Day forty-seven, evening: ten minutes with her voice
For the first time since 9 August, contact came through. She was clear, and sad. No judge and no lawyer has visited her, she said — and her request was explicit: keep pushing.
This evening, for the first time since 9 August, telephone contact came through. A good ten minutes, within the standing arrangement.
She was clear and coherent. And she was sad — sadder than I have heard her in weeks.
This is what she told me, in her own words. That no judge and no lawyer has visited her. That no one has explained to her why she is still being held there against her will. That she receives her medication when she asks for it — that has improved, and so it belongs here too. And that she does not belong there and wants to leave as soon as possible.
Her request to me was explicit: keep pushing to get me out. I promised her that.
Set her words beside this morning’s law. Everyone facing involuntary admission is assigned a lawyer free of charge, and has the right to be heard by the judge. Today the legal six-week term expired. And tonight she says that no one — no judge, no lawyer — has visited her or explained anything. The legal track puts this question to the court on Monday morning.
What you can do — through the official channels
Many of you ask what you can do. This — and only this, because her care takes place in that building and must never suffer for it:
- Report your concerns to the Health and Youth Care Inspectorate (IGJ) via the National Care Reporting Point (landelijkmeldpuntzorg.nl). Anyone — not just family — can report concerns there about a client’s care and legal position. Factual, dated, in your own words.
- Write to the mayor of Gouda. The emergency order of 6 July was issued by the mayor. A respectful, factual letter asking for attention to her situation is every citizen’s right. One former neighbor has already led the way.
- Keep reaching her by the road that is open: a card to De Vreugdehof (attn. Mrs. G. van der Zwaan-van der Paalen), a call via reception, a visit request. Every card on her windowsill is a witness.
- Share this site. The record is public, dated, and complete — because a day will come when people ask how this was allowed to happen.
What we explicitly do not ask of you: pressure on care staff or the ward. The pressure belongs with the authorities who supervise — that is where every voice counts.
This is day forty-seven. She asked me to keep pushing. We will — with many.
We are not done.