Monthly Archives: September 2015
Dr. Michael Henry, the “shock doc,” where is he now?
I heard, or read, that Michael Henry, McLean’s “shock doc” went out of state. I figured he was escaping a lawsuit. God knows he shocked so many people that you figure someone must have managed to get a lawyer at at least try to take legal action. You can read my own ECT story on You-Tube…By the way, ECT should stand for Electroshock Torture.
I am currently listening to the Lauren Tenney show, Talk With Tenney. This is one I highly recommend, by the way. Lauren has a number of guests on tonight who have had Electroshock Torture.
Yes, I know it’s barbaric. But they’re still doing it, making tons of money, destroying brain cells and walking away free.
Know something? They really do put an awful lot of electricity into people’s brains when they do that. It’s about the same as being struck by lightning or an electric shock you might get at home.
So, I think tonight if Puzzle seems a little sluggish, I’ll just stick her tongue into an electric outlet. No, there’s no alternative. No other cure. No, I didn’t consider that she’s probably asleep (don’t worry, she is sleeping soundly, and I’m only kidding about the electric outlet).
Do you know that anyone who does that will go to prison for animal cruelty? Yet shock docs are rarely prosecuted, but they get highly paid. Yes, paid to torture people.
So here’s what I found just now. And I quote:
Massachusetts General Hospital is a leading specialty center for electroconvulsive therapy (ECT). Directed by Michael E. Henry, MD, the Somatic Therapies Service plays an active and important role in the clinical care of many treatment refractory patients.
Did you “lose” the files you had in OneDrive when you upgraded to Windows 10? Don’t panic….
I have been to a few forums discussing this. I cannot believe what I am reading. These unfortunate folks are saying they have lost their files and are hoping for a solution, at least to find some way to recover these files.
I, too, noticed that it appeared that my files were all missing. They aren’t. It just looked that way at first. I first started with Win 8 at the end of January 2013, and at that time, OneDrive was called Skydrive. Later, it got renamed. After that, I had two folders, one called OneDrive, and one called Skydrive. It didn’t seem to matter which one I used, since they were both the same.
With the upgrade, I now have two separate folders that each contain different material. The OneDrive is associated with a different account, my MS Office account. I don’t use that account to store anything. So while my computer was booting up just now, all I saw was a OneDrive folder, and inside, not the multiple folders I have in Skydrive, but a single “Documents” folder. When I opened that, nothing was inside!
So that’s when I panicked and went to the forums to see what was up. Apparently four pages or so of commenters were complaining that this same thing happened to them. Some folks kept their files in OneDrive and nowhere else. So they were really up poop’s creek.
Or so they thought. My guess is that the same thing happened to them as happened to me. After my computer was done booting completely, I found the Skydrive folder. Everything was there, safe and sound. So with Win 10 “Skydrive” and “OneDrive” are separated. If you cannot find anything inside OneDrive, look for a Skydrive folder.
Another thing: Microsoft seems to have moved the entire cloud folder to some other location. So right now, it looks like the entire folder is re-syncing. This explains why at first, I didn’t even see the SkyDrive folder.
It bugged me no end that folks were getting on that forum and saying, “You were stupid not to back up to a removable drive.” Stupid? This is the great Microsoft, not some rinky-dink cloud company. I wouldn’t expect MS to screw up that badly, would you? That plus when a person has a major loss, say, has lost an entire novel, years’ worth of work, is it truly helpful to tell them what they should have done and that they are dumb because they didn’t? They asked for help, not to be admonished.
Please, please please please be patient. People were popping on there and saying that they were discovering that their files indeed came back. If you have two separate accounts, go online and log into the one you use. My guess is that you’ll end up finding those files again.
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretched file like me.
I ONCE WAS LOST, BUT NOW AM FOUND
Was blind, and am still blind until I can find my glasses.
Oh, I think I’ll feel around some more. Do you think Puzzle ate them?
An exercise in comedy writing
Today, I challenge you all to think up new and creative things to answer to the following questions:
- Can you rate your mood on a scale of 1 to 10?
- Do you feel like harming yourself or others?
- Do you ever feel on top of the world?
- What does it mean, “He who lives in a glass house should not throw stones.”?
- Can you tell me today’s date?
- Do you know where you are?
To those of you considering becoming psychiatrists, please memorize the above questions. If you can accomplish that, you’re 7/8 through your training. The rest involves choosing the most profitable diagnosis for each patient, and avoiding lawsuits from those patients you harm.
The extras: Which country club to join, how to swing a golf club, how to schmooze, and how to avoid answering questions if you are asked to prove the existence of mental illness.
I doubt I’ll ever be seated in a shrink’s office again, but should I be asked…..
- If asked to rate my mood, I’d recite Pi. And keep going till I am kicked out of the office.
- Yes. (Not true, but simply “yes” and nothing else might throw them off).
- Yes, I would rather be on top of the world than six feet under.
- Glass houses….Maybe the house needs to have fewer windows. You’d think an architect would be smarter than that…..
- About today’s date, answer, “Yes.” And nothing else.
- About where I am: Sitting in an office with a practitioner of legalized torture.
I don’t think I’d even make to question #6….Remember, I’m busy reciting Pi. Actually, I could use any ole number. Since when are they going to know the difference? Their science is based on guesswork, so is my own accuracy really necessary? Everything you tell them will get twisted around no matter what you say.
So let’s get twisting, eh? Tall tales are loads of fun.
EBT….is there a shutdown?
I found this:
Keep in mind the author’s disclaimer that the photo may or may not be a photoshop, and also she states that this is not a photo of an actual food riot, but illustrates that this is what one might look like.
As for whether you all are getting your food stamps in October, I honestly don’t know. I do know that they are not all distributed on the same day. I know that Massachusetts did it by the last number of people’s social security numbers. Mine showed up just before mid-month. IF there’s any validity to this, the statement was that on the first, for those who receive them on the first, the food stamps would be held. If it’s true. There are not actual food riots happening yet, but the article shows us that this is possible, if not, probable, should EBT really be withheld.
Wait and see.
Simple joys: How to take a bucket shower
On request, I am explaining how to take a bucket shower, for those of you who are curious. I have been showering this way daily since around January, and at this point, I enjoy doing it this way so much that I don’t think, if i had the option, I’d choose anything else. Perhaps if you wish to save on water, save on electricity, and have a few other handy conveniences (which I will explain) you might want to try this, too.
First of all, you’ll need a place, such as a bathtub or shower, or place where you can splash a little water around and not worry about making a huge mess or damaging anything. This can be done outdoors as well. If so, for privacy, you’ll have to rig a tarp around the area where you choose to shower. Tarps will also be necessary on a cold day. The tarps will keep the heat inside.
If you need a heat source, that is, to heat your surrounding air, choose wisely and take precautions. An electric heater will need to be placed somewhere away from any potential puddles or splashing. I’ve found that space heaters vary widely in terms of how safe they are. Some space heaters should never be used in a bathroom, while others may work okay. Gas heaters must be used with extra caution. NEVER use a gas heater without ventilation. The reason goes beyond the dangers of a gas leak. A gas heater will burn the surrounding oxygen. Without ventilation, you are at risk for carbon monoxide poisoning. It’s about the same as running a car inside a closed garage. You get the idea. Please avoid tragedy, since I don’t like losing readership.
If you want to warm up your bathroom safely, using no electricity or fuel at all, bring your pet inside. You will be amazed. Bringing Puzzle in with me does make a difference. She insists on it anyway. Sometimes, her presence is all I need to stay toasty warm, and all fuzzy on the inside, too. Just for her, I make sure to have a pillow or something she can lie on to feel comfy. Usually my bathrobe, my pajamas, or a spare towel does just fine.
In the heat of the summer, you won’t need to heat your water. For the rest of the year, I like to heat it and spoil myself. I use my electric kettle for this. There’s no need to use a gigantic water heater. It’s just me, after all!
I’ve found the best and most efficient way to bring hot water into my shower and keep it hot is to use thermoses. I use two, though really, only one is usually necessary. I boil the water in my electric kettle and then, pour it into the thermoses, cap them, and bring them in with me. Stainless steel thermoses work fine.
I’ve been using two small plastic pitchers as receptacles. There are different ways of doing this but what works for me is to have one as wash water, and one for rinse. Both have handles for easy lifting. I’d say each holds about a liter. You will only be putting about two inches of water into each.
Pour some of your hot water into one pitcher and add cold water until you like the temperature. I have used liquid soap, but recently, I found a bar soap I like better. I find that the most efficient method is to soap up everything first, then rinse everything. You can use various sponges or washcloths, but actually, I find hands work fine. If you use up your wash water, pour yourself some more.
Once you are all soaped up, bubbly and happy, now’s the time to rinse. For me, it’s super important to thoroughly rinse off all the soap. This can be quite a challenge! Here’s a trick: Add a spoonful of lemon juice to the rinse water. Vinegar will work, too, but who wants to smell like a pickle? With the added lemon juice, you won’t need gallons of water just to make yourself squeaky clean. I use a separate pitcher for the rinse water.
You’re probably wondering about how to wash long hair this way. You can, easily and quickly. Depending on your hair, you can just take the whole thing and dunk it. Or splash it on your head. Or pour the water over your head. I honestly don’t know if lemon juice will do harm to hair dye, though. I don’t dye my hair. If your dyed hair turns some embarrassing color, don’t blame the blogger, please. Tell your boss your dog did it. We all know Fido is the ultimate scapegoat.
After I’m all done, I often have a small amount of unused water in one of the pitchers. What shall I do with that? This morning, and just about every morning, I pour it over my back. Or on my head. Such luxury! While I feel that warmth flowing over me so lovingly, I praise God with abandon. Today, I am alive.
The most fun thing is…..
The most fun thing, for me, is the pride I feel when I am able to use my mind, which they claimed was defective, to solve everyday dilemmas. I seem to be fairly good at solving various computer dilemmas. I’m proud that I can do this and also, occasionally, help others.
I’m proud that my mind works just fine. I’m proud that I can make do with less, and find joy in simple things. I am proud that if I don’t have something, I can use something else instead, that actually works better for less money and fuss.
A couple of nights ago I woke up while it was still dark, and decided to do dishes. I turned on my electric kettle and….
Yep, something, somewhere, was quite unhappy about that! My main circuit breaker had flipped off. I wasn’t sure where the short was. Was it the kettle or was it the outlet? Or maybe some other thing plugged in that had malfunctioned? First, I tried turning the circuit breaker back on. It was still quite upset and immediately shut down. I wasn’t going to be pushy at that point, so I unplugged everything in my casa that was plugged in, which wasn’t much really, and then, turned the circuit breaker back on. So far, so good. One by one, I tested each thing that had been plugged in. It was indeed my electric kettle. I left it unplugged for the night and used something else to boil water for the dishes.
In the morning, when I could see better, I discovered the problem. I really didn’t want to have to replace my electric kettle. But this looked like something I knew how to solve.
The appliance itself consists of a pot with an on/off switch, and a simple lightweight base. I could see water under the base. So that was it. Apparently I had spilled water there, and I had not even seen it. I don’t see well enough to always see small puddles of water on my dark-colored counter. Ahh, the culprit.
I have dealt with this before and have a devised a trick to reviving wet appliances. Please, if you try this at home, be very very careful! Especially if kids are around.
Here’s what you do: UNPLUG the appliance. Make sure it’s unplugged and not just turned off. Then, take a blow dryer and blow dry into the vents and openings, whatever you see where water may have gone in. Usually you have to turn it upside down to do this. Depending on the appliance, this could take as little as 20 seconds, or a full minute. Or a little more. You can also try leaving it in a sunny spot, but make sure it’s a dry sunny spot. As soon as you are satisfied that all the water and moisture is out of the inner workings of the appliance, plug it in and try it out. Please be careful, since a lot depends on the wiring of your home. Most have circuit breakers but if you have fuses and blow one, it could be a nuisance replacing it. Use common sense and don’t get electrocuted. I wouldn’t trust this method with a vacuum cleaner, TV, or any appliance that has a large mass of inner circuitry. My guess is that messing with it won’t be safe.
This might work to revive a cell phone, although I have never done this myself. We have all heard the stories of people who keep their phones in their back pockets and then drop their drawers only to find the phone has fallen into the toilet. If that ever happens, quickly grab a blow dryer and I’ll bet your phone will survive the experience just fine, and live to tell the tale to everyone depending on your privacy settings.
I decided I sure didn’t want this to happen again. So now, I have my electric kettle in a different place. I’ve already had ECT a long time ago, and I sure don’t need to get zapped again.
Of course, if you actually want ECT, you could go out in a lightning storm, call out to God, and say, “Come and get me!” If you are struck, you will get about the same amount of voltage. You might get brain damage. If so, the ECT has been a success. You will feel euphoric from the traumatic brain injury for about three weeks. After that, no one really knows. Shocking indeed.
Online party, fun times
In celebration of a rather joyous event, I am holding a party. This is a distance event by invitation only. I will need to set a date and time shortly. If you are interested in good fun and want to join, contact me please. Depending on the number of responses I get, I’ll set it up somehow. We will most likely use Hangouts but if that’s not possible, we can use some other means. Camera not necessary but you’ll need a mic and speakers or headphones, or a phone.
BTW, my blog was hidden for a bit but now I am back. I’ve been writing and some posts are delayed posting until I get back with you all. If you can read this, that means you and I both exist. Or maybe it means you are sitting at a computer or other online device, and can read text, and I wrote it. Hello.
Letter to Ron DiBiase, LICSW, Boston, MA
Letter to Ron DiBiase
Fenway Community Health Care, Boston, MA, USA
My name is Julie Greene. Do you remember me from Options Day Treatment? To refresh your memory, I was a music student who had just left full-time study of music composition at Bennington College. I had moved in with my parents and was planning to return to college the following semester. I began the Options program in October 1981, and stayed nine months.
At Options, I was known as “that Jewish girl from Lexington.” To me, this meant little, since I was only one of many Jewish girls from Lexington. However, to the administrators who oversaw Options, this meant $10,000 could be taken from my parents in the name of “help.” Both of my parents were active in NAMI for many years. They both died not even knowing that that $10,000 was used to initiate the destruction of my life.
It is amusing to me now that although I was once brilliant at math, not once in all these years did I ever make that calculation until just now as I write these words. Over $7,000 went to Gould Farm and about $6,000 went to Brattleboro Retreat. I was never told how much the various therapists and doctors were able to syphon from my family over the years. Beyond that, the amount that was taken via public insurance to pay for treatment for diseases I never had must have amounted to millions. This is taxpayer money, Ron, including taxes taken out of your paychecks.
You might ask how on earth a very intelligent Jewish girl from Lexington could possibly be so naïve. Only very powerful persuasion could have convinced her and her parents that her brain was defective. Who would believe such nonsense? A person would have to be drugged and subjected to brainwashing to have the wool thus pulled over her eyes. That’s the Mental Health System in a nutshell.
I remember Options well. I remember the colors of the walls. I remember that each time a “client” called the facility “day care,” that client was corrected. “No, it’s treatment.” But was it?
One day, a “client” asked the staff the following: “What’s the difference between staff and clients?” I remember that day well. We were sitting in a circle called the “community.” I remember several staff were there, but you, Ron, were the one who took up the question.
Your reply was, “The only difference between clients and staff is that staff have their lives together, and clients don’t.”
I recall the silence in the room. I could see stray dust floating randomly in the beams of sunlight that came through the window. I watched each client slowly digest what they had heard, some silently repeating these words to themselves as if they had come from a deity.
The drama of the moment served its purpose well. We were successfully fed yet one more lie. We had no reason to doubt or challenge. It was sealed, and would be sealed again and again to ensure complete compliance without question.
This is how they convinced me that I had various brain diseases I never had. Funny, they kept on doing tests such as EEGs and MRIs, and found nothing wrong with my brain. Still, they had me convinced I had depression at first, then schizophrenia, then bipolar. When my insurance was running out, the diagnosis was quickly switched back to depression so I could be given electroshock to my brain that was never defective to begin with. After the jolts of electricity had the effect on me of being struck by lightning, another diagnosis needed to be added, personality disorder, while they still maintained I had schizoaffective. Years later, after I began to speak of human rights, I was given yet another diagnosis, paranoia and mania. By then, over 30 years had passed.
You remember why I came to the System, begging for help. You told me one day what your assessment was of me. You told me I had bulimia, which was incorrect, however it was true that I had some very serious eating issues. You told me I was a bit shy and had minor family problems. You put strong emphasis on that word “minor.”
Note that “eating disorder” was not among the diagnoses given to me over the years. By the end of three decades, no one even remembered nor listened nor cared about my eating concerns, which I never spoke of anymore. I had given up hope of ever getting better. I lived in public housing and was stuck on disability. For life. My trumpets sat in an attic and all the beautiful music I composed, in a storage box. The person I once was had been obliterated.
Even though my “team” didn’t encourage me to further my education, I earned my BFA in Writing, Literature, and Publishing from Emerson College in 2003. I graduated summa cum laude. I went on to graduate school at Goddard College and finished with my MFA in Creative writing.
The System doesn’t want its clients educated nor informed, apparently. I don’t think it takes a master’s degree to properly answer the question you were asked that afternoon at Options. In fact, wasn’t it a child who first saw that the Emperor was naked?
The difference between staff and clients had nothing to do with anyone having their lives together. In fact, that’s not what I saw. The staff earned paychecks. We clients paid, sacrificing our lives. The staff in hospitals had keys. The patients didn’t. The staff retained their human rights, because they were indeed human, people who make mistakes like anyone else so we needed to forgive and be patient and understanding. Patients and clients were always seen as one notch less than human. That’s how I lived, in mental health ghettoes, for three decades.
The only way I could possibly solve my eating problems, which, by the way, almost killed me a number of times, was to undo the brainwashing, lies, and half-truths that I had been told for all those years. Diagnosis is not so easy to throw off, since it locks us into behavior patterns and low expectations. All of those diagnoses were false. When I realized this, I made steps to leave the System.
On May 13, 2014, my dog a I boarded an airplane at Logan Airport. We left most of our belongings behind. It took two days to cross the equator. We now live happily and peacefully in Uruguay, where by all means I am not seen as “crazy.”
I live in a small house, called a casita, and every day, I take my dog to a nearby field to run. I am learning to speak the native language, which is Spanish. I enjoy walking out to the highway, called the Interbalnearia, where I remember my days as a young 21-year-old hitch-hiker, a girl who could barely imagine “mental illness” even existed. In fact, it doesn’t.
What is one of the biggest myths told by mental health professionals about drugs?
Yes, we know, and they know too, that:
“You need this drug the way a diabetic needs insulin” is a skewed analogy. In fact, medical students question why this bogus comparison is made. They are told, “It doesn’t matter if you lie to them so long as you can get them to take the drugs.”
If anyone thinks this is a statement about diabetes, no, it isn’t. In all likelihood, a person who is severely diabetic will have to take insulin since it’s really the only thing out there and by far the only thing most effective after diabetes gets too severe. i would not tell a person to stop their insulin nor would I say the care of diabetes is corrupt.
The comparison does not hold water since there are many other more effective treatments for depression than antidepressants, many more effective treatments for mood swings than lithium and many more effective treatments for psychosis. We do have options, but the AMA and APA are deadset on our not finding out about them.
However, there’s an even more insidious lie propagated in mental health. This is it: “You should never self-medicate.”
The exact opposite is what is true. You are the authority on your own body. As soon as a prescription is written that prescription is a recipe for power. Power of the prescriber to dictate what you put in your body.
“I will allow you three pills per day.” Congratulations. You are now a slave to your doctor.
Many people outside of the USA make their own decisions about medical care. In poorer countries, many do not see doctors all their lives. While it is true that many poor countries have a lower life expectancy, this isn’t due to lack of prescriptions. It is because the countries are poor and don’t have access to materials such as safe drinking water and many are without shelter. Poorer countries don’t have the money to maintain their roads nor to provide even the very basics for the people that live there. Either that or the wealth is unevenly distributed. I am sure that a poorer country won’t even bother with the middlemen, such as “doctor” “prescription,” “Pharmacy,” “drug company distributors,” “drug company salespeople,” or “insurance approval,” but instead, get any drugs or treatments that are truly necessary to people as directly and as quickly as possible. I believe that the copious amounts of red tape would cost more, and delay helping people in dire need.
I was told that self-medicating was bad since you were taking things into your own hands. Now, I realize that it’s in fact good to take things into your own hands. If you want to care for yourself, do so. If you want your life run by doctors, go to them and be their slave.
When I eat a red bell pepper, I am self-medicating. This is a food that makes me feel better. Many foods are curative and this is one way that I take good care of myself. Are we going to argue whether I am “using” or “abusing” red bell peppers? I cut it into pieces, put some on a plate, and eat them (unless Puzzle convinces me to give up a few).
When I went to psychiatrists, I often wondered why they’d bother asking the irrelevant and trivial questions they asked. They wanted to know how I “felt.” They asked so that they could adjust the medicine. I found they didn’t really assess how I “felt” very well, and their medication adjustments reflected that.
Even many years ago, I thought, “Well, I know how these drugs work, why can’t I raise and lower it myself?” I could very well have done that, but “doctor” would repeatedly assert just how necessary he was. That didn’t make much sense to me, since a lot of money would be saved if I relied on my own good sense, which was almost always far superior to theirs.
I have already told you about the slackers these psychiatrists relied on. Two of these therapists slept through our sessions. Most apparently had little clue of what was going on with me, except to insist they knew better than I did.
What did they know? One didn’t know how to spell my name after a full year. Many had no clue I had an eating disorder even though I mentioned it often. Not one had any clue what my childhood was like, since mostly, they concluded “typical Jewish upbringing” and never wanted to hear more.
If I really wanted drugs, I’d go out and get them. If I want to medicate myself with vitamins, I’ll do that, too. I’d drink alcohol if I believed it would help me. I don’t, though. I cannot tell you how good it feels to have the power to choose for myself. Interestingly enough, my gut instinct says to stay away from almost all pharmaceuticals, but I reserve the right to change my mind, which would be my choice, not dictated by prescription.
This is my writing. This blog covers many topic but is not representative of the entire person that is me. While I may speak at one time of a particular experience, no one should conclude that this experience is intrinsic to who I am. It happened. Period. Nothing else. Most of what happens in my life I either don’t want known or I don’t care to write about or share. It’s not possible for a writer to “tell all,” but a good one will convince you she is.
Any writer, artist, or performer takes on a persona, that is, a mask that is necessary to doing art. This is much like the persona that an actor takes on. How many times have we known actors or comedians who were entirely different people on and off the stage?
If you know me in real life and see inconsistencies between what you read here and the person you know, please keep the above in mind. Also note that right now, entries from years past do not have the year on them. Therefore, you might come upon a very old entry that is no longer applicable without realizing it. We all need to understand that all people change and grow.
I write these entries as they come to me and rarely proofread or revise them. If you read an entry that makes you wonder about what kind of person I am, know that it’s very possible I was that way only momentarily. I encourage others to rethink and be open to changing their minds. I hope you realize that I change my mind, too.
The following is untrue. 1) that I am in constant state of torturous emotional pain. This is highly untrue since in fact, I laugh my fool head off a lot of the time and enjoy my life. I am strong enough to write about past bad and good experiences and writing about those experiences does NOT cause me pain. I enjoy writing no matter what the topic. I don’t think writers who don’t enjoy writing stay in the business very long.
2) That I’m “triggered” by abuse stories. Absolutely not. I want to hear YOUR story and don’t worry if it contains something about abuse. To me, I feel overjoyed to learn that I am not the only one who went through all that i went through. The best thing is knowing you are not alone. I don’t think it’s right that there are so few places you can talk about abuse openly and honestly. I got very tired of being told, “I’ll talk to you but you can’t talk about abuse.” I can’t stay friends with someone who puts too many restrictions on what I can and can’t talk about. Because I am so frequently condemned by other people, or not allowed to open my mouth, I talk all I want about it here where no one can stop me. This is a relatively safe place for me here, and sometimes, there’s no other safe place. I like it since it doesn’t argue back.
3) That I hate all psychiatrists. I don’t. I don’t hate all doctors nor all cops. I notice that the profession of psychiatry is based on stuff that isn’t true. I feel sorry for shrinks since their practice has gone astray. I notice that most rarely apologize when they have done terrible things. I feel that psychiatry has far too much power and influence on people’s lives. As for individual ones, I only have an opinion on the ones I’ve actually met and I’m not going to make some blanket statement that they are all vicious psychopaths. i don’t think anyone is a psychopath. I am overall distrustful of people now. That’s actually a recent change, but I don’t think you can blame me one bit on that.