Crazy as the Dick-ins...Chapter the Second
So...they committed her.
I showed up to the hospital, just as she'd sat down to meet with the King County Mental Health Evaluator. I listened to her story...which is in many ways less crazy than the article makes it sound, and in some other ways far crazier. She wasn't seeking to harm herself, she was making irrational and somewhat dangerous choices in an effort to protect herself from harm. At least, that's her story, and it rang true, if mildly nuts.
She did not have a knife.
She did not fall, but rather crawled inside the chimney to hide...which isn't, y'know, a sane choice, but it's certainly not one that speaks of an inclination towards self-harm.
These are good signs.
Still...as I listened to her narrative, it became quite clear that yes, indeed, she needed help. On the massively plus-side: she acknowledged that she needed help, and offered to go voluntarily into treatment, if only she could have some time/help in finding a treatment facility that would suit her philosophy rather than being forced to go into a state institution.
The lady who was sent to evaluate her...
I really don't like that lady.
She came in, immediately somewhat hostile. As though she'd already decided that HMF needed to be committed. Moreover, she seemed to have already decided that she didn't LIKE HMF. Even worst than that, it became very clear to me very quickly that she didn't care.
She just didn't care.
She wasn't interested in HMF's needs or wants. I sat there, listening to my friend say a lot of shit that was pretty off-kilter, and a lot of shit that was perfectly lucid and reasonable, if somewhat out-of-the-ordinary, and I watched as Evaluator twisted the sane and rational things into clearly unintended, irrational rantings, I kinda wanted to cut a bitch.
This girl, my friend, was oh-so-very-clearly barely a name and a number to this woman.
And, y'know, I sympathize to some degree. Her job has got to be hell. And maybe she needs this to cope, and maybe she's tired of the million-and-two ways that crazy people rationalize what's going on, and claim to know the president, or the alien leader, or Paul Newman, but, damnit, that should be her job anyway.
She should care about the people she's doing this to.
Eventually, HMF realized that this woman wasn't listening, not really, or at least wasn't willing to hear, and she asked to exercise her right to legal counsel before they continued. Evaluator said "okay," left, and while HMF was trying to reach her brother, a lawyer, Evaluator filled out the commitment forms.
So now, HMF, who offered to voluntarily commit herself, to seek treatment, to try and get healthy, has been put in the position of officially being forced, and given no volition in how to go about it.
I sat there, and I can tell you, HMF is not healthy...but she didn't do anything seeking to hurt herself, or others...and in the end, she KNOWS she needs help. Why would it be best to force her when she would have done it voluntarily?
That's a rhetorical question, my friends. If you can answer that with a justification, I probably don't want to hear it.
In the end, her family showed up...which was, y'know, awkward...becuase, like, who the fuck am I, anyway?
And I helped HMF to try and contact a "doctor" in Canada that she's worked with in the past...about whom I was dubious, but it seemed to help her feel like someone was trying to advocate for *her* wishes...
The guy was useless...but it made her feel better.
She tried contacting the media...I'm really not sure how well that worked, but it is why I feel okay talking about this stuff in such detail, though I'd appreciate it if y'all didn't repost all about this...not that you would...but still...
Anyway...after that, I left. The parents seemed somewhat grateful. Both that I'd been there, and that I was leaving.
And...y'know...I just don't know how to feel. She kept asking me for advice...for help...and I just didn't have much to offer.
"Please don't struggle."
"Lodge your protests, go on the record, state the fact that you're operating under duress. When they drug you, tell them that you're complying under protest...but don't struggle, and don't endanger yourself, or them."
"You don't have to go violently in order to not go quietly."
"Get yourself a lawyer. Keep asking, keep seeking...find someone whose willing and able to be your advocate when the point of what they're doing to you is about not listening to what you're saying."
And she gave me a kiss, and told me I could go.
And I have no idea whether she heard me...I think she understood...but I left before they took her away.
And, y'know...she's pissed. And scared...
And I have a lot of respect for her. Knowing she's not healthy, looking for help, and not being okay with the way she's being treated, and refusing to pretend that she is.
And I worry.
And I wonder if I'm over-identifying...
Because I left feeling decidedly not-sane.
Like: There, but for the grace of God go I...y'know?
Because her whole story...told the way she did...almost made sense. And I could see, very easily, how any one of us could have this bizarre, funny story about the time we hid from muggers or rapists on the top of a building--which may not have been smart, but certainly wasn't crazy--and how it landed us in the hospital because someone said, "He's got a knife," or "she's gonna jump."
And now I know that, when we tell our story to the nice lady who comes to ask if we're okay, she's going to focus entirely on what sort of treatment facility we want, and how that's not the type we should want, and the fact that we're asking a lot of questions, and maybe not really drawing good connecting lines in our story because of the drugs they've already injected us with...
And then they'll take us away.
Because, once they've decided you're crazy, it doesn't matter whether you answer 'yes' or 'no' when they ask if you're crazy.
And...I mean...she's clearly got some really bad shit going on, and she should have help, and I'm glad she's getting it...
But the reasons that they seemed to use to justify the notion that she couldn't be trusted to decide to have help, and had to be forced...
I just can't figure out how it's okay.
I showed up to the hospital, just as she'd sat down to meet with the King County Mental Health Evaluator. I listened to her story...which is in many ways less crazy than the article makes it sound, and in some other ways far crazier. She wasn't seeking to harm herself, she was making irrational and somewhat dangerous choices in an effort to protect herself from harm. At least, that's her story, and it rang true, if mildly nuts.
She did not have a knife.
She did not fall, but rather crawled inside the chimney to hide...which isn't, y'know, a sane choice, but it's certainly not one that speaks of an inclination towards self-harm.
These are good signs.
Still...as I listened to her narrative, it became quite clear that yes, indeed, she needed help. On the massively plus-side: she acknowledged that she needed help, and offered to go voluntarily into treatment, if only she could have some time/help in finding a treatment facility that would suit her philosophy rather than being forced to go into a state institution.
The lady who was sent to evaluate her...
I really don't like that lady.
She came in, immediately somewhat hostile. As though she'd already decided that HMF needed to be committed. Moreover, she seemed to have already decided that she didn't LIKE HMF. Even worst than that, it became very clear to me very quickly that she didn't care.
She just didn't care.
She wasn't interested in HMF's needs or wants. I sat there, listening to my friend say a lot of shit that was pretty off-kilter, and a lot of shit that was perfectly lucid and reasonable, if somewhat out-of-the-ordinary, and I watched as Evaluator twisted the sane and rational things into clearly unintended, irrational rantings, I kinda wanted to cut a bitch.
This girl, my friend, was oh-so-very-clearly barely a name and a number to this woman.
And, y'know, I sympathize to some degree. Her job has got to be hell. And maybe she needs this to cope, and maybe she's tired of the million-and-two ways that crazy people rationalize what's going on, and claim to know the president, or the alien leader, or Paul Newman, but, damnit, that should be her job anyway.
She should care about the people she's doing this to.
Eventually, HMF realized that this woman wasn't listening, not really, or at least wasn't willing to hear, and she asked to exercise her right to legal counsel before they continued. Evaluator said "okay," left, and while HMF was trying to reach her brother, a lawyer, Evaluator filled out the commitment forms.
So now, HMF, who offered to voluntarily commit herself, to seek treatment, to try and get healthy, has been put in the position of officially being forced, and given no volition in how to go about it.
I sat there, and I can tell you, HMF is not healthy...but she didn't do anything seeking to hurt herself, or others...and in the end, she KNOWS she needs help. Why would it be best to force her when she would have done it voluntarily?
That's a rhetorical question, my friends. If you can answer that with a justification, I probably don't want to hear it.
In the end, her family showed up...which was, y'know, awkward...becuase, like, who the fuck am I, anyway?
And I helped HMF to try and contact a "doctor" in Canada that she's worked with in the past...about whom I was dubious, but it seemed to help her feel like someone was trying to advocate for *her* wishes...
The guy was useless...but it made her feel better.
She tried contacting the media...I'm really not sure how well that worked, but it is why I feel okay talking about this stuff in such detail, though I'd appreciate it if y'all didn't repost all about this...not that you would...but still...
Anyway...after that, I left. The parents seemed somewhat grateful. Both that I'd been there, and that I was leaving.
And...y'know...I just don't know how to feel. She kept asking me for advice...for help...and I just didn't have much to offer.
"Please don't struggle."
"Lodge your protests, go on the record, state the fact that you're operating under duress. When they drug you, tell them that you're complying under protest...but don't struggle, and don't endanger yourself, or them."
"You don't have to go violently in order to not go quietly."
"Get yourself a lawyer. Keep asking, keep seeking...find someone whose willing and able to be your advocate when the point of what they're doing to you is about not listening to what you're saying."
And she gave me a kiss, and told me I could go.
And I have no idea whether she heard me...I think she understood...but I left before they took her away.
And, y'know...she's pissed. And scared...
And I have a lot of respect for her. Knowing she's not healthy, looking for help, and not being okay with the way she's being treated, and refusing to pretend that she is.
And I worry.
And I wonder if I'm over-identifying...
Because I left feeling decidedly not-sane.
Like: There, but for the grace of God go I...y'know?
Because her whole story...told the way she did...almost made sense. And I could see, very easily, how any one of us could have this bizarre, funny story about the time we hid from muggers or rapists on the top of a building--which may not have been smart, but certainly wasn't crazy--and how it landed us in the hospital because someone said, "He's got a knife," or "she's gonna jump."
And now I know that, when we tell our story to the nice lady who comes to ask if we're okay, she's going to focus entirely on what sort of treatment facility we want, and how that's not the type we should want, and the fact that we're asking a lot of questions, and maybe not really drawing good connecting lines in our story because of the drugs they've already injected us with...
And then they'll take us away.
Because, once they've decided you're crazy, it doesn't matter whether you answer 'yes' or 'no' when they ask if you're crazy.
And...I mean...she's clearly got some really bad shit going on, and she should have help, and I'm glad she's getting it...
But the reasons that they seemed to use to justify the notion that she couldn't be trusted to decide to have help, and had to be forced...
I just can't figure out how it's okay.