(an excerpt from Little Did I Know: A Fractured Narrative by Lisa Marie Quillinan)
It's been three years, seven months and sixteen days since what seemed to be a never-ending nightmare. I've been keeping track of time. Lately I've been waking up in the middle of the night interrupted by utter terror. I'm flat on my back, eyes are wide open, but zero ability to move my body. I struggle to escape the moment, but fail at any attempt to move. So many words want to be spoken and I am in complete paralysis. The psychiatric community call these night terrors.Here I am in my comfortable queen bed in my cozy apartment in Los Angeles, California with my dog and the freedom to live my life; I cannot sleep. Night after night my body feels pinned down, for what seems like an eternity, and I spend the next day wondering why my chest is so sore. I wasn't expecting this: terrifying moments in the dead of night for no good reason. According to the DSM-V, this is what happens to individuals suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).*
I had no clue.
*Let's pause here for a moment to reflect and digest the full meaning of fair (fairness):
fair - adj.
1 the courts were generally fair: just, equitable, honest, upright, honorable, trustworthy; impartial, unbiased, unprejudiced, nonpartisan, neutral, even-handed; lawful, legal, legitimate; informal legit, on the level; on the up and up. ANTONYMS unjust, biased.
2 fair weather: fine, dry, bright, clear, sunny, cloudless; warm, balmy, clement, benign, pleasant. ANTONYMS inclement.
3 fair winds: favorable, advantageous, benign; on one's side, in one's favor. ANTONYMS unfavorable.
4 fair hair: blond/blonde, yellowish, golden, flaxen, light, light brown, ash blond. ANTONYMS dark.
5 Hermione's fair skin: pale, light, light-colored, white, creamy. ANTONYMS dark.
6 archaic the fair maiden's heart. See beautiful.
7 the restaurant was fair: reasonable, passable, tolerable, satisfactory, acceptable, respectable, decent, all right, good enough, pretty good, not bad, average, middling; informal OK, so-so, ‘comme ci, comme ça’.
What?!
I remember how I felt about this. It was all so confusing. It was so difficult for me to comprehend why it all happened. I was in fourth grade. So this is what humanity was like back then? Who could I talk to about this? It was so unwarranted, unnecessary and it was hard for me to accept it all, but most importantly, I wanted to get down to the bottom of it. And the bottom of it was this:
(1) It was unfair
(2) It was unjust
(3) It was inhumane
This was one of my first memories of what being passionate felt like; feeling so strongly about something igniting the desire for change; undoubtedly, fairness. It was a seminal moment for me in hindsight.
In 1968, eight anti-war protesters were put on trial and convicted of charges during the Democratic National Convention protests in Chicago. It was a spectacle. Inside of a chamber where justice is supposed to be served, a black man was denied his right to represent himself. In the courtroom, his legs and arms were chained to a chair; an order by the judge: BOUND and GAGGED. It was a circus and it was quite a disgrace to the justice system, but really to our liberty.
Who was in charge here?
These unfair accounts had an impact on me throughout my life. Three years ago, they were my refuge in those moments as I lay helpless on a hard, cold steel table in a sterile room with florescent lights shining in my face as if I was in an interrogation room. In some sense, I guess I was. Don't I get a coffee or something? No one was there though, and no one offered me coffee in an eight-ounce styrofoam cup (Law & Order sound effect). Instead, there I was with my wrists and ankles tightly secured in cuffs that resembled the color of Bit-O-Honey candies, and a grimy canvas strap was tightly fastened across my chest. I no longer had freedom, value or credibility.
I refused to swallow medication at a behavioral treatment facility in the state of California.* The prescribed dosages and quantity seemed too high in my somewhat cognitive opinion. However, the result was this: I was involuntarily placed in a room alone, strapped to a table, cuffed in restraints, unaware of time. I voluntarily refused medication and these were the consequences. If you do not take what is administered to you, you will be locked in a room. This is what I understood. Someone at this facility made a decision and thought it was sound for ten consecutive days, twice a day for _______(fill in the blank)_______ to keep me in there for a really long...
Time.
I was certain of the following:
(1) I didn't belong here
(2) I voluntarily put myself in the care of these people seeking help and/or treatment**
(3) At the very least, I could breathe
In....
Out.
I had the ability to inhale and I had the ability to exhale so I focused on just simply breathing.
Eventually I was given a psychiatric patient handbook in Spanish, a language I do not speak fluently. It was given to me on the third day of my stay, what was supposed to be the day I would get picked up and taken home. However, a series of unfortunate events out of my control--predominantly, my maximum insurance benefits*** and the mental health coverage allowed---would determine the next ten days of a period in my life that has not been easy to forget.
Needless to say, I was released from the treatment center weighing 92lbs with not only a parting gift of PTSD, but fully medicated and prescribed:
- 2mg Risperdol
- 1300mg Lithium (twice daily)
- 10mg Haldol
- 2mg Ativan (as needed)
- 200mg Seroquel (3x/day)
- 600mg Depakote (3x/day)
- 2mg Klonopin
- 30mg Zyprexa (twice daily)
- 1mg Cogentin (side effects)
So we can agree that this was not fair.
*BHC Alhambra is a behavior health treatment center owned by Universal Health Services, Inc. You can read their 2010 Annual Report somewhere on the internet.
**Based on the job descriptions and requirements at BHC Alhambra per their website, you only need a GED or High School Diploma to be considered for a position.
***I've made several attempts to contact Iowa Senator Chuck Grassley for an interview since he was investigating UHS, Inc. (I'm not holding my breath)
Patient Complaint from a patient who sought treatment just two months before I arrived.
#thepsychiatristwhoworethehawaiianshirt
In "Little Did I Know: A Fractured Narrative," LM Quillinan discovers the raw reality of an unfortunately flawed system in our country. The mental health sector has been far neglected. With random acts of senseless violence on the rise, merging with the rapid progress of technology and communications, it is becoming more evident that we are failing in effectively treating one of the most important and evolving areas of our body: our brain.
LM shares her story of what happens first-hand when she voluntarily seeks treatment at a mental health facility in the State of California. She exposes the sad misfortune of being treated unfairly and the deterioration it takes on physically. Seemingly gutted and stripped completely of everything she knew and everything she was, LM rebuilds among the loss, the trauma and the fear, while she fights for hope and courage to find her faith again.
After what appeared to be pure and utter abandonment from all avenues of life, LM uncovers the tragic truth that there exists an alarming stigma with mental illness. Throughout this narrative we follow her as she rebuilds a new foundation of self-worth, self-reliance, new friends and prayer, among the backdrop of a thorough explanation and investigation of the Joint Commission, Universal Health Services, Inc., and the pharmaceutical industry pre- and post-1942.
UPDATE: https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/rosalindadams/how-a-giant-psychiatric-hospital-company-tried-to-spin-us
