Sunday, July 5, 2020

Comments by Blindsammytucker

Showing 4 of 4 comments.

  • Hello Jane
    My previous response to you did not get posted. Not sure why. Maybe it was too wordy.
    My overarching concern is that you described having a bad tooth.
    My own experience leads me to believe that making a resolution to have it taken care of will improve your well being.
    I reccomend making the tooth care a priority.
    My own experience with being ill from a bad tooth ( or two) was that relief is immediate upon extraction. Healing rapid. The missing teeth rarely missed.

    I strongly believe untreated dental infections are a strong missed culprit in peoples poor health and well being.

    I look forward to a realization in mental health care that prioritizes providing dental care as a preliminary course of treatment to persons sufferring physical and mental distress.

    I wish you well.

  • My own experience with institutionalization did seem like one big bad game of BDSM which I did not participate in willingly and there was no ‘safe ‘word for.
    Not NO. Not laywer. Not doctor.

    The roots of Psychiatry in and of themselves are deserving of indictment by grand jury no less the modern day institution of institutions. And each victim ought to have their complete testimony heard. Restitution may weel be an order if that were possible after having any shred of peace of mind so desecrated.

    An archaic usage of rape does in fact mean ‘to be seized and carried away by force.’ (meriam- webster)

    My own experience with psychiatry saw 3 internments – the first one voluntary where I saw no doctor. Within minutes I was told to strip. Refused. Was stripped. Put in a paper gown. Told to take a coctail of drugs. Refused. Picked up carried to a hard metal bench paper gown lifted. Injected with a ” b -52- described as such by the nurse as a ‘ cocktail of several drugs’ then left paralyed unable to sleep for several hours much less to get up and use a bathroom which I desperately needed to do. Not that there was one in the room.
    I woke up at 11 pm to an option of releasal or staying the night. I had arrived at 11 am. My blood had been drawn during my b 52 coma.
    I chose to be released and asked for the conract of the woman I had gone in with who had been refused to join me during my voluntary admission. They could not get me in contact. I had arrived in a skirt.
    I asked for some pants. They gave me a pair of paper pants. I spent a long cold night wandering the streets of an unfamilar city wearing a skirt a pair of paper pants and a tanktop
    I was picked up by them again by the next morning. (This is an adjunct to this I will not further describe here)

    I could go on to describe how only more horrific each enduring moment of the next 6 weeks and more proved to be- but I will halt here to say these testimonies.
    I was nothing but trafficked inhumanely
    And I never saw a psychiatrist in person for evaluation for more than 30 seconds other than when one was lying disparigingly about me in a court of law hosted by an appointed county commisioner serving as a judge.
    All my requests to be evaluated by a real medical doctor- to get a second opinion were ignored.
    All my insight into my own illness was written off as having a lack of insight.
    At one point a nurse made to inject me, told me after I asked why I was given 2 injections- one in each buttcheek – said it was because the chemicals if mixed together would kill a person.
    That injection left me comotose for nearly 12 hours of which I lay one a yoga mat that hadn’t been washed in weeks in a courtyard in a cage. I burned so deeply red there I couldn’t recognize myself.
    A week later they finally took a picture of me after a week of request.
    I was injected forcibly I think 9 times in 4 weeks- not to mention the coctails of drugs I capitulated into taking voluntarily rather than getting pinned by the crowd again.

    While inside I aqquired the number for and called the Governor. I saw him in the newspaper a few days later. He had visited the grounds. I don’t suppose I saw him on the inside. I saw no personal result from this attempt at action. But maybe more folks could try that.

    To people who are or have a loved one or have been in a similar predicament- what can we do to air our grievances? So that these grievances constitute change. Does some declaration of indepedence from the BDSM of Psychiatry seem like an order?

    It is not a healing art. Psychiatry does much harm. Psychiatrists. They have broken their oathes. Shame on their institutions. Shame on them.