Hello Brian, I was in the Army too, Join us over at the nutt house at http://www.hall-18.com
 

Only 2 hours once a month. How sad

It was sad only for the first year or so, than it really didn't matter, as we were lead to believe we were going to be there for the rest of our lives.
I once told my parents to not come visit anymore and towards the end they didn't.
We had a brotherly bond between us kids which the staff could not break.
When I found Mike 7 months ago it was like we had never have been apart.

At that time what was the discharge procedure? What I mean was if your parents wanted to remove you could they do so, or was it more up to the doctors?

 

Most of us were wards of the court, and we were stuck between the courts and the Doctors, our parents had no say in this.
The day you left was a quiet moment, and the rest of us kids only noticed you were gone after school when you were not there, nothing by the staff was ever said. We just knew.
Due to changes in the law, when you reached 18 the doors opened.
I was given a ride to the bus station with a boy scout back pack. Since I had a job off site I had about $1000 saved up so I bought my ticket to California.

WSH wrote:At that time what was the discharge procedure? What I mean was if your parents wanted to remove you could they do so, or was it more up to the doctors?

I really don't know what papers I was in there under. I remember one kid who kept running away and then he disappeared. So that's what I started doing. Around the 4th time I ran away, I spent a week or so in seclusion and then it was like my Mother was waiting for me when I was released from seclusion.
But then years later when I signed up for Disability(medi-cal) in California, A Social Security counsler told me that they had it on record that I was in TCSH on a "court order". So I don't know, I can only assume that my Mother admitted me to tcsh under a DR's advise. Once I got out, tcsh was never brought up again, and I never ask.
My Mother died 2-3 years later, I went to Texas to see my real father and then I went to California.
What I never understood was:
I always thought a"court order" was for juveniles. I was no juvenile at home. I never had time to get into trouble. We lived on a Dairy farm. My brother Al, me and my step Dad worked the farm and did logging on weekends and days off from school.

Ron and Mike,

I'm on page 33 with my reading here, and I haven't heard either of you say for sure what medicines you were on. The reason I'm asking is because when I look back to my times in hospitals I am pretty sure that medicines that I took wiped or hid many of my memories. Even later in my life when I was re-hospitalized for periods, my wife would later bring things up to me that I could not remember.

I also recognize a kind of brotherhood in any that were hospitalized for periods of time, for many of us, it might have been the only times we felt cared for... not necessarily by staff (but in my case, I remember good nurses) but maybe by fellow patients. What I'm saying is, there are times I actually wish I could go back, because I had help, and friendship and in some ways maybe I felt safer. Do you two know what I'm talking about?? Did you have times that you wished you could go back?

Where I was hospitalized, it was co ed, the ward wasn't divided by sex (that I can remember), we use to walk the hall in our hospital pj's and slippers and I'm pretty sure your neighboring room could be a girl.

One memory was that smoking wasn't "outlawed" like it is today, I think I could walk down the hall and smoke. I was trying to remember that last night... was there a "smoking room" or could you smoke everywhere. I think at the first hospital I was in, in 1980, I could smoke pretty much everywhere, and that was really pretty important to me.

Brian.

I was on Thorazine for 2 years than Milerol for 2 years and nothing after that.
Due to state laws we could not smoke because we were under 18.
I never felt cared for, it was like a prison for us and we felt like we did not belong there. I never wanted to go back I always had nightmares of going back.

Ron,

I guess that's where we would differ. I was hospitalized against my will (or I had no real choice in the matter and I couldn't leave), but I knew I needed help, even though I might not have admitted that at the time. I was miserable. I was on many medicines. Thorazine was the first I think. I remember that they couldn't get me to calm down, so they kept upping the amount, I remember 1200 mili?? of liquid. I remember them shooting me in the butt with Lithium, but I don't think I was on that long.

It's funny, I don't know you, but I look up to you and Mike, you encourage me a bit, and challenge my resolve to do better. I do well, at least on the outside, I work and am a father and a husband, but I still suffer a lot, or am still trapped in myself, I think I fake it a bit.

Smoking was my good friend that never let me down. Me and Pot never got along, it smelled like poop to me LOL!

I know when I was hospitalized, all I wanted was to get out, and I did escape once, but had to go back.

Brian.

I was on Milorill and thorizine, which did nothing to contol my siezures.
Thorazine was use for some as a punishment, just like "Haldol".

Smoking was a privelege that had to be earned:
There were some that could smoke. Their cigarettes were held in the office and they were only allowed one cigarette every 1-2 hours and I believe they were only allowed to smoke out on the caged porch under one of the attendants supervision.
Some of us who were too young to smoke used to drop a string down the caged porch to Hall#12 or Hall#6 and the old men would tie a cigarette onto the string for me. If the cigarette wasn't lit we would find some steelwool, wrap toilet paper around the steelwool and stick it into a light socket or outlet.
This would creat sparks and light the toilet paper on fire and that's how we light the cigarette.

Every time I meet someone who was in a mental hospital ect, instantly we become friends, it's like a silent brotherhood. We all know what it's like.

ronl wrote:Every time I meet someone who was in a mental hospital ect, instantly we become friends, it's like a silent brotherhood. We all know what it's like.

That's about the same way I was.
I meant my wife in a mental Health/Phsycic ward...... She was Bi-Polar.