I walked in the door at the end of a very long day. It was 7:30 and I had been out seeing in-home clients across town. That is draining in and of itself.
My husband met me at the door. He was visibly agitated. "Did you see this shit with Britney Spears?" I had to admit that whatever the latest development was, it hadn't been covered on National Public Radio, the only station I listen to in the car.
"Oh my god, May, they admitted her again for a 72-hour hold. Half the goddamned police force came out for it. There were like 50 cops in a procession to the hospital. That is just wrong!"
I shrugged off my coat and looked at my husband. "Why were there so many cops? Did she do something?"
He told me that according to the news reports, no, she hadn't "done" anything. I am not a big Britney fan, but I could see that my husband was very involved with the incident. He was upset. Agitated. Emotional. It had nothing to do with Britney.
My husband sat on the sofa and shook his head. He said that some things in life are sacred and there is a time when discretion and privacy come before all else. It's the decent and humane thing.
When we talked some more, we agreed that the obscene coverage of Britney Spears's mental health crisis goes on unchallenged because it speaks to a larger issue: the attitude this culture has regarding emotional and mental problems. Somehow, it's OK to respect a patient's privacy under all other circumstances--including cosmetic surgery--but tabloid frenzy is perfectly acceptable for mental illness. Why is that? Why is it OK to point and gawk at anyone in Britney's situation? Where is the respect?
Scandalous laughing stock. What an incentive to seek help voluntarily.
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