A short story of bedlam.......

[Guest guest]

This incident happened in the most corrupt of all psych medical

systems, the Veterans Administration Hospital System.

This scene repeated itself , in almost all the VA hospitals

since its start in 1932.

In 1972 I was housed in one of these hospitals .

My building number was on the wall outside.

It was bldg 10.

There were men in that building , who walked/shuffled in circles

from the time the WPA finished it , till I was there first committed

in 1972, and second in

1973 .

It was the march, in hell, to nowhere .

I was an honorable veteran. I objected to killing,

but was allowed to join the service anyway.

My number was up for the draft, I had few choices.

I have never harmed anyone in my life ,

but if provolked, I will defend myself,

my friends, whoever or whatever I want.

My space belongs to me .

My flag is mine, not yours.

I dont care what you do with yours, so dont

tell me what to do with mine.

I received reports , over the years from others, who were in

bldg 10 ,

and VA facilities,throughout the us.

Nothing has ever changed.

The abuse still goes on now.

Finally though, building 10 was condemned , worn out .

Those so called hospitals, with bars on the windows, are there for a

threat, and a promise , to each and every Vet who knows what they

are, to get in line and stay in line " silent " or you will feel its

brainwashed correctional agony.

I have reported this , and other psych atrocities to the feds .

Because the statute of limitations is over , I can not claim

money.

I told them even if they paid me $10,000,000 , I would not

be silent over these attrocities.

There were two of Benny Rush'es corrections chairs in the day room of

Bldg 10, the maximum security hospital I spent

6 months in .

The first three months were very easy, compared to the

next three months which were pure hell torture.

The second commitment started out, on heavy doses of haldol or as we

called it helldoll.

It crippled me, so I was unable to put on my clothes, walk , or

feed myself.

I was not able to be in any sunlight, except when wearing a large

beach hat, and veil over my face . I had to wear long sleeves

also , because the ultra violet rays burn the skin anywhere it

touches while using haldol.

Even the hot coal of a cigarette as its being smoked , will burn the

skin.

I envision , the blurred look of that cigarette even now ,very

bright , as I

slobbered spit drool, all down my chin and shirt , sucking the

smoke , through the side of my mouth , that could hold air.

My mouth was mis shapen, like I had a stroke, and speech was

difficult also.

My tongue was constantly swelled , or hanging out of my mouth. I was

either biting it, or swallowing it .

These were , as the dox explained, symtoms of my

schizophrenia.

My family, was also told this .

When I could not put my clothes on , from haldol use , the goons

dragged me naked, past a day room full of grown men , screaming

NO!! NO!!! into the shower room.

Behind that locked door, they took turns beating me , in the

stomach, giving me manual convulsive therapy .

A daily occurrence for two months , sometimes twice a day.

It took two goons , to do this dirty deed .

One holding me in a full nelson , while the other hit me in the

stomach, like a punching bag over , and over.

Being hit in the stomach , leaves no marks !

After a certain amount of punches to the solar plexus , I could

not draw air into my lungs, and became convulsive and unconscious.

The goons, had to let me slide to the floor, because it was too

difficult to hold on to a convulsive body.

When I came to, the one hitting me, would be holding me

to allow full access of my stomach.

After the turns were taken, by the goons, and their twisted

giggling, and snickering , had ended for that punishment therapy

session , I was dragged back into the day room . I was then

strapped to

Benny Rushes corrections tranq chair.

It was time for Public humiliation again .

This punishment was for saying no, I couldn't put my clothes on .

It hurts to understand , the haldol , cripples the

user , so bad , they cant clothe themselves .

In the day room ,

there are two huge soild oak chairs facing each other. One

chair has drain holes , the other , had a deep seat with no holes .

The one with holes , drains the urine, we are forced to soil

ourselves with , to publicly humiliate us.

The other, has no holes so we are burnt, and rashed by our

own caustic haldol urine.

We are allowed to face each , other to see what we look like

in our agony.

Another victim, is mostly always in the opposite chair, for the

mirrored effect.

Some are put there for defending the ones already strapped down.

I didn't cry , in the corrections chair, because I had been trained

not to , but the others

would howl, and weep , when they were forced to break their parents

potty training.

Some finally letting go of a full bladder after hours of holding .

Some , forced to sit in their own feces .

This forced incident, happens in front of 30 to 50 other men .

Many times the victim , is underage , as young as 17 years old .

I was 19 years old at that time still a minor.

There was also, another chair , the " SILENCE " chair.

That chair, was in a small room all by itself.

It was the true terror chair.

If we asked for help in any way, in bldg 10

we were dragged into that room

strapped wrists , ankles , with an adhesive tape

gag.

This is a form of 5 point restraint, with gag.

This treatment, was always administered by a nurse.

When the gag was administered , she left the room .

You are trained in two ways with this chair.

for one, you never ,ever, ask for help again, that word is over.

The word help , becomes a non word.

When I first started crying , while wearing a gag , my nose filled

with mucous , and I couldnt breathe.

During that time, I saw myself as nobody else ever could.

There is grave danger in this correction , especally on haldol.

My chest would heave again and again in protest, then the forced

stillness of the tranquilizer chair , took place.

Tears were over then , same as the help word. Reality

takes place, cold harsh true . Childhood is over .

I feel the chill of those who died in that chair now.

During this time I spent in bldg 10 my emotions were

distroyed .

My innocence of youth was over, and I was then an adult ,

knowing reality, ever since.

When I went home, everything I owned was

thrown away. I was treated like a child , by my family

for decades.

My father, constantly asked me for help.

My personality was wiped out purposely .

I was now a non person.

The confusion given by this forced example , is we are supposed to

be ashamed at ourselves for all this , and many commit suicide , at

the shame or the need to escape the torture.

Or just the knowing its there.

But the shame belongs to the many , who support these

atrocities, given to underage minors, forced into psychiatry

by their parents.

The age of 18 is consent, yet once involved with psychiatry,

there is no such thing as legal consent, its forced,

in agony.'