Coloring with the Catholics: My Story of Criminal Mental Health Care and Higher Ed Gaslighting in Larry Nassar’s Michigan (New Part Five): Getting Locked Inside a Catholic Looney Bin: In God We Fuck? Sure, For a Buck!

UNDER CONSTRUCTION: THANK YOU!

I’m still editing after initial construction in spring 2019. In order to polish a piece, I need to edit a lot and still need an outside editor. I publish while still under construction because I need accumulating actual mental torture to stop.

This defense attempts to correct the record. It requires an elaborate time structure (which requires an extra amount of very painful editing). And documentation when one is falsely accused of delusion, hallucination and psychosis. This is not a memoir. This is me still trying to save my life from retaliatory criminal (not forensic) psychiatry.

Since the spring and summer of 2019, when I first drafted this website, I’ve been filing rounds of Michigan Civil Rights complaints in response to current retaliation and harassment from my many attackers (school, police, Catholics, state of Michigan), as well as surviving. My complaints have been accepted and are still under investigation, delayed due to COVID. They are means toward possible legal redress, as I understand it.

Big changes. A third set of medical records delivered to me mysteriously arrived in the mail in late 2019, thanks to the feds somehow. It does not match the other two copies, which don’t match each other. My explication in this chapter as it stands needs major revision and update. I knew things were very wrong after April 1, 2019, when St. Mary Mercy retaliated with the Livonia Police, while I was writing this chapter, but that spring, I did not locate the problem in the medical records properly. I could not, by design. Because the Livonia Catholics at St Mary Merciless, now owned by Trinity Health, suppressed most records. New records never before seen until late 2019 prove my claims: I was never evaluated by Dr. Andrew Muzychka, who belongs in jail for perjury and human trafficking. Here is the complaint to the Michigan Department of Human Rights about retaliation on April 1, 2019. I was not able to read and really analyze the third set of medical records until I wrote this argument, in 2022. This process of sleuthing my murder by criminal psychiatry and ideally winning back my life is taking so long. It’s traumatic, costly, painful but necessary.

State of Michigan AG Dana Nessel: Human trafficking charges! Statute of limitations is twenty five years.

I wish I could say this document is in great shape, but I can’t. The argument is there, the evidence is there, but no one can edit their own work. I was under time pressure, pressure from Kiwi Farms harassment, and related pressure at my customer service phone job, which I soon lost.

“On March 5, 2013, patients rights advocate Jennifer Gorman limited the scope of her findings to cover criminal violations committed by St. Mary Mercy staff in the psychiatric ward.”

. . . meaning she purposely ignored what happened in the emergency room, which is where Dr. Andrew Muzychka did not evaluate me.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1mlMSQJZbJPfeObotPjfFflvmDPkLvz8_/view?usp=share_link

New Part Five Section Titles

• You Had No Right
• I’ll Show You “Misery“
• Why Did They Lie for One Another?
• Professionals Plagiarize More Than Students
• Second Bogus Clinical Certificate
• Locked Up While Shackled and Unconscious
• Misery, Mistry, Mystery,
• American Horror Story, My Week Locked Inside Catholic Siberia
• My Life As Frances
• Human Trafficked with a Smile
• Faking it
• Endure: Just Keep Going!
• I Had My Own Therapist and Master Plan, Thank You!
• Catholic Looney Bin Coda, Or Catholics Build a Monument In Honor of their Own Holiness Using My Flesh

NOTE: I AM STILL PARSING MY MURDER AND THE ST MARY MERCILESS CATHOLIC LOONEY BIN PAPERWORK. THE DEAD AND BLOWN APART HAVE A DIFFICULT TIME WRITING. EXTREMELY EXCRUCIATINGLY DIFFICULT SECTION TO COMPOSE. THANK YOU FOR YOUR UNDERSTANDING.

by Gina Fournier

Chapter One: You Had No Right

Land of Motown Community College bogus paper trail, murdering me with criminal mental health care, continues.

St. Mary Merciless emergency room admission paperwork. 10:56 am. February 22, 2013.

Lots wrong here, beginning with my address.

I was verbal, complained Stupid Cop. They could have asked me questions, but St. Mary Merciless staff did not bother.

They had time, but I was not asked my religious denomination or my employee status, nor was I evaluated by Dr. Andrew Muzychka.

~ * ~

If I had been treated humanely and asked questions connected to this emergency room admission form, I would have given my employer’s name and said Land of Motown Community College set me up!

~ * ~

“Rlg: UNABLE TO ASK”

Not true! No Catholics! If asked, I would have made clear: NO CATHOLICS!!!!!!!

“UNEMPLOYED”

Not true!

I wasn’t being paid or allowed to teach, but I was still an employee of Land of Motown Community College, my suicide swatter.

I was threatened directly with termination, but I was still an employee.

Which is probably why I was kept by the Livonia Catholics, because I was an employee with insurance, good insurance, teachers’ Cadillac coverage.

~ * ~

Inside the St. Mary Merciless emergency room, after Stupid Cop handed me off to a part-time candy-striper, or something, I was taken to a special psychiatric emergency room, I guess, because the halls were dark and un-populated. 

I was undressed and guarded.

There was no doctor on site. 

I know that does not make sense.

~ * ~

I know her name.  I hate her name.  Nicole Shattuck.

The only person to talk to me in the St. Mary Merciless emergency room the day I died was a female student intern.  She could have stopped this whole thing, but she did not. 

I said to her, I hope you have a heart, mind and a soul.

Unfortunately, she did not.

~ * ~

I did not meet the standard for involuntary detainment in a psychiatric ward.

I could take care of myself, I knew which end was up, and I was in no danger of physically hurting anyone.

~ * ~

My pain is so great, this life I have now, without justice or even acknowledgment that I am a victim of a heinous snowball of crime, is not worth it.

I say during my daily worse moments.

Every single morning when I wake up trapped in hell.

~ * ~

I did not meet the standards for involuntary detainment in a psychiatric ward.

I was not suicidal.

No one has the right.

The World Health Organization considers involuntary detainment to be a form of torture. I know it’s a form torture.

You had no right!

You had no right!

~ * ~

The St. Mary Merciless portion of the Land of Motown Community College false narrative begins with a female student intern, Nicole Shattuck, who paid more attention to Stupid Cop and sexist societal clues, like maybe my naturally curly messy morning hair, rather than my flesh and blood words.

Nicole Shattuck carried forward the plagiarism and perjury created by Stupid Livonia Cop Owen Keaton, which was inspired by Land of Motown Community College.

The female student intern spread misinformation about me to the rest of the St. Mary Merciless staff, like an infection.

~ * ~

Recap. How I got to this point. The dubious words “mental health” launched this attack inside the one page letter written by my nemesis, dated April 13, 2012, nearly a year before I was suicide swatted, February 22, 2013.

Between May and December 2012, Land of Motown Community College hack shrinks #1 and #2, The Wolf and The Terminator, upped the ante, as they were hired to do.

On paper, according to them, after one visit a piece, I was maybe probably a dangerous psychotic, who should be kept separated from the community–although nothing had happened to precipitate such severe pronouncements.

I had not physically attacked, or threatened to physically attack anyone in any way ever.

The Land of Motown Community College hack shrinks did not communicate with the Livonia cops or the Livonia Catholics, but they spoke through me, through my body, through the trauma they caused.

Their hostile disingenuous evaluations equal unethical, if not criminal mental health abuse, and abuse hurts.

Mind raped.

You can’t imagine.

~ * ~

Chapter Two: I’ll Show You “Misery”

By the time I was suicide swatted, my Friday morning, February 22, 2013 claim on Facebook of being in “misery” was earned.

But that does not mean that I as suicidal.

~ * ~

The school’s attack is almost hidden inside my suicide swatter’s misleading and incomplete fax to Livonia Police.

But not quite. The Livonia Police donned blinders that they wear by choice to this day.

If they had checked my Facebook page, they would have seen SAVE MY LIFE, but they didn’t bother.

No one at St. Mary Merciless bothered to check either.

They kept me for week, so they had time to review.

~ * ~

The fax transmitted by Land of Motown Community College was sent to Livonia Police minus my Facebook post stating my position February 22, 2013, to SAVE MY LIFE, not kill myself.

My true nature was buried.

On purpose.

~ * ~

The school misled the cops, who then misled the hospital, which was easy to do.

It was easy to do because of the low level of expertise evident among hospital staff.

If hospitals know there is no legal recourse for poor medical care, they aren’t encouraged to hire the best staff, or maintain adequate staffing levels, or uphold the state mental health code.

~ * ~

The word and concept of “misery” wove through the unoriginal and repetitive St. Mary Merciless staff reports . . .

. . . completely out of context

. . . as planned.

~ * ~

Here is the single piece of Facebook evidence used to murder me, which most participants in my demise did not see or read:

“Many many many important posts in which I spent a huge amout of time that should be showing on timeline publicly are missing between Feb 14 and Feb 9. William MacQueen’s bullshit discharge letter, two April 2012 letters from the same evil one and online documentation about John Bonnell the ENG teacher at Ronald Reagan Democrat community college that wretched evil MacQueen harassed before me are gone from public sight. I have stated that I am creating a paper trail to document the illegal and extremely damaging activity of the school. I have promised to stop when they stop torturing me. I am not being paid. My husband is dead, to which the school contributed, and I [sic] opretty much would like to die too, The world can [sic] fuxck off at this point. Someone please come to my home and kill me, and put me out of my deep misery. Where are those posts that should be showing on my timeline?”

This post was one of seven posts that morning (posted in the previous section) which together make clear I was trying to “SAVE MY LIFE,” not suicidal.

~ * ~

I was miserable.

My marriage had suddenly disintegrated due to gaslighting, then my husband died before he could divorce me.

I was miserable, because my career was being dismantled by Land of Motown Community College.

I was miserable because my evil labor attorney nemesis, William MacQueen, was being helped by my greedy bully union teacher peers, who seemed eager to destroy my life.

~ * ~

I was miserable.

I still am.

Even worse.

Without equal protection and justice for crimes committed against me? And the retaliation that follows?

Much worse.

~ * ~

Near the end of a long paragraph with seven meaty sentences, on February 22 2013, before my life ended, the sentence before I discussed my “misery,” I posted, “The world can [sic] fuxck off at this point.”

The misspelling of one of my favorite words (fuck) is a clear indication that I was still composing and had not yet edited my thoughts and expression.

~ * ~

The former funky English teacher should not need to explicate her own rather casual comments, but she does.

~ * ~

In first draft, maybe drinking a first cup of coffee, or before that first cup, I exclaimed SARCASTICALLY to the universe, including 70-90 or so Facebook friends, at the time, “I have promised to stop when they stop torturing me. I am not being paid. My husband is dead, to which the school contributed, and I [sic] opretty much would like to die too, The world can [sic] fuxck off at this point. Someone please come to my home and kill me, and put me out of my deep misery. Where are those posts that should be showing on my timeline?”

That final sentence of the paragraph (italics added) carries the weight of my intent.

Terry McCauley, Land of Motown Community College top cop, only read: “My husband is dead, to which the school contributed, and I [sic] opretty much would like to die too, The world can [sic] fuxck off at this point. Someone please come to my home and kill me, and put me out of my deep misery.” It’s the accented idea that was smothered, the paragraph’s actual meaning erased.

My “misery” comment is merely frosting, a sentence-long adjective, a description intended to accent with ferocity my battle against the Land of Motown Community College bogus paper trail . . .

. . . going forward.

~ * ~

No one who knew me took me seriously.

Because I am not a suicidal person.

My paragraph ended with a relative war chant promising battle, not suicide.

~ * ~

On purpose, I was quoted out context, my actual intention to SAVE MY LIFE obscured, by my Land of Motown Community College suicide swatter and thereafter to this day years I am still quoted incompletely and inaccurately by all involved.

I’m still dismissed as suicidal and mentally unstable.

Now, after all this time telling my story and being ignored and becoming the object of retaliation, I am tortured, but that’s different.

~ * ~

Grief. Sarcasm. Anger. Frustration.

Normal human emotions.

I was planning to sue the crap out of Land of Motown Community College.

I was planning on a future and winning the battle, not thinking about offing myself, not at all, not one bit.

~ * ~

I’ve been forced to nitpick.

I scrolled through my Facebook page from February 22, 2013, as I recorded the Livonia Police DVDs for Youtube upload off my computer screen.

Given the timeline and available facts, I think the my SAVE MY LIFE post may be an edit, possibly a replacement, of the mishandled “misery” post that used to hang me.

~ * ~

Wow. I think that’s the case.

I’ve spent a lot of time reviewing.

I’m pretty dame sure the post SAVE MY LIFE is a replacement of “misery.”

~ * ~

I still edit and delete social media posts a great deal.

~ * ~

To combat Land of Motown Community College, I use social media as an uneasy balance of diary and documentation.

So kill me!

~ * ~

That’s a fucking joke.

You don’t have to like my humor, but you have no right to use it against me in a criminal fashion.

~ * ~

The word “misery” does not appear in my SAVE MY LIFE post.

Neither does my sarcasm.

~ * ~

St. Mary Merciless emergency room.

Land of Motown Community College bogus paper trail.

No doctor.

Female student intern.

11:24 am. according to 2013 records.

But not 2019 records. The 2019 records were erased of this running time stamp.

~ * ~

Forget the official Wayne County Probate court documentation.

This is the dumb broad who locked me up.

Notice the spelling error made by this female student intern with perhaps no training in the pseudo-science of mental health care, at this point in her nascent career.

She spelled “delusional” incorrectly.

About what was I supposedly delusional?

“HISTORY OF PRESENT ILLNESS:”“The patient presents with PT is a 49 yo female hx of asthma is brought in by police for suicidal ideation, extreme agitation, was speaking loudly with tangential speech.  Pt stated that Land of Motown Community College was trying to drive her insane and wanted to ruin her life. Pt stated that the pressure from ‘emotional pain’ lead to her husbands death in December. The pt also stated that the police are making up stories about her and that she needs to go home and take care elderly dog off her bed before he breaks his legs. The pt is agitated and delusional.  The pt but admits to asking people to come and ‘take her out of her misery’ and ‘kill me’ on Facebook posting. According to police friends on the pt. became concerned and called them.”

~ * ~

My actual line about “misery” is used out of context, by the female student intern, as directed.

~ * ~

On his petition for hospitalization, Stupid Cop listed of litany of quotations, in phrase form, using plagiarism and committing perjury in his court submission.

He stated in official court papers things I supposedly I said, but I did not say or mean:

“didn’t wish to live anymore”

“put out of her misery”

“doesn’t want to live anymore”

“I want to be taken out of my pain”

“I wouldn’t kill myself, I want someone else to kill me”

“please kill me”

~ * ~

Stupid Cop clearly skipped too many English classes and was not held to proper use of quotation marks by his instructors.

Of course, I would not use the third person pronoun “her” to describe myself.

Please note, sexist Stupid Cop did not bother to invent quotes to support his claim that I “became verbally abusive” when the Livonia Police Fuck the Bitch Squad showed up.

~ * ~

At St. Mary Merciless, the female student intern repeated what Stupid Cop said that I said, but I did not say to him or her at all:

“take her out of misery”

“kill me”

Again, like Stupid Cop, apparently the female student intern also skipped English class and was allowed to practice plagiarism in conjunction with quotations.

I’ve been doubly motherf*cked by English teachers.

~ * ~

I need this female student intern, who was given a medical license three years later by the state of Michigan, to be held accountable.

Her current patients should be publicly informed of her gross negligence resulting in catastrophe for me.

~ * ~

Teacher feedback for this female student intern’s written work:

Say more.

Provide support for “dellusional” (correct spelling, too).

Double check sources. Who called the police?

What is delusional about caring for an elderly dog in one’s care?

Do you have proof her employer is not trying to drive her insane? Are you familiar with gaslighting?

Have you had any training in psychiatry?

Are you familiar with the basics of sexism?

Are you aware that women can be sexist toward other women?

Are you aware of the checkered and sexist history of the pseudo-science of mental healthcare?

~ * ~

How many minutes did you spend evaluating Gina Fournier?

~ * ~

Why did you lie for Andrew Muzychka, who was not on the scene?

Were you having an affair with Andrew Muzychka?

~ * ~

Why me? Why this dumb broad? Why didn’t her parents abort?

~ * ~

What is delusional about caring for your dog?

~ * ~

The student intern talked to the Livonia Cops, to Stupid Cop specifically, who spread the false word about me.

Very briefly I told her my story, but she did not believe me.  Because of societal sexism.

I did not admit to being suicidal.  My dog did need me. Land of Motown Community College was after me, and suicide swatted me again, a year and a half later, June 9, 2014, because they weren’t stopped from doing more harm.

~ * ~

Critically, in her notes, the female student intern also said incorrectly that my friends had called the police.

Why wouldn’t said friends then also accompany me to the hospital, if they had really called?

~ * ~

The female student intern’s hospital record was copied by other staff, who did the same.

Like multiple students cheating off one student’s test paper, St. Mary Merciless human trafficking mental ward staff copied each other’s words, false words, about me, that kept me locked up unnecessarily for a week.

The female student intern further muddied the terrain.

~ * ~

Chapter Three: Why Did they Lie for One Another?

My illegal looney bin lock up was determined alone by the female student intern.

The female student intern complicated matters for sure because of her unprofessional teacher-student relationship with the male doctor who did not evaluate me, who signed the first or two required clinical certificates, with no report just a few check marks.

The two of them, the male doctor and female student intern, cooked up a story: he supervised her while she evaluated me.

Then an hour or so later he evaluated me.

Which did not happen.

~ * ~

I requested medical records from St. Mary Merciless twice, immediately in 2013, and a second set, in 2019.

The second set of records I was sent in the spring of 2019 is missing most of the staff reports written throughout the week, which comprise the great bulk of my total original records from 2013.

The second set of records, which is very slight, is also missing reports I believe to be clearly fabricated written by my assigned psychiatrist, who played hooky.

In addition, upon close inspection, the female student intern’s evaluation record had been changed.

Not a lot, but tellingly.

~ * ~

In 2013, the female student intern’s full five page record, filled with pages of blood and urine analysis looking for things like cocaine level, is time stamped at the top of every page 11:24: 53 am EST.

This time stamp that has been removed from every page of the 2019 copy of the same record.

The 2013 St. Mary Merciless records consistently show that the male doctor did not sign any hospital records on February 22, 2013.

Because he was not present on February 22, 2013.

I did speak with the female student intern briefly, at around 11:30, as indicated, but the male doctor was not on sight, and he did not evaluate me, not at any time.

~ * ~

Regarding my use of “motherf*cker.”

Reflect.

Why no corollary term?

“Fatherf*cker.”

Answer?

Sexism.

~ * ~

I wish things were very different, less vulgar, more kind all around.

~ * ~

But things gets worse, in terms of injustice.

~ * ~

The St. Mary Merciless records are difficult to parse.

On purpose.

They state that the female student intern supposedly concluded her so-called psych evaluation of me by 11:54 am.

Furthermore, the records claim her evaluation was monitored by the male doctor who was not on site, the white male doctor who submitted bogus clinical certificate #1, with check marks: suicidal, yes.

According to the documentation, that guy, supposedly an hour later, at 1:00 pm, re-examined me directly himself, for 40 minutes.

Which did not happen. He was not on site, not where I was held, not when I was conscious.

We have never met.

~ * ~

The names of the male doctor and female student intern appear together at the top of the original records in a way that suggests collusion, knowing conspiracy.

The male doctor signed St. Mary Merciless hospital records with the following lie about supervising the female student intern:

“I have performed a history and physical examination of the patient and discussed the management of the patient. I have reviewed the resident’s note and agree with the documented findings and plan of care. I was personally present . . .”

No, he was not.

Perjury.

Lock him up!

~ * ~

Later, in the longest day, the female student intern alone signed her record on February 22, 2013, around 6:00 pm, when I was unconscious.

We haven’t talked about that yet.

~ * ~

Writing tip: Utilize empty pointing when you don’t want to talk about something.

~ * ~

Being locked up while unconscious.

~ * ~

What I don’t want to talk about: me being unconscious when I was transferred from the emergency room to the looney bin.

~ * ~

The later 2019 copy of the female student intern’s record was scrubbed by St. Mary Merciless.

To help cover up the male doctor’s absence.

To knowingly cover up crime.

~ * ~

The evaluations by the male doctor and the student intern did not happen, not as falsified by St. Mary Merciless staff, as documented in my medical records, especially when the rhetorical tool of compare and contrast is used.

As well, I was not “counseled” regarding diagnostic results, treatment plan or prescription, as it says in the 2013 copy of records.

The female student intern lied.

Maybe ‘counseling’ is says in a textbook or training manual, but that’s not what happened to me on February 22, 2013.

I was unconscious at the time!

~ * ~

They may have worked together, but not in front of me, not evaluating me.

He was not present when I spoke very briefly to her.

It has taken six years for me to calm down enough and deal with this “teaching addendum.”

~ * ~

Why did they lie for one another?

~ * ~

In the St. Mary Merciless emergency room, I was labeled delusional by a student intern who did not graduate as a doctor for another three years, who may have had no training in psychiatry, for the very real fact that my employer was hostile, had suicide swatted me maliciously, and my old dog girl Dalva did need care. 

Voila!

Criminal mental abuse in modern America, celebrated, normalized, encouraged, endorsed by the state of Michigan and the archdioceses of Detroit.

And my own Catholic family.

~ * ~

The female student intern listened with sexist untrained ears only.

~ * ~

I was locked up illegally in a Catholic looney because I objected to being stolen from my house and held unnecessarily and inhumanely at St. Mary Merciless.

That circumlocution is so Catholic.

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

~ * ~

Handcuffs give a bad impression.

~ * ~

I never saw this guy.  Not on the first day in the emergency room or any day I was jailed in the psychiatric ward. 

This should mean something.  My testimony should mean something. 

In a sexist society, much more sexist than it realizes, it has meant nothing.

~ * ~

On behalf of the male doctor, clinical certificate #1 was submitted to Wayne County Probate court with a few check marks: mentally (versus not mentally ill) bi-polar, delusional, suicidal. 

Someone else filled out the form, maybe even forged the signature.

I have never met the person whose name appears on this form.

Here’s the only distinct but unsupported sentence on clinical certificate #1:

“Pt. is verbally aggressive, guarded and uncooperative.”

Wait till she finally meets you!

I’ll show you “aggressive,” verbally, asshole!

~ * ~

Later the male doctor sent to my home a bill for about a grand, one of few bills I saw. 

~ * ~

The teachers’ union medical insurance arm, MESSA, took care of most everything hush-hush.

Too hush-hush.

~ * ~

Chapter Four: Professionals Plagiarize More than Students

The habit of smudging the veracity of paperwork, or lack thereof, not only through misleading wordspeak, but additionally through tricks of signature, date and time, began February 22, 2013, as practiced by Livonia Police, St. Mary Merciless, and the teachers union.

Land of Motown Community College had long been obfuscating and creating purposely misleading documentation.

~ * ~

Administrators, cops and doctors plagiarize more than community college writing students.

~ * ~

If I were me reading, I would still wonder: I got locked up for a week in a mental ward and a doctor got away with totally faking my admission! 

Wow. That is seriously bad luck.

Are you sure that’s what happened?

~ * ~

I’m still trying to figure out an explanation that sounds reasonable, believable, irrefutable, six years later. 

~ * ~

The state of Michigan requires two clinical certificates, two evaluations, signed by two doctors, for involuntary detainment, to be filed with the county, in this case, Wayne County, home of Detroit, Michigan. 

While they were breaking the law so inhumanely and cruelly at St. Mary Merciless, while they were holding me against need, inside the hospital, Jennifer Gorman, patients rights advocate, recipient rights officer, gave me this booklet, which lists the numerous ways St. Mary Merciless was actively breaking the law.

It was very difficult reading at the time, knowing I could not scream.

I could not take in all the words and information while I was being held illegally.

I would have exploded in rage and found a way to become a killer, or something.

If I had read and absorbed the information, I may have risked attending the monkey court session held without me, I guess, following my escape from Catholic Siberia.

Probably not, though.

I probably would not have attended under a court session any circumstances for risk of further lock up or court involvement.

I could have been court ordered to a psychiatrist who might force me to take medication.

Fuck.

Damned if you, damned if you don’t.

~ * ~

Thanks to the internet age and the hospital’s website, I have been able to put names to faces.  And to track.

For years I thought the female student intern and the male doctor I never met were the two people to hate, the two people who filed the two clinical certificates necessary for involuntary detainment, based on my 2013 medical records. 

I suspected a possible affair (and still do).  I don’t watch medical dramas, but I’m sure sex is on the agenda. 

I found out I was wrong, about who filed the second clinical certificate, years later, in 2018, when I received copies of the official documents filed with Wayne County Probate Court.

~ * ~

The Livonia Catholics know they broke the law. No doubt.

Records were withheld, in 2013.

To help cover Big Catholic hospital crime.

The second time they were sent, in 2019, records were changed and withheld.

And, OMG! The story grows forward as I uncover the past.

~ * ~

As vicious and cutthroat as the Vatican covering child raping priests and their bishop enablers, St. Mary Merciless hospital legal and security staff apparently concocted an extension to the 2013 false narrative obscured in records sent in 2019.

But it gets worse.

On April 1, 2019, on April Fool’s Day, St. Mary Merciless made false police reports about me to the Livonia Police saying I wished to burn down the hospital and threatened to do so, which I did not do.

I did suggest Jesus could also rape the in-house nuns like he raped me.

~ * ~

Why make false police reports? I guess to create a smoke screen to cover what St. Mary Merciless hospital records reveal.

Because they can.

~ * ~

Crap. This never ends.

I’m going to need to add a fourth section to “Coloring with the Catholics: My Story of Criminal Mental Abuse in Modern America.”

Part Four. Title? The Pope is on Crack? Burn Down Your Own Church?

I’ll figure it out.

~ * ~

Savvy readers are right: like the next day or that week, the first week in April of 2019, a rather famous Catholic Church caught fire.

What a coincidence. Want more? Check out the last name of the French priest named in news reports in conjunction with the fire.

~ * ~

It took me what some might consider a long time to obtain the actual legal documentation regarding the state’s decision to remove my civil rights from Wayne County Probate court.

It took five years, until spring 2018.

It took me the span of five years to discover that two bogus clinical certificates were filed with the county by doctors working at St. Mary Merciless, and that I had not previously seen the second. 

Why did it take so long?

There is three-year Jeremiah Johnson/Little House on the Prairie interlude in this story, beyond the looney bin, when I was again out of touch with the world.

~ * ~

Chapter: Second Bogus Clinical Certificate

Chronological order.

Land of Motown Community College Livonia Police St Mary Merciless human trafficking mental ward.

February 22, 2013.

Turns out, my assigned doctor in the mental ward, a brownish female, sort of like me, was even more crooked than I initially realized. 

~ * ~

One could say I needed more time to absorb this story.

But don’t say it around me, please.

~ * ~

St. Mary Merciless did not send a complete set of my records, the first time, I surmise now, in May 2019, in order to cover the fact that the second clinical certificate, handwritten not computer generated, was perhaps composed out of state, after the fact.

My assigned psychiatrist traveled by car out of state from Michigan to Pennsylvania, over the weekend I was held, she told me to my face.

It was an incredible admission amid an incredible story.

~ * ~

Why else would a doctor write medical records at the hospital not using a computer?

A computer was used for clinical certificate #1, by the male doctor I never met.

~ * ~

I was suicide swatted, police abducted and locked up without need against state law on a Friday morning before 10 am.

I briefly saw a disheveled female psychiatrist that evening well after sunset, but I was groggy from knock out drugs.

She said she would not evaluate me until I was awake.

~ * ~

Nevertheless, the disheveled female psychiatrist submitted at some point bogus clinical certificate #2, dated February 22, 2013, behind my back.

Which I found out finally while living up north, we call it in Michigan, at Lake Miramichi, in 2018, roughly a year ago.

~ * ~

The disheveled female psychiatrist, my assigned psychiatrist, did not inform me as the clinical certificate requires, that she was evaluating me to determine my freedom.

Neither did the absent male doctor or the female student intern earlier in the day.

Because for one thing neither the absent male doctor or the female student intern actually evaluated me.

I know when I’ve been evaluated, thanks to Land of Motown Community College hack shrink #1 and #2, The Wolf and The Terminator.

~ * ~

Patients rights advocate Jennifer Gorman gave me a copy of clinical certificate #1, in the hospital, though not within the legal time frame.

She did not give me a copy of clinical certificate #2 at all while I was held, which is one of many violations of the law outlined in the brochure about the law, which she gave me, while the law was being broken.

Maybe Jennifer Gorman did not give me a copy of clinical certificate #2 because clinical certificate #2 had not yet been created.

~ * ~

Here is clinical certificate #2 written by the disheveled female psychiatrist I met while groggy on the evening of the February 22, 2013.

She claimed she evaluated me beginning at 7 pm for 30 minutes ending at 7:30 when signed the form.

How could should both evaluate me and simultaneously fill out the form?

~ * ~

“My determination is that the person is [checked] mentally ill (has a substantial disorder of thought or mood that significantly impairs judgement, behavior, capacity to recognize reality, or ability to cope with the ordinary demands of life).”

“My diagnosis is: Bi-polar behavior Manic Type Acute relapse Psychotic”

~ * ~

This disheveled female psychiatrist was unchecked and out of control.

How dare she label me with a “relapse” of something that does not exist.

My assigned doctor imagined and fabricated a psychiatric medical history for me, without any knowledge of the Land of Motown Community College hack shrinks.

Which speaks very poorly for her profession.

~ * ~

Clinical certificate #2 written by the disheveled female psychiatrist I met while groggy on the evening of the February 22, 2013 uses sentences with broken syntax.

No fabricated quotes were repeated, but the content still willfully states untruths and meets the definition of perjury.

“Pt is very aggressive, loud, yelling, pounding on the desk. Says she has multiple losses recently. She feels very angry, frustrated, over her situation at the OCC. (unclear) paranoid quality of thought. She asked police officers to kill her. Pt. wrote threatening messages on line. She threaten to kill herself. Pt is very aggressive, unpredictable for harmful to others (unclear) to herself (unclear) very guarded. She was in 4 point restraint in EC. She is potential (highly) to hurt others–poor hygiene.”

~ * ~

“likelihood of injury of injury to self” [check]

How is a “likelihood” expressed with a simple check mark?

“likelihood of injury to others” [check]

ditto

“inability to attend basic physical needs” [not checked]

“inability to understand need for treatment” [checked]

ditto for the concept of “inability”

~ * ~

In her bogus clinical certificate, my assigned psychiatrist paraphrased the female student intern to carry forward the Land of Motown Community College false narrative about me.

I did not tell this woman I asked the police to kill me, because I did not ask the police to kill me.

I did not write threatening messages online.

I did insist on being released.

Wouldn’t you?

~ * ~

I object to my assigned psychiatrist’s description about my so called poor hygiene, given the circumstances.

And her own appearance.

~ * ~

What a mess.

~ * ~

A knotted ball does not lend itself to a chronological order.

~ * ~

Perhaps I soiled myself during the six hours I was knocked out unconscious obliterating the hours between being taken to the emergency room and waking up in the psychiatric ward.

“unconscious”

Still to be explicated.

~ * ~

Later, in records, this disheveled woman will call me disheveled.

~ * ~

Like clinical certificate #1, clinical certificate #2 lacked adequate effort and failed to meet the writing assignment.

What do you mean, “patient threatens to be discharged now”?

Please clarify with greater detail.

If you were suicide swatted, police abducted and illegally detained in a Catholic mental ward, wouldn’t you want out immediately, too?

~ * ~

Look it up.

Under the definition of “aggressive” in the dictionary is a picture of a woman demanding the right to be.

~ * ~

My assigned doctor in the psychiatric ward, the disheveled female psychiatrist, exhibited poor attendance in addition to plagiarism and irony.

She missed days, in violation of the laws for involuntary detainment.

To explain her absence, later the next week, she told me that she left town, like that was understandable and would not and should not bother me.

I did not see her over the weekend or much at all the next week.

Throughout the records she generated, my assigned psychiatrist simply fudged and repeated tidbits from the student intern and the bad paper trail that literally tied me down February 22, 2013 at St. Mary Merciless.

Please, don’t trust anything the disheveled female psychiatrist said.

Chapter Five: Locked Up While Shackled and Unconscious

Timeline.

I had been brought in at 10:56 am, according to my emergency room admission sheet.

Between 11:00 am and 1:00, I spoke again to Stupid Cop and spoke briefly to the female student intern. 

The female student intern says she evaluated me at 11:24 am, according to 2013 records.

In contrast to his bogus clinical certificate, the first doctor did not evaluate me at 1:00 pm for forty minutes, until 1:40 pm. 

Instead, I surmise, based on my reliable internal clock, at 1:00 pm I was shackled, drugged and knocked out. 

According to records, five hours later, the female student intern pronounced me suicidal and in need of lock up at 18:13, or 6:16 pm.

Where were was I physically within St. Mary Merciless at the time?

~ * ~

Something labeled a Face Sheet says I was transferred to the mental health unit at 18:21, at 6:30 pm, before clinical certificate #2.

(UNDER CONSTRUCTION: This timeline is further explicated to prove criminal detention by later records. Somewhere add completed timeline. According to later records erased by the hospital in 2019, I was transferred to the looney bin at 16:33, 4:33 pm unconscious, supposedly evaluated by the disheveled female psychiatrist from 7-7:30, though I was not, and not fully resuscitated until 19:27, about 7:30 pm. Double check)

~ * ~

My body was transferred from the St. Mary Merciless emergency room to the St. Mary Merciless psychiatric ward when exactly?

How can it be legal to hold a person and then create paperwork afterward to explain why?

~ * ~

I am still figuring out what happened to me, which may only make sense to other survivors of attack, who like me, want and need to understand, as well as heal, but know it takes a lifetime. 

Critical details, details very critical to me, keep falling into place, after a great deal of feet firmly on the ground sleuthing.

~ * ~

They drugged and knocked you out?

You were admitted unconscious?

To a mental ward?

To a Catholic mental ward?

Without evaluation?

Built by the Catholic nuns you hated as a kid?

~ * ~

Now, I can talk about how the Catholics knocked me out.

What a terrible long journey it has been to this point, and it’s far, far, far from over.

~ * ~

After briefly speaking with the student intern, before noon, I knew I had not been evaluated.

~ * ~

Early afternoon, February 22, 2013.

St. Mary Merciless human trafficking criminal mental ward emergency room.

Hours after Stupid Cop dumped my body with a virtual child.

Hours before I started to wake up groggy to see the disheveled female psychiatrist, who told me I was too groggy to be evaluated.

~ * ~

After noon. Approaching 1 pm, according to my internal clock.

I waited un-robed reclined on gurney inside the room in which I was held. 

No clock, no windows, no art, no signs.  Creepy.  Beige walls.  Dimmed fluorescent light.

~ * ~

Nothing happening.

My old dog home alone in need of care.

Daytime real life nightmare.

~ * ~

Two hours had passed since Stupid Cop dumped me. 

No doctor.

~ * ~ 

In that two hours, Stupid Cop returned to ask me my name.  Swear to God.  I joked that we were not dating when I saw his young face. 

In this period of time, I talked to the female student intern. 

Two or three young blond women poked their heads in the room. 

After I had already talked to the female student intern, I said get me a doctor, to no avail.

~ * ~

A few very young college aged hospital workers milled about waiting nervously, pretending not to be nervous.

~ * ~  

It was as if my own reading and writing students had revolted against me.

~ * ~ 

Two hours had passed by my internal clock from the time I had been deposited at St. Mary Merciless. Two hours.  No doctor.  The evaluation barely described in clinical certificate #1 never happened.

~ * ~

Disturbingly, I got constant “no” replies to my multiple requests to make a phone call. 

~ * ~

It was impossible to not become very concerned about my liberty.

~ * ~

Two hours.  My guess of time matches the cover up in the paperwork.  I was brought in at roughly 11 am and waited two hours until . . .

I was left alone to wait, my room guarded by a kid.

~ * ~

The action adventure portion of the longest day.

I saw that my college-age, slightly-built male guard had stepped away from his post outside the open door, where he had been reading pulp fiction in the dark hallway. 

There in front of me stood in the dark hallway three steps away a mobile computer terminal, turned on and unmanned. 

Quickly reacting, I stepped out into the hallway and started typing. 

I logged onto Google, I think.  I think I saw the Google logo, which is probably why I will always love Google.

~ * ~ 

I was headed to my G-mail, but then all hell broke loose. 

~ * ~

I was found. 

The all college-age staff, under the rank of nurse, I’d guess, the St. Mary Merciless staff on duty (not an impressive bunch) all returned.

In a rush.

~ * ~

I was jumped by a round of full grown adult white male goons.

A posse sprung to duty, for the second time that day, counting the Livonia Police Fuck the Bitch Squad. 

~ * ~

Very quickly, I was shackled hand and foot, which feels just as bad as you might imagine. 

~ * ~

I was drugged and apparently those drugs knocked me out.

~ * ~ 

I was transferred from the emergency room unconscious, but I don’t know when.

~ * ~ 

My St. Mary Merciless Records are not clear about anything, but a record timed 11:24 am says I was given Lorazepam 2 mg with haloperidol 5 mg, with two additional doses of lorazepam 2 mg, for a total of 6 mg, between about 1 pm and 6 pm, when I was transferred unconscious from the emergency room and admitted to the mental ward, in a different wing of the hospital.

~ * ~

Wait! Clinical certificate # 1 says I was evaluated until 13:30, 1:30 pm, but it does not mention a need for shackles or knock out drugs!

~ * ~

And it’s not clear my medical records admit to shackling me!

F*cking Catholics!

The fact seems to be partly buried in my assigned psychiatrist’s suspect reports and other staff reports erased by St. Mary Merciless in 2019.

~ * ~

Later, I researched the layout of the hospital, which I had avoided my entire life. 

The psychiatric emergency room and the psychiatric ward were not physically connected.

Were exactly was my body dumped all day?

~ * ~

Even when asleep, documentation dances in my head.

Social worker?

“SW consult was placed.”

What the fuck does that mean?

I did not speak to a social worker.

~ * ~

Back to the emergency room and retrace steps.

February 22, 2013, St. Mary Merciless emergency room.

~ * ~

I figured the law demanded a doctor. I told the few student age youngsters milling about to get me a doctor.

A doctor never came.

~ * ~

The St. Mary Merciless female student intern initiated at 11:54 am multiple-page record, five pages long, (continued below) says a lot.

I can hardly contain my rage.

~ * ~

This document contains the information compiled overtime disingenuously by the male doctor and the female student intern.

Notably, it was only signed by the male doctor the next day, February 23.

The female student intern time stamped this record at multiple times on February 22, 2013:

At 11:17 am St. Mary Merciless decided I was not pregnant.

At 11:24 am the record appears to have been generated.

At 13:50, 1:50 pm, the staff began drugging me, they admit, but do not admit to shackling me, or the fact that Muzychka, the male doctor, was not around.

At 14:45, 2:24 pm, they continued to drug me.

At 16:41, 4:41 pm, they continued to drug me.

At 06:18 PM the female student intern electronically signed this form and committed me to the psych unit.

~ * ~

The female student intern’s record blurs who made the call to commit me, what happened and when to my body all day.

“Pt met inpatient psych criteria and was admitted for suicide risk. Pt was informed of the decision.”

The patient did not meet criteria for looney bin lock up.

The patient was not informed.

The patient was also not evaluated at 13:00 until 13:40 by the male doctor.

The male doctor’s bogus clinical certificate timed ten minutes before St. Mary Merciless started drugging me does not call for drugging me or shackling me.

I was shackled at around 13:00, when I was not evaluated by the male doctor who was not on site.

This hospital record by the female student intern admits to drugging me but does not admit shackling me.

My assigned psychiatrist (the one who played hooky) admitted that my body showed up in the psych unit shackled.

~ * ~

Lord of the Flies-inspired college student-aged St. Mary Merciless staff on site February 22, 2013, knocked me out, stowed me somewhere in the hospital, maybe the emergency room, for five or six hours, then transferred my body to a criminal human trafficking Catholic psychiatric ward with total disregard for my humanity.

~ * ~

Over the course of years, I keep finding out what happened to me in the past, how I got locked up illegally and inhumanely in a criminal Catholic mental ward, with details still emerging in the present, over time piecing together a timeline through sleuthing, which is why it is very difficult to tell this story in chronological order from the present day. 

~ * ~

What happened to my body in between the time of clinical certificate #1, ending at supposedly approximately 1:40 pm and my transfer from one part of the hospital to another at approximately 6:30 pm?

Where was I all day?

~ * ~

Admission Assessment. 18:45. Not a doctor or a nurse. I do not recall any psychical assessment of my entire body. Because I was still knocked out groggy? Because no evaluation happened?

This record is another record not included when St. Mary Merciless released a second set of records in 2019.

Most of the remaining records shared fall under this category: scrubbed.

For years when I looked at this drawing of a naked man without a penis or scrotum, with markings around the wrist to indicate an intravenous drip, I could not calm down enough to ascertain what the illustration was claiming to say about me.

Was it claiming that I tried to slit my wrist?

No.

Was it admitting that I was shackled?

No.

~ * ~

The Catholics shackled me like they hang their Jesus, both wrists and both feet, but they restrained me without hesitation or transparency, not in care, like their Jesus, but in cruelty.

~ * ~

I was admitted to the psychiatric ward without evaluation and unconscious, but I can’t really trust St. Mary Merciless regarding the details.

~ * ~

Naturally, I didn’t know what happened at all when it first happened, but I was able to begin piecing together the facts, once the drugs wore off, once the week passed, once I talked a nurse into signing my release. However, the details are still falling into place only through very close very painful scrutiny of the documentation.

~ * ~

Chapter Six: Misery, Mistry, Mystery

February 22, 2013.

Such a long day to die.

Stupid Cop dumped me at the St. Mary Merciless emergency room just before 11 am.

At 8 pm, my assigned psychiatrist, the disheveled brownish female psychiatrist, filed a record labeled a few different things including at the top “Psych Evaluation Form.”

The title of the record was changed in the later set of records to “Psych/Neropsych/Chem Dep.”

Why change the title of a record?

To make it look like I was admitted for substance abuse?

~ * ~

So many questions.

Like many other reports, this record is date/signed by my assigned psychiatrist at a much later date.

Why didn’t my assigned psychiatrist sign this “psych evaluation form” until 4/08/2013, six weeks later, according to a time stamp at the top?

The record was printed in April, on 4/29/13, but why did she wait so long to sign her name to her own record? How could she possible remember well?

Why are there so many time and date stamps, which seem to contradict one another?

At the end of her notes, the record says it was “dictated” by my assigned psychiatrist on 02/22/2013 with two different additional stamps, D: 02/22/2013 20:06:20, T: 02/23/2013 11:33:00.

D for date? T for time? Why multiple dates and times?

~ * ~ 

There is plenty of reason to distrust the records created at St. Mary Merciless, especially those written by the hooky-playing disheveled female psychiatrist assigned to me who I barely saw.

~ * ~

Here’s what the disheveled female psychiatrist wrote, dated that first night, and timed 20:06:20, about 8 pm.

~ * ~

To cover truth, write extra bogus reports that most people won’t read.

~ * ~

This three-page medical record is distinct from the bogus clinical certificate the disheveled female psychiatrist submitted to the Wayne County probate court.

The following Psych Evaluation form (or Psych/Neropsych/Chem Dep. form) penned by my assigned psychiatrist, contains sentences and paragraphs supposedly written directly after the disheveled psychiatrist’s bogus clinical certificate, but they differ in composition.

The clinical certificate contains broken ideas, chopping word constructions, while this report is more thoughtfully composed, though it was composed only minutes later.

“CHIEF COMPLAINT, PRESENTING ILLNESS:”

“This patient is 49 years old.  She was brought to the EC by 4 policeman as the patient had threatened to commit suicide. She was extremely agitated, paranoid, with delusional thinking.  Per Emergency Center report, she was speaking very loudly, with tangential speech.  She stated that Land of Motown Community College was trying to drive her insane and wanted to ruin her life.  She had further stated she was under severe pressure and experiencing emotional trauma related to her husband’s death in December 2012.  The patient reported that the police were making up all these stories about her and that she needed to go home to take care of her elderly 15 year old dog.  The patient was highly agitated and delusional. . . .”

~ * ~

The disheveled female psychiatrist created original sentences based on what? When?

I’ll never know. But I know she knowingly lied and broke the law.

At the start of her false narrative summarizing my situation at home and at work, my assigned disheveled female psychiatrist used paraphrase, not quotation, to walk a sneaky line between describing my real story AND making her perjury in bogus clinical certificate #1 look good .

My guess is that this woman was wise and conscience of her criminal use of rhetorical choices.

Still, there is nothing crazy about caring for one’s pets.

~ * ~

So much psychiatry happens with out the patient, much more than I realized.

~ * ~

I did not need to be admitted to the psychiatric unit.

The pain it causes me to read these words, especially “delusional,” which were not true but so callously applied to me, college teacher, published author me, makes me wish I were suicidal, anything to end this story. 

~ * ~

My dog was taken by the Livonia police to the Michigan Humane Society, I discovered, when I was unable to do anything about it. 

I called the dog pound from inside St. Mary Merciless and said I would be there when I could. 

When I got home, I found a letter threatening to euthanize my dog if I did not come get her on the date before I was released from St. Mary Merciless. 

Of course, I needed to take care of my dog.  What’s delusional about that?  

~ * ~

My pain today is unmanageable, yet I’m trapped in it.

~ * ~

It seems to me both reports supposedly written on the evening of the February 22, 2012, by my assigned disheveled female psychiatrist, clinical certificate #2 and this “psych evaluation form” (later called “Psych/Neropsych/Chem Dep.”) were composed later because there was no way she had all the information misrepresented.

Unless I speak very clearly even when groggy on knock out drugs. 

I’d guess now that this report below was written later, maybe nearer to the date it was signed, 04/08/2013, but who knows.

~ * ~

In this three-page record, my assigned psychiatrist admits that I was not in a “reliable state to give the proper psychiatric history.”

Though she did anyway.

And she was wrong to blame “manic symptoms” as cause of my purported ‘unreliable’ state.

I was ‘unreliable’ because I was still coming back to consciousness and alarmed at my unnecessary and cruel physical detainment in the St. Mary Merciless Catholic Looney Bin.

~ * ~

Page two of three.

“SOCIAL HISTORY:”

“The patient is a widow. She was separated 2 or 3 months prior to her husband’s death. They both had several marital problems. The patient admitted alcohol use regularly, 5 servings of alcohol, weekly basis. She abuses marijuana. She is an English teacher at OCC and reports that was working to find out the root of the illegal activities at OCC, and the people were trying to giver her more problems.”

Everything discussed incorrectly about me in this section, about my marriage and my dead husband, about my use of alcohol and pot, about my employment, was not broached on the night of February 22, 2013 between me and my assigned psychiatrist.

This document was composed at a later date.

That’s my conclusion.

I don’t see any other possible conclusion.

~ * ~

Here, the syntax of my assigned psychiatrist with the disheveled appearance and poor attendance utilizes complete sentences.

Compared to the her clinical certificate, with it’s flight of ideas, her paragraphs are more cohesive.

Still her goal was to make the perjury in her bogus clinical certificate look good.

“MENTAL STATUS EXAMINATION:”

“The patient is about 5 feet 7 inches tall 49 y/o widow. She weighs about 180 pounds.  She is in a hospital gown at the present.  She was 4 point restraints when she was brought to Mental Health from EC because of severe agitation, aggressive behavior, and unpredictability of the violent behavior.  The patient at this time is not in a reliable state to give the proper psychiatric history because of her manic symptoms.  However, she did say she has never been hospitalized in a Mental Health unit, but she does see some doctor, Dr. John, who possibly might be the psychologist.  The patient denied being on any psychotropic medication.  The patient is highly paranoid and delusional at this time.  She was pounding on the desk.  She wanted this writer to contact her outside psychologist; however it was impossible as she did not have phone number and also the possibility the office might be closed at this time.  Judgement is poor.  Lack of insight.  Coping poorly.  She is highly unpredictable for self-harm or harmful behavior to others.”

~ * ~

My head explodes when I read this report.

There is so much wrong here. Every sentence a word knife or a word bomb on some plane actually ripping my flesh, my soul, my brain, my mind, that part of me not contained inside my body, which never the less hurts terribly still.

~ * ~

Everyone is “highly unpredictable for self-harm or harmful behavior to others.”

~ * ~

Please note: This modern invention called the internet was in full swing on this date.

Dr. John’s contact information could have been easily located.

More proof the Catholics act like it’s still the middle ages!

~ * ~

My responses and demands as described, at all times by all St. Mary Merciless staff, on February 22, 2013, the staff I actually met, to see my own therapist, which I did make to my assigned psychiatrist that horrible night, and earlier in that horrible day to the Lord of the Flies college-aged staff, to make phone calls or to be released to care for my dog, were not unreasonable.

~ * ~

My head is going to explode.

~ * ~

My head exploded.

~ * ~

Below, the third and final page of the same record containing a false narrative likely written by assigned disheveled female psychiatrist weeks after I was released from her criminal care.

BTW. Ignore my handwritten number markings on this three page record, which I only just realized is one record.

~ * ~

I may not know much about Big Hospital, but I know enough of what happened on February 22, 2013 to know I was raped by the Catholic Jesus who raised me at Livonia Catholics schools.

~ * ~

Making sense of the senseless of the St. Mary Merciless hospital records has taken a long time.

~ * ~

Psychiatrists play god.

Labeling me a “relapsed” bi polar patient.

Right out of the hack shrink play book.

Act like you know what you’re talking about.

Take charge, assume authority and act infallible.

~ * ~

I had not been allowed to contact the outside world. Asking to make a phone call was not unreasonable. Of course I wanted to at least leave a message for my own therapist, no matter what time it was.

~ * ~

“paranoid”

“delusional”

“judgement poor”

“coping poorly”

Not true.

Not fair.

Not right.

~ * ~

Third and final page.

My trickster assigned disheveled female psychiatrist’s doctor’s disingenuous criminal evaluation likely cribbed later concluded: “The patient at this time insists to be released. Second cert completed for involuntary admission, court-ordered psychiatric treatment.”

Nice combination of sentences: release me versus lock her up!

~ * ~

My assigned disheveled female psychiatrist’s bogus clinical certificate and separate
so-called evaluation and were completed eight hours after Stupid Cop dumped my body at St. Mary Merciless.

Her reports were created largely without me, and despite the fact that I was not fully conscious.

~ * ~

No one actually checked Facebook.

~ * ~

Anger?

Appropriate then and now.

How to deflect my anger at being labeled so callously with the phrase “lack of insight”? While drugged by my jailers?

~ * ~

I have no idea why people might wonder why I am angry, why I am still angry.  My assigned psychiatrist in the asylum used the concept of anger against me in her notes, as if it would be most normal to act reserved, polite and stereotypically British in response to being plucked from society and held secretively in an American Catholic gulag for the glory and benefit of others, costing the total ruination of self.

~ * ~

NEW SECTION BREAK. SECTION LIKELY TO BE CALLED SOMETHING LIKE American Horror Story, My Week Locked Inside Catholic Siberia

~ * ~

Chapter: My Life As Frances

Ever see the movie Frances (1982) with Jessica Lange?

I did. Right after I escaped Ladywood High School, on campus with St. Mary Merciless Catholic Looney Bin.

I escaped the Catholics in 1981, the year I graduated, but they recaptured me thirty-two years later, in 2013.

I did borrow from Jessica Lange in Frances. 

Pounding on the table.

Not outrageously.

No more than a judge pounding a gavel.

To emphasis my demand for immediate release.

I can only dimly remember this real-life interlude, when I woke up in the looney bin after dark, groggy, from Big Pharma drugs.

https://youtu.be/eilqT7dLoBY

~ * ~

The truth can be unfortunate and difficult to handle.

In the early 1980s, at a movie theater in the Midwest, maybe the Penn in Plymouth, Michigan, I was struck with the certainty that my life would end up like the story in the film, about a real life movie actress who eschews societal expectations and is locked up in a mental ward with her mother’s help. 

I have been convinced of nothing stronger in my entire life.  Call my psychic, if you like.

Do not call my crazy.

Don’t.

Take your free speech elsewhere.

~ * ~

Might as well set some of the backdrop for Catholic Siberia here.

My disturbed and estranged Catholic mother was involved with my arch nemesis, at Land of Motown Community College, who arranged to have me picked up and delivered to St. Mary Merciless. 

My own mother talked to the interim human resources labor attorney at Land of Motown Community College, in 2012, I was informed later, after the looney bin.

In 2017.  While housed in Osceola County jail.

Part of the retaliation I’ve endured to eschewing societal expectations.

My mother, a former Detroit Public school teacher, the world’s last home economics teacher, told me she talked to my employer’s hired assassin, who was aiming at her daughter. She admitted this juicy tidbit to me, under duress, while I grilled her.

I was talking to her for the first time since the attack on my life was launched, for the first time in over five years.

I was talking to her on a jail-room old fashioned pay phone, the type also found in St. Mary Merciless Catholic Looney Bin.

My mother believed the lies my nemesis told her about me. He told her I was inferring with the lives of my co-workers.

That’s what she told me, what filled my ears while I was detained again. 

~ * ~

Some say we never heal and can only learn to cope.

~ * ~

In the spring of 2012, when Land of Motown Community College attacked, my maternal grandmother, my Catholic mother’s Catholic mother, Gramma Hilda Dugas, finally died.

She died at Angela Hospice, in Livonia, on campus with the Felician Nun motherhouse, my alma mater, Ladywood High School, and St. Mary Merciless Catholic Looney Bin.

She was 102 years old and had been threatening to die for decades.

~ * ~

Final scenes were poignant. My own mother’s relationship with her mother was not good. Catholicism and sexism were passed between generations, grandmother, mother, me, and it did not help.

I vowed I would not repeat the pattern of loveless duty I witnessed.

I could not handle my mother, who forced me to attend Livonia Catholic schools, regardless of their poor quality, well during good times.

After the funeral, I told her I would never step in another Catholic Church in my life. She thought I said I did not want to attend her funeral, which is the case now, but wasn’t then.

Then, in April 2012, when this whole mess started, I stopped seeing her.

I thought temporarily.

~ * ~

Criminal mental abuse wormholes into your brain in so many ways.

Chronological order. Timeline. The looney bin.

~ * ~

ADD NEW CHAPTER BREAK: Communication Breakdown, No Phone Calls

With great effort, I check my St. Mary Merciless medical records. 

Reading my St. Mary Merciless medical records is much worse than reading the two hack shrink reports.  I see something new or see something in a new light every time, and I am blown to pieces. 

I have sewn myself back together so many times, I look like Frankenstein, at least on the inside.

~ * ~

Even my Catholic mother did not take her children to the nuns’ hospital, which is saying a lot. 

This nightmare was my only visit as patient, involuntarily patient.

~ * ~

I think the missing five to six hours of my life is one reason why this story refuses to be bound to chronological order.  I keep going back looking for myself when I was missing.

 I’m still missing in the present.

There are no words alone that describe my level of terror, both six years ago when I was first stolen away from my life–effectively scooped up from my home and taken by Gestapo to Catholic Nazis–and now, when criminal mental health care has almost systematically dismantled all aspect of my former existence, and I face a grim future. 

Nothing left to sell, can’t get a job.

~ * ~ 

There’s still a week in the looney bin to document.

~ * ~

Communication broke down all around. 

I don’t know how much blame to apply where.

~ * ~ 

At first, for about two days, I was groggy on knock out drugs and distraught.

~ * ~ 

I learned about life in the St. Mary Merciless Catholic Looney Bin by listening and watching to the flow of patients around me, at first, while drugged, even though I said no to drugs five days after they began holding me.

At some point, feeling like Alice in Wonderland, with all sorts of strange creatures popping up in the form of hospital staff, bearing paperwork for me to sign then disappearing, I declined to take their pharmaceutical drugs in writing, but my wishes were ignored. 

My refusal was a formality intended by me to document insanity, insanity exhibited by my looney bin wardens.

~ * ~

Eventually, consciously, I adjusted my tactics and become more strategic.

Solely focused on the goal of release.

~ * ~

At first, as you can imagine, I was less calculated, more emotional.

~ * ~ 

St. Mary Merciless Catholic Looney Bin was so badly run, I was not allowed to contact the outside world for the first two and half days.  

I want to keep repeating that fact because it should mean something about how I was clearly mistreated in so many ways.  I wasn’t allowed to contact the outside world for two and half days!

This fact documented in the first set of St. Mary Merciless hospital records has not meant anything so far.

Frantically, for about 36 hours, minus lights out, I crawled through the halls of Catholic Siberia crying in the kind of panic people describe in terms of nightmares and horror shows. 

~ * ~

Chronological order will be suspended here to focus on communication or lack thereof.

~ * ~

I definitely encountered a failure to communicate.

Consciously borrowed from the film Cool Hand Luke.

~ * ~

Patients were allowed to use pay phones, old fashion pay phones, the kind you bang for nice effect when mad. 

Pay phones lined the intersection of two main halls.  This area adjacent to the staff station was the pulse of the ward.  It was where all the best stories originated, as you overheard people in a one-sided conversation with the outside world. 

This crossroads is where you really got to know the other inmates, and it was dehumanizing.

The doors to the two industrial showers shared by all also were located in this area, to ensure a lack of privacy.

Of course, I had no change of clothes or personal care supplies like creme rinse for my naturally curly sometimes frizzy hair.

~ * ~

I did not have my cell phone, meaning I did not have any phone numbers. 

Stupid Cop Owen Keaton had my phone. I know because he called my tax preparer to inform of her of my whereabouts, which is not required in the state statute.

My tax preparer wrote to inform me that she had been informed of the events of February 22, 2013, by the Livonia Police.

~ * ~

There are no limits to the damage of criminal mental health care.

My tax preparer was a female senior citizen with a daughter, an artistic daughter involved in the theater, with whom she may not have gotten along well. A daughter she labeled “bi polar” in conversation with me, a person she saw once a year.

Note the greater concern shown for my animals than me in my tax preparer’s letter.

Note the assumption that as a female of course the police might need to sweep me up for a stay in the looney bin. I wonder if she would have liked the same for her own wayward daughter.

” . . .while I was getting better . . .”

Jesus Fucking Christ.

~ * ~

My husband and I use to joke about this woman, who lived in the neighborhood, was nice and charged reasonably.

She looked like a giant beaver, big teeth and hips.

That’s not nice of me to say.

~ * ~

Women can be sexist.

Women can be cruel.

~ * ~

It’s a hell of a world.

~ * ~

Stupid Cop Owen Keaton may have used my cellphone to contact my disturbed estranged Catholics mother.

~ * ~

All week long, staff kept asking me if I wanted my mother to visit.

~ * ~

When they were available during open hours, at first, I could only use the phones to call numbers I found in the phone book. 

I was frantic on numerous levels.

I needed to call creditors and pay bills. 

I needed to take care of business, including but not restricted to the main business of getting released.

~ * ~

Finally, a staff woman with a desk inside an office, which were scarce on the small ward, let me use her computer to e-mail a friend about the care of my pets, my dog, Dalva, and bird, Louie.

Dalva was taken to the dog pound. Stupid Cop ignored poor Louie, the cockatiel, who was left to fend for himself.

~ * ~

Finally, a break. 

Inside her office, I felt like a character in an action adventure movie, the kind I do not generally watch. 

Nervously, speedily, I connected to Facebook and posted a distress message to friends, and sent an e-mail, I guess, to my therapist, Dr. John.  

~ * ~

On February 24, a staff person wrote in one of numerous staff notes not supplied by St. Mary Merciless in 2019:

“Met with pt. after group due to multiple concrete tasks she requested help with, i.e. finding her friend’s phone number, trying to locate her dog whom she believes is in the pound and emailing her friends. Pt. is refusing consent for her mother’s involvement but does want her friend The Clown and therapist Dr. John called.”

And “message was left with Westland Humane Society was well, providing them infor, re. pt’s dog and pt’s request that they not euthanize this dog, Dalva while he is there. . . ”

And “Pt. expressed much appreciation for attending to these tasks. During interaction, she appears alert orientated with no delusional material noted, though she is very labile and easily frustrated . . .”

~ * ~

All the people who made a buck off my hide should be bodily tortured and raped my Catholic Jesus. It’s not okay. It’ll never be okay.

~ * ~

It must be said. Metaphorically. My pain is so great for so long.

Catholic Jesus in the sacristy with a crucifix.

Mocking the board game Clue.

Shackle my attackers, like I was shackled.

Rip open their bodies with a Catholic crucifix, like I was ripped open.

~ * ~

There is no god.

There can’t be.

I’d like there to be, but there can’t be.

~ * ~

I take great care to blow steam but stay on the right side of the First Amendment.

~ * ~

I was ten, in 1973, when on screen Linda Blair raped herself with a crucifix in The Exorcist.

I don’t know when I saw the movie on the big screen, but I think it’s possible to likely I saw this scene before I started my period, while I was under the tutelage of the Felician Nuns at St. Michael’s grade school, when things at home were not good at our dysfunctional home, mom Catholic harping, dad not Catholic and mostly gone.

~ * ~

I’ve had to create my own counter-therapy for criminal mental health care.

~ * ~

Balance tough exterior and hate?

Not easy.

Be spiritual when God is raping you?

Show me how.

Show me someone else who’s been in my shoes and won.

I have not found any other stories like mine.

~ * ~

My hospital records noted on February 26 that I was no longer allowed to use Facebook due to hospital protocol. 

~ * ~

NEW CHAPTER BREAK A Long Day to Die

Return to chronological order.

But realize, any readers, it’s like February 22, 2013 never ended for me.

It was one long day.

~ * ~

Night. February 22. 18:22 EST, 6:30 PM.

St. Mary Merciless record labeled “Behavioral Medicine Admission.”

I told the woman who undressed me in the emergency room that morning, “You are raping my humanity,” a rare accurate quote, which shows up in this late night record, penned by at least two staff members.

My mother’s name appears along with contact information that I did not have to give. I don’t think my mother’s cell phone number was in my cell phone. I never used it.

This record was edited the next day.

This record like all other staff records were omitted in 2019.

In part, this record tries to differentiate between my words and the police version of my words.

In full, this record denies that I was suicidal or hallucinatory, but nevertheless I was held against need, and these two staff members made money by human trafficking me.

~ * ~

“SW met with pt in EC.”

SW means social worker?

I recall a college-aged short blond female sticking her head in my cell, while I was held without need under guard in the emergency room, but I told her to leave and get me a doctor, as I was sure the law required.

I did not meet with any social worker in the emergency room.

~ * ~

“Pt is a 48 year old, white, widowed, and female. Pt was brought to EC by Livonia PD. Pt presented with agitation and irritability. Pt was screaming during social workers attempt to complete evaluation.”

Note: This report contains hearsay.

The report writer was not present in the emergency room hours earlier, or the day before, in another part of the hospital.

~ * ~

“Pt refused to answer questions and stated, Im being help against my will and want to go home. Pt was uncooperative and verbally aggressive. Pt employer through
Land of Motown Community College called police due to pt threatening suicide. pt was recently let go from teaching position at Land of Motown Community College.”

I was still an employee of Land of Motown Community College.

~ * ~

“Pt husband passed away during December 2012. Pt made suicidal threats online. Postings online were printed off and brought to EC by police officer. Pt wrote in postings, My husband is dead, to which the school contributed, and I would pretty much like to die too.”

Both accurate and wrong. But more wrong than right.

St. Mary Merciless did not check my Facebook page.

I said I was trying to SAVE MY LIFE!!!

~ * ~

“Pt wrote, Some please come to my home and kill me, and put me out of my deep misery.”

No! Wrong! I did not write that line or think that thought as presented without my full idea, the complete paragraph planning to avenge my murder!

“per Livonia PD, pt stated had asked police officer to kill her. Per police stated, Please put me out of her misery.”

No, motherfuckers!

~ * ~

I am so fucking sick of trying to correct this record.

If I were suicidal, I would be dead by now.

~ * ~

“Pt presented with delusional and paranoid thought content.”

About what exactly?

~ * ~

“PT stated, You are raping my humanity to nurse.”

CONGRATULATIONS!

I THINK THIS MAY BE THE ONLY ACCURATE REPRESENTATION OF ME IN THE ENTIRE LAND OF MOTOWN COMMUNITY COLLEGE BOGUS PAPER TRAIL!!!!!

~ * ~

“Pt threatening staff members.”

How? I did not threaten staff members. This lie is not okay.

This lie, this hearsay lie, is dangerous, to me.

~ * ~

“Pt was placed in restraints due to flight risk.”

Oh my god.

Patient should not a patient.

~ * ~

“Pt is impulsive and unpredictable.”

Like most artists.

~ * ~

“Pt UDS is positive for THC.”

I was a legal marijuana user in the state of Michigan.

~ * ~

“Pt has poor judgement and poor insight Pt is not able to contract for safety in an appropriate manner at this time. Pt is at risk of harming herself in the near future. Pt has Blue Cross through MESA. SW is contacting MESA for authorization.”

Poor insight, my human trafficked ass.

I was no more at risk of harming myself than the average person and maybe less.

That claim is pure snake oil and blood letting.

~ * ~

It’s a big world with a lot of people, so my day to die wasn’t over yet.

I feel like I live this day every day over and over and over without end.

They made a movie about that. I saw it. In a theater when it was young.

I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the plot.

~ * ~

St. Mary Merciless February 22, 2013 20:35 EST, 8:35 pm. Updated 23:44, 11:44 pm. Two staff writers.

Record labeled “Handoff Form.”

A third staff member taking over for a previous staff member repeated exactly the previous staff member’s paragraph in this form labeled “hand off.”

This form, date and time stamped twice in the late hours of February 22, 2013, contains contact information about my natural doctor, who gave me acupuncture, again, contact information I did not have to give.

~ * ~

My natural doctor told me that my mother had inappropriately contacted her.

Hearsay is at play here, too, but word got back to me that my mother was calling me a “demon” for having an abortion and talking about it on Facebook.

Let’s see. Stupid Cop called my mom. My mom probably called the Catholics, more than once. My mother may have given the Catholics some details. The horror.

~ * ~

In addition, this third staff member recapped my groggy performance for my assigned psychiatrist: “During interview pt was very angry and began banging on the desk.”

Conclusion of the final St. Mary Merciless hospital record the day I died: “Dr. Mistry interviewed pt. and orders were placed.

“All documents signed.”

Note: I did not give my signed consent to treatment.

I was supposedly evaluated by three staff members, but did not sign the General Consent to Treatment from below with a fourth staff person attending.

These consent forms were not included in the 2019 records.

Chapter: Human Trafficked with a Smile

This narration plus documentation to create a actual paper trail to correct the Land of Motown Community College is taking so long, but I got no choice.

~ * ~

Jump ahead to Monday, February 25, 2013, when St. Mary Merciless hospital administrators returned to work.

~ * ~

As I started faking it and fake smiling when helpful, I was herded into a small room with three or four female administrator types who I never saw again.

Stepford Wives.

~ * ~

We sat at a small table. I told them it was all a mistake. That’s not what they wanted to hear, as we all smiled.

I don’t know why I signed this form. Was I still drugged? Why did the others sign the next day? Did I sign using the wrong date? Was I asked to sign a blank form?

I recall now. I really do. I was confused about the date because of what I’d been through. But it was Monday February 25, 2019, not Sunday February 24, 2019.

~ * ~

My St. Mary Merciless Master Treatment Plan says I “lost” my job and that I was suicidal.

~ * ~

I recall talking long enough to these female administrators to be clear that I had not lost my job, that due process was being withheld, that my employer had set me up. That was the first thing that Stupid Cop told me. That my employer had called the Livonia Police Fuck the Bitch Squad.

I recall talking long enough to tell the women, who were not dressed in medical garb, listening with smiles on intellectually blank, Stepford Wives faces, that they were making a big mistake.

On yet another form I was presented, I wrote the word “mistake.”

Note the addition of someone else’s handwriting on a form I signed, I think at the same time as my “master plan,” actually on Monday February 25 not Sunday February 24.

~ * ~

I informed the female Stepford Wives administrators with a smile that I was not suicidal and they were making a mistake.

In fact, while I had their attention, I put on a small display of charm. I ad-libbed that I might actual be autistic.

On the savant end of the scale, of course.

~ * ~

I see one of those unnamed bitches checked my intellectual abilities as “fair.”

~ * ~

I have been saying for years: You can’t trust Catholics!

Sure I sound like Archie Bunker from “All in the Family,” but Catholics in my life have not been trustworthy when acting as Catholics.

And why would anyone want to sound like Edith?

~ * ~

Reality.

Check.

Paycheck.

The paychecks of the Stepford Wives St Mary Merciless hospital adminsitrators I met with once on Monday, Fe3bruary 25, rested on the false narrative that I was need in their services at St. Mary Merciless Catholic Looney Bin, so the women, whoever they were (no names or titles are typed on the form) kept to that lie.

With a smile.

No matter my actual person.

Notice that my assigned psychiatrist did not sign this form at any time.

The disheveled female psychiatrist was not present Monday February 25 at this confab, with its grandiose title, “Master Treatment Plan.”

~ * ~

Chapter: Endure: Just Keep Going!

After the drugs began to wear off, and I accepted my fate begrudgingly, I compromised with the devil.  I started watching and faking it. 

I saw that people were drugged, promised release, then denied release, regularly, usually accompanied by talk about unsatisfactory blood drug levels.  At first, I did not actually swallow the drugs given to me, but then I realized I needed to do so, in order to get out.

Clearly, St. Mary Merciless’s main goal was to club people with Big Pharma and keep patients as long as possible in order to rack up the bill. 

~ * ~

“About my week held unnecessarily in a Catholic looney bin? ”

I may say at a bar one day to a stranger.

I need a very short version of such an answer, for a possible return of my civil rights and a return to causal friendly intimate conversation.

Try this:

I couldn’t wait to leave that unhealthy environment and return to my own therapies of acupuncture, yoga class, spinach soup, walking with my dog in the woods and meditating without bars on the windows. 

~ * ~

There was nothing positively therapeutic about my week in Catholic Siberia.

The only useful therapy was one early evening presentation made to the ward’s 50-60 inmates.  We were told by a nurse I dubbed St. Theresa to be sure the hospital did not accidentally kill us with the Big Pharma drugs St. Mary Merciless psychiatric ward forced patients to take. 

There is no scientific basis to prove efficacy of Big Pharma drugs, which are all proven dangerous and mostly ineffective. 

Placebos work is what some patients believe.

~ * ~

I do not.

~ * ~     

All workers were part time. 

No one was in charge. 

There was no meaningful staff coordination. 

There was no concerted commitment to mental health care that might help patients evident. 

One male staff person gave me an orientation to the ward five days into my involuntary detainment. 

He stood out as one of few black people among staff and patients.

It seems my Friday arrival complicated things for St. Mary Merciless. 

I think now my nemesis was hoping to pounce on a Friday.

State law written decades ago stops the clock on Sundays.

~ * ~

Most inmates seemed stressed out, poor and poorly educated.  They seemed like they needed a vacation but a crappy, mostly lily-white suburban psychiatric ward was the best they could afford. 

The looney bin door revolved with incoming and outgoing bodies, but most people seemed to quickly reach their fill of nothing much. 

The main therapy was coloring. 

Coloring with the Catholics. 

In the evenings, in the large group room, under the glow of a television, after most staff had gone home. 

Coloring with the Catholics, for a week, behind bars, which I did not need to do.   

~ * ~

I’m going to do this one time, one time telling my story with documentation, completely, so I need to do a complete job, although this process threatens to annihilate what’s left of me.

~ * ~

I have no choice.

I am still not suicidal, six years later.

My life is hell.

~ * ~

St. Mary Merciless has erased most of the evidence of their criminal inhumanity.

I can’t let them get away it.

~ * ~

A review of the week’s staff reports erased by St. Mary Merciless.

~ * ~

February 22. Friday. 19:40 EST, 7:40 pm.

Behavioral Medicine Therapy Note.

First night in hell.

I was still not fully resuscitated, it turns out, but that did not stop St. Mary Merciless staff from making hay.

Using my straw.

“Pt did not attend structured cooking group due to recent admit”

Apparently Monday nights is reserved for cooking with the Catholics.

~ * ~

I wrote an essay I called “Cooking with the Catholics” at Lake Miramichi, back in 2016, using the term to discuss family history and cooking poor because of my stay in Catholic Siberia.

Not actually cooking with Catholics as a recipe item.

I had not yet completely read this voluminous 2013 set of hospital records with all kinds of charts not included here because reading my St. Mary Merciless records was still to damaging.

~ * ~

I had to lose more possessions, peace of mind and social status, to find lower rock bottoms, in order to go forward and be able to read all the character assassination.

At least that’s the way it worked out.

~ * ~

Because I have had no choice.

I was not and am not suicidal, despite consideration forced upon me.

My job became to fix what was broken, to correct the record, to finally save my life.

~ * ~

February 23. 12:15 EST, 12:15 pm.

Behavioral Medicine Therapy Note (above).

“Medication Education Group.”

“STRUCTURED PRESENTATION AND DISCUSSION ON PSYCHOTROPIC MEDICATIONS-PURPOSE, BENEFITS, POSSIBLE SIDE EFFECTS, IMPORTANT OF MED COMPLIANCE.”

“THE PT WAS INVITED AND ENCOURAGED” TO ATTEND GROUP BUT DID NOT ATTEND GROUP”

I refused to cooperate at this point with the evil clowns from hell (metaphor) who were holding me against all reason, need and law.

In gross violation of everything healing about health care.

~ * ~

Note: although my hand written label for this record is “first record,” lower right, I actually read it near last.

The original set of records has been largely reordered.

The very paper causes pain to my brain through my fingertips.

I’ve been trying to so long to sleuth, solve and stop my murder.

~ * ~

February 23. Saturday.

All day.

I only tried to use the phones.

I was not approached and orientated individually.

I was treated as a member of nameless faceless humanless group of human bodies.

I don’t recall staff paying me much attention at all, not as a person, not as an individual, not as a new inmate, not as a patient held for needed so called mental health care.

I was cattle to the staff.

“Recreational therapy” : “Pt. did not attend group despite prompt”

“Recreational therapy: “Pt did not attend evening recreation group despite prompt”

“Pyschoeducation”

Good title.

“PATIENTS RIGHTS WHEN RECEIVING MENTAL HEALTH SERVICES”

“O Min”

“THE PT DID NOT ATTEND GROUP DESPITE INVITATION AND ENCOURAGEMENT TO ATTEND”

The inmate you call “patient” was still groggy on knock out drugs and severely acutely traumatized because in part of YOU!

~ * ~

Behavioral Medicine Progress Note, Behavioral Medicine Patient Education, Behavioral Medicine Activity Therapy Assessment, Behavioral Medicine Social Work, Hand Off.

And more, too much. Chemistry, Hematology, Urinalysis, Point of Care Testing (not pregnant), Physician Orders, Medication Administration Record Schedule Meds, Medication Administration Record PRN Meds, Vital Signs, Fall Safety Assesment.

Lots of paperwork to make things look well-attended, when they were not.

~ * ~

February 23. Saturday.

Direct Charting Flowsheet.

“Delusion Symptoms. Presence of symptoms w functional impairment.”

No!

Wrong!

Severe trauma from successful Gaslighting, suicide swatting, police abduction, and illegal inhumane unnecessary Catholic looney bin lock up.

Wrong first impressions can last a long time, forever, kill a person.

These St. Mary Merciless staff records show how brain washed and dysfunctional mental health care as a profession appears to be, especially when the wardens form a posse.

~ * ~

February 23. Saturday.

Handoff form. 05:41 EST, 5:30 pm.

Staff handed me off to one another like a gang of rapists.

“pt remains on staff close for unpredictable behavior, received pt agitated and irritable, pt aggitated and irritable, pt. noted frequently on the phone yelling and crying that she is being held against her will, pt was medicated on night shift which did help, pt did sleep for a couple of hours, pt appeared to calm down some, pt has poor insight and judgement, apetite is fair to poor, hygiene is poor, pt is disheveled, pt did not attend AM groups, will continue to monitor.”

I did not have any phone numbers.

I did not have a change of underwear or any hair care products.

My insight was not poor.

Note the names of three additional billing doctors whose names repeat on many forms, suggesting that they spent time with me daily, which was not the case.

I was being held against need, will and law.

~ * ~

Equal lack of protection.

Metaphor.

When is Catholic Jesus going to rape and make a buck off all these medical whores, who wrote all these reports?

~ * ~

February 23. Saturday. 13:47, 1:47 pm.

Handoff form.

Starting with the hack shrinks, how many people manhandled me, maligned me, used my hide for a buck by this point?

How many Catholic whores had their dirty Catholic paws on me throughout my week in hell?

I got sick of telling staff that I was set up and that my dog needed care, that I was not suicidal, because I was thoroughly ignored.

Stupid Cop took my dog Dalva to the pound but left my bird, Louie, without food or water.

“pt agitated. Requested inhaler x2 this shift. when approached by writer, pt became angry and stated, “Why would I want to tell one more person, I am worried about my dog and my bird The police probably too my dog to the pound” Appetite is fair. Pt. is disheveled. Pt is isolative and stayed in her room most for the shift. when asked if she wanted medication to help her calm down she said “yea, I’ll take it” accepted Ativan 2 mg and Haldol 5 mg”

~ * ~

I moved myself in a stupor from my room to the pay phones and back again, frantic, set up, trapped, in disbelief.

I was given my own room, a private room. I figured because I was more intelligent and more deserving to be separated from any actual crazy dangerous people.

The St. Mary Merciless hospital paper trail considered me dangerous.

As I recall, Nurse Ratchet was the only hospital staff to actually follow protocol and wake me up every fifteen minutes throughout each night she worked.

Nurse Ratchet seemed to work the first few nights I was held in hell on earth.

I am not sure which name among the many is Nurse Ratchet.

This cunt may still be responsible for sleep pattern problems I experience six years later.

I want to kill her, sarcastically speaking, which is dangerous for me to say, though natural.

I definitely want to say, and I want her to hear, that I want to kill her, sarcastically speaking.

Disclaimer. I am not violent or murderous. I’m verbal. The above statement is aggressive verbal sarcasm, not literal truth, intended to indicate the depth of the damage done to me by St. Mary Merciless Catholic Looney Bin and Land of Motown community College’s incredibly cruel and heartless attack.

~ * ~

February 23. Saturday. 7:26 EST, 7:26 pm.

Handoff form.

“Staff close for unpredictable behavior-Awake at 0300 yelling and screaming no one wake me up for dinner, now my asthma is bothering me. Given Albuterol inhaler and offered a sandwich. Just walked away and slammed the door. Slept 6.0 hours. Patient became agitated, loud & tearful. Patient started screaming @ screaming Stated “I being kept against my will” Ativan 2mg & haldol 5 mg given at 07:15 am. Patient appeared to calm down. However patient came out of her room trying to use patients phone. Patient continues to breath @ fast rate sitting on the hallway floor. Will continue to monitor. Patient med complaint. Patient is much calmer this afternoon (modified)”

~ * ~

If I am supported publicly, finally, by some power in government or press, I may be able to count the number of pages of evidence erased by St. Mary Merciless and number of part time staff allowed to prod, poke and write notes in my medical records about me. 

~ * ~  

February 24. Sunday. 12:09 pm.

When I started realize I would need to fake it for the sole purpose of release. 

“Behavioral Medicine Social Work”

A report from the single serving staff person who let me use her office computer to locate phone numbers includes original complete sentences and paragraphs.

“During 1:1 today, she continued to present as labile and angry about her admission, but she was very verbal, cooperative and insightful.”

Thank you.

“She was oriented with no delusional material voice. She continues to voice a great deal of frustration re: her boss and slammed a cup of water in a waster paper basket. She adamantly denies any suicidal/homicidal ideation and denies any prior attempts or ideation as well. She wants to be discharged ASAP. She plans to return to her home upon d/c and resume therapy with her pschologist. She is refusing family contact (modified).”

I refused contact with my estranged, disturbed Catholic mother.

All week long staff kept asking me if I wanted my mother to visit.

Why would I want my mother to visit? And see me held captive in St. Mary Merciless Catholic criminal human trafficking mental ward?

You must be nutz!

~ * ~

February 24. Saturday. 12:32 pm.

“Behavioral Medicine Therapy Note.”

Not everyone thought I lacked insights, thankfully.

The same staff person in another report wrote additionally supportive comments about my behavior:

“PT attended entire group therapy.  She appeared restless and anxious and was quiet for most of the group. Towards the end of the group she became more verbal and shared events leading to her admission.  Although hyperverbal and anxious, she remained in control and was very articulate.  She expressed belief that she is being forced out of her job, and expressed frustration at being hospitalized and medicated.  Group attempted to offer support, which pt. accepted appropriately”

February 24. Sunday. 14:15, 2:15 pm.

(same print out, above, middle)

I participated in the single exercise opportunity offered during my stay.

“Pt attended majority of session. Pt was active in exercises, displayed good direction following and energy level.  Benefits of exercise and relation techniques were discussed. Relaxation techniques of visualization and deep breathing were demonstrated and practiced. Pt. was attentive and receptive to information provided. Minimal peer interaction noted.  Affect/mood was anxious aeb restless.”

What a crock of shit.  The loony bin warden here displays grandiose and psychotic tendencies, as well as aspects of narcissistic disorder. 

Affect superficial, mood anxious.  Another good title.

Did the reader guess there was no group discussion about the “benefits of positive leisure involvement related to wellness”? 

~ * ~

February 24. Sunday. 19:15, 7:15 pm.

Evening. The best part of any day. When it’s over.

(same print out, above, middle)

The same staff member recorded notes about a “session” labeled “activity therapy.”

“Pt attended majority of session.  Discussed benefits of positive leisure involvement related to wellness.  Pt was active, chose to engage in simple coloring tasks during session. Pt social with peers although underlying sarcasm noted.  Affect superficial, mood anxious.”

At the end of the day most staff went home, and patients wandered the halls, went to their rooms, or hung out in the main group room. 

There wasn’t anything else to do but “simple coloring tasks.”

~ * ~

February 24. Sunday. 15:42 EST, 3:42 pm.

Like a bruised piece of fruit, picked over too many times in the market, strange fruit raped by Catholic Jesus in Catholic Siberia, I was reduced in a hand off form created by yet another staff person, who was less generous.

“Pt is labile, denies any mental health issues and projects blame on those around her.”

Yes, absolutely.

“Pt is easily irritated, tearful and axious. Requested inhaler due to ‘poor air quality.'”

Staying inside barred from fresh air all week is not healthy, or merciful.

Extra inhumane?

Chastising me for exhibiting reasonable emotions.

~ * ~

February 24. Sunday. 19:47, 7:47 pm.

That same staff worker, the kindergarten art room teacher, I called her out loud until I saw her chaffe, completed a Behavioral Medicine Therapy Assessment activity therapy assessment.

The kindergarten art room teacher looked the blond wife from the television show Thirty Something. She had two small boys, I think.

Among all the looney bin cells, the kindergartem art room was my most comfortable space.

I believe the room must have had a southern exposure.

The light. I remember the light. I would sit facing it.

I sought to position myself facing the light, which in my memory was diffuse, as the glass windows were cloaked and blocked with stage scrim, rather than clear.

I don’t recall seeing the outside world through the windows, just receiving the incoming light.

“Pt is a 49 yr old, widowed female, admitted per chart due to SI. Pt initially refused all problem areas and denies need for tx.”

Is “tx” the code for involuntary detainment in a psychiatric ward?

“Pt. states she is here due to a ‘mistake’ and ‘extreme turmoil put on me by my boss.’

Yes. Pretty close.

“Pt. later acknowledged increased anxiety, contributing factors include financial strain, losing her job as teacher, her boss allegedly harassing her, limited support adn the death of her husband (12/26/12).”

~ * ~

I recall chit chatting with the kindergarten art room teacher only among the company of other inmates held in the kindergarten art room.

I only recall chit chatting with her while we inmates made kindergarten art projects, for which I was able to self direct and use the available kindergarten art room supplies without need out outside direction.

Note my sarcasm.

I may have admitted to anxiety, but I never admitted to being suicidal.

“Pt reports that she made statements online that others took as suicidal statements. Pt. denies SI.”

This assess seeks more fairness, which I do appreciate, but what horrible circumstances in which I’ve been forced to appreciate a jailer.

“Pt also reports poor sleep. Pt denies substance abuse. Per chart, upon admission, pt. was agitated, made suicidal statements online, asked police to put her out of her misery, was threatening towards staff, was positive for THC. See chart for further information.”

She contrasted my words I shared directly with her against the bad paper trail and crooked game of Telephone.

Nevertheless, she knew who paid the bills.

She changed her tone for the worse about me.

“Pt. is hyperverbal, irritable and anxious upon contact,” her assessment closes.

~ * ~

Goals? God, I hate the Catholic’s lies, about virgin birth and about me.

~ * ~

NEW CHAPTER BREAK: Faking It

February 25. Monday.

Behavioral Medicine Therapy Note.

Three staff members prodded me on one page, one of many pages, too many pages, of prodding.

12:01 EST, 12:01 pm.

“Pt. attended entire group session. Pt presents as manic, pleasant and grandious at times. PT introduced herself as a ‘declassroomed English teacher’ PT reports an administrator was trying to ‘cream her,’ this she believes is somehow related to her wanting to reform the educational system. Pt reports her husband died a few months ago and is grieving.”

I did introduce myself as a “declassroomed teacher” in group therapy.

Forgive me for displaying a personality when I am locked up in freakin’ Catholic looney bin, due to a cruel set up, in Modern America, which is apparently run by evil clowns!

Look up “grandiose.”

Connotations vary from flashy fabulous to mentally deranged with narcissism, a concept rooted in mythology and ancient literature, written on stones and leaves.

I needed to be locked up because I was removed from the classroom?

~ * ~

The next two staff members smearing me with messy hands played with me in the kindergarten art room and the multi purpose room.

15:45 EST, 3:45 pm.

“Pt attended group and display enthusiasm to work on a project. Pt chose to work on a copper tooling project. Pt was pleasant and social, displayed good focus and attention to detail. Pt reports she was making it for a present. Pt’s affect.mood was appropriate for session.”

I used the available supplies, blocks, nails, magazines, plastic bits, glue, to make a framed picture, two framed pictures before the week was done, one I gave to my yoga teacher, the other to my old friend, The Clown, both of whom visited me while I was held.

February 25. Monday. 20:01 EST, 8:01 pm.

“Pt. remained engaged in coloring task and friendly conversation thru out this period. She had good participation, was appropriate in affect, pleasant in mood, motivated towards this activity”

Even saying nice things about me while I was locked up is not ok.

Because I did not need to be locked up.

~ * ~

February 25. Monday. 9:00 EST, 9:00 pm.

Behavioral Medicine Progress Note.

Will I ever be able to shrug off this destruction of my character and being?

Before the day was done, another staff member accused me in poetic disjointed phrases of exhibiting unacceptably.

Thought process: “Flight of ideas, Follows directions, Intact, Limited Insight.”

What does this disjointed poetry really mean?

What was this diagnosis based upon?

How could my “thought content” be “clear” but my “thought process” muddied?

How much time was spent on this assessment? How was it conducted?

Why was I being held?

Where is evidence that I needed to be held in a psychiatric ward?

“Minimal comprehension, No change.”

Towing the line, collecting a pay check.

“Pt has been visible on unit, social with staff and peers, attending groups and eating meals. Pt continues to be irritable but mood has been in control. Pt. denies SI/HI and contracts for safety.”

I just looked up that term, “contract for safety.”

I did not contract for safety with anyone because I was not suicidal!

And staff did not constantly ask me if I was suicidal, as these records indicate.

~ * ~

Equal lack of protection.

Jesus rape her cunt. God, cut off your tits.

Sarcastic civil rights anti-Catholic prayers.

Extremely ugly and damaging to me, too.

But I’ve got more anger than I can hold.

I am so fucking damaged by criminal mental health care.

~ * ~

This is not fun.

~ * ~

Help!

How do you end criminal mental abuse caused by false accusations of suicidal thoughts when you are not suicidal?

When the mental health profession, government, society and culture offer no pathway to peace?

When abuse hurts and cause damage?

Where is the exit?

No one will parse the difference me before and after sexist Gaslight witchhunt.

~ * ~

February 26. Tues. 03:44 EST, 3:44 pm.

Handoff form.

I told Nurse Rachet she was “not in my tribe” for waking me up every fifteen minutes through the night.

Were they trying to create murderous psychopaths?

She opened the door and woke me up every fifteen minutes so the next day someone else could describe me as irritable, primarily on behalf of the paychecks that covered staff rent or mortgage payments.

Nurse Rachet would not let maintain a stash of tampons when I started my period. She made me ask for each on separately.

As if I might hang myself or attack another inmate.

~ * ~

Notes at the bottom of the above Handoff Form suggest I wasn’t fully resuscitated on February 22, 2013, until after my assigned psychiatrist wrote the second bogus clinical certificate.

“Full Resuscitation 02/22/13 20:19:27, 8:19 pm and 27 seconds.”

Is there a contradiction in the records about when I was resuscitated?

Is this time later then what appears elsewhere?

Is this why staff records were erased?

~ * ~

I was not fully resuscitated until well after I was admitted to the St. Mary Merciless human trafficking mental ward not evaluated, shackled, drugged, knocked out unconscious, no matter which record I cross reference, cribbed by the female student intern, the disheveled female psychiatrist or the erased staff records.

The male doctor did not evaluate me, and in his record that he did not write, he did not order that I be shackled, drugged, knocked out unconscious, but I was, immediately.

The student intern was not monitored. She locked me up.

The disheveled female psychiatrist agreed to maintain the lie, as did the male doctor the next day. He could have easily signed a pre-completed bogus clinical certificate the next day when he signed the female student intern’s teaching “addendum.”

(chapter break here?)

~ * ~

(chapter? decoupaging with the catholics?)

Two staff people commented on my decoupage skills on one helped me attend to personal care in areas I needed so much help, I needed to be detained, in a psychiatric ward, or so the record and the history claim.

Behavioral Medicine Therapy Note.

February 26. Tuesday. 15:47 EST, 3:47 pm.

The first kindergarten art room monitor described my personal look as “disheveled.” Perhaps my new looney bin wardrobe and personal stylist had not yet arrived and was at the gym with my court appointed lawyer.

“Pt attended session w/invite, remained fully engaged for the entire period. She had good participation, worked on completing a decoupaged plaque, good focus and creative skills noted. She was positive, friendly, appropriate in affect and mood, receptive to support from staff. She cont to present as disheveled, messy hair, slightly sloppily dressed (Style?)”

~ * ~

Behavioral Medicine Therapy Note (above).

February 26. Tuesday. 18:59 EST, 6:59 pm.

The kindergarten art room teacher played beauty parlor lady and without informing us rated inmates on nail care technique.

No discussion as described took place. I don’t even think she was in the multi purpose room.

The inmates were thrown supplies.

I recall.

I am on fire.

“Pt. attended full session. Pt was active, groomed/filed nails independently. Benefits of self care were discussed, related to improved mood, improved self esteem and over wellness. Pt was social and supportive with peers. Affect/mood was appropriate to session.”

~ * ~

Behavioral Medicine Therapy Note (above)

February 27. Wednesday. 16:00 EST.

A new or substitute kindergarten art room monitor was relatively kind and daffy:

“Pt. attended group for most of the session. Gina worked independently on her decoupage tasks. Good focus, attention to detail, and good skills. She talked about enjoying doing crafts but due to her work schedule, ‘I stopped doing them and I need to start them up again.’ Appearance is neat and clean, she is edgy, but not irritable. Reserved and quiet amongst peers. Structure, support, and encouragement provided.”

~ * ~

Decoupaging with the Catholics? It’s just all too much.

~ * ~

Eventually when word got out through Facebook about my horror, my old best friend The Clown brought me some clothes.

~ * ~

February 26. Wed. 13:04 EST, 1: pm.

Handoff Form.

I started my period while I was held.

Nurse Rachet made me ask for tampons one at a time, but most other staff realized its likely difficult to hang ones self with a tampon string.

“pt remains on staff close for unpredictable behavior, pt remains irritable at times but in better controls, pt verbal of not feeling well saying that she started her period and is having cramps, mood appears less depressed and less anxious, hygiene is marginal, appetite is fair to good, pt attends groups, pt denies any SI/HI and is able to contract, will continue to monitor.”

I kept telling people I was NEVER suicidal! If they asked, which they did not do as much these records claim.

~ * ~

Oh fuck! What did I just read? At the bottom of the above form?

~ * ~

February 26. Weds. 03:44 EST, 3:44 am.

Handoff Form

Small print at the bottom.

“Formal Voluntary Admission.”

~ * ~

I have been telling people for years Livonia Catholic Central isn’t trustworthy.

~ * ~

I did not formally volunteer myself to the Catholics.

The pain is too great.

Please death come now.

(chapter break here?)

~ * ~

(chapter? it never ends?)

All doctors seemed to have day jobs. 

Patients wandered the two crossing main halls and asked one another, “Have you seen doctor so and so?” 

People wanted out and needed to find their assigned physician, which did not happen until later in the day, if it happened at all. 

~ * ~

We were not allowed outside, which was punitive to someone like me who walked my dog in the woods daily. 

~ * ~

During our only sit down talk in an office with a closed door, my assigned doctor told me that she drove to Pennsylvania over a long weekend to visit family while she kept me locked up against need and against law in a Catholic looney bin built by the nasty nuns of my youth.  

Thankfully, by that point, I was playing the game and did not show anger.  I don’t know how I managed.  It must have been the acting I did in the back of the police cruiser that got me primed.

I gave her my sarcastic smile.  I even asked her polite and thoughtful questions about her trip.  I hate using my fake sarcastic smile, and tend to avoid situations when and where they are required, but I needed out. 

Unfortunately, I can’t keep a fake smile on my face for years at a time.

They call an asylum a loony bin, named after the wardens.

~ * ~

I held it together.  I waited patiently as the week wore on, and I worked the system.  I told myself I would get out.  I somehow remained mostly positive and on goal.  I did not buck the system, as a strategy.  I fell into line as directed. 

A week’s time passed.  The ward cycled through the set schedule of medicating and largely ignoring patients.  Aerobics was held once.  Pitiful.  No athletic shoes. 

We got to spend time in the grade-school equipped art room daily.  I was allowed special use of hammer and nails.  I used them to make a framed collage for a friend.  The art room person looked like one of the mothers on the television drama 30 Something.  Not the brunette.  The blond.

~ * ~ 

Group therapy was held most days, after paper cuts and before scratching nails on an old fashion chalk board.  Of course, I recalled the Bob Newhart sitcom from the 1970s, in which he ran group therapy sessions.  There was no cohesion in group therapy at St. Mary Merciless.  Zero positive outcome which required locked doors and mandatory attendance.  The group participants changed daily for one thing, and the group therapists changed, too, so the whole thing was very much a charade of therapy.  There were only one or two men out of all the inmates who I saw acting in any way beyond stressed to crazy.

~ * ~

I kept telling staff I was not suicidal, a mistake was made and that I should be released, but I was ignored.

~ * ~

I saw my assigned doctor for less time total than I spent with the cops who abducted me from home and drove me across town.  Her notes simply repeat, formalize, fabricate and expand the game of Telephone initiated by Land of Motown Community College, as the paper trail that ended my life snaked its way through St. Mary Merciless.

St. Mary Merciless human trafficking mental ward didn’t even bother to send her additional plagiarized reports when they sent records in April 2019.

~ * ~

The ward was short on office space.  Medical specialists in addiction therapy approached patients in the halls for walk and talks, drive by therapy, which I bet was billed at the same rate as visits that occurred in rooms with chairs and a door. 

I was a state of Michigan legal medical marijuana patient, a status the hospital did not recognize. 

They had time to reflect and change the records.

According to the consulting physicians whose names repeat numerous times in my St. Mary Merciless records, I was labeled drug addicted.

I began playing the game so I let this white male doctor walk with me in the hall.

Pacing the halls was a major past time in captivity with little for inmates to do.

I object to this medical whore pushing himself on me while I was held illegally and against need and will in captivity, when I was compelled to play nice in order to win my release, and then have this person make a buck off maligning me.

“She states she has a marijuana card but the reason for this card is unclear.”

Because we did not discuss my life and he did not ask, or he lied. Of course I knew why.

“She denies . . .”

I object to use of the verb “deny.” I was not a guilty person being grilled, was I?

“She denies legal, job, relationship or financial problems as result of her use. She denied previous treatment for chemical dependency. She has seen a psychiatrist for a outpatient in the past but cannot recall why. She denied mental health treatment.”

This language is hostile. This language rapes my person. This language is not ok.

Of course I could recall why I sought a therapist in the past, to help cope as a female artist. I did not think much of therapy as a way to cope as a female artist, so I stopped.

I can’t help it. In response, I want to brain fuck this motherfucker right back.

Get into his head with an image of someone, Big Black Jesus, slicing his cock, which is one horrible image that might mind fuck right back nicely.

Is this war of minds healthy?

“She slept poorly because she wants to be discharged and her liberties have been violated. She denies suicidal or homicidal ideation.”

They had no reason to keep me except to make a buck.

Look at this crap. Terms like my head is “normocephalic” and my vital signs “afebrile.”

I don’t recall any god damn physical exam measuring my head or taking my temperature.

By the way, I have a huge head. Most hats don’t fit.

I don’t recall an exam room with a door.

I recall walking the hallways and speaking very briefly with this asshole, once, that’s it.

Impression: “No clinical withdrawal at this time.”

No reason to hold me.

Recommendations: “Your treatment/evaluation for medical and psychiatric issues.”

He was addressing my assigned psychiatrist who was MIA most of the time I was held.

And this guy was and remains in position to know that the psychiatrists at St Mary Mercy played hooky.

I must object to the lie that “an extensive discussion was held.” He did not state the length of time of his consultation. I spent much more time with Land of Motown Community College hack shrinks.

“She is advised that her mood will be less manageable, and is she continues to use cannabis and alcohol, she will likely continue to end up facilities such as this one. She states that she will take this ‘under advisement.’ She appears to have no insight as to the depth of her problem and she is not interested in any chemical dependency treatment.”

For the above paragraph, which I need effectively legally erased, emotionally and verbally, I want this motherfucker’s cock sliced, by Black Jesus, so he feels less a white god, and have him shot dead legally by the state of Michigan, so he stops hurting people.

And for revenge.

But only in words, art, metaphor, poetry, no, just in angry words, words I want him to hear and feel, so he doesn’t get away with my murder unscathed.

So maybe he starts acting better.

~ * ~

I live in total fear, in a life not worth living, a life of criminal mental abuse in which I am trapped, in fear of being locked up again in Catholic Siberia like St. Mary Merciless human trafficking mental ward.

~ * ~

My danger is motherfuckers like this guy, and the false records he has created, not pot.

~ * ~

My pot card was granted due to mechanical physical issues in my hip and back, which have worsened due to the poverty caused by illegal lock up.

But pot does help with trauma, too.

And, I was being sarcastic when I told him with a smile, a smile that said, “I think you’re a fucking asshole,” when I said I would take his suggestion that I hang out in the St. Mary Merciless human trafficking drug rehab program “under advisement,” which I do recall saying.

I was playing with this guy. In an understated fashion. Sarcastically, to help me cope.

But he got me back.

“Thank you for this most interesting consultation.”

Motherfucker (I will likely clean up these curses later but need them now), I am not your play thing to poke as you abuse me to make a buck.

~ * ~

St. Mary Merciless did not send the following doctor’s record in 2019.

Were they protecting the staff of its teaching hospital? Why wasn’t this consultation labeled a consultation, too?

A second addiction specialist squeezed in some billing time nevertheless.

Most disturbingly, this false narrative stated: “Her mother was concerned. She has cut down in the past.”

Did this guy talk to my mother, the one I did not want involved?

That line has caused a billion panic attacks by this point (hyperbole, like sarcasm, my personality).

Just as bad? Worse?

I have never “cut down,” guessing that may mean slash wrists, but I’m guessing.

Can you imagine my pain, anger and frustration? My trauma? Do you understand the actual danger this formalized lie presents me?

“She denies anyone every suggested she had a problem except her mother and discounts that, and therefore comment on being annoyed.”

I’m annoyed again now.

~ * ~

“She denies being guilty about her use of substances and denies suing substances as an ‘eye opener.’ It is not clear if she is working.”

I was clear about my situation with my employer.

This guy, another white guy, was not clear because he did not listen to me. Or believe me. Or respect me.

“My feeling if she was not using cannabis and alcohol she might not be in this Mental Health Unit . . .”

I was locked up unnecessarily to assuage this guy’s feelings?

I told him I was set up. I told him I was not suicidal. But that’s difficult to do inside the looney bin.

Doctors are all in it for themselves, for their own glory, for the righteousness of their insight over their patients. That was my experience. That’s what this documentation shows.

That’s the story my attackers will continue to fight.

“My feeling if she was not using cannabis and alcohol she might not be in this Mental Health Unit . . . and/or she has been medicating a coexisting mood problem that dates back to 1998.”

What the fuck is this asshole talking about, regarding 1998?

“Either way . . .”

No matter what, lock her up and drug her?????

“Either way, treating her with the appropriate psychotropics is a good idea. She is resistant to any type of treatment, and therefore I will defer to you and work on her resistance. Likely, her insurance will not allow her to come to our CDU because of their impressions that cannabis is not something she has to ‘detoxification from’ and she fate never tried outpatient treatment she is not a candidate. Even if she was suicidal when she came in they would discount that as Magellan typically does (because she is longer in a Mental Health unit and has passed) Furthermore, the patient was suicidal.”

The purpose here seems to be recruitment for substance abuse therapy. Not my well being, not all.

This guy appears to say he knows I was not suicidal on February 22, and if not, that he saw I was not suicidal on February 26, but adds tangentially, because it’s all about money, “Furthermore, the patient was suicidal.”

God damn the meat on your dick! I was not suicidal! You did not see me on February 22. You lied on purpose to make false paperwork look authentic!

In God We Fuck? Sure, For a Buck!

“I do not know how her environment but, but it would be a struggle to have her in our CDU unit and she is not interested in getting any her or stopping cannabis at this time.”

Had I shown up for a time share presentation, or something completely nutz?

Something was completely nutz.

And it wasn’t me.

~ * ~

I don’t know if state law differentiates between seeing a psychiatrist and drug addiction specialist.

I saw a general practitioner twice for a total of minutes less than ten, regarding my asthma.

Certainly, that kind of doctor contact should not count to hold a patient involuntarily in a psychiatric ward.

~ * ~

CHAPTER BREAK: Escaping It (or Escaping Psychiatry without Personal Contact?)

My assigned doctor took off for a long weekend to Pennsylvania while she kept me held illegally at St. Mary Merciless human trafficking mental ward.  She had the nerve to tell me this the single time we sat across from one another in an office.  State law requires patients held involuntarily to be seen by a doctor daily.  Still, she failed to attend more often than she appeared. 

My assigned psychiatrist created records about consultations that did not occur. 

When St. Mary Merciless sent my records in 2019, they erased a great deal, including records I assume they realize are completely bogus, which purport interaction that did not occur.

Here’s a bogus but brief record dated Feb 23, Saturday.

I did not see my assigned my doctor over the weekend I was held.

This record is fabricated.

If my assigned psychiatrist had met with me and spoke with me, for one one, thing I would have told her very clearly that my Catholic mother should have nothing to do with my illegal looney bin stay!

“The patient remains irritable, upset, frustrated, angry. She did not attend any activities. The patient did take her Depakote and Seroquel as prescribed. social worker to contact the patient’s mother for more information and arrange for a family session as soon as possible.”

~ * ~

After she returned from out of town, after actually talking to me on February 25, for the first time, four days after I was locked up, my assigned doctor wrote:

“The patient was seen.  She is a little better, no agitation.  She is not violent. She is still preoccupied with the issues of her work. She is a vocal critic for her students.  The patient reports that she was suspected as a criminal, suicidal; however, she denies having any SI. The patient was more concerned about the shooting episodes at the school going on, these days and she wanted to do some work in that regard, some research and contacting some superiors; however, she was opposed and people had some negative remarks of her critic approach.  The patient remains hypomanic.  She still needs to sort out her thoughts and goals.  We will continue individual supportive therapy.  Informed the patient to discuss regarding all these matters to her social worker today or soon.  The patient was explained about her medication.  She is treatment receptive at this time.”

Note the actual details in this single authentic report.

“issues of her work”

“vocal critics for her students”

“reports that she was suspected as a criminal, suicidal”

“denies having any SI”

“concerned about the shooting episodes at the school going on”

“people had negative remarks of her critic approach”

But this report is not completely honest. The doctor manipulated, lied and broke her oath to heal and do no harm.

I did not need to be locked up for goal sorting. We had no relationship and we never spoke again this closely. We barely saw one another again.

I was faking it, not “treatment receptive.”

I should have a chat with my social worker “today or soon” she suggested as if she thought my say was indefinite, like I too was on vacation.

~ * ~

I deserve an Academy Award.

I was faking it.  I even asked her about her trip.

~ * ~ 

I did not need this woman’s help sorting my thoughts and goals. 

I needed to be home managing my life. 

I was released two days later. 

We never spoke one on one again. 

~ * ~

Because all staff seemed to be part time and some staff disappeared after one day as if they quit or were fired or were abducted by aliens, poof, gone after a single appearance, there was no continuity to group therapy.  Patients also rotated in and out, so group therapy was a charade.

My assigned group therapist was a putz with poor attendance and small man’s inferiority complex, complicated by my degree and position. 

I wish the world could have seen this guy pontificate one group session after he learned I was a college instructor.

~ * ~

I was the most educated person on the ward.  I deserve a gold star for my valor. 

As I recall, I mostly kept it very together with little display of sarcasm or rebuke, which is amazing. 

But I needed to get out.

~ * ~

(A repeat) here is the only record I have found by Dave, who expressed, “Gina was a very verbal and interactive participant and shared insights from favorite books, which she believed to be relevant to topics. Her responses were very intellectual. She expressed her anger about her involuntary admission and diagnosis and expressed her disagreement with both.”

 ~ * ~

I gained traction with my campaign for release. 

Finally, one meeting was held with my assigned doctor and assigned social worker (who both exhibited poor attendance) about my release, which I pressed for, at every opportunity, at first in distress, then with more composure, all week. 

I was promised release the next day, which I knew was likely a lie.

I knew my assigned doctor, who played hooky and evidently worked elsewhere day, lied to me about showing up the next morning to sign my release. She was never present in the mornings.

My group therapist wasn’t any more reliable, so I figured I’d never see either them again.  I hoped I would never see either of them again, and I did not.

~ * ~

My assigned psychiatrist’s last notes:

“The patient was seen today.  Worried, anxious, feels stressed out from some domestic issue regarding her dog.  The patient denies any suicidal ideation, intent or any plans.  The patient complained of poor sleep.  Blood pressure was borderline.  The patient is not homicidal, not suicidal.  She was seen with the social worker, Dave.  Post-discharge appointments will be scheduled by the SSW.  In that case, the patient will be discharged to her home on 2/28/2013 after arrangement of her appointments with her psychologist and psychiatrist.”

~ * ~

I did not retain the services of a psychiatrist because I did not want any Big Pharma prescriptions.

I had a therapist mostly to combat the hack shrinks tactically, although that plan, like all my others, also failed miserably.

~ *`

I was never suicidal. 

No one should have the right to ascribe and then suddenly unsubscribe that thought to someone else, in way that towers and determines like mythical god.

~ * ~ 

I am not suicidal now, either, but when pain, depression, terror hit, I would rather be dead than to live with the label “suicidal” maliciously and criminally applied.   

Bogus mental health care, prolonged criminal mental health care, creates pain in the part of your mind that doesn’t even live inside your skull or body.

This final report by a social worker who had come to know me to a degree sums up the situation: “Pt. states she misses her dog and that the negative aspects of being on the unit outweigh the positive.”

~ * ~

Both my assigned doctor and my assigned group therapist failed to show up as promised the next morning to release me, as I fully expected. 

Non attendance and lack of contact with me as patient did not stop my assigned psychiatrist from creating a final record, “Discharge Summary.”

“The patient was brought to the EC by police officers due to patient threatening to commit suicide, extremely agitated, paranoid, delusional thinking.”

Stupid Cop to the rescue! Thank god! (That’s sarcasm.)

“Per Emergency Center report report” written by the female intern, “the patient was speaking very tangential and loud. She was stating that Oakland County College and Mr. William McQueen were trying to drive her insane and wanted to ruin her life.

Yep. Pretty much.

“The patient was under severe pressure and experiencing emotional trauma secondary to her husband’s death in December 2012. The patient reported that the police were making up all these stories about her.”

Yep, that’s right.

“The patient wanted to go home from EC to take care of her 15-year-old-dog.”

YES!!!!

“The patient was highly agitated, delusional manic, confused and very hostile.”

Written two months later to cover medical crime, the mislabeled illegally held patient graduated from aggressive to “very hostile.”

~ * ~

“She was asking people in the EC that somebody to take her out of her misery and ‘kill me’ on Facebook postings.”

That sentence doesn’t even make sense.

SOCIAL HISTORY: “She was an English teacher at Land of Motown Community College and reported that she was working to find out the root of the illegal activities at Land of Motown Community College as a result people were trying to give her more problems.”

Kinda, yes.

HOSPITAL COURSE: “The patient was seen by the internist for an H and P?”

He checked my breathing briefly.

“She was seen by this writer for individual supportive therapy. Treatment focused on improving insight into her illness, . . . .”

Utter self-serving crap.

~ * ~

Determined, I talked a nurse I met near the end of my week into signing me out when neither “Dave” or the disheveled psychiatrist showed up as promised.

It looks like another social worker, not “Dave,” signed my supposed discharge master plan, which of course was not discussed and did not exist.

They had no right.

St. Mary Merciless really did their part to screw up the Land of Motown Community college paper trail. They even erased the connection between their own emergency room and psychiatric ward.

This discharge paperwork says I was admitted from a non-health care facility.

A social worker and a nurse were present to sign my discharge, but not the disheveled female psychiatrist.

“Pt to be discharged home to follow with Dr. Manarchuk. Pt. shows improvements in mood and functioning and agrees with plan.”

Cut the fucking crap.

~ * ~

I literally ran out the door and very nervously met my friend, who joined my speedy gait.  She drove me home. 

I needed to spring my old dog girl out of the pound. 

My bird, my dead husband’s cockatiel, had been left to fend for himself. 

I won’t even get into the rat infestation of my old house rental unit that occurred while I was gone.  

~ * ~

CHAPTER BREAK: I HAD MY OWN THERAPIST AND MASTER PLAN, THANK YOU

I had a therapist of my own while I was illegally and unnecessarily detained for a week in a psychiatric ward. 

I didn’t think he was helping much, but I wanted someone I could trust who could speak positively for me in contrast to the criminal mental health paper trail being constructed about me with malice.  He was supposed to be my defense against Gaslighting.  I stuck with him because he did not use standard mental health care jargon in my care. 

I did not approve of the language in this letter. I thought it was weak and did not hold Land of Motown Community College responsible for causing the stress in my life unnecessarily. I especially disapproved of vague talk about my supposed behavior, but at this point, October 9, 2012, the plan was to work with Land of Motown Community College.

More brain picking, that I paid for.

~ * ~

According to Dr. John, the hospital would not let him be a part of my care.  And he did not force the issue, which hurts a great deal. 

He left me stranded inside a psychiatric ward for a week! 

~ * ~

In this second letter, he edits his missteps in the first. It’s better than the first letter.

I yelled at this guy all the time, as part of the dynamic between us.

He always smiled, even when it was not appropriate or appreciated, I think because I knew if things got tough, he would not stand up for me as well as I might need.

~ * ~

January 22, 2014, letter from Dr. john addressed to one of two old white male judges I encountered while not getting unemployment insurance.

“In my office and throughout sessions with Ms. Fourier, while she has demonstrated signs of distress, hurt and anger, she has been oriented to time, persona and place. further, she has not revealed any thoughts, plans or threats of harm to self or others. Rather the opposite, she shows high levels of compassion and sensitivity.”

~ * ~

He did not know me to be suicidal. 

That is fair and accurate.

But Dr. John was no good to me when I needed him. 

And he eventually abandoned me, just like my dad, even though he was aware of that history. 

So many communication break downs.

~ * ~

There is so much inter-personal hurt in this story of murderous mental health care.  That’s another reason I can’t stick to a straight timeline very easily.  Every new hurt reignites some aspect of what happened to me and sets me off forward or backward from that point.

Dr. John has a great poster face to represent for the shyster aspect of mental health care.

~ * ~

I wish things were different, more friendly and much more fun.

~ * ~

Dr. Julie TwoMoon’s name and phone number repeat on many erased St. Mary Merciless staff records, though I did not supply the hospital with her contact information.

Dr. Julie is natural doctor who helped me lose a great deal of weight, which I have regained, no fault of hers. I started eating bread and sugar again.

She also gave me acupuncture, which was not available at St. Mary Merciless.

~ * ~

Dr. Julie’s January 20, 2014 letter to the Oakland County administrative court judge, who ignored her words completely, maybe even denigrated her credentials, if I recall correctly, got it right, better than Dr. John.

Dr. Julie, mother nature, I thought of her, held my attackers responsible and did not blame me. She supported my decision to quit my job, quit my attackers, quit Land of Motown Community College.

“. . . in the spring of 2012, she began to report significant work related stress including poignant workplace events which were extremely disruptive. Through the rest of 2012 and into 2013, this continued per her visits with me in an escalating fashion culminating quite significantly in the spring of 2013. Following her stay at the St. Mary’s hospital Psychiatric ward, Ms. Fournier was dramatically stressed and displayed significant effects including sleep difficulties, anxiety and depression . . .”

I recommend her.

I wish I were still able to afford acupuncture.

~ * ~

My money ran out before my stress did, so I stopped seeing Dr. Julie.

~ * ~

CHAPTER BREAK: NO I DID NOT HAVE A LAWYER, NOT REALLY

How do the city or state simply abduct you from home, say you’re crazy and lock you up for a week? 

At the time, I was misled about the legal proceedings. 

Or, the legal proceedings make no sense.

The only verbal counseling I received about legal proceedings inside St. Mary Merciless was talk among inmates.

~ * ~

A court appointed lawyer showed up briefly to speak with me inside the asylum, but she was not clear.  She showed up inside Catholic Siberia for a few minutes wearing sweat pants, on her way to the gym. 

I think it was the day before I planned to make my exit. 

~ * ~

Talk on the ward, which included a few repeat customers, was also not clear, but it was accurately foretold to me that a useless lawyer would show up.  

I took the counsel of looney bin inmates and ignored her pitch, whatever it was, in order to be released sooner, as promised, the next day.  

It seemed involuntary inmates were screwed period.

They already had my body!

Maybe the idea was that if you told the lawyer you wanted to fight your illegal detainment, they kept you longer.  If you let the Catholics at St. Mary Merciless suck you dry, without fighting back, you would be released earlier. 

Sounds like inmate talk.

Unfortunately, the lawyer was not at all helpful. She did not listen to my story. She did not counsel me.

She just wanted a signature, and I just wanted out.

~ * ~

At the time, I did not realize how important it may have been to show up to court for a scheduled hearing that transpired days after I talked my way out of the looney bin. 

I did not want to look back. 

Mostly, I did not want to risk re-capture, so I did not plant to attend whatever court proceedings were held.

~ * ~

Motherfuck by Catholic Jesus in hell on earth Michigan, USA never ends.

This may be the only document in the St. Mary Merciless records sent in 2019 that I have never before seen, that means anything.

Yes, I found out why the admission record from the emergency room shows a prior admission. A new doctor I was using to obtain my asthma medication sent my blood to the hospital.

Request to Defer Hearing on Commitment. February 27.

Did Wayne County send this form in the spring of 2018 at my request to Lake Miramichi?

Break down.

Death would be better than staring in this story of suicide swatting.

I did not agree to anything. I was being held. This broad showed up after I was promised release.

Nothing was clear. Nothing was safe. No one was listening to me.

Even the lawyer made a buck off me.

I don’t know why I did not add my own words or refuse to sign, but I was playing the game to be released. Maybe I was afraid.

I’m certainly terrified now.

~ * ~ 

I thought all this time that the court ignored me and my absence at the hearing.

~ * ~ 

I guess a hearing was never held.

~ * ~

Why would I risk showing up for a hearing?

~ * ~

CHAPTER BREAK: Catholic Looney Bin Coda, Or Catholics Build a Monument in Honor of their Own Holiness

St. Mary Merciless was undergoing renovations when I returned to take pictures two years later.  And most strangely nearly empty of patients, doctors, nurses and visitors on a Saturday in April 2014. Recently, the Felician Nuns opened a new chapel addition to the hospital. 

Those nasty women built an edifice to their own holiness using my hide, and it is not okay with me. 

https://www.hometownlife.com/story/life/community/observer/livonia/2018/09/13/new-chapel-opens-st-mary-mercy-hospital-livonia/1265496002/

~ * ~

When I peered into the lock door of the psychiatric ward, I did not see any improvements.

~ * ~

Anxiety. The feeling of being boxed in, which precipitates the feeling of being on fire and having my flesh ripped.  Caused by bogus criminal mental health care.  Pain in a part of your body not in your body.  Very tricky.  Excruciating.  Maddening.

`* ~   

I have been forced to constantly re-experience and sleuth my own murder, to dwell in the past, as critics charge. 

The realization haunts me daily as I carry on, so many years later, like a zombie. 

Things have not gotten better no matter what I try to move forward, to heal.

~ * ~

The other teachers threw me under the bus.  They had to know. Most in-house communication was unofficial gossip. The health insurance branch of the teachers’ union okayed a five day stay at a psychiatric ward, without seeing the legally required paperwork, or a request for service from me.  That had to mean they part of the set up.

It was like they each individually and collected as a group assumed or agreed I disappeared into thin air. An entire 300 person five campus teachers union, Land of Motown Community College Faculty Association, pretended I never existed.

Land of Motown Community College pays very well.  Not all its teachers, or most of its teachers, but an almost randomly selected smaller subset of full time, supposedly union protected teachers earn wages at the top of the national scale. 

My former co-workers kept quiet and looked straight ahead, as if I never existed, I guess.

~ * ~

March 2013.

Freedom.

I ordered a copy of my medical records immediately. 

I found a smoking gun right away, or so I thought.  Someone preregistered me at the hospital, months and months beforehand, after my appointment with the first hack shrink.  It says right on my admission form, prior reg 7/17/2012. 

Well, I was not a fruitful track of inquiry, but I did find plenty enough other evidence of wrong doing.

~ * ~

Before criminal mental health care murdered me, before I was de-classroomed, I never did find a primary care physician in the area that I wanted to keep, even though I had the best health insurance, “the Cadillac version,” union insiders liked to call it.

~ * ~

I found out via the second set of medical records that a doctor I did not like but used for asthma medication refills sent my blood to St. Mary Merciless laboratories.

That was the prior registration.

~ * ~

They got their hands on my blood, then they got their hands on me.

Not okay.

But only relevant thematically.

~ * ~

I had thought my mother may have pre-registered me.

I did not know what happen previously with so many moving parts, but I’ve known all along my mother would do me wrong in regards to a looney bin.  Since before it happened. Because of Frances, the Jessica Lange movie, in which real life actress Frances Farmer’s mother does the same.  Because of the sense I understood, me alone inside me.

My mother has not chosen to advocate for me to the Catholics for mercy on my behalf, which is unforgivable and toxic with the burning fire of god poisoning my being.

She has done me wrong, very, very wrong.

~ * ~

What a gift to both those sick cookies, my mother and my nemesis at Land of Motown Community College, a Catholic looney bin, right in the neighborhood. 

My mother could keep her watch over me and my nemesis could wound me in the most painful way.

~ * ~

Include my Catholic mother and Catholic upbringing plus movies I’ve seen and this story can get really trippy, depending on how much I leave out or tell. 

Just the opposite my stated goal, I could convince you that maybe I am nutz just by being authentic me.

~ * ~

Once stained with the color “crazy,” there’s no going back ever.

Mental health care is a Neanderthal.

I was happier as a chimp. 

~ * ~

All authorities have completely ignored all key facts and the many smoking guns I;ve found, which took me years to decode.

There are plenty of very suspicious clues to investigate. 

If only someone besides me would. 

~ * ~

Jesus raped me.

Graphic artwork created by a mysterious supporter named Clappy, who says he was raped by a priest.

I believe Clappy.

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