My Experience in the Psychiatric Unit.

No one enters a Psychiatric Inpatient Unit and walks out the same. It’s a space where the boundaries of human vulnerability, resilience, and healing collide leaving an indelible mark on all who pass through, whether as patients, clinicians, or observers.
Over the past two weeks, my group was doing a Mental Health rotation, specifically in Psychiatry. In the first week, besides attending outpatient clinics in the morning , we spent every afternoon accompanying the residents and professors in the Psychiatric Inpatient Unit of the hospital. An old building that has been designated for this type of care for decades.

From the entrance, the Unit presents peculiar and necessary characteristics. The main door is a thick steel plate with only a small grate at face height. Inside, the walls are white, neutral, and cold. There is a common hall where admitted patients stay when not confined to their beds or in the patio. Further back, there is a long corridor with only the doors to the rooms and bathrooms. Everything is completely sterile and devoid of objects that might pose a risk.

Upon entering the space, we saw people wearing odd eccentric clothes. Their expressions varied — apathetic, suspicious, drowsy, irritable. Some seemed almost catatonic; others were more stable. The constant reason for admission was always that the patient posed a risk to themselves or others.

Each student followed about four patients. We checked vital signs, history taking, performed evaluations, and documented impressions.

My first patient, just over 20, was admitted after a manic episode. He had excessive talkativeness,loss of sleep and excessive energy. He was often described as hypersexual and had previously masturbated in front of his mother. He showed childish reasoning, was polite but often confused, and tried to convince me he was well. There were reports of verbal aggression towards nurses.

The second patient, an elderly man with a history of homicide, was admitted for hetero-aggression. Though initially apprehensive, he became friendly, interacted kindly with others, and was eventually discharged to continue treatment from home.

The third patient was an 18-week pregnant woman admitted for depression with suspected schizophrenia. She had a history of hospitalizations for suicidal behavior and hallucinations. She was demanding and had difficulty sleeping. Her psychotic symptoms persisted until her eventual discharge.

Patient 4 – A Young Man Caught in the Storm of His Mind

When I first met him, his speech was nearly unintelligible — mumbled, slurred, barely audible. He stared through people rather than at them, responding to voices I could not hear. He spent most of his time sitting on the floor in the hallway, rocking back and forth, whispering fragments of sentences. His mother visited almost every day, speaking softly to him, bringing him clean clothes and warm food. She told me that before the illness, he had dreamt of becoming an engineer.

His history was layered with heartbreak: sexual abuse from childhood, a harsh home environment, frequent relapses, and now a near-constant state of hallucinations. He had attacked his uncle during a psychotic episode — not out of malice, but from fear and confusion. The antipsychotics had sedated him, but the clarity they were meant to bring hadn’t arrived yet.

During one of our final encounters, I greeted him gently, and he slowly turned to me. For the first time, he met my gaze and whispered, “Do you believe me?” I paused, unsure how to respond, and simply said, “Yes, I believe you.” He nodded once, then returned to his inner world.

Reflections and Lessons

My time working at the hospital psychiatry unit challenged every preconceived notion I had about mental illness. I saw firsthand how trauma, poverty, delayed treatment, and social stigma converge to deepen suffering. The stories weren’t just diagnostic categories — they were layered with humanity. These patients were not just “psychotic,” “bipolar,” or “schizophrenic.” They were sons, daughters, mothers, thinkers, victims, and survivors.

I also came to deeply respect the resilience of the psychiatric team. The doctors, nurses, and social workers operate with limited resources but with astonishing dedication. Medications run out most of the time. Families can’t always afford follow-ups. Discharges are sometimes too early, driven by bed shortages. Yet amidst it all, the team works day and night to stabilize lives and restore dignity.

For me, this rotation did more than enhance my clinical acumen. It humanized psychiatry. It taught me the value of presence, of patience, of listening without judgment. It taught me that in psychiatry, improvement is not always measured in full recovery — sometimes it’s just about making someone feel safe enough to speak. Or smile. Or believe that they are not alone.

Keynes Naleeba.

Co-Founder Imental Health Uganda

Keynes Naleeba is a passionate advocate for mental health awareness and youth empowerment in Uganda. As the Co-Founder of Imental Health Uganda, he works to promote accessible, stigma-free mental health support across communities, especially among students and young professionals.

He is currently pursuing his Bachelor’s degree in Medicine and Surgery, which fuels his commitment to integrating mental health services within broader healthcare systems. His academic background and field experiences have deepened his understanding of the intersection between mental health, public health, and social development.

Through writing, public speaking, and digital engagement, Keynes continues to inspire conversations around mental wellness, resilience, and holistic healing.

“Mental health isn’t a privilege for the few — it’s a foundation for everyone’s potential.”

– Keynes Naleeba

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