Bundaberg foster mum says mental health system only acted after son went missing

A Bundaberg foster mum says her cries for mental health support went unheard for years — until her son disappeared. Now in care, she’s speaking out in hope no other family is left to fight for help.

Bundaberg Hospital has been named in concerns raised by a local foster carer about emergency mental health care and access to treatment.

A Bundaberg foster mum says her cries for mental health support went unheard for years — until her son recently went missing.

Now in care, she’s speaking out in hope no other family is left to fight as hard as her.

Her 25-year-old son only received appropriate care after he went missing this year, prompting renewed calls for urgent reform in Queensland’s fractured mental health system.

The carer says hospital staff were reluctant to report her son missing or apply for a treatment order — despite him walking out of the mental health ward mid-treatment.

He had been in voluntary psychiatric care at Bundaberg Hospital when he disappeared.

“They initially opposed us reporting him missing,” his foster mother said.
“I asked them if they were going to apply for a treatment order. The answer was no — because just before [he] walked out of the hospital, he told them he would undertake treatment.”

She said when she pointed out that he had absconded immediately afterward, the hospital worker allegedly replied: “But he agreed so nicely!”

It wasn’t until she contacted the Minister that action was taken.
“I believe the only reason they acted was because I had already contacted the Minister — and because he had gone missing in their care.”
 

She and her husband have been foster carers since 1998.
They raised the boy, now 25 whom we have redacted his name for privacy, from six days old after also fostering his older brother.

“Both boys lived their entire lives with us,” she said.

Her son was a creative, sensitive child who loved art and music.
As a teenager, he was popular at school, especially with the girls.
But around 14, his foster parents noticed something shift.

“It’s hard to say what it was exactly, it just wasn’t right,” she said.
“He changed his friendship group … from kids who were positive and into computers, to a group we struggled to cope with.”

He began sneaking out, drinking, and smoking.
His carers — who had eight long-term children, including two with disabilities — were shocked.

“We also were very keen to emphasise to all our children that you don’t need alcohol to have a good time.
“It was never an ‘essential’ in our life,” she said.

The now 25-year-old lives with schizophrenia and has spent years trying to navigate treatment, addiction recovery, and relapse.

They learned their son was getting alcohol and cigarettes from the homes of other teens.
Then came the turning point — a friend gave him marijuana.

“We can pinpoint that as the beginning of a downward spiral that really didn’t stop until [he] was around 18,” she said.
“It was a nightmare I thought I would never wake from.”
As the years went on, he became involved with a local drug dealer, doing pick-ups and drop-offs.

The family tried repeatedly to get him help.
He was good at saying the right things, she said, and multiple counsellors failed to see the warning signs.
One even told her that she was the problem.

“I tried to tell them how much he had changed and that his lifestyle choices were actually quite dangerous, and I was dismissed as a neurotic, controlling mother.”

The foster mother says she took her son to Bundaberg Hospital multiple times while he was suicidal but was turned away.

Eventually, they found a Headspace counsellor who connected with him and brought positive changes.
But after six months, he was cut off from the service.

“They determined … he was not going to develop schizophrenia, so he was not eligible for that service.
“So, he was not eligible to continue to see the counsellor he had built up a relationship with over the 6-month period.
“And it was a positive time for [him] — we were seeing changes for the better,” she said.
“Having that pulled from him was a total setback.”

She said inconsistency is rife in publicly funded mental health supports: “There is no consistency. Staff come and go. Programs “change.
“And this does immeasurable damage in so many ways.”

At 17, he tried to cut ties with his old crowd, but he was still addicted.

Signs of schizophrenia became clearer as he neared adulthood.
She said he experienced voices and delusions but was terrified to talk about it.

Once, while in the car with his brother, he tried to grab the steering wheel mid-motorway, convinced he was in danger.

Eventually, he was prescribed antipsychotic medication — but he refused to take it.
“Mum if you just stopped talking about schizophrenia it will all go away,” he told her.

His care team believed he was medicated because he attended appointments and said the right things.
But his foster mum told them they’d only ever filled one script.

“I told the health worker that the sleeve of medication that he was showing them with three tablets missing was the very original one … Finally we started to get listened to.”

He was placed on a treatment order — but nothing changed.

One day, he came downstairs cupping his eye, saying it had “fallen out.” He’d also taken an overdose of unknown medication. An ambulance was called but never arrived. When the family drove him to the local hospital, she said the nurse dismissed him.

“She said, ‘He’s just another ice user.’ I told her that he may or may not be, but he had told us that he had overdosed on a medication. She dismissed me again … When we finally went in to see the doctor, he was appalled — nothing about overdosing on medication had been written on his chart.”

The family say their son was drawn into addiction as a teenager, with easy access to illicit substances compounding his mental health struggles.

Later, he spent three nights on a trolley before being admitted to a psychiatric unit.
His foster mother said things briefly improved, but once released, he again spiralled.

In another case, she said he was handed loose pills in an emergency department.

“We didn’t know what they were. No packaging. Nothing.”

They relocated to Wide Bay, hoping for a fresh start, but access to mental health support remained difficult.
She said the local psychiatrist refused to trial Clozapine — a drug Gold Coast doctors had recommended — unless he was clean for 12 months.

The day he was released from hospital, he was suicidal again within 10 minutes of arriving home.
They returned to emergency, but were told to come back in the morning.

“We simply refused to take [him] home when he was suicidal,” she said.
“We told them we’d sit in their lounge chairs all night if we had to.”

A bed was found within 20 minutes.

Eventually, she invoked Ryan’s Rule after watching him deteriorate further.

“I wasn’t going to sit back and watch him deteriorate anymore.”

The next day, a nurse quietly thanked her for speaking up.
He was finally placed on Clozapine — and began to stabilise.

“He was doing well.
“He got a job at Woolworths and loved it.

But the medication came with side effects, and he eventually decided to stop.

Bundaberg Hospital has been named in concerns raised by a local foster carer about emergency mental health care and access to treatment.

 
He managed for a while, but the voices returned, and he now struggles with unemployment, poor sleep and mental health again.

Despite this, his carers say he’s kept away from drugs for long periods and is still trying.
They credit Wide Bay’s Rural Mental Health team for their support — but say the system needs urgent change.

“The emergency department at our local hospital is still the biggest barrier,” she said.
“They continually told us to take [him] home — even when he was suicidal.
“If we had, I truly believe he wouldn’t be here today.”

A Wide Bay Hospital and Health Service spokeswoman said while they could not comment on individual cases, they acknowledged the challenges families face when seeking mental health support.
“We recognise the impact that mental health conditions have on individuals, as well as their carers, families and loved ones,” the spokeswoman said.
“When someone comes to our emergency departments experiencing acute mental health distress or considering suicide, they are triaged according to their risk.”
She said the care team develops tailored treatment plans, which may involve inpatient admission or community-based support, depending on the individual’s needs.
“Treatment plans will consider supportive therapeutic pathways, suicide prevention planning, and may also include medication management.”
“WBHHS provides multiple services to improve the wellbeing of Bundaberg residents, both as inpatients and in the community. ”Among those is the Lighthouse Crisis Support Space, which offers clinical and peer support in a welcoming, non-clinical setting.

She noted public mental health services are only part of the broader system, which includes non-government and private providers delivering “specific psychological services, psychosocial supports and general counselling services.”
In terms of capacity, “the Bundaberg Mental Health Unit currently has 12 acute adult mental health beds to service Bundaberg and the surrounding communities.”
The Fraser Coast Mental Health Inpatient Unit in Hervey Bay has 22 beds and can accept patients from across the broader WBHHS catchment area.”

Bundaberg Base Hospital.

 
“The Bundaberg Hospital Emergency Department has 37 beds and treatment spaces.”
Patients and carers who are unhappy with their care are encouraged to contact the WBHHS Consumer and Community Engagement team.
“We support patients to escalate any concerns through our robust complaints management process which can be accessed by phone on 07 4184 1824 or by email at [e-mail],” she said.
“For further escalation, Ryan’s Rule is in place for occasions when you or your carer believe your condition is getting worse or not improving as expected.”
The spokeswoman also reminded the public that in an emergency, people should dial triple-0 (000) or call 1300 MH CALL — a 24/7 mental health triage line that links to the nearest Queensland public mental health service.