s evidence, and indicated (quite strongly) that this would enable a timely decision from the court.

 “In an ideal world, one would want to drill down into all of these issues in terms of evidence, but I was asked to list it for a one-day hearing as soon as possible.  Mr Lawson, it’s your application, and it’s up to you how you put your case.  If you’re now saying that you accept the evidence from Dr Glover, the court would not need to hear from Dr B. I found Dr Glover’s evidence reasonably convincing and I would see no particular reason to disagree with it unless there’s alternative expert evidence.”

The judge pointed out that time constraints meant that if he was required to hear additional evidence on capacity he was “not sure you’ll even get a decision on capacity from me today”.  It would be sensible (he said)  to “focus on what can be achieved today” and if the Trust wants “a decision that she should undergo this procedure as soon as possible, then something has to give” – but it was up to the Trust to decide whether or not to call the doctors whose evidence was that P in fact has capacity to make her own decision: “the ball is in your court”.  

I expected counsel for the Trust to decide not to call Dr B, and then a judgment.

At this point a family member (I think it was P’s mother) switched on her mike and announced, “P would like to say something”.  (The judge had previously made clear at the beginning of the hearing that P was free to address him at any time.)

P’s invention was straightforward – and devastating for the course of action the court now seemed about to embark upon.

Just to make it clear,” she said, “Dr Glover saw me for literally half an hour, if that.  To me, I don’t think that’s fair. Because how can someone’s opinion in half an hour be right?”

The judge recognised the force of her interjection immediately: “So you’d like me to hear from Dr B, would you? Because he’s got a different opinion.  Dr Glover’s new on the scene, so if you want me hear from Dr B, I’ll do that”.  

The exchange between the judge and P (supported at times by P’s sister who was with her at the bedside) went on for a few more minutes – and it was evident from the interaction what Dr Glover had meant by “psychomotor retardation”.  There were long gaps in P’s speech and she seemed to be struggling to find the right words, to the extent that the judge suggested (appropriately, I thought) that she might find it easier to tell her sister who could write it down and report back to him.

But rather than accept that suggestion, P asked “So just run it by me what Dr Glover’s decision was?”.  The judge explained:

Judge:  Dr Glover was saying you’ve been through a lot of life events with your marriage and IVF and being admitted to hospital, and that’s exacerbated your anxiety and depression, so you’re not who you usually are, and so you’re not able to make a properly informed decision about a PEG-J.  And he thinks with the PEG-J being put in, you’ll get back to your normal self, but without the PEG-J and nutrition, you’ll find it difficult to get back to being your usual bubbly normal self.  So, he thinks I should make the decision for you, and have the feeding tube put in.  Does that make sense?

P:  Can uhm (pause) can uhm (pause) can it be (pause). I feel (pause). I feel like uhm (deep sigh)

Sister:  How do you feel? Go on.

(silence)

P:  I feel that I am able to make decisions about my health – and day to day things – but I need guidance to do with my health.

Judge:  Okay.  I think Dr B thinks you can make decisions, but at the moment the big decision is about having the feeding tube put in, and I think what I’m being told is that sometimes you say it would be a good thing, and on other occasions you say no, and that’s why it’s being put into a court to decide whether you can make your own decisions. […] Everything I’ve read supports the idea you need this feeding tube to get more nutrition put in and get you physically better.  The question really is, should I take the decision or are you able to take the decision for yourself.

P:  I don’t feel like…. (pause). To me, uhm…. (pause). I do have good days and bad days.  Some days I can eat and other days that’s (pause)

Judge:  That’s part of the problem I think – getting the nutrition in you consistently to keep you well.  A feeding tube would make sure you’d get the feed every day, instead of it being erratic.

P: To me, it feels I’m not underweight or overweight. I’m at a steady weight.

Judge:  I’ve been told you’ve lost twenty kilos since you went into hospital, which is a lot of weight.

P: (speaks quietly to sister)

Sister:  She wants to know how much that is in stone.

Judge: There are 2.2 lbs per kilogram so you’ve lost (pause) 44 lbs, which is 3 stone.  So you’ve gone from 9 stone to 6 stone.  Which is a LOT!

(Silence)

Sister:  You understand you’ve gone down from 9 stone to 6 stone?

P: What’s 6 stone?

Sister: What you weigh now.

Judge:  Ask [Sister] what she weighs – or perhaps you shouldn’t!  Sisters shouldn’t subvert each other like that.

P:  (says something quietly while looking down at her body)

Judge: Did she say ‘where’s it gone?’

Sister:  She’s just looking at herself and said “oh!”

The judge then asked if it would be okay to talk to the lawyers again and P agreed, but asked him to return to engage with her again after that.  

On resuming his address to the lawyers, the judge said, “Well, that answers the question for us. I think Dr B ought to give evidence as P has raised a question about Dr Glover’s knowledge of her”.

It was good to see that P’s intervention could influence the course of the hearing in this way.  The judge’s response to her concern was an excellent illustration of putting P at the centre of decision-making about her.

Second witness: Dr B, treating consultant psychiatrist – P has capacity and forced treatment would be ‘difficult’

Dr B gave evidence based on having met P over the course of the last three months at least (he said) 6 and 7 times.  He’d seen her several times in the week after her admission to hospital, because he’d been asked to decide whether she had capacity to make a decision about treatment for her hip fracture (he’d decided she did).  Then he’d seen her a few weeks later to see if she’d benefit from anti-depressants, as she’d not been eating or sleeping well, and had found it difficult to be in hospital.  He’d also discussed her case in multi-disciplinary team meetings and at the Ethics Committee, and had spoken with her mother.

At some point (the chronology wasn’t entirely clear) he’d been asked to assess P’s capacity to make decisions about a PEG-J and had initially concluded that she lacked capacity due to delirium associated with a urinary tract infection – but anticipated that she would regain capacity when she recovered.

He was then away from the hospital for a period (“I myself fell ill with COVID”) and didn’t see her until his return 

In his most recent report, he describes her as “brighter” and concludes that she does have the capacity to make her own decision about the PEG-J.

He agrees with Dr Glover that P is depressed “but I don’t think it’s severe, and I don’t think psychosis is part of her depression… there have been other reasons for her to have psychotic symptoms which have been more transient” (i.e.,  the infertility treatment medication – bromocriptine, of which psychotic symptoms are a possible occasional side-effect – and, recently,  the urinary tract infection which led to delirium that in turn led to psychotic symptoms).  He also pointed out that some of the symptoms of depression are equally  associated with being physically unwell – for example “lethargy is very common in physical illness and so usually we call these biological symptoms and they are not counted as symptoms of depression”.

The matter of diagnosis (“depression/adjustment disorder” vs. “severe depression with psychotic symptoms”) occupied quite a bit of court time.  This was presumably because of what is often called the ‘diagnostic’ component of the capacity test: does the person have an impairment of, or a disturbance in, the functioning of, the mind or brain (whether permanent or temporary) (s. 2(1)(2) Mental Capacity Act 2005).  But as Pravin Fernando said in his closing summary (see below), there is no requirement in the Act for the impairment of, or disturbance in, the functioning of the mind or brain to be tied to a specific diagnosis. 

The judge addressed a crucial question – the extent to which P understands that her low weight is threatening her health and (perhaps) her life. This is information necessary to decision-making about the PEG-J.  If she doesn’t understand the risks to her health of further nutritional deficits, then (irrespective of which diagnosis is correct,  and insofar as either diagnosis constitutes an impairment or disturbance that causes her lack of understanding), she must be found to lack capacity for decision-making.  

Capacity unravelled

This was the point at which the adequacy of Dr B’s capacity assessment began to unravel for me.  

P’s capacity (or lack of it)  is at the heart of this case. If she has capacity then the court has no jurisdiction.  But it’s impossible to know whether or not she has capacity to understand, retain and weigh information relevant to the decision that needs to be made if – as Dr B says  – she hasn’t actually been given that information.

Judge:  One of the most striking things in your second witness statement is that P said she thought her weight is appropriate.  Does that indicate a lack of understanding?

Dr B: Yes, it does.

Judge:  We saw that earlier perhaps. (i.e. when P spoke to the court)

Dr B: She has not been weighed that often, or given information about her weight.

Judge:  But a third of her body weight – 20k for a 60k person is pretty significant, and loss of any more weight may prove to be fatal.

Dr B: Yes.

Judge: (reading from Dr B’s report) “She did not think her weight was problematic” – so again, she’s not understanding the situation, because her weight is certainly problematic.

Dr B: Weight is certainly a problem. We have discussed nutritional quality. We didn’t particularly focus on her weight.  

Judge: If she doesn’t understand that losing 33% of her body weight puts her life at risk, she needs to be disabused of any misapprehension about this pretty quickly.  (Reading from Dr B’s report) “If she goes down further she will have difficulties” – that doesn’t suggest an appreciation of the risk to her life.

Dr B: Correct. One of the things we’ve noticed is she needs to take things slowly and gradually.  At the point in time I saw her – I saw her in two chunks, morning and afternoon –  I would personally have explored that a little bit more.  But Dr Glover came in.  I had a real rapport with P, but I had to curtail my conversation with her.  She is not able to eat adequately, and she did say she is feeling the effect of not having enough nutrition. We didn’t discuss the full impact, but the discussion was in that direction.

Counsel for P via the Official Solicitor, Pravin Fernando, picked up on this line of questioning in his cross-examination.

OS:  One of the features of this case is that we understand P doesn’t want to die.  She says that consistently to professionals who ask her that question – but she also, in the same breath, says she considers that she’s not underweight, or has no issues with her weight.  How do you marry up these conflicting positions? Because on any objective view, her life is at risk because of the drop in her body weight.

Dr B: I think that has been our challenge here.  I think that she does not want to die.  What she wants to happen is to go back to her loving family.  With regards to weight, I don’t think she has been given the information about how much weight she has lost and what the impact is going to be. 

OS: Well, isn’t that fairly fundamental to your determination on capacity.  Because in determining whether or not she has capacity to make a decision about a PEG-J, you would need to know whether she understands what the impact is of the weight she has lost.

Dr B: (Reiterates a variant of what he said previously about having discussed nutrition with P, rather than weight).

OS:  I don’t mean to be flippant when I say this, but how are you able to put forward any positive statement about P’s capacity when you’re unsure about her understanding about her weight? 

Dr B: Well, a PEG-J is a fairly technical thing.  I have not given her all the necessary information – all the pros and cons of the operation – but broadly speaking I have explained to her why she needs it.

OS: You say, ‘it was clear that she could consider that if she did not eat enough then she is likely to deteriorate’ – you didn’t explore that with P?

Judge: I think he said he didn’t have the opportunity, because Dr Glover then came in, and he’d have spent more time with her if he’d been able to.  You saw how P was today (in conversation with the judge). Was she similar with you?

Dr B: No, she was much more comfortable, much more eloquent.  I think she’s under pressure at this point.  It’s not unusual for her to get tongue tied, but this is distinctly different from when I saw her yesterday.

Judge:  The reaction we saw was surprise- potentially one of surprise – when told she’d lost 3 stone in weight. Was that similar to her reaction to you?

Dr B: I didn’t exactly put it to her how much weight she’d lost, but I have put it to her how different it is between now and where she was when she was well and happy.

Asked about the psychological impact of being forced to have treatment she doesn’t want, Dr B said “it is clear she would not want anything done against her wishes – anything at all.  She did not like the naso-gastric tube.  But if we can work with her, she will agree to it”.  He gave as an example the fact that she’d agreed to an x-ray after it had been explained to her and doctors gained her confidence.

And if she doesn’t agree?  “That becomes extremely difficult.  The tube needs to be there, and she needs to participate cooperatively in terms of nutritional input through the tube.  If she did not have capacity and had to be treated against her wish, you have possibly heard about mittens, and that is the situation we would get into, and that is not a pleasant situation”.

Pravin Fernando (for P via the Official Solicitor) asked, “Do you think that your opinion [about P’s capacity] is at present inconclusive, without having a further discussion with P about the impact of not going along with the PEG-J?”.

David Lawson (for the Trust) asked: “If you don’t understand that you’re critically underweight, you can’t make decisions about nutrition and a PEG-J can you? That must be right, mustn’t it?

Dr B had no satisfactory answer to either question (though he referred to P’s right to “take an unreasonable view” on the matter). 

The judge suggested that Dr B and the gastroenterologist who is recommending the PEG-J should “talk it though, with the space and time to allow both of you to explore with her the options that she faces and then make a fully informed decision if she’s able to.”  The court needs evidence, he said, “that there’s been a very specific discussion with P that she understands the options – and if she still doesn’t want the PEG-J and everyone else thinks she should have it, then I will have to grapple with whether it’s due to a lack of capacity.”

It was agreed that this discussion could happen the following morning, with the hearing to be continued in the afternoon, although – depending on the evidence needing to be heard – the judge could not guarantee a decision in that case before Easter.

The Official Solicitor was not very happy with this course of action and tried to short-circuit the process: 

OS: There are two avenues – one is the course suggested, that the matter of capacity is revisited with Dr C [the gastroenterologist] and Dr B having this discussion with her – but we do have the evidence from Dr Glover that fundamentally she’s unable to make these decisions.

Judge: If Dr Glover’s evidence is accepted.

OS: We were about to proceed on the basis of Dr Glover’s evidence

Judge: Well that’s the danger of hearing further evidence, isn’t it. It has an effect.

The case, said Pravin Fernando, had been brought on an urgent basis and “we really do need to resolve this matter. We have grave concerns about it going any further than tomorrow”. The judge responded that he would not be able to sit past 4.30pm the following day, and Pravin Fernando subsided: “I don’t think there’s anything else I can say”. 

A closing interaction with P and her family

Before closing for the day, the judge returned to P.

Judge:  P, are you still with us.

P: Yes.

Judge: P, it’s been quite a long day. The plan is for Dr B and Dr C to come and see you tomorrow morning.

P: Why?

Judge: To make sure that you understand what the plans are and what the consequences are if you have treatment and if you don’t.

P: Who is Dr C?

Judge: The doctor who specialises in stomach problems and nutrition.

P: Which one is he?

Judge: I think he’s here now. Dr C, perhaps you can turn your camera on.

[Dr C appears on screen]

Dr C: Hello.  (Holds up face-covering) You’ll see me with a mask on tomorrow.

Both parents (they are separated and were participating in the hearing from different locations) were also invited by the judge to speak if they wished to and both expressed scepticism that one more day of trying to explain things to P would make a difference.  

P’s father said “Regarding them coming to see P in the morning, it won’t make much difference… we’ve all been explaining it to her all the time…. Twelve months we’ve been going through this”. 

Her mother – crying, and clearly desperately concerned for her daughter – tried to explain a more complex situation than appeared to have been presented to the court: “P’s problems began before all this… she doesn’t eat three meals a day anyway, prior to all this happening. I can’t get her to eat and drink at home. Before going into hospital, she went from a size 16 to a size 12 and she must be a size 6 now. Initially when she went in, she didn’t have any help at all with food – she has [medication] to help with stomach cramps and these weren’t given to P and when they were given, only intermittently.

The judge said (sympathetically) that he hoped to reach an “end point” tomorrow.  Some arrangements were made for recording tomorrow’s capacity assessment.  And since P’s sister couldn’t be with her tomorrow, her father agreed to be there with her.  

The court would reconvene at 2pm the next day.

Friday 8th April 2022

I missed the first 10 minutes of this hearing because (when I enquired) I was wrongly told by court staff to use the same link I’d been given the previous day, when in fact a new link had been issued.  I realised there might be a problem when nobody admitted me to the hearing from the virtual waiting room and I emailed counsel directly asking for the link.  Observers should not need to have to do this if the Court is serious about open justice.

Agreement on capacity and ways forward

When I joined the hearing, I learnt that there was now a common position that P lacks capacity to make her own decision about CANH.  

As her parents had predicted, the explanations offered by Dr B and Dr C that morning had been unsuccessful.  P was unable to understand that she’d had rapid and significant weight loss, and so unable to understand the risks to her health.

Matters discussed included:

  1. How psychiatric and psychological support would be provided to P to support her through the process of having treatment against her will (apparently there is no psychology service based within the hospital)
  2. Evidence from Dr C about why a PEG-J was the best way of providing nutritional support for P (as opposed to a naso-gastric tube or PEG or jejunostomy)
  3. Scheduling of the surgery – likely now to be after the weekend.

Final submissions

For the Trust

In his final submission, David Lawson said that the Trust’s position now is that P lacks capacity to make her own decisions about CANH because of her depression and other factors identified by Dr Glover.  She doesn’t understand that she’s lost so much weight, or the risks of that (including the risk of death).  

The judge engaged counsel in some attempts to disentangle the two different diagnoses, and David Lawson said that whether P has ‘depression’ or ‘adjustment disorder’, either is an impairment of mind or brain and has “explanatory power for why she can’t understand, or retain or weigh” the relevant information. 

There was also a discussion about ‘fluctuating’ capacity and its relevance for P. Counsel was particularly concerned that there should be no interruption of treatment during the three weeks of ‘refeeding’  – as would occur if P were said by Dr B to have regained capacity within a day, or week, of the PEG-J being inserted (in which case, of course, if she asked for the treatment to be removed, he would have to comply).  Dr Glover’s estimate that it would take 8-10 weeks for P to regain capacity to make decisions about the PEG-J was mentioned several times.

According to the judge  “P has sadly been sustaining a diminishing lack of capacity over some period of time, and is now in general, usually, well below the capacity line, but it’s conceivable if the operation takes place and she starts to improve that there might be a day, or an hour, when Dr B might say ‘well she appears to have capacity now’ but if you were to go two hours later, she’d have lost capacity again.  And I don’t want that to create a difficulty, but I’m reluctant to put a time scale on it.  Overall, I think given that the diminution of capacity has happened steadily over some period of time, I think it likely that the regaining of capacity is likely to take some time as well and it’s certainly unlikely that she’ll regain consist capacity before we resume after Easter”. 

Counsel drew on the case of Royal Borough of Greenwich v CDM (Rev 1) [2019] EWCOP 32 to make a distinction between ‘micro’ and ‘macro’ decision-making capacity in relation to fluctuating capacity.  In that case Mr Justice Newton considered how a person’s individual  decisions about what to eat, and whether or not to take insulin,  had to be assessed in the context of their broader understanding of the management of diabetes. By parallel, it’s impossible for P to make a capacitous decisions about individual meals (‘micro’ decisions) if she doesn’t understand her that her weight is too low and she’s at risk of death (the ‘macro’ context).  This was summed up by the judge as: “You’re saying that she doesn’t have capacity in general for anything that falls within the perimeter of nutrition-related decisions”. 

In terms of best interests, P should be fitted with a PEG-J because “she’s a young woman with decades of life in front of her who is severely ill”.  He referred to her Article 2 right to life and said “there’s so much to gain here from a clear management plan for restored nutrition”.  He acknowledged that this decision is contrary to P’s wishes, but hopes that “as and when and if she returns to capacity she will come to regard this intervention more favourably”. 

The expectation is that the case will be back in court after the Easter break “so details of the discharge plan and amount of support can be discussed” (as the judge put it).

For P via the Official Solicitor

Pravin Fernando began his closing submission by addressing what he called “some confusion about the necessity for specific diagnoses” in relation to the Mental Capacity Act 2005.  The Act refers simply to “an impairment of, or a disturbance in the functioning of, the mind or brain” (2(1).  He added that the COP 3 formuses the same language and admits the possibility of this “impairment or disturbance” not arising out of a specific diagnosis, when it instructs the person completing it:  “Where this impairment or disturbance arises out of a specific diagnosis, please set out the diagnosis or diagnoses here”.

The judge intervened to comment that it’s “always described as a diagnostic limb and a  functional limb  but perhaps that leads to an undue focus on the specific diagnosis rather than meeting the test of the section”.

Pravin Fernando replied: “There’s no requirement, My Lord, for there to be a DSM or ICD-10 specification. I think we can often focus on these things unduly. The point is when one steps back and looks at it from this viewpoint,  it’s clear that P (in the view of the Official Solicitor) has an impairment of or disturbance of her mind, affecting her ability to make decision. I should say, for the avoidance of any doubt, that the Official Solicitor does accept the evidence of Dr Glover that P suffers from ‘severe depression with psychotic symptoms’.  She is unable to make decisions about the PEG-J and nutrition as a consequence of that impairment. It’s as simple as that, My Lord, when you look at an individual who’s lost a third of her body weight, and barely recognises that, and clearly does not understand how to look after herself and keep herself well.” 

In terms of best interests, Dr C is clear (said counsel) that the treatment is urgent, and that any further weight loss would “take us into disastrous territory”.  But in addition, “day by day malnutrition makes the likelihood of the success of the intervention less and less”.    Counsel wanted the operation to fit the PEG-J to take place as soon as possible to prevent “irreparable damage” to P. 

P’s psychological reaction to being treated against her will was also a concern.

Counsel: The concern is this. I’m trying to phrase this diplomatically. Dr B’s evidence on capacity was, we say, somewhat wanting.  His plan for psychological support is somewhat lacking.  We don’t want to delay this decision, but we want a plan that properly engages with contingencies, should P have an adverse psychological reaction to the PEG-J being put in.  Obviously, we hope that’s not going to happen, but it must be catered for.

Judge: What do you say is the appropriate mechanism for dealing with that? Obviously it’s not going to be done at twenty past three on a Friday afternoon just before the Easter holidays.

Counsel: I hope Dr B, who I believe is still on the call, can give  the court some assurance that he and his team, once the decision is made will properly engage with the task in hand.  My Lord will be able to review that at some point in future should this matter come back. 

Judge: Are you suggesting a review next week to check that all is being done that needs to be done – if the operation takes place on Monday as Dr C suggests is the more likely option.  To see the fleshed out psychiatric and psychological care plan?  Or is the Official Solicitor content with a recital that confirms that Dr B will work on this and put it in place.

Counsel: No, My Lord. We simply just want them to do it.

Judge:  I got the impression that Dr B is committed to P and will do his very best to put a package together.  Whether it’s entirely within his gift, resource-wise, to put  in place everything he’d like, is another question.

The judge was obviously concerned about the “adverse consequences of going against a strong-willed person’s expressed decision” but hoped that when she recovers she would “reconcile herself to it as having been necessary”.

Although he accepted that (based on evidence about P’s decisions in the past) that she would probably consent to treatment if she had the capacity to do so, he pointed that this observation: “doesn’t answer the question of how you’ll respond to it being done against your will when you don’t have capacity; she can still be very cross, offended, feel violated by me taking a decision and things being done when she said she didn’t want them done, But as I understand it the family’s position, and everybody’s position, is that even if her reaction were at the worst end of the scale, still the benefits of her continuing to live outweigh the Insult to her autonomy of going ahead against her will”. 

Judgment

A brief ex tempore judgment dealt with what the judge called “the headline points” (helpfully delivered at dictation speed).  

I have given some detail here because the judge said explicitly that he did not intend to publish the judgment.

The judge summarised the facts of the case.  He said that P has “lived fully” and “made the most of life”, despite trouble throughout her life with difficulties in eating and drinking, due to her physical impairments, mostly managed without need for a feeding tube.  Last year the combination of failed IVF and the breakdown of her marriage (which would be difficult for anyone to deal with) led to deterioration in her physical and psychological health, and she then suffered a fracture of her femur which required her admission to hospital in January 2022, where she has been ever since.  Although she was considered to have capacity to make decisions in relation to treatment of her femur during her stay in hospital, she was not able to eat or drink sufficiently to maintain her weight, and declined medication, investigations and treatments.  On 29th March 2022 Dr C, a consultant gastroenterologist saw her, was alarmed by her loss of body weight (of around a third), and thought it essential that an urgent application was made to the Court of Protection to insert a PEG-J to enable her to receive sufficient nutrition.

The issues that emerged over the course of the proceedings – said the judge –  were  (a) the question of P’s capacity to make her own decision and then (if she lacks capacity) (b) on the psychological aspects of the best interests decision to insert a PEG-J (the clinical need for a PEG-J being uncontroversial).  

(a) On capacity

The evidence from the psychiatrists on capacity finally led to an agreed position (“but a position” said the judge –  “I think I would have reached in any event, even if it had not been agreed”) which is that P lacks capacity under the criteria set out in s.3 of the Mental Capacity Act 2005.  

The precise formulation of the condition that P is currently experiencing I don’t think is critical,  but it’s agreed that P is suffering from depression. Whether one needs to say that meets any particular diagnostic criteria in DSM or ICD I’m not sure matters very much, but she clearly does suffer from  depression. Whether that is properly described (as Dr Glover says) as “Recurrent depressive disorder, current episode severe with psychotic symptoms” or whether it is “depressive syndrome/adjustment disorder” doesn’t really matter.  For my purposes, the combination of depression and hallucinatory features – whether they arise from the depression or from the impact on the functioning of her mind of infections or electrolyte imbalances or nutritional deprivation […] mean that for the purposes of the statutory test it is quite clear that she isn’t able to make a decision for herself because she has an impairment in or disturbance of the functioning of the mind or brain.  It’s clear that she’s unable to make the decision because there are deficiencies in her ability to understand some aspects relevant to the decision. I accept the evidence from her family, Dr C, and by extension the evidence from the nursing team, that there have been regular attempts to help her understand the extent of her weight loss and the implications of her weight loss and the implications of her refusal to accept nutrition for her health.  While she seems to appreciate there is some consequence of this, she does not appear to appreciate that her life genuinely is at risk. And with only a couple of further steps down this road, her condition will become life-threatening, if it is isn’t already.  And so, I’m satisfied that efforts have been made to give the information to her and that she’s not been able to understand it. I’m also satisfied she’s unable to use or weigh information relevant to the decision. I wonder at times having seen P on a couple of occasions whether she is in a position genuinely to communicate a decision – though I don’t think that’s the key here.  So, in relation to whether P has capacity to decide about the PEG-J and the care and treatment plan thereafter, I’m quite satisfied that she does not.  Looking at it from the other end of the telescope,  an aspect that reinforces the correctness of that conclusion, is that Dr M – who’s had long involvement with P –  says that over the course of dealing with P, she’s been able to recognise when she’s needed surgical intervention, and he can’t conceive of her declining to have the treatment necessary to sustain her life save by not understanding the information or being so depressed she’s unable to make that decision.  The unanimous view of family is they “want their P back” and this isn’t their usual P.  She’s someone who likes to engage in life, has aspirations for the future – and the P they say they see now is very different to the P they’ve known and lived with and loved for 30 odd years,  until the course of these traumatic events in 2020 and 2021 took their toll on her psychologically.” (Williams J)

(b) On best interests

The judge reported the parents’ view that “if P had capacity, she would have seen the need for this procedure and would have agreed to itThey think that if it’s undertaken against her will that she will come around to the idea that it was necessary”.  Nonetheless, he said:

 “Doing this against her own wishes is likely to add a further layer of psychological insult to her. However, in terms of the overall best interests decision, it’s clear from Dr C’s evidence,  and from the family’s to be fair,  that P desperately needs this procedure to be undertaken; it’s the only realistic route back to physical health and also the best opportunity for restoring her psychiatric and psychological health as well. […]  My concern (and that of others) is what impact would this have on P to do it against her will and how could the consequences be ameliorated?  The benefit of Dr B’s input is in ensuring that a psychological and psychiatric plan for managing this – albeit in in embryonic form at the moment – has addressed that. […] So, overall, in terms of the holistic best interests decision, I’m quite satisfied that for medical reasons P should undergo the PEG-J procedures and the implementation of the care and treatment plan. And thereafter, although there will be some impact on her psychologically, it’s clear that the benefits in terms of prolonging her life and restoring her psychological and physical well-being outweigh the psychological risks of this being imposed against her will.  She will remain in hospital and will remain supported psychologically and psychiatrically… It seems reasonably clear that P’s capacity has been diminishing for some months in terms of what’s been described as the ‘macro’  decision in relation to procedure and the nutritional plan, and that is going to endure for some weeks.  There would need to be a significant improvement in her physiological wellbeing but also in her depressive condition for her to regain capacity on the macro-decision and that is likely to take some time […]. The bare minimum Dr Glover thought was 3 weeks and more likely 8 weeks for the medication to have an impact on her functioning. In respect of her lack of capacity, this is likely to endure until there is a really significant improvement in her psychiatric functioning.

Working on the basis that P would not regain capacity before the next hearing in this case (after the Easter break), the judge made the declarations and orders sought by the NHS Trust – that she lacks capacity to make her own decisions about her medical treatment, that it’s lawful to insert the PEG-J and to administer the care and treatment,  and that any consequent deprivation or restriction of her liberty is lawful.    

The PEG-J is likely be inserted on Monday, after the weekend.

Reflections

One very important aspect of this hearing (for me) is that it implicitly confirms the fundamental right of people who do have capacity to make their own decision to refuse to eat and drink and to refuse clinically assisted nutrition and hydration.  This was never explicitly stated in the hearing (or by the judge) but it’s the basis for the whole application, in that if P had been found to have the requisite capacity, her refusal would have been respected.  

The whole point of assessing whether or not P had capacity to make the decision for herself  was to determine whether or not compelling her to have the PEG-J tube against her wishes was lawful.  If she’d had capacity, she could not have been so compelled. Recent judgments have made explicit capacitous people’s right to refuse to eat and drink and to refuse a feeding tube (e.g. Re PH [2022] EWCOP 16).  

The right (capacitously) to refuse to eat and drink and to refuse CANH is so basic that it shouldn’t really need to be affirmed – except that I’ve seen people wrongly sectioned for voluntarily stopping eating and drinking (with the stated intention of hastening death) with no evidence of mental illness and no reason to believe loss of capacity. And I’ve been told by health care professionals that permitting such refusals, and providing palliative care for people dying as a result, is akin to “assisting a suicide”.  

Voluntary stopping eating and drinking (VSED) is sometimes chosen by people who want to control their own dying (e.g. because they are terminally ill and want to advance the time of their death) and unless there is reason to doubt their capacity to make this decision for themselves, their right to make these refusals must be respected.  There is more information about VSED on several websites (e.g. here).

Second, this judgment affirms that when a person stops eating and refuses a feeding tube, it can be appropriate to consider whether they understand that they will lose weight, suffer malnutrition and eventually die as a result – because if they do not understand that, and do not actually wish to die, then – assuming they also have some impairment in the functioning of their mind of brain that ‘causes’ them not to understand this – they clearly do not have capacity to make that decision for themselves.  In this case, P did not wish to die. She did not understand that she had lost a third of her body weight, and did not believe her life was at risk.  This is very different from the people I’ve known who chose VSED because (in their 80s) they had degenerative illnesses and actively wished to speed up the dying process and avoid what, for them, was a humiliating and protracted death.  Respecting the right to refuse treatment (as Dr B was clearly concerned to do) must be modified when the person who wishes to refuse it lacks the mental capacity to understand the consequences of her refusal.

Third, it was useful to hear Pravin Fernando’s clear and succinct account for why the so-called ‘diagnostic’ component of the capacity assessment (the requirement for P to have an “an impairment of, or a disturbance in the functioning of, the mind or brain” (s. 2(1) Mental Capacity Act) that “causes” her inability to understand, retain, weigh or communicate information relevant to the decision to be made) does not actually require a definite or fixed diagnosis.  I have listened to a fair number of judges trying to determine which of the  different diagnoses presented to them by different witnesses in court is the ‘correct’ one –  and most have felt it incumbent upon them to decide this, despite the fact that any of the possible diagnoses would constitute “an impairment of, or a disturbance in the functioning of, the mind or brain” for the purposes of determining capacity. It doesn’t seem to me that judges are necessarily best placed to make a determination between contested psychiatric/psychological diagnoses, or that it is actually required that they should do so.  In this case, Williams J did not decide between diagnoses but simply accepted that either of them fulfilled the requirements of the Act. (Incidentally, it’s very unusual – in my experience – for ‘depression’ to be the key diagnosis in a finding of incapacity and this case stands out for that reason too.)

Finally, I  welcome the judge’s recognition that being forced to have treatment you wish to refuse is likely to cause distress – even if, in the long run, you might come to see it as the right thing for your doctors to have done.  Personally, I am horrified by the idea of being given medical treatment against my wishes, no matter how good the intentions of those delivering it, and no matter what I might think about the value of the treatment in the future.  For me it would be a violation of my autonomy and bodily integrity. I would (literally) rather die.  And so, I have written an Advance Decision to Refuse Treatment (an ADRT, in accordance with ss. 24-26 Mental Capacity Act 2005) which makes it unlawful for doctors to give me a medical treatment to which I do not or cannot consent.  If, like P, I became depressed, refused to eat and drink, and refused a feeding tube then (supposing I were found to lack capacity to make my own decision), my ADRT would determine the outcome for me: no feeding tube could lawfully be provided.  From what I have learnt about P, I don’t think she would have wanted to make an ADRT like mine – but it’s not that unusual to meet people who do. (For more information about refusing medical treatments in advance of losing capacity to do so, check out the charity Compassion in Dying website.)

Many other people tell me they are concerned to ensure that they do receive medical treatment at a possible future point when they may have lost capacity and be refusing it.  This is particularly so for people with recurrent mental health issues and fluctuating capacity – people who refuse, while sick, the very treatments they welcome when well.  They don’t want their incapacitous refusals to carry weight with doctors, as P’s refusals did with Dr B.  It certainly seemed as though P’s parents were dismayed that P’s refusals – which, for them, were clearly an outcome of her mental illness – were accepted as capacitous by Dr B. For anyone who envisages maybe being in such a situation, who wishes to maximise the likelihood of receiving the treatment they are refusing, the Advance Statement (provided for in s.4(6)(a) Mental Capacity Act 2005) is a good strategy to adopt.  

Suppose that P had written, in advance of losing capacity, something like: “I have difficulties with eating and drinking due to my physical impairments and prefer not to have a feeding tube, but to eat and drink as much as I am able. That is a decision it’s important for me to make when I have capacity to do so. I recognise, however, that there might be a future time when I become depressed or anxious and unable to eat, without recognising the risk to my health and even to my life. If my life is at risk, please give me a feeding tube, even if at the time I am refusing one.”  This “written statement made by [P] when [she] had capacity”  (s.4(6)(a) Mental Capacity Act) would go quite a long way towards supporting the doctors and the court with the difficult decision to give treatment contrary to P’s (current) wishes.  This might be something P would wish to do in future. It’s something anyone who has an ongoing health issue might want to consider.

I have written before about  “advance requests for restraint and compulsory treatment” in relation to a young man with psychological diagnoses involving hallucinations and suicidal ideation.  When well, he wants to live and accepts kidney dialysis for his end-stage kidney failure.   But when he relapses psychologically, he refuses dialysis and says he wants to die.  In court, Mr Justice Hayden asked him whether, if he refuses dialysis in future when he is “overwhelmed” by his mental illness, he wants to be restrained and compelled to have it?  He didn’t hesitate to say “yes”. And that’s what the judge ordered should happen. (See also “Psychiatric survivors’ views on advance consent and ‘forced’ treatment” for a legal analysis of how the law could better advance self-determination for people in this sort of situation).

I hope to observe the next hearing in this case when it returns to the court.

Celia Kitzinger is co-director (with Gill Loomes-Quinn) of the Open Justice Court of Protection Project. She has observed more than 300 remote hearings in the Court of Protection since 1st May 2020.


[1] Thank you to Pravin Fernando for sharing the Official Solicitor’s two position statements (prepared for the hearings on 5th April 2022 and 7thApril 2022 respectively) on request and in a timely fashion.  I requested but did not receive the position statements from the applicant Trust.  As an observer, I was also disadvantaged by the judge’s decision that there should NOT be an opening summary to this case – a decision made on the basis of time constraints.  This judicial decision made it much harder for me to follow the case as it unfolded during the hearing.  In my view, if the Court of Protection is committed to open justice, judges do need to ensure that there’s an opening summary/orientation to the case.  If an observer is willing voluntarily to devote (as I did) many hours to observing this case and writing a report of it, it would seem compatible with the court’s stated commitment to open justice to make a small contribution in the form of a 3-minute introduction for those of us who otherwise struggle to understand a case without any advance knowledge about it.  This is especially important when a judge does not intend (as Williams J informed the barristers) to publish his judgment on BAILII.  (I’ve also not been sent a transparency order for this hearing – although the existence of one, and the fact that the names of treating clinicians are covered by it, was mentioned during the course of the hearing –  so I have simply made an informed guess as to what it might require of me.)

[2] I think there must also have been a declaration that P lacks capacity to litigate these proceedings, since Pravin Fernando appears as litigation friend via the Official Solicitor, without the qualification “proposed” as attached to Emma Sutton at the first hearing.

[3] All quotations are as accurate as I can make them, given that we are not allowed to record court hearings: they are based on contemporaneous touch-typed notes but are unlikely to be verbatim.

Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash

More on Mr M: Medical recommendations, still awaiting discharge and final hearing plans

By Claire Martin, 12th April 2022

Mr M is still in hospital. He has now been there for 40 days. 

He was originally taken to hospital under court order for assessment of his ulcerated legs, to enable medical recommendations to be made.

We have previously blogged about this case, herehere and here.

At this hearing[1] (12 noon, Friday 8th April 2022, COP 133883671) before Mrs Justice Theis, I was again expecting to hear about Mr M’s discharge from hospital, but he was still there. 

Medical assessment and recommendations have now been made. There is only one treatment option: regular and frequent (3 times a week) dressing changes to Mr M’s ulcerated legs.  Neither amputation nor debridement is required. It is likely that the ulcer will never heal and that Mr M will remain at risk of repeated infection and deterioration. So, how he is cared for in the community and helping him to understand and make decisions (if possible) about his needs and care are very important. 

The obstacle now is the parties involved in Mr M’s care working out a solution, either with, or for, Mr M about where he lives and how his needs (in full) can best be met. There is a suggestion that he might regain capacity to make decisions about his medical care and where he lives. Mr M’s mental health issues are very relevant to these decisions, but the Mental Health Trust (whilst agreeing to complete a further capacity assessment and join in with care planning) is resisting becoming a party to the proceedings.

Ulele Burnham (counsel for the applicant local authority) was in agreement with the Official Solicitor that the Mental Health Trust should be joined as a party to proceedings, submitting: 

One of central issues we think – possibly the issue we think ought be determined by court today – is the question of joining the mental health trust. My lady, that is in essence, strictly speaking, Ms Gollop’s application. … I support the submissions made by Miss Gollop. The engagement and assistance provided by a mental health legal team … it’s not an easy situation for clinicians to get through on their own. I don’t want proceedings to be more protracted than they have been”.[2]

Theis J asked “I have seen Ms Gollop what you have said. This has been raised with the mental health trust. They think there is no need to join them. Why do you say it’s necessary if they are willing to do capacity assessments, as they say?

Katie Gollop QC (counsel for the Official Solicitor) replied: “It’s not just about capacity evidence – it’s about the proper coordination, in the proper way. We need the mental health trust to have input in that and have discussions. … All parties felt underwhelmed by the capacity assessment provided by [mental health trust psychiatrist]. It will assist with discharge planning – at the moment it is somewhat uncoordinated. The physical problem – the driver for application – has fallen away. Only one treatment is on offer for this issue. At the start that was amputation. [Mr M] has just finished a course of antibiotics. Dressings is the important bit. Coupled with the fact that the vascular surgeon has formed view that it’s chronic, unlikely ever to heal. The mental health problem and the drug dependency, in tandem with the wound presents a significant challenge. Mental health really will be an important part of discharge ongoing. More important than the current NHS Trust. [there are implications for] deprivation of liberty, in future. If impairment is solely dependent on drugs, then it may be subject to a proper understanding of what exactly he needs – the Mental Health requirement in Section 1 of the Mental capacity Act (the requirement for deprivation of liberty) may be lacking. That will be useful for the kind of planning we need. It will be greatly helped by having the mental health trust there to assist in those discussions.”

Counsel for the NHS Trust (Emma Galland) and for the CCG (Eliza Sharron) were neutral on this issue. I thought that was curious. Since the CCG would be funding some of the care for Mr M, I thought they would have had more of an interest in the mental health trust adopting a more active role. 

Theis J agreed with Katie Gollop QC: “I think it does need the mental health trust to be joined. It will underpin the legal advice in the discharge plan. I am satisfied that they should be joined.

The remainder of the hearing was discussion between all parties and the judge about what should be included in different paragraphs and as recitals in the draft order, by when parties should have filed their evidence and setting the date and time of the next (and I think, final) hearing. 

It was said that the question of Mr M’s mental capacity to decide about where he lives and medical treatment was connected to the “substance dependency rather than his psychotic illness”. Mr M apparently willingly takes the psychiatric medication that he is prescribed and his psychosis is not the reason for the mooted lack of capacity for the decisions before the court. 

So, the issues that remain, for the Official Solicitor representing Mr M, are:

  1.  a further capacity assessment to enable the court to make a judgment on Mr M’s capacity for the decisions he faces;
  2. following a suggestion from the psychiatrist who completed the previous capacity assessment, information about whether an anti-depressant is to be trialled and if not, why not; 
  3. evidence about mobility and wheelchair use – this is currently a completely grey area for the court; 
  4. a plan from the hospital about the threshold for future admission for ulcer treatment; 
  5. evidence from the parties as to whether it is proposed that on discharge, Mr M should be deprived of his liberty to ensure that wound dressing changes and ulcer monitoring continue and/or to prevent further illicit substance abuse; 
  6. if deprivation of liberty is not proposed, a robust plan for care in the community.

Even though Mr M’s care and treatment are taking a long time for the different agencies to organise, the snippets of information in the hearing about how Mr M is faring suggested that he is not finding his time in hospital an aversive experience. He has gradually become more able to speak about how he is (the Official Solicitor’s agent visits him regularly). He can sustain a conversation for longer than when he was first admitted to hospital and he has started to ask her how she is doing. He has not shown interest in others until recently. There is understandable consternation regarding how Mr M would fare in the community without the structure and 24-hour monitoring that a hospital environment provides. It is likely that he might return to drug use and avoidance of care for his ulcerated legs. This would restart the whole process of admission to hospital (and the question of his capacity to refuse) and could end up in court again. 

Equally, Mr M’s human rights are compromised by the lack of coordination, clear assessment and adequate planning for his care. I was struck by how little the court knows, even now. Mr M’s own voice remains conspicuously absent in proceedings. His mobility, even whether he can walk at times or requires a wheelchair to move about, is not known. If he does require a wheelchair, it was unclear whether an assessment had been done to establish the correct wheelchair. Given that he has been in hospital for 40 days – at a huge cost to the NHS, when Mr M is said to be ready for discharge – I would have thought that assessment for his likely future functioning and needs (including correct equipment and support) might have been a priority for the NHS Trust. Especially, as Katie Gollop QC noted:

The Official Solicitor is very conscious that public bodies are financially stretched and its employees’ time is also scarce. At the same time, Mr M is very vulnerable: his chronic problem of an ulcer that is unlikely ever to heal, coupled with the risks attendant on him being drug dependent, is a difficult one to manage. Co-ordination and timely provision of information are essential.”

The next hearing, which I think is intended as a final hearing (though it is only scheduled for an hour) is on Friday 20th May 2022, 12noon. I am intending to observe. 

Claire Martin is a Consultant Clinical Psychologist, Cumbria, Northumberland, Tyne and Wear NHS Foundation Trust, Older People’s Clinical Psychology Department, Gateshead. She is a member of the core group of the Open Justice Court of Protection Project and has published several blog posts for the Project about hearings she’s observed (e.g. here and here). She tweets @DocCMartin


[1] Thank you to Katie Gollop QC for providing me with the final Position Statement for Mr M via the OS. I have drawn on this to write this blog. 

[2] We are not permitted to audio- or video-record court hearings. Direct quotations of what was said during the course of the hearing are as accurate as possible, based on my contemporaneous touch-typed notes but are unlikely to be entirely verbatim.

Photo by Yender Fonseca on Unsplash

The value of observing a case management hearing in the Court of Protection

By Helen Moizer, 7th April 2022

The value of observing a case management hearing in the Court of Protection.

When I observed a Court of Protection hearing for the first time, I did not know what I was entering into or what to expect. Despite it being a video hearing link, I still felt apprehensive and as though I was about to intrude on a group of people and disturb their discussions. On reflection, this is precisely why the Open Justice Court of Protection Project was set up. 

My first attempt to see a hearing failed as the hearing was cancelled. On that occasion, I’d followed the Open Justice Court of Protection Project’s guidance and asked the court for a link, but in the morning of the hearing the clerk to email me to say the hearing was no longer going ahead. If a court clerk is willing to take the time to update an observer, I thought it would be worth trying again.

The second time around proved successful, and I was provided with a link to join (Case nos. 13775782 and 1377580T: unusually there were two protected parties at the centre of this hearing.) 

 I was hoping I could do the virtual equivalent of  sneak in and sit down at the back without being noticed, but Mrs Justice Arbuthnot spoke directly to me and asked me to confirm who I was. Mild panic did ensue. However, on letting all the parties know I was just observing as a member of the public, Mrs Justice Arbuthnot immediately welcomed me and asked one of the lawyers to send me the transparency order at the end of the hearing.  I provided my email address and the hearing continued on.

Despite this being a case management hearing, rather than a final decision-making hearing, it gave me first-hand experience of how a COP hearing is run, the representative’s role in drafting an order for the judge to approve and how the interests of the protected parties are upheld. 

It has also left me intrigued by what will happen to the two parties in question. Little was known about the family dynamics and capacity of one young woman for example. The representatives were trying to speak to her doctor and the care home of her younger sibling. These insights highlighted the vulnerability of COP parties.

My main motivation for observing a hearing was to gain experience in this area of law and how it works in practice. This was something I gained, and it has sparked my interest to observe more. Hopefully if more people know about how easy and receptive the court is, COP hearings will see many more public observers.

Helen Moizer is Assistant Legal Officer at the Free Representation Unit. She tweets @h_moizer

Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash

Two years on: A postscript to “Remote justice”

By Celia Kitzinger, 29th March 2022

Two years ago today, on 29th March 2020, the Transparency Project published my blog post about the first all-remote Court of Protection hearing of the COVID-19 pandemic.

With their permission, I’ve reproduced it below. (It was originally published here, under the title, “Remote Justice: A Family Perspective”.) This reprint is followed by a brief reflection on what – from my perspective as an observer – has changed over the last two years since I published this piece.

Remote Justice: A Family Perspective (as published on 29th March 2020)

On Tuesday 17 March 2020, less than 24 hours after the Prime Minister’s announcement to the nation to avoid all non-essential contact due to COVID-19, I attended the first entirely remote hearing for the Court of Protection.  I was there in a voluntary, non-official capacity to support someone I’ll call “Sarah”, whose father was at the centre of a serious medical treatment case.  

I’ve been supporting Sarah for just over a year, trying to get the Clinical Commissioning Group and the General Practitioner (GP) responsible for her father’s care to engage with her concerns.  This culminated in a formal ‘best interests’ meeting at the end of 2019, at which it was impossible to reach an agreement about her father’s treatment, and then – inevitably – to this court hearing.  

I’ve attended more than a dozen court hearings in similar circumstances (and acted as litigation friend in one), all focussing – as with Sarah’s father – on the question of whether clinically assisted nutrition and hydration is in the person’s best interests.  I’ve learnt a lot from families involved in these cases about their experience of the hearing itself, as well as in the run-up to and aftermath of the hearing.  Sarah’s experience was different – in part because this hearing was held remotely, via Skype for Business. 

Not surprisingly, there has been a flurry of publications about remote hearings and I’m glad to see a sustained focus on how to get them working efficiently and how to “make the remote hearing as close as possible to the usual practice in court” (Mr Justice MacDonald, 25 March 2020, The Remote Access Family Court, version 2).  The overwhelming response reported so far has been positive.  Despite acknowledging some technical glitches, judges, lawyers and journalists have said that they work well. 

But I haven’t seen anything published about how ‘lay’ participants in court proceedings – litigants in person, witnesses, or family members who are parties to a case – experience remote justice.  So, this is about Sarah’s experience, and mine.  Sarah can’t put her real name to this piece because of the Reporting Restriction Order: it is “strictly forbidden to allude directly or indirectly to the true identities of the anonymised persons” in the judgment.  But we discussed this piece before I wrote it, and she’s read it and is quoted in it and is pleased that it will be made public.

In other cases I’ve been involved in, families have often talked about the gravitas attached to a courtroom hearing: the formality of architecture and room layout, the elevated more distant seat for the judge, the ritual of rising when the judge enters, the element of theatre.  It can feel intimidating, but it is also reassuring evidence of the seriousness attached to the case and the ceremonial impartiality of justice.  This is important because by the time a family reaches court, the question of whether or not a loved one should receive life-sustaining medical treatments has been addressed on multiple occasions, sometimes over many years, in often muddled and confused ways and at times of heighted emotional intensity. It’s been raised at the bedside, in hospital corridors, in doctors’ offices – frequently without the full facts being known or taken into account, and without family members feeling that they have been heard.  The courtroom setting is designed as a formal arena for putting that right.

With a hearing conducted wholly over Skype, all that gravitas is lost.  Court architecture is replaced with the backdrop of barristers’ and witnesses’ living rooms.  The judge appears up close and personal, just like anyone else with his face in a little square on the screen.  And what we found in practice was that a preoccupation with the technology distracted people’s attention from the substantive content of the case.

Two barristers have written their own account of the hearing for Sarah’s father.  For them, “it felt comfortable and familiar relatively quickly” and they thought witnesses might feel “less intimidated”, pointing out that “many wore casual attire and sat in their homes, responding to the questions, but not having the full glare of the court on them.”  Although they acknowledge some technical glitches, they conclude: “what did we miss? In truth, nothing that mattered.”  Journalists, too, have been excited about the use of Skype in this hearing: one tweeted enthusiastically: “I have to say it is super-fascinating watching this pioneering Skype trial – I could get used to court reporting from home! Also enjoying the occasional meow from someone’s cat & checking out the décor of people’s gaffes.”   

But it was precisely the “casual attire”, the distracting pets, and the domestic backdrops that added to Sarah’s distress.  During the three days of this hearing, I was with Sarah in person.  We were in a solicitor’s office in an otherwise empty building, along with Sarah’s pro bono solicitor and barrister.  The four of us were there together – attempting social distancing as per government instructions – because we hadn’t heard that the hearing would be conducted by Skype until the day before.   We’d been told to prepare for a face-to-face hearing at Nottingham Civil Justice Centre and when the news came through that it would be moved to Skype, Sarah was on a flight from her home outside the UK, and I was on a train from my home in Cumbria.  As it turned out, I’m glad and relieved that Sarah and I were able to be together for the hearing, and also to have Sarah’s legal team there in person to explain what was happening.  I cannot begin to imagine how tough it would have been for Sarah to have to go through this alone – listening without support to impenetrable arguments between lawyers about her beloved father, conducted in language that was, as she reminded us “way above my pay grade”.  I think she’d have simply become disengaged and unable to follow the proceedings.  According to one study, that’s exactly what happened to litigants held in detention centres in the USA: they stopped engaging with the legal process (and were more likely to be deported as a result). 

Sarah’s father is referred to in the judgment as AF.  He had a stroke on 5 May 2016.  About a week later, while AF was still in hospital he started refusing to eat and drink and said that he wanted to die.  Doctors decided that AF lacked the mental capacity to make his own decisions and inserted a naso-gastric tube against his wishes.  He turned to his daughter immediately afterwards and said, “this is wrong”.  He pulled the tube out several times – despite attempts to stop him by putting mittens on his hands and a bridle on his nose to lock the tube in place.  Because he was “non-compliant” with treatment, doctors (again against his wishes) made a surgical incision in his abdomen and inserted a feeding tube directly into his stomach (a Percutaneous Endoscopic Gastronomy [PEG]).  He was then discharged to a nursing home where he has remained ever since.  At first, AF was “uncooperative” with feeding and personal care but this has diminished over the years.  Sarah believes he has just become “ground down” over time, because he has tried so hard to tell people that he doesn’t want the medical treatments that are keeping him alive, but he has been given them anyway.  He still refuses to eat and drink enough to sustain his life – a short trial without clinically assisted nutrition and hydration found he quickly became dehydrated.   Sarah’s barrister was presenting Sarah’s case:  that PEG feeding should stop and that her father should be allowed to choose for himself whether he wanted the food and drink that would continue to be offered to him.  Sarah accepts that he would probably refuse to eat and drink and would probably die.  

As the judge acknowledged, Sarah does not want her father to die but was “fighting for his right to die” because she believes that is what he would want. 

Sarah lost the court case.  The judge said that: “it would be categorically contrary to AF’s interests for him to be set on the path that will lead to his inevitable death ….  This may be a diminished life, but it is a life nonetheless which has, as I have said, intrinsic quality and from which AF derives pleasure and satisfaction.”  

Of course, she (and I) feel angry and upset by this judgment, and this inevitably inflects the way we feel about the hearing itself.  Sarah says: “I’m left wondering whether I should have waited and insisted on a face-to-face hearing. It just felt like a second-rate hearing.”

There is evidence that outcomes can be influenced by remote, as compared with face-to-face, hearings: one study found that 50% of applicants heard via video link were refused bail, compared to 22% of those heard in person.  Nonetheless, my own view is that this was a complex case and that the judgment is not an outcome of Skype but rather a combination of some challenging facts and this particular judge’s knowledge base, skills set, and established predispositions.  I think he would have come to the same decision if we’d all been face-to-face in a courtroom.  But a face-to-face hearing would not have left Sarah wondering if justice had been denied her father because of the circumstances of the hearing, or feeling that she missed out on her opportunity to influence the court.

For families in serious medical treatment cases, the court offers the opportunity of ‘being heard’, ‘speaking out’ and ‘giving voice’ to their relative’s wishes – often after a long period of feeling silenced and ignored.  It offers the opportunity of ‘being seen’ after having felt invisible within the medical system.  For Sarah, who had only ever met her father’s GP in person just once over the course of the three years the GP had been caring for him, and who felt she had been entirely side-lined by the professionals responsible for his care, this was her opportunity to ensure that they heard her truths about her father.  What actually happened instead was that Sarah became invisible to the court after giving her witness statement, and the relationship between her and her father was effectively erased by counsel for the Official Solicitor who acted as litigation friend. Right from the outset, Sarah felt that issues other than her father’s wishes were centre-stage.  Because this was the first all-Skype hearing, there was a lot of talk about managing the technology at the beginning and end of each day, and intermittently throughout the day as glitches arose and needed addressing. It was definitely a distraction.  At times there was what felt to us like an unseemly and self-congratulatory focus about being “the first” such case, about its “pioneering” role in remote justice.  Sarah said: “I’d like the judge and lawyers to know that this hearing was not about bigging yourselves up because you did the first Skype trial.  This is about my Dad.”  

For me, there was a marked lack of empathy displayed for Sarah throughout this hearing (Sarah’s own legal team excluded, of course).  Having, for comparison, lots of experience of how judges and lawyers engage with families when they are co-present in a courtroom, I was shocked by the lack of sensitivity to what Sarah might be thinking or feeling at various points and by apparent indifference to her presence.   This was partly – perhaps largely – accounted for by the fact that, except when Sarah was giving her witness statement and being cross-examined, she was not visible to other participants.  Due to bandwidth problems, the judge asked everyone (except himself) to turn off video-cameras unless they were giving evidence or questioning a witness.  This meant it was easy for lawyers to forget that Sarah remained in the virtual courtroom throughout the hearing.   They spoke about her in her presence – nothing uncomplimentary, but just the fact of hearing yourself talked about in the third person is quite unsettling.

Nobody – except those of us in the room with her – could see how upset Sarah became at various points and so they didn’t modify their behaviour to avoid causing her unnecessary distress.  For example, counsel for the Official Solicitor routinely introduced herself to each successive witness by saying: “I’m speaking on behalf of A…” (where “A” was the first name of Sarah’s father).  Every time she said this, Sarah winced as though she’d been struck.  For Sarah, she – her father’s daughter – was the person speaking on behalf of her father, not this woman who barely knew him.  To her dismay, Sarah had been refused permission to be litigation friend and that role had been taken by the Official Solicitor.  Sarah knows AF better than anyone else.  She wanted to be her father’s voice, to speak on his behalf when he could not.  It hurt to have this woman she’d never met speak on behalf of her father.  And she found it disrespectful that he was regularly referred to by his first name, “A”, rather than as “Mr F” (or even “AF”).   I hope and believe that if the lawyers had seen Sarah’s distress, they might have found ways of adapting their behaviour.  Maybe if Sarah had been physically co-present, the judge might also have avoided the (to non-lawyers) bizarre claim, in the published judgment (para. 2), that AF himself (acting via the Official Solicitor) opposed his daughter’s views and that AF himself was saying that it was in his best interests to continue with the PEG.

Even when Sarah was giving her witness statement, she didn’t feel as though she was ‘seen’ in court: “In a court room people can see body language. They can feel the pain and emotion when you speak about that moment of utter desperation that you went through.  But I was in a little one-inch box on a screen and being honest I bet half of them weren’t even engaged in looking at it – as the judge couldn’t monitor them to make sure they were paying attention.”

Sarah felt unable to get her message across as she would have done in person: “Skype took away from me the ability to look these people in the eyes – these people who have their opinions about my Dad and only knew him through third-hand notes.  I wanted to look them in the eyes and make them hear the truth but I was looking at a computer screen.”

There were the usual hassles with technology – some of which I assume will get ironed out as people become more familiar with it.  Two of the barristers involved described it as “pretty plain sailing and other than technical glitches the only concern voiced during the hearing was the problem of not being able to see “the judicial pen” (because the judge was only visible from the shoulders up): this, for one barrister led to uncertainty about how to pace his speech with reference to the judge’s note-taking.  But my experience was much less positive. Given the speed with which it had been set up and the novelty of what we were involved in, yes it was impressive that it was even possible and huge thanks are due to the solicitor who took responsibility for enabling this.  But we had to contend with intermittent loss of connectivity and delays while key people reconnected  (including waiting for the judge to reboot his computer); batteries going on two different witnesses’ laptops such that they then had to dash to find their chargers and plug them in; and corruptions with recordings which led to the decision to stop and restart recording every 30 minutes.  All of these led to hiccups in the proceedings.  They aren’t so different from hassles in court when microphones don’t work, interpreters are late, bundles are unpaginated, documents are lost – but these technological problems were not instead of courtroom hassles, but additional to them.  It was still necessary to circulate paperwork to people who didn’t have it – and attempts to do that over Skype (so that everyone could see it on screen simultaneously) failed, resulting in a resort to e-mail – and some witnesses struggled with opening emails or finding Dropbox documents at the same time as running Skype.  

One disconcerting feature of Skype, which affected Sarah’s questioning in court – and that of several of the witnesses – was that there was often an audio time lag which meant that the judge or counsel doing the cross-questioning would think that someone had finished speaking when, in fact, they had not, so would begin to speak with what was experienced by the witness as an interruption.  The witness would stop – and so would the person ‘interrupting’.  A pause followed during which both waited for the other to continue.  Then both would start up again simultaneously and the same thing would happen again.  Sarah (and others) found themselves apologising for ‘interrupting’ when this hadn’t actually been the case. This was enormously frustrating for lawyers who were good communicators and wanted to listen to witnesses with patience and courtesy.  There were many occasions where people with really excellent communication skills were stymied by the technology.

In actual – rather than virtual – courtrooms (or in the waiting areas outside) it’s not unusual for family members I’ve supported before to hear solicitors and barristers joking together, catching up on gossip and exchanging news.  On occasion, this can be experienced as inappropriate and exclusionary for people new to the courts – but, lawyers do tend to know this and these conversations are often sotte voce on the front benches as family members seat themselves near the back.  One effect of remote justice was to amplify this ‘informal’ aspect of courtroom interaction because it is equally accessible to everyone online.  While we were waiting for a formal start one day, there was a discussion between the judge and some of the lawyers about the judge’s current reading matter: Daniel Defoe’s Journal of the Plague Year: it was beamed directly into our office where Sarah and I listened to a conversation about rich people decamping from the cities to the country to escape the plague, and speculation about this in relation to COVID-19.   Jokey informality also came into play as lawyers tried to fix technical problems.  At one point the judge asked a barrister to adjust her video, saying “We can only see the back of your head. We are all looking at your left ear”.  She replied, “My Lord, that may be my best feature!”.  Something similar could have happened in a courtroom, certainly, but it was, in this case, the remote technology that offered the opportunity for the quip and the technology that ensured we all heard it.   Perhaps, for some parties this humanises the legal process.  For others, this kind of levity threatens the formal justice process and diminishes the legitimacy of the court: it can work to undermine the impartiality of the process by displaying how ‘pally’ some of these professionals are with one another  (in particular, in this case, the judge and one side’s barrister), leaving the rest of us feeling outsiders – debarred from having that kind of exchange with the judge,  not ‘one of them’ by profession or by class.  

Sarah describes her feelings about the informality engendered by remote justice: “It definitely made me feel like the outsider.  In a court room I’d have felt like it was more of a level playing field.  I know there’s the pomp and ceremony of the court, but you can see the pecking order – from me at the bottom to the judge at the top, so you feel better because you know the structure.   The visible structure makes you feel safer.  But this felt chaotic, which made me feel nervous and insecure.

Part of the chaos was the intrusion of ‘everyday life’ disrupting the formal ‘theatrical’ elements of the courtroom – the cat that mewed and knocked over books, the tail-wagging dog behind one witness, the mobile phone that kept going off on one witness’s desk.  Sarah was not impressed that the judge’s dogs barked loudly and long (necessitating a short break) when someone apparently rang his doorbell – not just once, but twice. 

Skype technology also provided everyone with views of the interiors of other people’s homes.  The judge, to his credit, had an entirely neutral backdrop (a blank wall, I think).  But that wasn’t true of most other people – although one solicitor mentioned having removed a picture of a tiger that would otherwise have been visible onscreen.  It would be worth considering the effect of some of these ‘backdrops’ upon a person who is not wealthy, who is unable to access legal aid, who is forced to scrabble around looking for pro-bono legal representation, and whose cultural heritage does not include large rooms with grand pianos or costly furniture – especially given that we were also treated to multiple superfluous Shakespearean quotations from the judge, which were not accessible to Sarah.  These views of other people’s domestic interiors with their displays of wealth or specific cultural capital can create, or reinforce, the impression that justice is administered by people with economic, educational and class privilege.  And as Sarah says, “I wanted my Dad to have his day in court – not in someone’s front room”. 

The term “remote justice” makes it sounds quite distant – and in some ways, it is.  A family member can’t see the lawyers in the flesh and can’t “look them in the eye” and a person can be rendered invisible when their camera is off.  But it can also be, paradoxically,  quite up-close and personal in terms both of the facial images on screen (the proximity generated by ‘remote’ technologies can sometimes be quite startling) and the home environment behind which doesn’t necessarily fit well with the ‘gravitas’ of the court, or reflect the seriousness of a decision about whether or not to honour an incapacitated person’s choices.   

Obviously, there are pros and cons to remote justice, and in the era of COVID-19 we have to accept that there is no realistic alternative.  Hearings conducted by phone and video-conferencing are not new and I know from other families I’ve supported that they are sometimes very much appreciated – for example when someone has difficulty travelling (perhaps due to disabilities or because they want to stay by a loved one’s bedside), or because of the expense of travel and overnight stays away from home.  I’ve also heard about the problems that can arise.  We avoided (I think) any embarrassing moments caused by forgetting to press “mute” or turn off our cameras in this hearing. In an emergency telephone hearing in a different case, about whether reinsertion of a dislodged PEG tube was in the patient’s best interests, a family member overheard a barrister’s doorbell ring, followed by the voice of a visitor expressing surprise that the hearing was not yet finished: the barrister was clearly audible as she voiced frustration and expressed her view that the hearing was a waste of time as the outcome was a foregone conclusion.  

Remote justice is a real opportunity with the positive potential to make justice more streamlined, efficient, accessible and inclusive.  I support its development both in the context of court hearings and in relation to best interests meetings that (in my area of work) regularly precede them.  But this needs to be well-designed, well-researched and well-delivered.  This is possible only if the experiences of everyone involved in these hearings are included in the analysis, and properly addressed, so that common law principles of fairness and natural justice are upheld, and seen to be upheld.  

According to Mr Justice MacDonald, the feedback from those involved in this case “has been universally positive”.  But neither Sarah nor I had yet contributed to that feedback or reported on the ‘things that mattered’ in our experience of a court hearing conducted wholly by Skype.  This is our contribution.  We would like lawyers and the judiciary to take it into account. 

The last word goes to Sarah: It felt like a second-best option. It didn’t feel professional. It didn’t feel like justice.  It felt like a stop gap to ensure a box was ticked – rather than a serious and engaged attempt to make decisions about my Dad.

What’s changed since 2020?

Since that first hearing in March 2020, I’ve watched more than 300 remote hearings in the Court of Protection, including another hearing involving Sarah (before a different judge) and several other hearings before this same judge (Mr Justice Mostyn). Not one of them has been anywhere near as brutal as this initial experience. The best have been characterised by compassion, generosity and humanity.

In fact, I found the quality of a remote hearing immeasurably better just a few weeks later when I watched Mr Justice Hayden, and blogged about it here (“When remote justice works“). All the intrusions that felt so distracting in that first hearing – the views of wealthy people’s domestic interiors, their pets, a judge who briefly left the hearing to deal with dogs barking when his doorbell rang – none of those has happened again. Nor has the casual conversation, and joking between judge and counsel. And it became glaringly apparent that the judicial quality of “empathy” is not constrained by the medium in which the hearing is conducted. It can shine through in remote hearings as much as in face-to-face ones (or, of course, can be missing in either).

I was impressed to find that the Transparency Project blog (which I’d written with some trepidation as to how the court would respond to overt public criticism) was widely read and commented on by lawyers involved in the Court of Protection. Overwhelmingly, they were not defensive or dismissive, but engaged with Sarah’s and my concerns and seemed determined to ensure that future hearings worked better for the families (and protected parties) involved in them.

Over the last two years, everyone (lawyers, judges, families and protected parties alike) has become more accustomed to the technology of remote hearings. For 18 months at the height of the pandemic, most of us conducted our relationships with friends and family via video-platforms: they became the ‘new normal’.

By the time of the second hearing involving “Sarah”, six months later – at the end of October 2020 (blogged here) – both she and I, and the professionals involved in the hearing, were familiar with the process. It no longer felt “second best”. This time her concerns were all with the outcome of the hearing, and not with procedural injustice.

I no longer believe, as I said in the blog two years ago, that “gravitas is lost” in a remote hearing. From the hundreds of hearings I’ve watched, I’ve learnt that what families mean by “gravitas” (dignity, seriousness, solemnity) does not in fact reside in court architecture, coats of arms, wigs and robes, or rituals of address and behaviour. In my experience, these external manifestations of “justice” can sometimes seem rather ridiculous, and the “performance” element of the courtroom can alienate lay people and distract everyone from the serious business at hand. Rather, the “gravitas” families appreciate is a quality of attention, a focus, a willingness to engage, in depth, with the medico-legal and ethical issues before the court. I’ve seen how good the Court of Protection can be at doing exactly that – in remote hearings as much as in physical courtrooms.

And where Sarah thought that the “pomp and ceremony” of the physical courtroom would provide the security of ‘knowing her place’ (at the bottom the pecking order, as she saw it), what I’ve seen repeatedly in remote hearings is that P and their family are put first and foremost at the centre of the hearing about them. That’s not achieved with theatricality, pomp and circumstance. It’s accomplished with humility – by fully engaging with the people at the centre of the case, and by paying attention to P and to the family’s presence and recognising their significance in the hearing. That’s what was missing for Sarah – in large part due to the distraction of new technology, used poorly, in ways that undermined the possibilities for her to be seen and heard. The effect of the video-platform was to exclude her from full participation. But it doesn’t have to be that way.

Overwhelmingly what I’ve seen in the Court of Protection since then is the use of remote hearings to facilitate and support the participation of both P and P’s family. Remote hearings have offered them the opportunity to be present when otherwise they would not have been able to – because they are sick in hospital (even sometimes in intensive care), because they are frail or vulnerable and cannot travel to a physical courtroom or would find it exhausting or painful to do so – or simply because they live a long way away from the court where the case is being held. Families often appreciate the opportunity to attend remotely – especially in serious medical cases where they want to spend every possible minute at their loved one’s bedside. Of course for others (and sometimes for the same family on a different occasion) it’s been important to attend face-to-face – and the court has been able to offer that opportunity more recently too.

Sarah did not feel “seen” or “heard” by the court – and it is literally true that she was not seen or heard after giving her evidence, since she was asked to turn off her video and mike for the remainder of the hearing. The lawyers seemed to “forget” she was there and conducted ‘business as usual’, talking about her and her father, in her (unacknowledged) presence in language she did not understand. What I’ve seen ever since then is that judges are keen to know who is on the platform and especially to know if P or P’s family members are there. They tend to greet them and explicitly welcome them to the court. Lawyers and judges often make reference to them during the course of the hearing: “I’m very conscious that P is listening to this and will not agree“, or “This must be very hard for the family to listen to”. The contrast with the apparent indifference to Sarah’s presence in court is striking – and it’s achieved on a video-platform.

An orientation to P and P’s family is now apparent even when (as in Sarah’s case) they’ve turned off their cameras and muted their mikes. I’ve watched hearings where (the court has been told) a device has been set up in P’s room in a care home so that the hearing is continuously transmitted for P (and their family) to watch it if and when they want to, but without the camera or mike being enabled at P’s end, so they can observe without the stress of being seen (or ‘watched’). Careful planning puts in place the opportunity for them to raise an electronic hand or switch on their camera (or ask a support person to do so for them) if or when they wish actively to participate. I’ve seen how well this can work in practice to enable P’s participation in a way that simply wouldn’t be possible in a physical courtroom.

My impression is that it’s been a steep learning curve over the last two years for the court – and the result is something that (mostly) works well. Familiarity with the technology (and ways of managing it when it fails), familiarity with the medium (because we all communicated mostly via video-platforms for so long at the height of the pandemic) and a willingness to explore with P and P’s family different ways of engaging flexibly across remote, hybrid and in-person hearings means more opportunities to ‘do justice’ well. As in-person hearings are now also possible, there will need to be more exploration of how best to build on what has been learnt during the pandemic that can be of enduring value beyond it.

Celia Kitzinger is co-director (with Gill Loomes-Quinn) of the Open Justice Court of Protection Project. She has observed more than 300 remote hearings in the Court of Protection since 1st May 2020 – prompted initially to do so by this first disastrous hearing she was involved in as a support person for Sarah, which was also the catalyst for founding the Open Justice Court of Protection Project in June 2020.

Absconded

By Celia Kitzinger, 25th March 2022

The young woman at the centre of this case has “a notable story for someone who’s only in her early twenties – there’s a staggering amount of social and personal problems that P has dealt with in her very young life[1] (said Ben McCormack of Garden Court North Chambers, representing P via the Official Solicitor). The judge said later that although “Mr McCormack’s word was ‘notable’, I’d suggest ‘harrowing’ might be a more accurate description of it”. 

She has a history of drug use, self-harm, self-neglect, homelessness and being exploited financially. She’s at risk of sexual exploitation, assault and rape – having previously reported being forced into sex work by people she calls “friends”.  She’s made six separate allegations of rape. She’s been pregnant and had a baby who was taken into local authority care.  She has a history of criminal offences, including shoplifting and threatening people with knives, and has served prison sentences. 

She’s been said to have “complex emotional needs and emotional dysregulation” and a “probable learning disability” – but it’s not entirely clear that these (uncertain) diagnoses qualify as ”an impairment of, or a disturbance in the functioning of, the mind or brain” (s.2(1) Mental Capacity Act 2005) sufficient to trigger the Mental Capacity Act.  More questions have been asked of the expert clinical psychologist who examined her, and produced a first report in December 2021. An updated report is awaited, but there is no agreed submission date for this, and some concern about the delay in his response about when he can complete this work.

The question has been raised as to whether the case should transfer to a High Court judge – partly because of borderline capacity issues (and the possibility that the local authority might seek to use the inherent jurisdiction), and partly because of the complexities raised when someone is believed (albeit here on an interim basis) to have capacity to engage in sexual relationships but not to have capacity to make their own decisions about contact.  

So far, though, the case remains with a circuit judge, His Honour Judge Andrew Berkley, in Manchester Civil Justice Centre.

On the day of the previous hearing, just over a month earlier, P was moved from prison to a new specialist placement with a very restrictive care package.  It includes: two staff with her at all times, trained in restraint and de-escalation techniques; use of a security vehicle for transport outside the placement; restrictors on windows; security alarms throughout the property; no access to an internet-enabled phone; and vetting of phone calls and visitors.

She’d been invited to attend court today to share her views about her placement and care package with the judge.  

But she’s gone missing.

On 18th March 2022, five days before this hearing, she “absconded” from the placement.  

She asked to go outside for a cigarette, staff accompanied her into the garden, she climbed over the garden fence – and when they tried to physically restrain her, she kicked them in the face, made it over the fence and disappeared.  She’d said she wanted to go to live with her boyfriend in another city and police believe that’s where she’s gone.

So, instead of the predicted court hearing focused on how she was “settling in” to her new home, the court is asking for a full explanation of how she was able to abscond, and an urgent review of her care plan.

The two hearings

I’ve watched two hearings in this case (COP 13836522), the first on 22nd February 2022 and the second on 24th March 2022.  

There’s a longer history of hearings, all (I believe) before HHJ Berkley, going back to October 2021.

The court has already found (for the purposes of s. 48 of the Mental Capacity Act 2052 (i.e. as interim declarations) that there is reason to believe that P lacks capacity to conduct court proceedings and to make decisions as to her residence and care, and contact with others – although (according to Ben McCormack), “on any view, she’s close to the borderline of having capacity to make decisions”.

The hearing on 22nd February 2022

The very restrictive care plan, and a new placement, were approved at the hearing on 22nd February 2022.

P didn’t attend this hearing because it was held on the very day of her release from prison and there was, said Ben McCormack, “some uncertainty about when the van was turning up, so we didn’t know quite when- there were too many moving parts”.

The judge asked why the application to approve this very restrictive care plan was made “urgently” on the very day of P’s release from prison, given that (he said) “when I read the care plan put together on 10th February, it was clear that this young person was going to be released on 22nd February – so the authorities have known she would be released today for about two weeks“.

There was no satisfactory response to that question and the judge remarked that “the local authority needs to reflect on that”, not least because “an earlier hearing, in advance of the day of her release, would have enabled P to attend the hearing” (as she has in the past, making – according to the judge – “colourful contributions“).

 The judge approved the care plan because he had “absolutely no doubt that while these restrictions are at the highest level of restriction, they are necessary and proportionate to the level of risk this young woman presents“. He had, he said, “been made aware at previous hearings of the extent to which P will utilise all means of communication available to her (whether her own devices or not) to contact people who present grave risks to her – including the serious risk of death“. This new placement and care plan was to attempt to prevent those contacts and also “to prevent [P] from absconding from the placement or in the community” (according to the local authority Position Statement).

The plan was to invite P to attend the next hearing to “see how she responds to the new situation”.  Her counsel suggested that hearing should be “in a week or two”. 

For the local authority, Arianna Kelly of 39 Essex Chambers thought that would be too soon.  For the first two weeks, she said, P would be “settling in”.  She suggested that it would be best to have a roundtable review in about three weeks and then return the case in court in four weeks’ time, as this would result in “a more meaningful review”.   

The judge, who had met P at previous hearings, said: “I share Ms Kelly’s time scale that the matter should be brought back in 3-4 weeks.  My experience of this young woman is that there may be a honeymoon phase and things will become more difficult as days pass.”  This turned out, with benefit of hindsight, to have been an unfortunate decision.  He did add, though, that “if a more urgent hearing is required… that remains within the ability of the lawyers to make an approach to the court”.

The hearing on 24th March 2022

At this hearing it was apparent that things had gone badly wrong.  Not only had P absconded, but there had been “internal miscommunication” about what was happening on the ground.

Counsel for the local authority (Arianna Kelly) reported in her Position Statement that P had absconded on 18thMarch but “was returned by the police”.  At the beginning of the hearing, she offered an “unreserved apology” for this error of fact.  

Counsel for P via the Official Solicitor (Ben McCormack) correctly stated in his Position Statement that P “did not in fact ever return home. She has thus been away from the property for five days and nights without either her own lawyers or (seemingly) the local authority’s legal team being aware of that fact”.  He expressed “major concern” that she should have absconded without her own legal team being notified until after 5 days had elapsed, just before this hearing.  It was of great concern, he said, that P had talked openly (on 17th March 2022 – the day before she left) to her solicitor and care staff about wanting to go to live with her boyfriend – and it seems that’s exactly what she did, the following day[2].  The care provider did not immediately notify the local authority social work team or its safeguarding team.  “It would have been better,” said Ben McCormack,“if that information had come to us earlier – within hours of her jumping the fence”. 

What these incidents reveal (at best) is a lack of communication between the care agency and the local authority. That cannot be good for [P]. Urgent steps must be taken by the authority to ensure that the care staff are aware that key information that goes to [P’s] wellbeing needs to be shared with the local authority.” (Ben McCormack).

On behalf of P, Ben McCormack made three key points:

  1. The court and parties need a proper explanation of what has happened since P ran away. (The probation service also needs to know, as she was in breach of an order)
  2. The local authority needs to think about, and explain, what’s going to happen when this young woman is brought back unwillingly and locked up again. “Someone has to plan for this. How is it sustainable?  What are the plans for her to see her boyfriend? He might be a terrible influence. He might be a nice lad. Nobody knows. She lacks capacity to decide on contact, so somebody has to decide on her behalf. How can someone add a bit of sparkle to her life?  Looking at the carers’ records, she does a lot of smoking, and a lot of cleaning, and not much more than that.  When she’s brought back, there has to be some strategy for making life better for her, to see whether she could be persuaded that it’s a bit better for her to stay there – without having to drag her off the top of a fence and get kicked in the face for the privilege of doing so.”
  3. The case should come back for an urgent hearing. “Minds are focussed and evidence is obtained when a lawyer has to be back in court.  We would like it to be in person, in a courtroom with P having the opportunity to be able to attend.  She said last week she didn’t want to. She’s physically very well and could attend court if she wants to.”

The judge accepted all three points. He was concerned that this information about P having absconded (and not returned) had not been made available sooner, and emphasised “the significance of effective communication in respect to the situation of a young woman as vulnerable as P”. He was “gravely concerned” about the risks P was now exposed to and said “I need to understand, as do all parties, how this situation has arisen” and asked for a “speedy explanation”. He also decided to issue a direction to the clinical psychologist whose answers to follow-up questions are pending, that he should respond by 3 weeks today.

The next hearing is planned for 2.30pm on Friday 1st April, probably an attended hearing in Manchester – with an invitation to P to attend in person. 

Reflections

At the centre of this case is a young woman who “absconded” from a house with locked doors and windows, monitored day and night by people trained in restraint, because she simply didn’t want to be there.  

She’s evidently extremely vulnerable to exploitation and abuse but, as Munby J put it, “What good is it making someone safer if it merely makes them miserable?”

I don’t know if P was happier before she was locked up – first in prison and now in her placement. Maybe not. Maybe her own decisions didn’t lead to a happy life, any more than the decisions of the court on her behalf seem to have done.  But she is clear that she wishes to be free of restrictions and allowed to leave the placement – despite what the Official Solicitor says are “real and significant risks” to her in doing so.

The tension is between, on the one hand, P’s autonomy and freedom, and on the other keeping her safe from harm. As Ben McCormack put it, “she’s been locked up for her own good, but she doesn’t like it”.  

This is a classic dilemma for the Court of Protection – posed here in a particularly acute form, not least because this very vulnerable young woman seems to be close to the borderline for capacity to make her own decisions.

Much may now depend on ensuring that the placement is attractive to her not just because it is “safe”, but because it offers her opportunities for a more fulfilling life, including her right to have personal relationships with other people.

Celia Kitzinger is co-director (with Gill Loomes-Quinn) of the Open Justice Court of Protection Project. She tweets @KitzingerCelia


[1] We are not permitted to audio record court hearings. Quotations are as accurate as I can make them, based on contemporaneous (touch-typed) notes, but they are unlikely to be verbatim.  The words quoted here were said by Ben McCormack in his very useful opening summary to the hearing of 22nd February 2022.

[2] It also seems that (contrary to the restrictions approved by the court in the order of 22nd February 2022), P had acquired an iphone, and it seems likely that she used it to make the arrangements to abscond.

Photo by Ye Jinghan on Unsplash

A long wait for medical recommendations – still in hospital after 18 days

Claire Martin, 24th March 2022

This is the third in a series of hearings concerning Mr M, a man with severely ulcerated legs who is declining, or avoiding, medical assessment. He has a long-standing diagnosis of schizophrenia and depression and is said to be addicted to Class A drugs (heroin and/or crack cocaine).  He lives in supported living accommodation. 

The first hearing was a result of an ‘urgent’ application by the Local Authority on 8th February 2022, to take Mr M (forcibly if needed) to hospital for assessment of his leg ulcers. The hearing (blogged here by Celia Kitzinger) was adjourned because Mr M had no representation.

The second hearing was on 14th February 2022 (blogged here). This time, Mr M was represented via the Official Solicitor (Katie Gollop QC) who supported taking him to hospital for assessment. Mrs Justice Theis approved the order that Mr M should be taken to hospital (forcibly if necessary) for assessment of his leg ulcers and ordered that the case should come back to court the following month to determine his best interests in relation to treatment of his leg ulcers (and also to establish his litigation capacity). 

The third  hearing , on 11th March 2022 – again before Mrs Justice Theis – is the one I’m reporting here.

I was expecting to hear about how Mr M had fared being taken to hospital against his will, what the recommendations were for his ulcerated legs and which one of those recommendations the court would decide was in his best interests. None of these issues was discussed at the hearing.

I did learn that Mr M was still in hospital and that medical recommendations for treating his legs were still to be made. In addition, there was a possibility Mr M is “moving along a spectrum from being unable to make a decision to having capacity” (Kate Gollop). 

It was also stated that Mr M cannot go home, though he is ‘clinically fit’ for discharge from hospital. So an interim place to live is needed, but it seemed that no one has started to look for this yet. I don’t know whether Mr M was thought to be able, or moving towards being able, to make a decision about that for himself. 

So, what looked like a (relatively) straightforward decision about treatment for a leg has metamorphosed into a much more complicated multi-agency case about capacity, residence, health, and care.

The hearing: 11th March 2022 

Mr M had been taken to hospital on 21 February 2022, a week after the previous hearing at which the judge had authorised it. There was no discussion about how this went for Mr M. I was hoping it had been conflict-free for him and he wasn’t distressed by the whole experience. 

A consultant vascular surgeon had examined his legs and said that there was currently “no clinical urgency to treatment” but that the infection of his legs, if combined with “non- compliance” with community treatment, could lead to sepsis and death.

I was quite surprised that Mr M was still in hospital, and that clear medical recommendations were still to be made – he had been there for two weeks and four days. Katie Gollop (counsel for Mr M) said that:

“The longer he stays in hospital the more communicative he becomes. The Official Solicitor [reports that] as time has gone on, he will engage with them and is forming some relationships, and is beginning to talk about his legs. He’s said ‘You’ve had an arm you’re not taking a leg’. When explained that he might die without amputation. He says, ‘That’s [his own first name] decision when the time comes’. He doesn’t want to hold on to his leg at all costs. If the schizophrenia is NOT causing an impairment of thinking and if his drug dependency lessens, then it appears that he is moving along a spectrum from being unable to make a decision to having capacity. That may have implications. There simply isn’t sufficient evidence that he doesn’t have capacity to make a decision for example about where he lives, let alone these other matters. It’s not an emergency now.”

Mr M was willingly taking antibiotics for his infection and that was”‘holding the ring” (Kate Gollop), and the infection had not moved into the bloodstream. 

Mr M had been seen and assessed by the medical team.  (An independent expert, Mr John Scurr, consultant surgeon had attempted to assess him, but Mr M had refused to speak to him, pulling the sheet over his head. Katie Gollop said that the independent expert’s report was “not very helpful and simply said amputation is the way forward”). 

The medical view, said Katie Gollop, had changed:

“Last time [it] seemed very clear: there was one single recommendation from the Trust – amputation. Subsequently, [in a] surgical MDT this week which comprises a lot of surgeons, seven I think, [they were] divided as to the best way forward. There isn’t a consensus, [there is] more flexibility as to the best way.” 

I did wonder why it was that Mr M had been in hospital for 18 days and clear medical options had not been reached, especially given that this 11th March 2022 hearing had been planned in advance (my understanding was that this was originally meant to be a final hearing). 

Emma Galland (counsel for the NHS Trust, The Royal Free London NHS Foundation Trust) later clarified with Mrs Justice Theis: 

EG: The discussion in the consultant body this week was not an MDT – it was a superficial discussion. The result was that five thought above knee amputation was not supported, and two thought that it was. After an MDT meeting this morning I haven’t heard yet – to consider the options. 

Judge: The five who did not support what did they support?

EG: It was a straw poll not a proper MDT meeting. I met with the wider team – his [the consultant vascular surgeon, I think] view was that the ulcer has been there a long time, he can weight bear, given the obvious impact on quality of life if the leg is removed where there is no significant risk, then at this time he wouldn’t consider an above the knee amputation. He didn’t go into detail about other options. I didn’t see Mr M but I heard him clearly and loudly expressing his views. One nurse has been allowed by him to change his dressings – she has had discussions with him about his preferences. She thinks he is becoming more capacitous. ….. I’ve just had an email – the  MDT is next Tuesday 15 March.

Capacity

During his time in hospital Mr M has been assessed by two consultant psychiatrists, both of whom agreed that Mr M did not retain capacity to make decisions about his physical health. He has also been seen by the ‘drug abuse team’ and prescribed methadone, which he was taking. 

Lots more things were being considered than the initial urgent application to take Mr M to hospital for assessment of his legs: life for Mr M after medical treatment or surgery, and capacity to litigate and make decisions for himself about his health, care and where he lives.

An advocates’ meeting had agreed that further information was needed: recommendations for surgical treatment, further capacity assessments and updated information about mental health treatment, as well as options for future social care provision and the possibility of re-ablement/rehabilitation therapy. Everyone seemed to think it was clear that Mr M couldn’t go home to where he’d been living – the NHS Trust position statement said: “… it is noted and accepted that he will not be returning to his previous accommodation”. 

I felt a bit confused about this as we were told at the last hearing that he could navigate the stairs currently, and did so regularly to go out and source drugs. This wasn’t addressed further and discussions were focussed on discharge, which bodies had responsibility for what, and the timetable for decisions. 

‘Energising’ the CCG

Since Mr M is no longer being assessed in hospital (the purpose of the previous order to take him there and deprive him of his liberty), there is now no legal framework keeping him there. The applicant Local Authority was concerned that the CCG would not be willing to assess Mr M while he was still in hospital, but that discharge (with increased healthcare needs) depended upon Continuing Healthcare funding (via the CCG)

The CCG has now been joined as a party, represented by Eliza Sharron, who said: 

“There hasn’t been any direct referral from the Trust in relation to discharge – [he] is not on any list for medical discharge. It wasn’t until the pre-hearing discussions today that interim medical discharge was being considered. We need to consider the relevant funding streams that would be appropriate. The CCG is not saying it would not be involved but it would be the discharge to assess pathway [see NHS definition of this term here] at the moment, to identify appropriate places upon discharge. The CCG will be partly dependent upon other parties as to assessment of capacity on discharge. Timeframe – I don’t have instructions but the CCG can work within it by looks of it.”

My understanding is that the CCG will be responsible for funding any interim continuing healthcare needs for Mr M, before medical recommendations for his legs are made, further capacity assessments are completed, and (should he be deemed to lack capacity for medical decisions) a best interests judgement is made about treatment for Mr M’s leg. 

There was talk of whether the Mental Health Trust needs to be joined as a party. Eliza Sharron explained:

ES: Health and Mental Health needs to be joined up. The CCG would anticipate working with the NHS and the Mental Health Trust to identify an appropriate package of care upon discharge. 

J: Does the MH Trust need to be joined?

ES: We are allowed to notify them of proceedings but not be joined. The Trust is directed to file a substantial body of evidence. They may wish to make representations on the evidence sought.

The applicant Local Authority has responsibility for Mr M’s Section 117 aftercare (any care that is needed in the community following detention under Section 3 of the Mental Health Act 1983) and it was Mr M’s social worker who originally grew increasingly concerned about Mr M and the condition of his leg, prompting the urgent application to the Court:  

Ulele Burnham: I can see the sense in Ms Galland’s position [that Mr M cannot remain in hospital whilst a recommendation for treatment of his leg is decided] … coordination has been missing in this case. There is commission of Section 117 services and also clinical needs. Whatever the situation that emerges there is unlikely to be a position where the clinical position does not guide the way forward.

The impression I got was that the CCG was being somewhat recalcitrant and reluctantly included in Mr M’s provision of care, given that the Local Authority had, up to now, been fully responsible for funding Mr M’s care in the community. Eliza Sharron, for the CCG, said that the NHS Trust hadn’t made any referral to the CCG for assessment for discharge. As Ulele Burnham said, coordination seemed to be missing for Mr M. 

Mr M was still in hospital after 18 days (albeit without apparent complaint), there was still no clear medical recommendations, and he was to be discharged to a new place to live but the relevant bodies had not organised themselves to facilitate this or assess his wishes or capacity to make the decision himself. I wasn’t sure from this hearing who was meant to be doing capacity assessments with Mr M for litigation capacity, decisions about his legs, where he lived and what care he needed. Mr M’s voice about what he would like for himself was certainly absent at this hearing. 

I lost connection for 10 minutes as we neared the end of the hearing. As I rejoined, Counsel and the judge were discussing the intricacies of the draft order, and what would be included in recitals:

Judge: … craft something in the recitals that energises the discharge planning – with an outside timetable and if parties can come up with a package that can take place beforehand. Miss Burnham …. You are here as the applicant but essentially here as a spectator. … there should be a direction in the order that the CCG will step in to the lead role in the proceedings – and if not, to explain why

Mrs Justice Theis was clearly alive to the fact that multi-agency involvement runs the risk of a metaphorical passing of a hot potato. 

The next hearing is planned for Friday 8th April at 12noon. 

Claire Martin is a Consultant Clinical Psychologist, Cumbria, Northumberland, Tyne and Wear NHS Foundation Trust, Older People’s Clinical Psychology Department, Gateshead. She is a member of the core group of the Open Justice Court of Protection Project and has published several blog posts for the Project about hearings she’s observed (e.g. here and here). She tweets @DocCMartin

Note: I would like to thank Ulele Burnham, Emma Galland and Katie Gollop QC for sharing the position statements for their clients, on which I have drawn. I’m also grateful to Ulele Burnham for providing me with the Transparency Order. 

Photo by Jason Leung on Unsplash

Available options and best interests in a disputed end-of-life treatment case

By Celia Kitzinger, 21 March 2022

The judgment is now published: London North West University Healthcare NHS Trust v M & Ors [2022] EWCOP 13 (21 March 2022)

On 14th March 2022, I watched a one-day final hearing about a young man in a prolonged disorder of consciousness from which (doctors say) he will never recover.  

He also has respiratory failure due to irreversible lung damage caused by chronic aspiration of saliva and gastrointestinal contents, the origin of which pre-dates the cardiac arrest and is due to untreated type 1 diabetes, and which was subsequently made worse by hypoxic brain injury after a cardiac arrest at home.

The Trust was seeking declarations that continuing life-sustaining treatments was not in P’s best interests and that it was in P’s best interests to give him morphine and midazolam (opposed by the family) in accordance with their end-of-life care plan.

At the time of the last hearing, on 25th February 2022 before Moor J (see When doctors are not willing to offer treatments), doctors had stopped giving him any form of clinically assisted nutrition.  This is because the damage to his gut (gastrointestinal dysmotility), means that he can’t properly absorb nutrients, and also that food that goes down into his gut is liable to come back up into his lungs, causing aspirational pneumonia. 

Mr Justice Moor approved morphine and midazolam to manage P’s (possible) pain and distress, but deferred the decision about life-sustaining treatments until today’s hearing to allow the family to get their own independent expert reports and all the second opinion doctors consulted by the various parties (including the family’s choice of experts – a gastroenterologist and a neuro-rehabilitation specialist),  that P is now dying as a result of lung damage.

At the hearing I’m reporting here, before Mrs Justice Judd on 14th March 2022,  the Trust seeks a declaration that “it is lawful and in P’s best interests for IV fluids and other life-prolonging treatments to be withdrawn, and for him to be transferred to a palliative care pathway as per the proposed care plan”. 

In the view of the Trust, “continuing to provide hydration and active symptom management such as deep suctioning is an interference with the natural process of death and is prolonging his life with no benefit to him. If P can indeed experience distress, then this can fairly be called cruel”.

Treatments that are NOT available options: Clinically assisted nutrition, CPR and treatment escalation

As at the previous hearing (on 25th February 2022), there were some treatments – including the provision of nutrition – which were not ‘available options’, i.e. doctors had decided they were not clinically appropriate, and so they were not ‘on the table’ for the court to consider in making best interests decisions.  

As I described in my earlier blog, at the previous hearing just over two weeks ago the judge had asked the Trust to reconsider the matter of clinically assisted feeding (withdrawn 10 days earlier) to increase the likelihood that P was still alive for this second hearing.

Clinicians had stopped feeding P after nasogastric feed was observed coming out of his nose. The hospital says that “as a result of P’s brain damage, normal gut movement is disordered such that food may flow forwards or backwards, or remain in place, giving rise to risks of aspiration into the lungs, or food and air becoming trapped in the gut…. Significant quantities of small bowel contents continue to be aspirated from the stomach”.  

The Trust’s position then, as now, was that continued feeding is clinically inappropriate.  This means that they were not asking the judge to make a decision about feeding – this was not an available option.  

A judge cannot order a doctor to provide treatment to a patient if the doctor concludes that the treatment is not clinically indicated (§18 Aintreee University Hospitals NHS Foundation Trust [2013] UKSC 67).

However, P’s parents and the Official Solicitor were concerned that P’s condition, combined with ongoing lack of nutrition, might mean that he wouldn’t survive until the next hearing. Mr Justice Moor found this argument compelling and gave an ex tempore judgment asking the Trust to reconsider its decision to withhold nutrition.

The judge said:

I am not making an order.  I am not even making a declaration.  All I ask in this judgment is for the Trust to consider it again, on the basis that this court should have the ability to deal with this case at a final hearing – rather than the matter being taken out of the court’s hands …..  I intend merely to ask the Trust to consider the matter again”.

As I said in my previous blog, this is as close as I have ever heard a judge come to putting pressure on clinicians to administer a ‘clinically inappropriate’ treatment that is not on offer as an ‘available option’.

The judge’s reasons for making that request were summarised in a recital to the Order resulting from that hearing which states:

And upon the Court declining to make any order or declaration in relation to the provision of intravenous nutrition to the First Respondent on an interim basis, but inviting the Applicant to reconsider its position that it will not provide any nutrition in view of the fact that:

  1. the First Respondent has been without nutrition since 15 February,
  2. the application was made on 22 February,
  3. it is necessary for the application to be adjourned because no party other than the Applicant has had the opportunity to obtain independent evidence,
  4. it appeared to the Court desirable that the ring be held to enable a final hearing to take place in the First Respondent’s lifetime.”

We learnt at this subsequent hearing that the Trust had indeed reconsidered the matter by commissioning further assessments from three additional clinicians who “all agreed that clinically assisted nutrition (either enterally or parenterally was not clinically appropriate in the context of P’s overall condition including his respiratory condition and profound brain injury.”

This was also the view of the parents’ own expert witness – a Senior Consultant in Gastroenterology and Intestinal Rehabilitation.

The hearing on 14th March 2022 did not, then, include any consideration of whether clinically assisted nutrition was in P’s best interests.  This treatment remains not an available option.

As counsel for the parents put it: “No clinician is willing to provide clinically assisted nutrition for P and [the parents] acknowledge with great sadness that this cannot be the subject of a best interests decision”.

This is an important point because it draws attention to, and reinstates in practice, the (sometimes blurred) boundary between ‘clinically inappropriate’ treatment and treatment considered not to be in the patient’s best interests. 

I was relieved to see that there were no further attempts, at the hearing on 14th March 2022, to do anything that might be construed as putting pressure on clinicians to reconsider their decision about what treatments were, and were not, ‘clinically appropriate’.

The Trust will also not provide cardiopulmonary resuscitation, admission to the intensive care unit or high dependency unit, surgical intervention, or antibiotics. Like nutrition, these treatments are not ‘clinically appropriate’ and so they are not available options for consideration by the court.

Treatments that ARE available options: hydration, suctioning, oxygen, morphine and midazolam

The Trust was willing, in principle, to provide hydration, suctioning and oxygen if the court decides they are in P’s best interests (even though they are of the view that they are not in P’s best interest).  We heard that these three treatments “come as a package” and it’s “simply not clinically possible to slice and dice them”. The Trust was providing these treatments at the time of the last hearing, and has continued to do so.

The Trust is also willing (and believes it to be in P’s best interests) to provide morphine and midazolam.  It turns out, however, that the opposition of P’s parents and partner has meant that P has been provided with only limited pain-relieving and sedative medication since the last hearing.  This was of considerable concern both to the Official Solicitor and to the Trust.

At the hearing on 14th March 2022, the applicant Trust (represented by Caroline Hallissey) asked the judge to approve an order that it is not in P’s best interests to receive any  life-sustaining treatments (including hydration, suctioning and oxygen) and that it is in his best interests  to receive end-of-life palliative care according to a care plan that includes intravenous morphine and midazolam.

The family (P’s parents were represented by Sophy Miles; P’s partner was a litigant in person) want all possible life-sustaining treatments to be continued. The parents are “morally unable to give their agreement to a plan that would shorten P’s lifeThey do not wish him to die”.  They also do not agree with the Trust’s end-of-life care plan in relation to pain relief and sedation: they believe that P is being kept free from pain on his current regime and that increasing morphine and midazolam will hasten his death.

The Official Solicitor (P’s litigation friend, Katie Gollop QC) initially reserved her position because – at the time of writing her Position Statement – she’d not had any opportunity to hear the family’s point of view subsequent to expert evidence having been obtained, or to investigate what options were available if the court were to consider continuing life-sustaining treatment to be in P’s best interests.  In her Position Statement, she accepts that P “will not live longer than a few weeks at most”, even if his current treatment regime is continued and is concerned with “how best to achieve a good death for P and the three people dearest to him”.  Noting the breakdown of the relationship between the family and the treating team at the Unit where P is cared for, she suggests that he might be moved to a different setting (maybe a hospice) where he could continue to receive some limited life-sustaining treatments, along with end-of-life sedation and pain-relief. This could allow a ‘good death’ in an atmosphere that would help his family to “come to terms with his loss so that they were free to remember him as he was, not as he is now”.  In her Position Statement, she describes this as a “third way”: “it is not the sedated withdrawal of all treatment advocated for by the Trust, nor is it the lightly medicated continuation of all treatment that the family would want”. 

Constrained options: A proper use of the court’s time?

By the beginning of the 14th March 2022 hearing, Katie Gollop QC knew more about the very limited options available in practice than had been apparent at the time of writing her Position Statement.

Although the court was being asked to decide whether or not continuing life-sustaining treatments (hydration, suctioning, oxygen) were in P’s best interests, it had become apparent that if the answer were to be “yes”, the specialist Unit currently treating P would not provide them.  Instead, P would be transferred back (“repatriated’) to the hospital that had referred him to the Unit.  

This is because the Unit is a tertiary service.  Patients are referred to the Unit from hospitals who are contractually obliged to accept patients back again if it turns out that they’re not suitable for treatment there.

The applicant Trust had already provided an email to the court providing written confirmation that the referring hospital would not offer IV fluid if he returned to them.

As Katie Gollop QC put it to the judge, “It would be unfortunate for you to declare it is in P’s best interests to continue with life-sustaining treatments, only for the second hospital to bring an application to this court in the same terms.  None of us would want P transferred for no useful purpose[1]

Even if the referring hospital were willing to provide P with life-sustaining treatments as the parents want (and as counsel for the Official Solicitor was considering may be in his best interests), there were other difficulties with the plan to move P from his current place of care.

One problem is that the move itself might cause him to die sooner than he otherwise would.  The family’s own choice of expert, Dr Chris Danbury[2], gave evidence of a high risk (“more likely than not”) of P dying during or shortly after the transfer.

Another problem is that the referring hospital is less well-equipped to provide the level of care that P needs. He’d most likely be treated on an acute medical ward with a lower nurse/patient and doctor/patient ratio than he receives on the specialist unit. This means a  less well-managed death.  

There had been some consideration of moving P to a different hospital or to a hospice, but Dr Danbury’s view was that  “transfer to another acute hospital or to a hospice is unlikely to be accepted by those units if active life sustaining treatment is continued”.

So, in practical terms the options seemed to be either:

 (1) life-sustaining treatment is withdrawn, in which case P stays in the specialist Unit and dies in accordance with their end-of-life plan; or 

(2) life-sustaining treatment continues and P dies in an ambulance on the way to the referring hospital or shortly thereafter, and has a less well-managed death. 

The option the family want – he doesn’t die at all, he recovers enough to be able to return home to be cared for by his family  – isn’t seen by any of the experts as a feasible option.  As the Official Solicitor put it: “Whilst this may not be something that those closest to P (his parents and partner) are able to accept, the medical evidence is all one way. P’s clinical condition is grave and irreversible and he is dying”. 

Counsel for P via the Official Solicitor invited the court to consider whether there was any purpose in holding the hearing, given what appeared to be the very restricted options before the court: “you might decide that this is not a proper use of the court’s time”. 

Gollop:  Is the position of other potential treaters or other Trusts that no matter what the court declares to be in P’s best interests – and I think that is the position – they will not provide it, whatever the court declares?

Judge: The court does not have the power to order clinicians to provide treatment.

GollopSo, is this a good use of the court’s time? Is it right to put the family through giving evidence, if transfer from one hospital to another would be to no useful purpose and put him at risk unnecessarily?  Part of the puzzle we don’t have is if there’s scope for the CCG to step in and see if there’s a provider that would provide treatment.  I’m concerned about whether this should be bottomed out before we go any further.

The Official Solicitor (Katie Gollop QC) referred to the case of N v ACCG [2017] UKSC 22 (§ 38 onwards) which she said had been “troubling me over the weekend”. That case also involved the problem of whether and how the court should engage with matters that are “not on the table” as “available options”.  The Supreme Court upheld the decision that the court is entitled to take the view that no useful purpose can be served by a hearing (although Lady Hale took issue with the claim that the court does not have ‘jurisdiction’ over some matters): 

It was a case in which the court did not have power to order the CCG to fund what the parents wanted. Nor did it have power to order the actual care providers to do that which they were unwilling or unable to do. In those circumstances, the court was entitled to conclude that, in the exercise of its case management powers, no useful purpose would be served by continuing the hearing.” (§44 N v ACCG [2017] UKSC 22)

Mrs Justice Judd decided to go ahead with the hearing anyway.  Later, she said that “the family would have found it difficult if it had not been heard”– hinting at therapeutic jurisprudence.

From this point on (about half an hour into the hearing), the outcome felt to me like a foregone conclusion.

Oral evidence was given in court by the following people:

  1. the treating clinician
  2. independent expert Dr Chris Danbury
  3. independent expert Dr Andrew Hanrahan
  4. P’s mother
  5. P’s father
  6. P’s partner.

I will describe each in turn.

1.  Evidence from Treating Clinician

The treating clinician had already submitted a statement explaining that if the court were to find that it’s in P’s best interests to continue to be provided with hydration, suctioning and oxygen, the Unit would need to transfer P back to the referring hospital in line with their contractual arrangements.

If, on the other hand, the court were to decide that life-sustaining treatments were not in P’s best interests, her Unit would arrange for end-of-life care in situ.

Oral evidence in chief

Asked by her own counsel (Caroline Hallissey) to update the court on how P is now, she said: “He’s slowly fading is the best I can say. His condition has deteriorated since we were first in court. It’s variable, with good days and bad days but there’s a slow downward trajectory”. 

Asked about the risks of transferring P, she explained that there was already evidence that moving P causes problems because:

 “On his way over to us [from the referring hospital] he developed mucus plugging and got partial collapse of lungs. He had a period on ICU with positive pressure ventilation and if we hadn’t done that he’d have died very quickly. In transferring him back to [the referring hospital] we have a ceiling of treatment in place and there’s a strong possibility that if he was in an ambulance, he would likely get mucus plugs and not survive that journey.  Just turning  him in bed, repositioning him, we get plugging. Transfer would involve putting him on trolley, into ambulance, taking him back off the ambulance, taking him up to ward – there’s a strong possibility he may plug off and sadly die in ambulance”.

Asked what would happen if the court grants the declaration sought by the Trust, she said:

Our Unit is specialist in providing end-of-life care for this group of patients. We are experienced in the use of IV morphine and midazolam – carefully titrated. This is important in particular for someone with intermittent respiratory distress, versus the more standard approach of bolus which takes 30-40 mins to take effect. Most units use the subcutaneous route. We use the IV route which works better, gives us more nuanced control, and means the patient can often manage on smaller amounts of meds. Our nursing staff have lots of experience with this.”  

Finally, she was asked for her perspective on what the Official Solicitor had described as the “breakdown” between clinicians in her Unit and the family.  

My perspective is this is one of the most difficult situations a family can face. Looking at loosing someone who is very much cherished. People can react in a way that can be challenging for us to deal with. We do our very best to support families and this will be hard for any team under these circumstances. We’d do our best to support the family and see them as part of the team.”

Cross-examination by counsel for P’s parents

In cross-examining the treating clinician, Sophy Miles (for P’s parents), asked first a series of questions about past statements made by the treating team to P’s parents, and then about further investigations.

The parents had clearly placed a lot of weight on (their interpretation of) statements made by the treating team at the Unit in the early days after P’s transfer there.  

Shortly after his arrival at the Unit, a senior clinician had said, “rest is extremely important in allowing the brain to recover”.  Counsel quoted this from the records and said: “the message to [his mother] was about the possibility of P recovering at that stage, wasn’t it?”

At that time, we’d known P for not much more than 24 hours. It was not possible to be clear what we were going to be able to do with him. He was in the ICU with a collapsed lung. The expectation is that we try to get the best that we can, travel hopefully, but it doesn’t necessarily mean that they are coming for rehabilitation”. (Treating clinician)

On another occasion, P’s mother expressed the view that P was minimally conscious (rather than vegetative) and the same senior clinician “agreed that was possible”.  The treating clinician did not dispute that this had been said and pointed out “we had not yet started to assess him”.

After the decision to stop providing P with nutrition (on 15th February 2022), that same doctor “said there’d be a consideration of reintroducing feed cautiously”, said counsel (acknowledging that nutrition was “out-with the court’s medical decision-making).  The treating clinician accepted that reintroduction of feeding can sometimes be possible: “it’s what we call ‘drip and suck’ – we give IV fluids, suction out the stomach, and sometimes it will settle down within a day or two and we can try reintroducing the feed.  In P’s case, there were small bowel contents refluxing and dysmotility, and we were unable to reintroduce the feed once we realised the severity of that. It would reflux back and aspirate into his lungs, which is what had been happening. And, therefore, it was contraindicated.”

A string of questions explored with the treating clinician the  family view that they’ve seen evidence that P is conscious.

Miles:  There seems to be an acceptance that someone in P’s position might respond better to family. Is that right?

Doctor: Yes. It’s very often the case that people will respond better to family members. We have family there as part of the normal assessment process.

Miles:  You’re aware that family believe that P responds to them?

Doctor: I’m aware that is their position.

Miles: There is a statement in the bundle from [Partner]. She talks about playing some music to P and her sense that he responds by his expression to her.

Doctor: I don’t think there’s any dispute that he may at times respond, and may be on the border of the vegetative state and the minimally conscious state.  All we’ve seen are features consistent with the vegetative state, but we’re very aware that patients may respond preferentially to family and we will normally spend time exploring different responses with family.  We cannot carry out an assessment to determine whether P is in the vegetative or minimally conscious state because of his overall extreme medical condition.

Miles: [P’s father] spends a lot of time on the ward, doesn’t he?

Doctor: He does indeed.

Miles: And he observes his son very closely indeed.

Doctor: We have no dispute that he may have some awareness. The disagreement is not about whether he demonstrates consciousness. The disagreement is about what that may mean in terms of his future potential for recovery.

Counsel asked whether there would be any harm for P in having a CT scan to examine his lungs to see whether there was any improvement.  “Well, yes,” said the doctor, “even turning him over in bed is causing desaturation. There’s a risk in moving him off the bed onto the scanner and back again. And there’s no point in doing that. The damage to his lungs is clear on the CT scan done by [the referring hospital] and the second scan showed a progression of that”.  The judge asked, “so it wouldn’t get any better?”.  “Correct”, said the doctor.  What about an ultra sound examination at P’s bedside? “It’s physically possible but there would be no point. It won’t change the diagnosis. Ultrasound won’t tell us anything we don’t already know.

Counsel moved on to the question of pain relief, and the doctor described how “we’re partially managing his symptoms”, “taking the edge” of them, but “hand on heart, not providing the level of palliative care and relief of symptoms that we would normally provide in an end-of-life setting”. Counsel pointed out there “are times he’s described as very comfortable”. The doctor agreed, but said, “the concern we have is about the times when he’s not”.  Counsel said P’s father was “concerned that the paracetamol dose has been increased and may cause gastric bleeding”. The doctor replied that “paracetamol is the safest and least sedative pain relief we have in our armamentarium”.

Finally, counsel asked about moving P back to the referring hospital.

Miles: You’ve said that a move for P would potentially be quite dangerous. If you had another patient in that state that you were not going to treat at your Unit, would you transfer them back to Hospital even if it posed a risk?

Doctor:  If the patient had an acute infection that was likely to resolve in a day or two, we’d stabilise them and transfer in a day or two. Here there is no light at the end of the tunnel.  It’s not the case that if we wait, things will improve.  We are a hyperacute centre. We have eight beds to serve the whole of London.  I don’t think it would be at all right to move him back to [referring hospital] but I don’t have a choice.  […]. The challenge is that the Unit has to manage all the patients. NHS England has to look after all of its patients, including those in hospital waiting to transfer to us. A day or two, yes, but for a matter of weeks, we can’t provide long-term care. That’s the reality of how tertiary care works. I would rather it didn’t. 

The doctor confirmed that “the situation is that if he’s transferred, he’d be likely to die in the ambulance. If he stays with us, he’d have a managed death and we’d be able to manage that in a dignified and peaceful way”. There was some commotion at this point as P’s father, seated in court, loudly repeated the doctor’s phrase “a managed death”, with apparent disbelief and evident distress.  “I understand”, said the judge, “this is very difficult to listen to”. 

Cross-examination by Counsel for the Official Solicitor

In line with her previously stated concern with “how best to achieve a good death for P and the three people dearest to him”, Katie Gollop QC, acting for P via the Official Solicitor, focussed her questions around end-of-life treatment.

Would all three family members be able to be there at the bedside?  “We will do our very best to make sure they can all be there.” 

If the medication in the end-of-life care plan were implemented, is it right that P would suffer no pain and no distress?  “As far as we could possibly achieve it.”

Would the end-of-life medication hasten death?  “Giving palliation and sedation carefully titrated does not hasten death: it simply relieves symptoms.  That’s why we use IV  for titration. With subcutaneous administration, there is more fluctuation, but with constant delivery via IV, it’s possible to deliver the lowest possible doses for symptom control.  It does not hasten death.  But overall, in moving to an end-of-life care plan and stopping treatment, he could die within a couple of hours, and it might seem that way.  But it’s really about allowing the natural thing to happen.”

Counsel asked what the difference would be between end-of-life care at the specialist Unit and end-of-life care at the referring hospital to which P would need to be returned in the event that the court found it in P’s best interests to have continuing life-sustaining treatments.  The doctor said she thought it “extremely unlikely” that the referring hospital would be able to deliver IV medications: “It’s not part of standard care to use the IV pathway – which is why the Royal College of Physician Guidance includes administration via both the subcutaneous and the IV routes.  I can’t say precisely what the palliative care team at [referring hospital] would do, but I do know that most palliative care teams use the subcutaneous route, not IV.”

Counsel also asked why the doctor had said there was more chance than not that P would die in the ambulance during transfer: “Given what happens when we just turn him on the ward, yes, on the balance of probabilities it’s more likely than not that he’d die in the ambulance or shortly afterwards”. 

The judge asked: “If I make the declarations sought by the Trust, that would lead to withdrawal of current treatment and an increase in palliative treatment, and you said that could lead to P dying quite quickly. Would that be something you’d give the family 24 hours to come to terms with?”  “Absolutely,” said the doctor.  “It’s not something we’d rush to do immediately. Apart from anything else, we’d want to be sure myself or [senior consultant] were on the ward to manage it. These are consultant-supervised programmes. It wouldn’t be a sudden thing.

The court broke for lunch at this point.

2. Evidence from Dr Chris Danbury

Dr Chris Danbury is a Consultant in Intensive Care Medicine and was the expert chosen by P’s parents, although in the event (in large part due to legal aid funding difficulties) he was actually instructed by the Official Solicitor, and she took him through evidence in chief.

Katie Gollop QC established that Dr Danbury had been to see P and spent about an hour with him – and about four hours in the Unit in total, looking at test results and CT scans.  The first CT scan showed “chronic lung injury” which was consistent with “chronic aspiration over time” (i.e., from before P’s cardiac arrest).  The second CT scan was “a bit worse”. The lung problems “will not resolve with time. He has a progressive lung problem.  The aspiration is ongoing. The tracheostomy he’s got will not prevent him from micro-aspiration and his stomach will continue to produce gastric juices, several hundred millilitres of fluid a day, and some of that will go into his lungs and produce further lung damage”. 

Gollop: If treatment were to continue, what is P’s estimated life-expectancy?

Danbury:  With oxygen, hydration and suctioning, weeks at most.  Without, days at most.

Gollop: Which treatment is the most important in prolonging his life?

Danbury:  Oxygen. He’s on 60% oxygen for the majority of the time, and despite that his saturation is in the mid-90s.  The fact he’s requiring this amount of supplemental oxygen means that if it was withdrawn he’d become hypoxic very quickly.

Gollop:  Within hours? Or days?

Danbury:  Within minutes to hours.  His lungs are not working well at all.

Dr Danbury confirmed that subcutaneous delivery of midazolam and morphine were “standard practice” and was asked if IV administration would result in a “more dignified death”.  Like the treating doctor, he said that it would, because it is easier to give titrated amounts.  Midazolam, he said, “is a good anxiolytic” (i.e. a medication that reduces anxiety) and means that (if P experiences anything at all) he’ll “be less anxious during the process of dying”.  And morphine he saw as essential for pain-relief, adding that patients who’d survived ICU had reported to him that being suctioned down a tracheostomy (as is happening to P) is “akin to having a red-hot poker pushed down your throat”. 

Like the treating doctor he said that the level of risk if P is moved to another hospital or hospice is high, and he agreed that “on the balance of probabilities he would die in the ambulance or shortly thereafter”. 

Dr Danbury had sent an email to the Official Solicitor over the weekend in which he’d said, perhaps surprisingly: “…if a hospice or another acute hospital is identified, is willing to accept P and is willing to continue O2 [oxygen], suctioning and hydration whilst delivering palliative care to ensure P remains comfortable and pain free [the OS’s suggested “third way” course of action in her Position Statement], then I could support that approach.  The caveat about the risks of transfer would still remain.” (This was read out in court.)

Questioned about this, he reiterated that finding anywhere to accept P was “extremely unlikely”, and that the risk of P dying during or soon after transfer remained.  His reason for being willing to support this position was because “I’ve noted the relationship between the treating team and family, and the family may find the process of his dying better somewhere else than on the Unit where he is now”.   

In response to a follow-up question from the barrister for the Trust, Dr Danbury said the benefit to P of a transfer was potentially “how he’s remembered after he’s died… from a holistic perspective, rather than a purely medical perspective”. 

3.  Evidence from Dr Andrew Hanrahan

Dr Andrew Hanrahan was instructed by P’s parents. He’d prepared a 22-page report dated 8th March 2022.  

Sophy Miles asked him questions about that report, especially focusing on divergences between what the family experience, and say they want to happen, and the findings and recommendations in his report.

Miles:  He’d been started on a pain relief programme when you saw him?

Hanrahan: Yes.

Miles: With what effect on his awareness?

Hanrahan:  With the doses given, no more than a minimal effect on his awareness – it’s already profoundly limited.

Miles: The family do feel he’s able to respond to them. Could that be right?

Hanrahan: Sadly not, actually. As much empathy as I have with the social transactions that family feel they have with their loved one, I do not think that what the family are seeing is awareness.  (He went on to describe the myoclonic jerking, blinking and other involuntary movements characteristic of vegetative patients.)

Miles: Your recommendation is the need for a terminal care plan You say that will help the family and those caring for P to interact together and provide care for the person who matters most, who is P.  I’m just going to ask you whether you think that there could be a similar benefit to continuing the treatment that’s already being provided, allowing the family more time in which to have those interactions?

Hanrahan: Okay, uhm, I’ll answer that question…. It’s my opinion that P is not just in a severe condition, but in a profound prolonged disorder of consciousness, and it’s my opinion that no amount of time, with or without sedation, will change the diagnosis for P.  He is in a vegetative state, with a very few behaviours not inconsistent with MCS [Minimally Conscious State] Minus.  There is a possibility that this minimal awareness is engendering a physiological distress response – when he’s moved, turned, changed, when his personal hygiene is attended to.  The distress might be more than physiological and be experiential.  This risk of suffering is not justifiable in my opinion, when balanced against the family having more time with him. There is no professional view that any more time will change P’s underlying neurological status.  Even if it did, any further awareness will engender further experiential suffering.

He went on to say that he would anticipate good quality interactions between the family and P in the context of a terminal care plan.  “When I saw him, P was dying…” he said.   His concern was with “managing the dying process as well as possible”. 

The parents were passing notes to their counsel with questions for Dr Hanrahan   How was it possible that the scan of P’s brain showed so much atrophy on the first scan, so soon after his cardiac arrest.  (Dr Hanrahan conjectured that the brain injury had “a long history” leading up to P’s cardiac arrest and that it was related to the “metabolic chaos” caused by his untreated diabetes). Are the signs of distress different for vegetative and minimally conscious patients? (They’re exactly the same, and “future iterations of diagnostic terminology may do away with this distinction entirely”.)  How is it possible to distinguish between action myoclonus (involuntary muscular jerking and twitching) and distress? (They’re quite different phenomena: possible distress is evidenced by hypervigilance, eyes opening wider, increased respiratory rate and increased heart rate).  

P’s partner picked up on this last question and Dr Hanrahan expanded by saying that “In P we have heart rate increases, a whole picture of facial distress, autonomic features like pupil dilation, sweating ….”.   He acknowledged that this may be “a physical phenomenon” but “we are allowing for the humane possibility that it is experiential and therefore something that we ought to treat”.

The parents asked, through counsel, whether the action myoclonus was  “a sign of P trying to emerge” – and P’s father wanted Dr Hanrahan to know that “P opens his mouth on request”.  “No,” said Dr Hanrahan, “myoclonus is a subcortical involuntary motor disorder, not a sign of his trying to emerge”.  On the matter of command following, he said: “There are so many facial movements, it’s very difficult to know what’s a response or not.  To say he’s command-following invokes a much higher level of consciousness than we can support, given the diagnosis”. 

4. Evidence from P’s mother

Asked by her own counsel what she wanted the court to do, she said: 

I want doctors to give P the opportunity to get a PEG or TPN and an X-ray to verify the current situation in his gastro-intestinal tract, and to find out for certain the situation with his lungs, and be given a further opportunity to recover. These tests are important for P’s survival.  I am in no way in agreement with the palliative care pathway.  He was far more responsive before the administration of midazolam. His state of consciousness was ill-affected. Now he’s asleep the majority of the time.”

Asked what P himself would want: “He would want to live. He would want the opportunity to recover, and be supported by his loved ones”.

Asked about further investigations, she said the family was trying to “gain help from someone in London, a very eminent person in gastroenterology”.  An appointment had been made for 8.45am on Wednesday.  “I don’t wish to divulge their name. Every other door to create the chance of survival for P has been closed, and I don’t want to expose this individual to that”. 

Asked about the possibility of P being moved elsewhere she said she had “no issues with the nurses” at the current Unit.  The difficulties had been with two doctors – including the one who’d given evidence earlier (“evidently we’ve had our differences of opinion, but it’s not fair to colour the whole situation with that”).   Her “main concern” was now “to get P to somewhere safe where he can have the possibility of recovery. If there’s a chance that it could be elsewhere, then I’d advocate for that – and the rest of the family do too.”

Counsel asked for her view of the evidence provided by the experts today. It was clear that she did not accept their evidence that P was dying: “They’ve seen P in a sedated state. They’re professing to give a proper assessment, which I find questionable given the circumstances.”

Cross-examination by counsel for the Trust

Caroline Hallissey, counsel for the Trust, asked P’s mother about P’s condition before his cardiac arrest, saying that the medical records report he was “very malnourished” when admitted to hospital after his cardiac arrest, with “extensive muscle wastage of arms and legs”.  Despite his condition, he had not gone to see his GP.

P’s mother said that “he didn’t discuss it with me” and that although “I had my concerns because I knew he was losing weight”, she believed “it was his own decision” whether or not to seek medical attention.

And the events leading up to the cardiac arrest, you’re quoted as saying he was an adult and you respected his sovereign right not to go to hospital?”  asked Counsel.  “Yes, indeed” said P’s mother.  

The judge asked why P’s mother didn’t want P to have midazolam and morphine when “doctors say that will help P if he’s suffering pain”. She said: “As it stands, the whole introduction of the midazolam has effectively put him on a palliative care pathway.  I was loath for midazolam and morphine to be introduced because I knew from what [husband] had told me that those were the very drugs that would be used on a palliative pathway. I didn’t wish for his opportunity to have a chance to recover to be usurped by that pathway.”

Cross-examination by counsel for P via the Official Solicitor

Katie Gollop QC provided P’s mother with the opportunity to challenge the argument (in the Trust’s position statement) that because P refused or avoided medical treatment when he was diagnosed with diabetes in 2020, this meant he wouldn’t want treatment now.  “No,” said P’s mother, “that is not the case at all. In terms of emergency treatment, when it’s a matter of life or death, if an individual would wish to live, and P would, and does, then he would not be opposed to treatment”. 

The judge pointed out that P had accepted medical treatment when he was a teenager for possible viral meningitis.

His mother added that he had an “inclination to do independent research”. He was “a very intelligent young man, who wanted a wholesome and good life with his partner. He wanted children and a fulfilled existence”.

Re-examination

Counsel for the parents, Sophy Miles, picked up on this last point and asked for more information about P.  He was “self-motivated, gregarious, solved complex computer problems, was proficient and a multi-tasker”, said his mother.  His decision not to seek medical treatment back in March 2020 when diagnosed with diabetes was because he had “self-motivated will, he wanted to be independent and make his own decisions for himself”.

She ended her evidence by asking for P to receive nutrition if it was possible for him to do so safely “as soon as possible”.  She reiterated that she wanted someone else to assess him, and to look in particular at the problems with his lungs and stomach to assess the “current” situation (“not depend on that which has gone before”).  What she wants more than anything for her son is “the opportunity to survive as long as humanely possible and for his life not to be taken from him, not to be expunged”.

She felt there had been “undue bias from the clinicians and second opinions” about which she felt “deep concern”.  She said “all the doors have been closed. It’s punitive for P’s future”.  She was very disappointed that the referring hospital would not readily re-admit and treat P, saying that the doctor there with whom the Unit had consulted was “thwarting my endeavour to get P away from the remit of the [Unit] so he can have a chance”.

5. Evidence from P’s father

P’s father spoke at length about his son, and was apparently the family member spending the most time at his bedside (“since 15th February, I’ve been there 580 hours”). 

What came across most powerfully was his pride in his son, who’d “achieved where people said he couldn’t”.  He described his son’s  achievements at work (“he types like a machine gun and his grammar is perfect”) and how he “trains men to do his job and they’re leaving because they can’t do it”.  He’s also “a world-class champion poker player”.  

He gave evidence of how he knew that his son was conscious and responding to him (spitting up saliva when he asks him to, looking at him  – and away from him – when directed.) He described an occasion when the oxygen became detached and his son “must have been breathing on his own” as evidence that the doctors were wrong about his lungs. 

He described his son as a “miracle” and the fact that he’s still alive as “evidence that he wants to live”.  “He’s my only son,” he said, “and I love him dearly.  He’s a sovereign soul and I see his soul in him.  I tell him, ‘Never give up! Never give in! Never surrender!’”. 

He fears the doctors will “basically kill my son” and says “there’s a duty they have to save life”. 

6. Evidence from P’s partner

Like his parents, P’s partner appeared not to have accepted at all the medical view that P is dying. Like them, she was focussed on helping him to get better.  She’s not convinced by the expert reports, believing that they are all “starting from the same background, the same records, the same scans”.  They make “assumptions”: “you hear the words ‘hypoxic brain injury’ and you hear the amount of time he was without a heartbeat, and all three clinicians assume on first impressions that he’s going to be a certain way”.  Having been present for one of the three experts’ physical examinations of P, she clearly considered it cursory.

P’s partner asked the court to “make the most optimal decision to ensure that P survives”.  In her view, that would not happen in the Unit where he is currently cared for.

But if he is moved in an ambulance, and they do take that risk, there is some chance of survival.  Knowing what I know about P, and how much he would want to live, that’s what, ultimately, I think would be in his best interests.”

Final Submissions

On behalf of P (via the Official Solicitor), Katie Gollop QC paid tribute to P’s family, saying that “if love and faith were enough, then P would be much better than he is now. He is deeply blessed in his parents and in his choice of partner”.

As she had said at the beginning of the hearing, she commented that the available options are so tightly circumscribed, that not clear that there is a real choice to be made.  With treatment, P might have two or three weeks of life-expectancy, but the Unit he’s currently in is not commissioned to provide P with this treatment, so if the Court decides that ongoing treating is in his best interests,  then he’ll be transferred back to the referring hospital.  But transfer is not safe. P is in a fragile physical condition and he has a risk of at least 50%, perhaps higher, of dying in the ambulance.  Finally, the journey to the referring hospital would serve no purpose since, like the Unit, they do not consider ongoing treatment to be in P’s best interests.  

Katie Gollop QC said that were it not for the unfortunate  lack of trust and confidence in the treating doctors, the current Unit would clearly be the best place for P.  She’s concerned that (despite the court order at the previous hearing), P is not receiving recommended pain relief and there is no guarantee he is not in pain. It isn’t clear, she said,  that (apart from advocating for appropriate pain relief) the Official Solicitor has a significant role to play. She is reassured to hear that all efforts will be made to allow the family to be with him at the end. 

For the parents, Sophy Miles said it was common ground that nutrition was not before the court as an available option but that the judge could decide that hydration and respiratory support were in P’s best interests – in which case the referring hospital clinicians would have to consider it.  She highlighted Dr Danbury’s observation that best interests is wider than the medical and includes how P is remembered. Having heard from all P’s family, she said it is clear that P was a young man who wanted to live and was determined to solve problems his way.  “What shines through is that P would take into account the views of his family – his parents and his partner.”

For the Trust, Caroline Hallissey described the case as a “true tragedy” and said that the Trust maintained the same position as that entered in the Position Statement. 

The judge referred to the case as “heart-rending” and said she would deliver an oral judgment the following day. 

Judgment

The oral judgment was handed down at 2pm on 15th March 2022.  

Mrs Justice Judd accepted the evidence that P was dying.  It was, she said, “abundantly clear that all the doctors are in agreement” and she would be “remiss” not to state “clearly and urgently” that a terminal care plan should be in place. 

The judge recognised that P’s mother is strongly opposed to the end-of-life plan and does not believe that the treating team is acting in P’s best interests.  P’s mother, said the judge, believes that the treating team are punitive, that they have lied about P’s condition, that they wish to “euthanise” P and have vested interests in him dying. Both parents believe that morphine and midazolam are harming P and shortening his life.  They want P to be given a chance to recover. So, too, does P’s partner:

The family are close-knit and working together to support P as best they can.  Their love for P was plain to see – as is their overwhelming grief. They are simply not able to bring themselves to face the overwhelming medical evidence or assess it in a rational way. The family are entirely united. They hold the hope and belief that P can recover. They ask for further investigations.“  (Judge)

The judge referenced the relevant law, which will be in the published version of the judgment: notably, section 4 of the Mental Capacity Act 2005, Aintree, and N v ACCG [2017] UKSC 22.

She concluded that there was no doubt that P lacks capacity to make his own decision about medical treatment, hence the court must make a decision in his best interests, given the available options.  The medical evidence was unanimous.  If treatment continues, P will die within weeks.  If he receives palliative care only, he will die within hours or days.  The family do not accept this – their views are “not based on a rational assessment of what they are being told” and “so strong are the family’s reactions, they suggest that clinicians are telling lies and have malign motives”.  

The judge accepted that P would want to live and would have wanted doctors – if they could – to make him better, and to give him a chance of life.  But that is not possible, and it is “hard to see why he would accept futile treatment”.  In any case, if he had capacity, he could not insist on futile treatment, and neither can the court on his behalf.

Palliative care medication will guarantee that he is not distressed after treatment withdrawal.  And although there might be an advantage in transferring him to another hospital for end-of-life care (given that the relationship between the treating team and the family has broken down), he might die in transit or shortly afterwards, with less good care than he would receive at his current Unit.

Granting the declaration sought, the judge acknowledged that the family “will be even more devastated by this decision” and extended her “profound sympathy” for the loss of P who she knew to be “much loved, and treasured by them all”. 

Reflections

We all inevitably view hearings like these through the prism of our own experience and our own values.

For some people, I know this this will seem like another account of treatment-rationing in the NHS, or of doctors prematurely “giving up” on their patient and effectively “killing” people with decisions (in this case, judicially endorsed) to permit the withdrawal of treatments without which it is known the person cannot survive: a form of euthanasia.

For me, what the story behind this court case reveals is not under-treatment, but over-treatment at the end of life.  

In the face of what was clearly an overwhelming clinical consensus that P was dying, treatment continued not just in the run up to the first court hearing, but then for a further two and a half weeks between the first and second hearings. The effect of this was to prolong P’s dying phase, while failing adequately to manage (because of family objections to morphine and midazolam) the pain and distress he may have been experiencing.

The ‘therapeutic jurisprudence’ of the court offered this family the opportunity for their concerns to be heard, and to ensure that every possible avenue for rehabilitation and recovery had been explored.  But my impression was that the family’s views remained entrenched – despite instructing their own independent experts, and despite these experts coming to the same conclusions as those of the treating clinicians (and the Trusts’ experts). 

In the end, it seemed to me that the main achievement of the hearing was to offer protection for the treating clinicians who were empowered by the court to carry out what, in fact, had been – from the outset – the only realistic course of action.  

The same was true of the case in the Family Division I blogged about recently, in which clinicians sought a declaration that a patient was dead (and that it was therefore lawful to withdraw treatment): she had been provided with ventilation and clinically assisted nutrition and hydration for six days after death, also because of family opposition to treatment withdrawal.

I regularly hear from doctors who continue to provide “futile” and “burdensome” treatments to dying patients because families “insist” on them. While families talk of “not giving up” on their loved ones, and worry that treatment withdrawal is related to NHS “rationing”, health care professionals tell me about the moral distress they experience at continuing to administer treatments they consider entirely clinically inappropriate.

There is a wider cultural issue here about the difficulty we have, as a society, in recognising and  accepting death.  

This tragic case highlights some of the challenges we need to confront in palliative and end-of-life care.

Celia Kitzinger is co-director (with Gillian Loomes-Quinn) of the Open Justice Court of Protection Project, and co-director (with Jenny Kitzinger) of the Coma and Disorders of Consciousness Research Centre at Cardiff University.  She is also a co-author of the Report of the Lancet Commission on the Value of Death. She tweets @KitzingerCelia


[1] We are not permitted to audio- or video-record court hearings. Direct quotations of what was said during the course of the hearing are as accurate as possible, based on my contemporaneous touch-typed notes but are unlikely to be entirely verbatim.

[2] In the event, Dr Andrew Hanrahan was instructed by P’s parents, and Dr Chris Danbury by the Official Solicitor.  This was in large part because of legal aid funding difficulties.

Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

Capacity to engage in sex: Putting the MCA’s foundational values to protect and empower to the test

By Samantha Williamson, 18th March 2022

Most of us couldn’t begin to imagine being told (as adults) that we are prohibited from spending private time with our chosen partner – and that we cannot be allowed to have sex with them.

That’s been the case for 19-year-old T and her 25-year-old boyfriend since 19th November 2021.  

For four months now, there’s been a court order in place restricting sexual contact between T and her boyfriend.

The court has determined, on an interim basis, that T (who has a learning disability) lacks capacity to engage in sexual relations (and also lacks capacity to make decisions about contraception, internet use, and social media). Support and education for T is ongoing to maximise her capacity in these areas. 

The local authority had made an application to adjourn a hearing before a Tier 2 judge in mid-February 2022 and the judge vacated the hearing but considered the interim declarations required oversight by a High Court Judge.  And so, the case came before Roberts J on 11 March 2022.

I was observing this hearing as a mature law student undergoing a career change and wishing to translate academic exposure to the Court of Protection to real life practical experience. 

The hearing

The case (COP 13843692 Re T) was heard at 10.30am on Friday 11th March 2022, before Mrs Justice Roberts, sitting at the Royal Courts of Justice as a Tier 3 judge in the Court of Protection.  The hearing was held over MS Teams.

The applicant, a county council, was represented by Mr Pravid Fernando[1]

The first respondent was T, represented by Mr Rhys Hadden (instructed by her litigation friend, the Official Solicitor). Instead of a position statement, Mr Hadden had prepared a draft order to assist the court.  

Second respondent was the county council Partnership NHS Trust, represented by Mr Jeremy Roussak.

T was not in attendance but her father was –  to the pleasure of the Judge who observed “I’m delighted you’re able to join us today.”

Roberts J made very clear at the outset that she had read all the bundle, was familiar with the case history, and had received and read all the communications that had been involved. This instilled confidence both in me as an observer and, hopefully, in T’s father.

The judge acknowledged the presence of observers by name – I admit it felt a little exposing but I did feel welcome.  She raised the matter of the transparency orders and the importance of all relevant parties’ privacy. A transparency order was duly sent to me and I confirmed receipt and understanding. The judge also asked for an introductory summary from counsel for the applicant to lay out the situation for the benefit of all the attendees.

Background

T is 19 years old with mild learning disabilities. She lives with her adopted parents and her natural siblings.

Mrs Justice Roberts brought some colour and humanity to T as a person by evidencing her pleasure at hearing that T is “living a full life”, is a keen horse rider and enjoys working at the local stables and participating in the local theatre group. This served as a valuable reminder that all these hearings involve life-changing decisions for a real individual, not just legal shenanigans. 

T is eligible for care under the Care Act 2014 and has an Educational Care Plan in place. 

She has expressed wishes to spend time alone with her boyfriend, M,  at his flat and maybe live with him. 

According to the applicant local authority, T “has historically presented as naïve and vulnerable with regards to seeking relationships such as posting adverts on Facebook for a boyfriend with no criteria other than availability. Further, there have also been concerning images shared with her over the internet. Her mother considers that she is very vulnerable in the area of internet usage.”

All parties agreed with the applicant’s request for a continuation of both the interim declarations of T’s lack of capacity in the relevant areas, and the order restricting her contact with M. 

All parties also agreed that further educational work is needed before a reassessment of T’s capacity for sex. 

The approved order made by Roberts J declared that the Court is satisfied for the purposes of s.48 of the Mental Capacity Act 2005 (i.e. on an interim basis) that there is reason to believe that T lacks capacity to engage in sexual relations (as well as to make decisions re litigation of proceedings, internet use and contraception), and that sexual contact with M can be lawfully restricted as per the existing plan.  

Directions were also made that the other local authority (covering the area where T’s boyfriend, M, lives) must serve M’s completed COP5 and may disclose information related to T’s relationship with him so they can help M with easy read resources.

Observations:

1) Invoking the Supreme Court ruling in Re: JB (A Local Authority v JB, [2021] UKSC 52)

The judge referred to the case of Re: JB (“a case very well known to me”). 

This is a landmark case in the Supreme Court in which the judgment, handed down by Lord Stephens in November 2021, clarified what should be considered as the relevant information that P must be able to understand, retain, use and weigh, as  per s3(1)of the MCA, when making a decision to engage in sexual relations. 

It stated that not only must someone be able to consent to sex, but that they must also understand that the other person must be able to, and does in fact,  consent before and during the course of sexual activity. It reflects that sex is not just something done to P but also that P can be a desiring and initiating agent, with ‘engage’ being the operative word to reflect the mutual nature of the act:

[F]ormulating “the matter” as engaging in, rather than consenting to, sexual relations better captures the nature of the issues […] the terminology of a capacity to decide to “engage in” sexual relations embraces both (i) P’s capacity to consent to sexual relations initiated by the other party and (ii) P’s capacity to understand that, in relation to sexual relations initiated by P, the other party must be able to consent to sexual relations and must in fact be consenting, and consenting throughout, to the sexual relations” (Lord Stephens, para.90,  [2021] UKSC 52)

Previous Open Justice Court of Protection Project blogs here and here and wide academic commentary such as from 39 Essex Chambers have offered insightful reflections on the many broad potential implications of this case. For brevity, I shall refrain from further analysis.

Roberts J very firmly and clearly raised the fact that T’s capacity assessment was undertaken in mid 2021, before the Supreme Court judgment in JB where, as Roberts J put it, “the entire test of ability to consent to sexual relations was recast, in line with what the law ought to be”. She highlighted that in view of this, the capacity assessments for T must be updated – but noted that this had been planned anyway, upon completion of the program of education aiming to support T to make her own informed choices.

It seems that consent in the case of this hearing is more to do with whether T understands consent –  that she may withhold her consent, that she understands the consequences (pregnancy, disease etc) if she does consent –  rather than that she should understand that M must have ability to consent (although clearly now that is required too).

It is the protection element of the MCA that is at work here -to ensure that T is not being subject to, or vulnerable to, what would amount to sexual assault. (This might be particularly so in light of comments reflecting concern about her use of the internet.)

Roberts J’s emphatic reminder of the need for capacity reassessment in light of JB is perhaps rather driven by Lord Stephen’s assertion that:

A general and non-specific basis is not the only appropriate formulation in respect of sexual relations as even in that context, “the matter” can be person-specific …, for instance… in the case of sexual relations between two individuals who are mutually attracted to one another but who both have impairments of the functioning of their minds.” (para. 71, [2021] UKSC 52)

This validation of person-specific decision-making capacity re sex (rather than issue-specific) could be important for T, given that as Lord Stephens explained, “it might be possible to help P to understand the response of one potential sexual partner in circumstances where he will remain unable to understand the diverse responses of many hypothetical sexual partners.” (para. 72, [2021] UKSC 52)

As noted above, the applicant observed that T has been using Facebook in a manner considered naïve and concerning, Admittedly, such indiscriminate invitation by a vulnerable person could well lead to harmful consequences. 

But with regard to her relationship with M, the Position Statement explains that the second respondent has stated that there is no evidence that he has behaved inappropriately towards T. He apparently had exhibited what might be seen to be “controlling behaviour” such as repeatedly asking T to move in with him.

Some might consider that to be normal enthusiasm in the context of young, impatient love rather than controlling or abusive behaviour. I don’t profess to have all the information here, merely to wonder about the evidence to support the restriction of contact. And perhaps that was the point of some of the directions sought relating to the other county council – to better understand M (and his capacity to consent)  and the nature of his relationship with, and intentions towards, T.

It is pure speculation, but I could envision the possibility, particularly following the program of education, that further assessments might conclude T continues to lack capacity to conduct proceedings, make decisions about contraception and make decisions about engaging in sexual relations and contraception in general. But, that she has capacity to make decisions about engaging in sexual relations and contraception specifically with M. (Note it was a conscious decision to write ‘has capacity’ rather than ‘regains capacity’ as it is not evident that a person-specific decision assessment was made in the last assessment. Indeed, presumably as it was conducted pre- JB, it wasn’t.)

2) Sexual contact plan  – ‘draconian’?

Roberts J took great pains to explain to observers in particular that the ‘sexual contact plan’ in place was not at all the “draconian” measure that it might sound, but rather a part of normal parental measures to ensure T could get to a position where she could make her choices, but in a safe fashion.

Given the declaration that it is “in her best interests for her contact with M to be restricted with a view to preventing her from engaging in sexual relations in accordance with” that plan, I did wonder how that looks in real life? Indeed, brief reference was made to the fact that it was on occasion difficult to manage. Does this mean she can’t see him at all? Only in public? Only if chaperoned? If they start to become intimate, does this mean physical restraint is required/permitted? No doubt this is all outlined in said plan but it does leave an observer thinking about the practicalities;:how difficult it must be for T (and M) but also for the parents and local authorities with a duty of care, who need to ensure their infringement of her rights is lawful. 

I did think it might also have been useful for counsel to have expanded a bit more on the specific practicable steps being taken (as required by s1(3) of the MCA) to help T to gain capacity to engage in sexual relations before the next capacity assessment, i.e. to explain the education plan underway and what it is aiming to achieve. This seems to be a key aspect to the continuing proceedings and indeed, the reason that the declarations sought continue to be ‘interim’. However, I recognise that all the parties had access to this information in the bundle and that would have been purely for the benefit of observers.

3) P’s voice in the hearing

T was represented, and all seemed to be in agreement of a non-contentious order. 

But I didn’t hear anything about  T’s opinion of the order (and existing interim declarations) or how she felt about the restriction on sexual contact (per s6(a) MCA). 

This is perhaps another reminder that best interest representations by the Official Solicitor and P’s wishes and beliefs are not necessarily aligned. (See Alex Ruck Keene et al’s Litigation Friends or Foes?  for helpful discussion of this topic.)

I should add here that, upon receipt of the Position Statement and order, I learned a) that T had been objecting to the plan but subsequently agreed it can stay in place; and b) that the directions included specific provision for T’s solicitor to file a statement of her wishes and feelings. 

5) M – the boyfriend

We learned that M has ADHD and very little ability to read or write but has no formal support from statutory services. I did wonder why there wasn’t more discussion of him given a) the order directly impacts on him; and   b) it is apparently at his request that T wants to live with him;  and c) his capacity to consent to sexual relations will also be required and there seemed to be some suggestion that this also may be in question and that he requires some support.  

The Position Statement did however make clear that M had indeed previously been invited to be party to proceedings and had declined, although he did wish to be an interested party. A direction was made that the relevant county council must file the COP5 form he has filled out. 

Final thoughts

I have been struck by how different it is reading judgments and legal commentary on cases (all neatly summarised and structured) compared with observing cases in person in the Court of Protection.

The judiciary, lawyers, and academics are well-versed in organised arguments, carefully placed references and nicely flowing streams of thought. For all of which I have been extremely grateful throughout my study and personal reading. 

The reality of a hearing for an observer though, much like the real-life situation it represents, is inevitably much messier. Skipping from legal argument, to medical evidence, to procedural issues and paperwork, it can be hard to keep up, especially without the benefit of the bundle and experience of the proceedings to date. 

I did notice, too, the extent to which the Court of Protection is more conciliatory and collaborative than, for example, the adversarial criminal court.

Despite this being only my second observation of this Court, I found the experience reasonably straightforward, and the language and processes used facilitated open justice. Having said that, I hadn’t been aware when I requested access that the issue being discussed was capacity for sex: if the fact that this was the issue to be addressed by the court had been included in the listings, I suspect there would have been a larger number of interested public observers, not all of whom would necessarily have been familiar with the legal backdrop to this case. I was very grateful that I was already aware of the legal arguments surrounding decision-making in this context and indeed of the JB history and judgment. Adding the issues to be addressed by the court to the listings would enable us to select hearings of particular interest, and to perhaps also to prepare in advance.

Given the general consensus amongst parties and the fact that interim orders had already been made, I didn’t get the full experience of the court engaged, live, in the delicate balancing act between the state’s duty of care to protect vulnerable persons and the preservation of autonomy. 

It  was readily accepted, on an interim basis, that the infringement of T’s Article 8 right to family and private life continues to be sufficiently necessary and proportionate to keep her safe .

From a legal perspective, Roberts J accepted the applicant’s proposal to allocate the next hearing back to a Tier 2 judge as this is “not a complex case”.  

From a personal perspective, however, I’m sure it must elicit some very complex and mixed emotions for both T (and M) and for her family.

Samantha Williamson is a mature law student with a particular interest in health-related law, inquests and inquiries. She has a recent MA in Medical Ethics and Law from King’s College London and is a trustee of the R&RA charity supporting older people in care. She tweets @samwilliamson03


[1] I am grateful to Pravin Fernando and the local authority for providing me with the Position Statement and approved order later in the day of the hearing.

Photo by Martynas Grigonis on Unsplash

 

Withdrawing treatment after brain-stem death: A case in the Family Division

By Celia Kitzinger, 16th March 2022

Note: This judgment is now published (click here).

Today I watched a hearing about whether or not a woman in her 40s is dead.

She’d been admitted to her local hospital Accident and Emergency department on 2nd March 2022 with a severe migraine-type headache and discharged.  

The following day (3rd March 2022)  she was again taken to hospital by ambulance and while waiting to be investigated she collapsed and became unresponsive, with seizure-like activity while being resuscitated.  She was intubated, taken to the ICU, and a CT scan revealed an aneurysmal subarachnoid haemorrhage and tonsillar herniation. There were, the clinical team decided, no neurosurgical options and clinical treatment was futile.  Her Glasgow Coma score remained at the lowest possible level (3).

She was declared dead at 11.45 on Thursday 10 March 2022, following brain stem death testing.  

But for the last six days (since she was declared dead on 10th March), health care professionals have continued to administer various medical treatments that would normally be described as “life-sustaining”, including mechanical ventilation and clinically assisted nutrition and hydration. 

The applicant Trust, North West Anglia NHS Foundation Trust (represented by Emma Sutton of Serjeants’ Inn Chambers), has asked the court for a declaration that the patient is dead, and that – as a consequence – doctors can withdraw mechanical ventilation and ancillary treatments.

The reason the doctors have continued to treat the patient, and the reason the Trust has applied to court, is that the family has opposed withdrawal of ventilation (and other treatments) and has asked for a private second opinion.  

The patient’s foster-mother participated in the hearing as a litigant in person.  She said:

I’m very unhappy with the application to stop all treatment.  When I went into the hospital on Friday night, I realised that some of the machines were missing, so I felt that the withdrawal had already started in some form before the hearing had even started.  They’ve not allowed us a second opinion.  We can’t hardly visit her without someone pressurising us to switch everything off. It’s been terrible. This rush to switch everything off is awful. I disagree with it.”

A case in the Family Division

The hearing was heard online via MS Teams before Sir Jonathan Cohen on 16th March 2022 in the Family Division of the High Court[1].

Disputes about continuing or withdrawing serious medical treatment are very common in the Court of Protection – but those cases concern people who are still alive.

In this case, the person is dead  – according to the neurological criteria relating to irreversible cessation of brain stem function. (There’s an NHS page about brain death and its diagnosis here.)

The case was heard in the Family Division because it’s outside the jurisdiction of the Court of Protection to make a declaration that someone is (or is not) dead.

The Official Solicitor had been approached and declined to act as litigation friend given the content of the application.  There are no ‘best interests’ decisions to make about a dead person (although in fact I have watched a couple of hearings concerning people who have died after the Court of Protection hearings were instigated e.g. “Life sustaining treatment contrary to his best interests”).  Since the Official Solicitor declined to act in this case, the patient was unrepresented.

Defining death

The definition of “brain stem death” the Trust is using is drawn from clinical guidance – specifically,  the Code of Practice for the Diagnosis and Confirmation of Death produced by the Academy of Medical Royal Colleges in 2008.  (I’ll refer to this as the “Code of Practice” from now on). 

Death entails the irreversible loss of those essential characteristics which are necessary to the existence of a living human person and, thus, the definition of death should be regarded as the irreversible loss of the capacity for consciousness, combined with irreversible loss of the capacity to breathe. “(The Code of Practice)

This neurological definition of death has been accepted and endorsed by the courts from at least 1992 onwards (Airedale NHS v Bland [1993] AC 789).  

“Recent developments in medical science have fundamentally affected these previous certainties. In medicine, the cessation of breathing or of heartbeat is no longer death. By the use of a ventilator, lungs which in the unaided course of nature would have stopped breathing can be made to breathe, thereby sustaining the heartbeat. Those, like Anthony Bland, who would previously have died through inability to swallow food can be kept alive by artificial feeding. This has led the medical profession to redefine death in terms of brain stem death, i.e., the death of that part of the brain without which the body cannot function at all without assistance. In some cases, it is now apparently possible, with the use of the ventilator, to sustain a beating heart even though the brain stem, and therefore in medical terms the patient, is dead; “the ventilated corpse”.” (Lord Browne-Wilkinson in Bland).

The patient in the case I watched today was said to meet the criteria for brain stem death.

Her breathing and her heartbeat are maintained by the ventilator but neurological testing by two consultants (and two external opinions commissioned by the Trust) have established brain stem death, as defined by the Code of Practice (2008).

The court approached this whole matter as a technical or procedural application.  The judge interrogated the medical evidence to see if the guidance in the Code of Practice had been implemented correctly. 

There is a significant academic literature on the history, cross-cultural applicability and ethics of ‘brain stem death’ as a socially constructed concept, and a history of court cases – especially in the USA – challenging determination of death on the basis of neurological criteria.  For a review and defence of ‘brain death’, take a look at this article: Current controversies in brain death determination.  

The court in this case did not engage with the theoretical and ethical discussions relating to ‘brain stem death’ as a concept.  It  simply accepted the medical consensus for neurological death (as defined in England and Wales) and sought to establish that it applied to this patient.

This is the approach also used in previous court cases, most notably in the Court of Appeal decision of Re M (Declaration of Death of Child) [2020] EWCA Civ 164.

as a matter of law, it is the case that brain stem death is established as the legal criteria in the United Kingdom by the House of Lords’ decision in Bland. It is not, therefore, open to this court to contemplate a different test.” (§91 Re M)

The Court of Appeal case also makes clear that (as the judge in the lower court also said)  “If a patient is brain stem dead, then there are no best interests to consider. Once those criteria are met the patient has irreversibly lost whatever one might define as life…” 

Sir Andrew McFarlane, who wrote the main judgment said (after quoting the judge in the lower court): “I agree. Once a court is satisfied on the balance of probabilities that, on the proper application of the 2008 Code ….  there has been brain stem death there is no basis for a best interests analysis, nor is one appropriate. The court is not saying that it is in the best interests for the child to die but, rather that the child is already dead. The appropriate declaration is that the patient died at a particular time and on a particular date without more.”

The hearing

Most of the hearing – which lasted for about three and a half hours – was spent gathering evidence from the treating Consultant in anaesthetics and intensive care as to the basis for the claim that the patient met the criteria for neurological death.  The purpose was to discover (in the judge’s words)  “whether the tests carried out in the hospital are so conclusive that there’s no possibility of anyone else coming to a different conclusion”. 

The Consultant looked exhausted.  We were told that he’d been up the whole of the previous night on duty – and he’d been due to be on night duty again tonight but had just managed (he told the court) to find someone else to take over the night shift.

Having been affirmed, and adopted his statement, he was asked by counsel for the Trust whether he’d seen the patient since writing his witness statement for the court on 15th March, and if so whether there had been any change.  He’d seen her this morning.  There was no change.  “She remains unconscious.

Between them, the judge and counsel for the Trust questioned him about what, exactly, an “aneurysmal subarachnoid haemorrhage” and “tonsillar herniation” are.

The judge and counsel went through, in detail, how the brain stem testing was done (and by whom) to ensure it conformed with the Code of Practice.

It appeared that all the correct tests had been done according to the proper criteria. Every test was negative (i.e. the patient did not respond).  

Time of death was recorded, in accordance with the Code of Practice, after the first set of tests.  The tests were all then repeated – with the same outcome.

Counsel for the Trust asked: “When everything is negative, no further ancillary investigations are required. That’s the end of the line?”.  “Yes”, said the doctor, “I’m afraid so”.

Counsel: Are there any circumstances where a second opinion would be requested after two consultants have confirmed the legal time of death?

Doctor:  Not ever in my career. No.

Counsel: What would be the negative of allowing a second opinion?

Doctor:  As a professional, there is no further benefit.  It is not humane to continue the treatment of a person who is brain stem dead.

Judge:  What will happen to [the patient] if the ventilation and artificial feeding continue? Is there any prospect at all that she’d regain consciousness?

Doctor: No, My Lord.

Judge: Or be able to breathe?

Doctor: No, My Lord.

Judge: Or have any perception of the world around her?

Doctor: I’m afraid not, My Lord.

Judge: And what would happen to her organs, her heart, given time?

Doctor:  If we continue treatment?  It’s hard to say this, I’m- It’s beyond my-  I’ve never seen that before, to be honest.  After brain stem death, with time, there will be derangement of blood pressure control, derangement of endocrine systems, like the pancreas, all the systems and organs. And eventually her body will sadly die.

Counsel: You said earlier it was not humane to continue to provide treatment. Do you have ethical concerns with continuing?

Doctor: Yes, it’s not ethical to continue to ventilate a brain stem dead patient. It’s not ethical for the family as well.  And it’s not ethical for the staff.

The patient’s mother was offered the opportunity to ask questions of the doctor and asked who had treated the patient in Accident and Emergency.  She was obviously concerned that on the second occasion her daughter had waited a long time to be seen. “I was horrified they made her wait in the waiting area, because it was quite serious”.  

She talked about how sudden her daughter’s collapse had been “very sudden, very quick, she didn’t have any brain trouble before”, and what a shock it was to find that by the following day “all they were talking about was ‘we need to turn things off’ and I couldn’t think why they were wanting to turn the machines off so quickly”.

She wondered whether her daughter had some kind of infection (“very unlikely” said the doctor) and reported having been told that there were “several” bleeds on her daughter’s brain and wanted to know how many exactly.  (There were two, said the doctor, but “the devastating one is the  subarachnoid haemorrhage”).

I’m just at a bit of a loss really, but the reason we asked for a second opinion was because we were not really trusting what they were saying to us. It seemed to keep changing. We did want to be there for the second test and then we just got a phone call saying they’d done it.  We did have conversations with the nurses, but all they did was keep telling me they needed to switch her off.  I went in unannounced because I didn’t want to be bombarded with messages about switching her off.  Why so much of a hurry?  We would like to spend time with her and pray.” (Mother)

At this point the court moved to a discussion of the time frame for treatment withdrawal and it became crystal clear that the issue was not whether that’s what would happen, but when.

Judge:  I understand you’d want to be with her before the machines are ‘switched off’, to use your term, and other people too.  Can you give us a picture of how many people and over what time?

Mother:  Over seven days it would be about seven to ten people.

Judge:  I want you to understand that the demands on an Intensive Care Unit are quite considerable.  Having large numbers of people there are not easy to accommodate.  That number of people might present a problem for the hospital, as might the period of a week, but I’ll let [the consultant] address that.

Doctor:  I am very concerned about the time frame. The main thing I wish to clarify is that it’s becoming really unprofessional where we continue ventilating someone who is declared brain stem dead.  From my perspective, a week is totally unacceptable – from my professional perspective.  I completely understand that many family members would like to come and see her, but I would ask for a shorter time, because I’m really concerned about this situation as a professional.

Judge: Ultimately it seems to me that it’s probably a decision for the clinical staff.  If your arm was twisted behind your back, if I can put it that way, what would you consider an acceptable period of time to allow the family to come and say goodbye?

Doctor: Twenty-four hours, My Lord.

Judge:  Once the machines are switched off, how long or slow would it be before death took pla- sorry, how can I put it? Before the breathing would completely pack up?

Doctor: It would be a matter of minutes, My Lord.

Judge: So bearing in mind where we are now, late afternoon on a Wednesday, would some stage on Friday be something you could professionally tolerate?  

Doctor: Yes, Friday can be acceptable.

Judge: I don’t really want to indulge in an auction on this, but that’s the doctor’s answer to the question you asked.

Mother: What happens?  Do they put her in a side room, or just take her straight to a coroner?  We would like time with her, even if they had taken her off the ventilator.

Doctor:  Normally we will keep a body for two hours after certification.  I hope that two hours is enough.

Judge: It seems to me this is something beyond my control.

Mother:  So Friday – what time on Friday?

Judge: That is a matter for you to discuss with the doctor. For my part, I would like to suggest to the doctor that perhaps it might be humane to say not before midday.  Would that be something the doctor could accept?

Doctor:  I can accept that, My Lord.

Judge: I recognise I’m stepping outside of my judicial role, but I think it’s important to see what I can effectively mediate.

After an agreement between the Trust and the mother that treatment withdrawal would take place on Friday not before midday, the judge gave an ex tempore (oral) judgment.  He summarised the medical evidence from the Trust. He referred to the Code of Practice for the Diagnosis and Confirmation of Death.  He didn’t read out, but said he would include in the written version of the judgment, paragraphs 28, 29 and 30 from the Court of Appeal decision of Re M (Declaration of Death of Child) [2020] EWCA Civ 164

The judge ran through the evidence that the patient was indeed brain stem dead: her pupils do not react to light; there is no eyelid movement when touch is applied to the cornea; no eye movement when ice-cold water is injected into her ears, no gag reflex, no cough reflex, and no response when pressure is placed on her cranial nerve.  When she was disconnected from the ventilator for 5 minutes, she did not breathe.

He concluded by saying he had no alternative but to conclude that death had been correctly diagnosed, in accordance with the Code of Practice.  It was, he said, “futile for the current treatment to continue” and he made the declarations requested by the Trust.

Celia Kitzinger is co-director (with Gillian Loomes-Quinn) of the Open Justice Court of Protection Project. She tweets @KitzingerCelia


[1] I am grateful to Emma Sutton, counsel for the Trust,  for alerting me (and PA journalist Brian Farmer) to this hearing, and for reassuring us that it was in fact a ‘public’ hearing, despite having been listed as ‘in chambers’ (i.e. private) on the Royal Courts of Justice daily cause list.  Thank you also to Emma Sutton for her position statement which was very helpful in supporting my understanding of this case, and on which I have drawn in this blog post.

Photo by Milad Fakurian on Unsplash

Challenging behaviours? The importance of language

By Daniel Clark, 15th March 2022

On Monday 28th February 2022, at 10:30am, I observed a hearing (Case no. 1351116T Re: NC) before DJ Eldergill sitting at First Avenue House London.

In addition to the judge and the two barristers (counsel for the Local Authority, Michael Paget, of Cornerstone Barristers,  and counsel for NC via the Official Solicitor, Simon Maddison, of St John’s Buildings), NC’s social worker was also present.

I was the only public observer at this hearing, which was a bit daunting at first but I soon relaxed as a result of DJ Eldergill’s welcoming demeanour. 

This hearing was exclusively virtual, and held on MS Teams. I received the link 13 minutes before the hearing, and then received the parties’ Position Statements 10 minutes before. As they were both quite short, this gave me the opportunity to read through them, and they gave  me an insight into what was going to be discussed.  

When DJ Eldergill entered the hearing, he acknowledged my presence and asked if I had received the Position Statements. When I confirmed that I had, he then explained that he was sure I knew (but wanted to reiterate) that I could not record the hearing, and nor could I share the Position Statements or publish anything that could risk identifying NC. He checked I understood this, and then provided a brief overview of the background to the hearing. I was very grateful for this, and also felt that DJ Eldergill’s engagement with me as a public observer was exactly the way open justice should work. 

The hearing                                                               

NC is a 60-year-old gentleman living with schizophrenia and (according to the Position Statement of the Official Solicitor) alcohol-related brain damage. DJ Eldergill first visited him in 2019, when he was residing in a care home, and in a subsequent hearing it was decided  that it was in his best interests to move to a “reablement[1] placement. 

Currently, NC lives in supported living. However, in the words of DJ Eldergill, the situation has “significantly deteriorated”. NC’s behaviour is inconsistent, and he is generally incontinent. He lives in soiled clothing, lies in soiled bedding, and urinates and defecates in his bedroom. 

It was the view of the Local Authority that NC would best be supported in residential care (the same home he resided at in 2019) but the Official Solicitor felt that this was not in his best interests at the moment. DJ Eldergill did note that when he’d previously lived at the home, NC “seemed to have incorporated some of the staff there into delusional beliefs…He seemed to be highly suspicious of staff there”, though it was clarified by counsel for the Local Authority  later in the hearing that NC now sees the benefit of having been there. 

Counsel for the Local Authority argued that the current placement is “sub-optimal”, and that NC’s current behaviour is “distressing” (to whom was not made clear)Even though residential care is the most restrictive option, the Local Authority position was that it is in NC’s best interests to move there. Counsel for the Local Authority also explained that there’s a time constraint, telling the Court that the placement as an option “runs out today”, and the Court would need to make a declaration today. No reason for the  need for such a rushed decision was provided, and neither Position Statement makes any reference to the time constraint. 

The position of the Official Solicitor was that residential care was too restrictive. As there is the possibility that moving to a residential placement could be a permanent move, counsel argued that it was in NC’s best interests to remain where he was, especially as he is only 60, so his age is not typical of a care home population.  Counsel stressed that, in his view,  the current placement is not sub-optimal, and that the provider had not actually said they cannot meet NC’s needs.

With regards to his continence, it was noted that issues with continence only arose when he moved to his current placement. The Official Solicitor felt that “[NC] ought to be given more time to settle in”(he had only lived in the supported living placement since December 2021, as his previous supported living placement was closed for refurbishment). During this period of “settling in”, assessments from continence nurses and Community Mental Health Team (CMHT) would be sought. 

At this stage, DJ Eldergill agreed there was a need for further assessments. 

He recalled that  there had been a question about whether NC could have  bladder cancer,  after passing some blood in his urine. At the time, NC did not “cooperate” with medical investigations, and did not want to see a urologist. An order was not made to transfer NC to hospital for investigation under anaesthetic because professionals explained that blood in urine can sometimes have no known cause. However, DJ Eldergill did stress that incontinence can be caused by bladder cancer, and was a potential explanation for his current problems.

DJ Eldergill also remarked that he recalled a potential problem with NC’s thyroid, the symptoms of which might mirror a psychosis disorder. However, this had not been investigated, and DJ Eldergill felt that the matter should be followed-up by an endocrinologist. He also agreed that the CMHT should make an assessment.

The problem is that this “will take months rather than weeks”. However, “the problems are quite pressing…I think he’s struggling”. Therefore, DJ Eldergill explained that he was going to “side with the Local AuthorityThe situation has significantly deteriorated. It would be kinder for [NC] to move to [the care home]”. It’s relatively unusual for judges to make decisions that run counter to the position taken on P’s behalf by the Official Solicitor. I think this was possibly motivated by an acknowledged need for NC to receive immediate support, with what followed being a way of incorporating the position of the Official Solicitor into the move (and not ‘closing the door’ on the possibility of NC moving to a less restrictive placement in the future).

DJ Eldergill explained that he wanted to understand the cause of the problems that NC is facing, and how best to support him. Given that his “challenging behaviours” (I’ll return to that term later) could be either mental or physical in origin, the judge said that he wanted the problem with NC’s thyroid to be investigated. There was the possibility of a Section 49 order being made to the hospital, in order to ascertain how NC’s thyroid contributes to his physical and mental health. The judge  also asked for checks to be made with the GP again, about what can be done about the possibility that NC has cancer.

At this stage, as proceedings were concluding, DJ Eldergill asked NC’s social worker whether he had anything to add. The social worker explained that “attempts to regain independence” in a supported living placement haven’t worked: NC’s mental health has deteriorated. Whereas before he would previously “frequent” the toilet, he now “doesn’t make an effort” to go to the toilet. 

In concluding, DJ Eldergill directed that investigations be completed, so as best to understand what’s going on for NC before deciding what happens next. This received no objection from counsel, and a 2-hour hearing was arranged for 7th July 2022 (with a view that the hearing can be vacated if agreement on NC’s best interests is reached before then). 

The importance of language  

It was quite clear to me throughout this hearing that DJ Eldergill was motivated by compassion for NC, and a desire (as much as reasonably possible) to resolve the problems that NC faces. 

However, I was disappointed that the term ‘challenging behaviours’ was used at various times throughout the hearing, and was also used in the Position Statement of the Official Solicitor. 

The phrase ‘challenging behaviour’ has been widely critiqued. It emerged in the 1980s to describe the often puzzling and difficult behaviours of people with significant intellectual disabilities. It replaced a whole host of terms such as…problem behaviour” (p4). In recent years, however, concerns have been raised that “the term has sometimes become used as if it was another diagnosis” (p4).

Another problematic element of the phrase ‘challenging behaviour’ is that what is challenging to one person may not be to another. One example of this is grinding of teeth. If you thought this was being done on purpose, you would think the person grinding their teeth was challenging you. However, when the teeth grinding is accepted as a character trait, the act becomes something that you personally find a challenge. In this way, the perception of the behaviour changes; it (and the person) is no longer challenging but the act is something that challenges you. 

There is a suggestion that the term ‘behaviour that challenges’ is preferable to “challenging behaviour” because it conveys the extent to which something is only challenging within a particular social context. One person may be challenged by teeth grinding whilst another doesn’t even notice. Allow me to illustrate the importance of social context in defining what is a ‘behaviour that challenges’. In response to an early draft of this blog, Celia Kitzinger pointed out that she was engaged in ‘behaviours that challenge’ when she held hands with her same-sex partner in public during the 1970s and 1980s. Holding hands is not, in-and-of-itself a ‘challenging’ act – until other people are introduced into the equation, people with specific views about how things ‘should be done’ and what is and isn’t acceptable public behaviour.

I find the phrase ‘behaviours that challenge’ useful because it leads to an immediate follow-up question: who is being challenged? Consider a gentleman who becomes highly distressed during personal care interventions (I have supported a number of people who experience this.) He is frequently incontinent but is unable to recognise a need to change his clothes. When staff attempt to assist him, he hits them. There is no question that this hitting is done ‘on purpose’, and is in service of a goal (stopping the intervention). So, if we refer to this as ‘challenging behaviour’, we stray very close to saying that this gentleman himself is a challenge; a problem to be solved.

However, this gentleman is expressing something: he is uncomfortable in the situation, and wants to be able to go about his business even if his trousers are wet. Therefore, the hitting is an act that staff find challenging but the gentleman himself is not a challenge. Furthermore, this phrasing also easily reveals to us that the gentleman in question is also being challenged by the staff’s actions. His ‘behaviour’ is a perfectly reasonable reaction to having your trousers pulled down. 

At this stage, I want to take a brief pause. In an early version of this blog post, I went on to defend the use of the term ‘behaviours that challenge’. Gill Loomes-Quinn provided extensive feedback on this, and wrote that she doesn’t like the term ‘behaviours that challenge’ either. In fact, she wrote that it ‘risks taking us into “deck chairs on the Titanic” territory’. A change in terminology does nothing to challenge the arrangements that position somebody with a disability as a cluster of behaviours that need to be “managed”. 

This got me thinking about what terms I actually use in my day-to-day work (I work on a ward for people living with dementia who have been detained under the Mental Health Act). When someone is banging on doors and windows, I never say that they are “exhibiting challenging behaviours”. When someone has called me a “poof” (or something much stronger), I never refer to this afterwards as a “behaviour that challenges”. And when someone has hit out during assistance with personal care, I haven’t described this as a “challenging behaviour”. 

Instead, I attempt to go some way to understanding the emotion and intention behind these actions. Somebody banging windows is possibly bored and wants to go out; somebody calling me a “poof” is possibly frustrated with my actual or perceived circumvention of their course of action; somebody hitting out during assistance with personal care is possibly feeling threatened. Then, I can attempt to support that person with the situation they are in. 

I have suggested ‘possible’ explanations for certain actions because the understanding changes from person to person, from context to context. To refer to an action as a ‘challenging behaviour’ is an affront to somebody’s humanity, their autonomy, and their self-determination. Of course, sometimes an individual is intending to challenge because they dislike either what is being done, or what they perceive is being done, to them. However, to refer to this as a ‘challenging behaviour’ is to suggest that the person and their behaviour is the problem. It ignores the intention and motivation behind their actions, and constructs the situation as a problem to be solved. With framing such as this, we step very close to simply wanting to resolve the behaviour whilst neglecting the ‘bigger picture’. 

In this specific case, referring to NC urinating in his bedroom as a“challenging behaviour” does not (in and of itself) acknowledge the potential medical and social issues that have led to this action. It gives no insight into his character or the unique circumstances that have led up to the current situation. 

The same can be said of the reference to NC not wanting to “cooperate” with previous medical investigations. In using this term, his agency is diminished. It is instead seen as combative force against the agency of the medical staff attempting to assess him. Implicitly, it is their agency that is seen as valid and a priority but it is being ‘challenged’ by a ‘behaviour’ that needs to be managed.

I am not suggesting that the terms used affected DJ Eldergill’s judgment: he was clearly anxious to understand the root cause of NC’s current situation, and to identify potential solutions. In other words, despite the language he used, DJ Eldergill still made a decision that paid proper attention to the humanity of the person with a disability.

It’s also important to point out that this type of language is not just found in the Court of Protection. The NHS has a webpage titled ‘how to deal with challenging behaviour in adults’ which, quite shockingly, refers to ‘behavioural outbursts’. Everybody can point to examples of their own ‘behavioural outbursts’ but, the NHS tells us, ‘challenging behaviour is often seen in people with health problems that affect communication and the brain’. So, my ‘behavioural outbursts’ need no further exposition but ‘behavioural outbursts’ in those living with a cognitive impairment need to be managed (and even get a webpage on the NHS website to help everyone to do just that). 

Language such as ‘challenging behaviours’ and ‘behaviours that challenge’ positions the person as the problem. It does not acknowledge the systemic circumstances in which they are embedded; circumstances that present the person with a disability as somebody who needs to be ‘managed’ because others (professionals, carers, clinicians, and so on) have a right not to have to engage with this kind of behaviour. It’s important that we do not lose sight of the reality of the social world that we inhabit.

Daniel Clark is a paid carer.  He is also deputy director of Backbench, an unaffliliated open platform blog that publishes a range of articles about current affairs. He has recently completed an MA in Political Theory. He tweets @DanielClark132


[1] Reablement has been defined as ‘services for people with poor physical or mental health to help them accommodate their illness by learning or re-learning the skills necessary for daily living’.

Photo by Steve Johnson on Unsplash