It was not until I met Bun and we were “going together” that I started to visit Mum. Bun was amazed that I did not visit her. He immediately made arrangements for a visit. Naturally I was a little fearful. I had no idea what to expect.We arrived at the hospital. It was a large, dismal stone building, like a medieval castle, with small windows. After being admitted to the waiting room we anticipated our meeting with my mother. I was trembling inside and apprehensive. Bun was supportive and loving. A hushed stillness, austerity and the sound of keys unlocking and locking doors, was my first impression. 
When I saw this little lady being brought towards me I KNEW instinctively that she was my mother. She looked like an older version of my sister Rae. All sorts of emotions surged through my heart and mind. I had not seen her since I was a little girl. It was an overwhelming experience. The mother I always longed for, the mother I had cried on my bed at night time for many years when I was young was standing before me. The feeling was indescribable.Bun and I introduced ourselves. We all sat down in comfort to talk. Mum said she had believed I was dead, killed in the accident I had at Mosgiel Junction with Uncle Jack. She remarked that good health was hard to get. By her general conversation it seemed her mind was still in a past era. We did not stay long. I found the visit a great emotional strain.Stories for my Grandchildren, Isobel Spence
In the early days I looked with pity and curiosity and wonder upon the few patients in the observation ward who would be there “forever” – Mrs. Pilling, Mrs. Everett who, as an inexperienced overwrought young mother, had murdered her little girl; Miss Dennis, slight, sharp tongued, with neatly rolled grey hair, whose days were devoted to “doing out” the Charge Room at the Nurses’ Home, polishing the silver and the water glasses and the fruit dishes of the illustrious white-veiled sisters; and the few other permanent patients who comprised those who knew the rules and could explain them – how when you were well enough you were given limited parole.
Faces in the Water, Janet Frame, p.58
An interview with a doctor had been arranged. He explained that if Mum had taken ill in this age things would have been different. Much better understanding and methods of treatment had made great advances. I was very sad thinking of what might have been.From then on we visited occasionally. After these hospital visits I felt very upset. The doctor said we had to weigh up the possible good it was doing Mum and the harm it was doing me. The seemingly wasted years preyed on my mind to a certain degree.I was never ashamed of my mother because of her condition, but felt unable to speak to her, except to close friends. Mental illness had a terrible stigma attached to it. Having a mother at Seacliff would be a disgrace in the eyes of so many folk. Only MAD people lived there. Not being able to talk freely about your mother or father was a drawback. I felt “out of it” and a bit of an outcast, in that area. My gentle, sweet, kind, artistic mother was categorised.
Stories for my Grandchildren, Isobel Spence
Janet Frame having failed to maintain a good level of response to the ordinary physical methods of treatment... is deemed to be a suitable subject for Prefrontal Leucotomy Operation to which I hereby give my consent... I understand to what extent this operation may offer a measure of relief and the minor element of risk involved."
An interview with a doctor had been arranged. He explained that if Mum had taken ill in this age things would have been different. Much better understanding and methods of treatment had made great advances. I was very sad thinking of what might have been.From then on we visited occasionally. After these hospital visits I felt very upset. The doctor said we had to weigh up the possible good it was doing Mum and the harm it was doing me. The seemingly wasted years preyed on my mind to a certain degree.I was never ashamed of my mother because of her condition, but felt unable to speak to her, except to close friends. Mental illness had a terrible stigma attached to it. Having a mother at Seacliff would be a disgrace in the eyes of so many folk. Only MAD people lived there. Not being able to talk freely about your mother or father was a drawback. I felt “out of it” and a bit of an outcast, in that area. My gentle, sweet, kind, artistic mother was categorised.
Stories for my Grandchildren, Isobel Spence
Janet Frame having failed to maintain a good level of response to the ordinary physical methods of treatment... is deemed to be a suitable subject for Prefrontal Leucotomy Operation to which I hereby give my consent... I understand to what extent this operation may offer a measure of relief and the minor element of risk involved."
Wrestling with the Angel, Michael King, p.112.
Of course, Janet Frame was famously saved from this operation in 1952 by winning a literary award. My grandmother was still at Seacliff at the time. The doctor that spoke to Isobel on one of her visits had confidently said that nowadays they had a: "Much better understanding [of mental health] and methods of treatment had made great advances."
Janet Frame's friend was also at Seacliff and had a leucotomy. Afterwards:
"[They] were talked to, taken for walks, prettied with make-up and floral scarves covering their shaved heads. They were silent, docile; their eyes were large and dark and their faces pale, with damp skin. They were being 'retrained' to 'fit in' to the everyday world, always described as 'outside'. In the whirlwind of work and shortage of staff and the too-slow process of retraining, the leucotomies one by one became the casualties of withdrawn attention and interest."
Janet Frame's friend was also at Seacliff and had a leucotomy. Afterwards:
"[They] were talked to, taken for walks, prettied with make-up and floral scarves covering their shaved heads. They were silent, docile; their eyes were large and dark and their faces pale, with damp skin. They were being 'retrained' to 'fit in' to the everyday world, always described as 'outside'. In the whirlwind of work and shortage of staff and the too-slow process of retraining, the leucotomies one by one became the casualties of withdrawn attention and interest."
Wrestling with the Angel, Michael King, p.113
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