Mental Health Warning

Do-gooders abound everywhere.  My father ran afoul of the do-gooder staff and got locked up for being somewhat naive.  Now it's my next-door neighbor, whom we'll call Lois, who has been entrapped.



A few years prior to his demise, my father suffered a series of strokes that ultimately left him bed ridden, a condition he hated.  He could barely walk to the bathroom and had to be helped with everything.  He hated this condition, and said so when he was hospitalized.  When the sugary sweet, helpful little nurse asked him how he felt, he gave her a brutally honest answer.

"Terrible.  I wish I was dead."

And that's all it took.  They wheeled him into the psyche unit and kept him locked up for 72 hours.  He was terrified, and frankly I was a little worried.  Once you're in the psyche unit little can be done to get you out.  Worse, the psychologist who signed the order (called a pink slip in Ohio) to put him there lied about examining him.  Dr. Rat-shed claimed to have interviewed him, and hadn't.  The lies were blatant, the staff at the cracker factory were very obstructive with everyone, and it's an experience that I, personally, wouldn't wish on the Ayatollah Obongo.

The lady living next door to me (Lois) is a devout Christian with a few physical ailments.  She suffers from epilepsy, and so is not allowed to drive a car.  Her hands shake with a severe palsy, which she's very self-conscious about.  Physically, she's small but fairly athletic.  She walks everywhere she can in all but the worst weather, and she sets a pace that I'm hard pressed to keep up with.  For my part, I take her on errands and drive her to church services every Sunday.  It's nothing to me, and it makes her life easier.  She lives alone, and is a bit neurotic.

The neurotic builds castles in the air, the psychotic lives in the castle, and the psychologist collects the rent.

She isn't living in the castle, but from time to time she's toured the grounds.

Yesterday someone, and I don't know just who, called the Columbus PD to do a safety check on Lois, and during the course of general conversation I gather that Lois told the cops, "I wish I'd never wake up in the morning."  And that's all it took.

So now Lois is locked up in the Cracker Factory for 72 hours of observation, and in reality she isn't any crazier than I am.  Okay, scratch that.  She isn't any crazier than the sane people that you, the reader, meet on a daily basis.

I've written all this as a sort of cathartic exercise in frustration, and as a prelude to this:  We, the great unwashed, can no longer deal with any civil service or health service employee openly and honestly.  Say the wrong thing and you'll get tazed and taken away.  This is pretty much akin to being swatted, except you're locked up, possibly put into four point restraints, and for the most part held incommunicado.  Family members might get in to see you during visiting hours, as could your pastor or priest.

Should the entire experience turn out to be based on a false or exaggerated accusation, absolutely nothing will happen to any of the people responsible for holding you against your will, or even medicating you against your will.  Yeah, that last can happen too.  It keeps you quiet, you see.

If you're feeling a little depressed over something, whatever you do, don't let anyone in authority know what you're thinking.  Should any authority figure question you, deny it, and keep denying it until they give up and let you the hell alone.  Not allowing them into your home is always a good idea.  Not answering their questions is also good.

In three days Lois will be back on the street.  I only hope she learned something.