I FORGOT TO WEAR PURPLE ON SCHIZOPHRENIA AWARENESS DAY

I FORGOT TO WEAR PURPLE ON SCHIZOPHRENIA AWARENESS DAY

 

Sometimes these weird coincidences occur that remind me that there is a God – or as my father-in-law used to say a “Master Plan”

May 24 was “Schizophrenia Awareness Day” in BC. I’d planned to wear purple as many others were planning to do. In Prince George some planned to dye their hair purple.

Previously I’d emailed a reporter named Gordon Sinclair Jr who writes a column for the Winnipeg Free Press Newspaper. I’d read his article on the dilemma of whether or not to trust  schizophrenics who’d committed a homicide – even after they’d been properly medicated and were considered “sane.”

I also wondered if he was the son of Gordon Sinclair Sr who had been a wartime journalist and in later years a panelist on the 1960’s TV show “Front Page Challenge” (Turned out Gordon Jr was the son of a journalist but not THE Gordon Sinclair I remembered.)

On  May 24^th Gordon called on the phone. We  conversed for well over an hour. I still shake internally when talking about the horrible thing that happened with Bruce back in 1993. I promised Gordon I would email Bruce’s statement to BC Review Board in 1999 which precluded his release from the Forensic Psychiatric Institute.

I typed the scenario out (from my book) along with pertinent dates and info pertaining to Bruce’s release process. Gordon particularly wanted my take on whether I thought that Vince Li should ever be released into the general public. The victim’s mother insists the man who murdered and dismembered her son should be locked up forever.

My take on it was that each of these perpetrators is an individual- with individual weaknesses and strengths. When they become well [now referred to as in “recovery”] and on the proper medication, they need to have insight into their symptoms. It is important as well that they have the right attitude about continuing on their meds and staying well. And of course monitoring their mental health on a regular basis should definitely be on the agenda.[Same as when on a cancer or a heart disease medication]

Upon re-reading the notes copied from my book “The Ghosts Behind Him” (published in 1999)I am once again pleased and proud of my son for doing as well as he has for all of these years – ever since being released on a conditional discharge from the Forensic Psychiatric Institute in Port Coquitlam. Bruce is lucky to have had the ongoing support from both the staff at his group home and from his doctors. He’s also benefitted greatly from his association with the staff and mental health peers at the Gallery Gachet (art studio) in Vancouver where he spends much of his time.

 

 

 

Notes sent to Gordon Sinclair Jr.

 

May 23, 1996: (two years after being detained at the Forensic Institute in Port Coquitlam after being tried for Second Degree Murder and acquitted because of a mental disorder) The BC Review Board determined to approach release “more slowly” – have Bruce experience living in Hillside (cottages at Riverview Hospital) before discharging him from the Hospital and placing him in the less supervised setting of a group home…..”one significant change in the terms and condition” was that there should be a possibility of unescorted access to the community during the term (one year) of the new disposition…

Nov/ 96: I [Doris]was then able to visit with Bruce at the place where I was staying [no official escort needed as was previous stipulation]

In January 1997 Bruce phoned me to say the doctor had taken him off the older medication and had upped the dosage of Clozapine. Bruce said he was now able to concentrate much better.

In a letter to me he wrote: “…It’s been hard for both of us. There’s still so much pain when I remember…I try to leave it all behind me (perhaps too much) I live in the present moment and approach everything with as much patience as I can muster…. I hope to make some progress in the coming months toward establishing a sense of trust between me and the community. You and I know that I am not a violent person, but others hold my fate in hand. Others who do not know me.”

May/97- review board granted him visiting leaves including overnight stays. Bruce arrived in our community of FraserLake – [about 14 hours on the bus] – for a visit. He was allowed to stay for 4 days. [rules included notifying his ward at FPI upon arrival and before leaving for home]

In December he was allowed a visit with his dad and stepmom in Ladysmith. He had said he wanted to move back to Nanaimo but only if Mental Health would first consult with the Davis family. Bruce wanted the lady at Mental Health to assure them that he was “no longer dangerous” [don’t think he got any feedback on that... the family probably didn’t want him back in the same town??]

Bruce was eligible for “temporary leave placements” into a selected group home [this was in 1998]

It was in the group home in Burnaby where Bruce went off his medications and once again experienced the “dark voices” although they were not as strident as before. He requested that he be taken back to the Forensic Psychiatric Institute. A few days later when I phoned his caseworker, I was told his mental health “had already returned to baseline”

Bruces next Review Board Hearing was on January 6, 1999. He said he was going to be absolutely candid about why he went off the meds (he’d been advised by someone that the meds cause brain injury)

The people in his therapy group were very supportive, prompting him to write the following statement which reflected his new attitude.

“First of all I’ve learned that in order to stay functional, I have to make sure my relationship with my doctor and treatment team is mutually conducive. Throughout my therapy with Doctor T…. at the clinic, I have come to understand that it is integral I see myself as part of the team, that I have something to contribute to it. Moreover it is useless to be confrontative or  even challenging toward a system that I am involved in. It is a matter of trust – both ways. Trust is a lot like money, it must be earned! I see myself as fulfilling the role of a job. In the same way that these professionals do their work, I must contribute.

“I had been told [by ex-patients] that there’s a chance of contacting brain damage from medications, therefore I stopped taking my regular dosages. Afterward my doctor suggested I read literature from an orthodox viewpoint. After the consequences I decided that I had made a mistake. When I stopped taking my medication, I immediately experienced hallucinations and then volunteered to be returned to FPI to be reassessed. When the dosages were raised I had no more problems and returned to reside [at the group home]. I am of the understanding that if I have a relapse of any sort, I am open to returning to this institution for as long as it takes, to be reassessed and treated in any way. I have stated this several times and have no reservations whatsoever- whether I have a custody order, conditional discharge or absolute discharge.

“Thus, perhaps I earn the trust that I am given. Now my job as I call it, is to maintain respect for the system and to endeavor to keep myself empowered. To know when I need help and not be too proud to ask for assistance. I am to be honest and not to worry about the consequences.

“ I have been as honest as I can be, considering my fears and despite the fact that I lied about the bad voices. They were always present [during the time he was off medication] but were not (as I saw it) debilitating and could easily be ignored through relaxation techniques. Now I can claim honestly that these voices have receded into the background. I feel I am ready to take steps toward a long and healthy rehabilitative return to the community I live in and am a part of.”

Note; it was at this point that Bruce received a “Conditional Discharge” from the Forensic Psychiatric Institute.

THE PRESIDENT’S WIDOW

THE PRESIDENT’S WIDOW

Recently I was compelled to do a bit of research on the assassination of U.S President John F Kennedy. Back in November1963 I was a young wife and mother. The emotions I experienced upon hearing of that life altering event are still embedded in my psyche. Before that time everything seemed fairly simple. The war (Second World War) was over and except for some conflicts in the Far East, peace was thought to be inevitable. The US had a beautiful couple on the throne in Washington DC and the world as we knew it was unsinkable. We assumed that with “Jack” at the helm of our particular “Titanic” it would never slam into an ice-berg.

When John F Kennedy died we fell into a world of confusion, mistrust and downright paranoia. (don’t think we’ve ever recovered!)

I wondered about the reaction of Kennedy’s wife Jacqueline who was in the car with her husband during that horrific incident. The following biographical reference provides some insight into what the First Lady of the United States experienced during that terrible time.. Earlier that same year her two-day-old son named Patrick, had also passed away.
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http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jacqueline_Kennedy_Onassis#Education_and_young_adulthood

After the motorcade turned the corner onto Elm Street in Dealey Plaza, the First Lady heard what she thought to be a motorcycle backfiring, and did not realize that it was a gunshot until she heard Governor Connally scream. Within 8.4 seconds, two more shots had rung out, and she leaned toward her husband. The final shot struck the President in the head. Shocked, she climbed out of the back seat and crawled over the trunk of the car. Her Secret Service agent, Clint Hill, later told the Warren Commission that he thought she had been reaching across the trunk for a piece of the President’s skull that had been blown off. Hill ran to the car and leapt onto it, directing her back to her seat. The car rushed to Dallas’s Parkland Hospital, and on arrival there, the president’s body was rushed into a trauma room. The First Lady, for the moment, remained in a room for relatives and friends of patients just outside.

A few minutes into her husband’s treatment, accompanied by the President’s doctor, Admiral George Burkley, she left her folding chair outside Trauma Room One and attempted to enter the operating room. Nurse Doris Nelson stopped her and attempted to bar the door to prevent her from entering. She persisted, and the President’s doctor suggested that she take a sedative, which she refused. “I want to be there when he dies,” she told Burkley. He eventually persuaded Nelson to grant her access to Trauma Room One, saying “It’s her right, it’s her prerogative.”

Later, when the casket arrived, the widow removed her wedding ring and slipped it onto the President’s finger. She told aide Ken O’Donnell, “Now I have nothing left.”After the president’s death, she refused to remove her blood-stained clothing, and regretted having washed the blood off her face and hands. She continued to wear the blood-stained pink suit as she went on board Air Force One and stood next to Johnson when he took the oath of office as President. She told Lady Bird Johnson, “I want them to see what they have done to Jack.”

Life (How to live it) According to Dr Wayne Dyer

Dr. Wayne W. Dyer
Your past history and all of your hurts are no longer here in your physical reality. Don’t allow them to be here in your mind, muddying your present moments. Your life is like a play with several acts. Some of the characters who enter have short roles to play, others, much longer. But all are necessary, otherwise they wouldn’t be in the play. Embrace them all, and move on to the next act.

IT WAS A DARK AND STORMY EVENING

It was a dark and stormy evening. A big wind in rural British Columbia is simply an interruption between the snow or rain and the ever-popular sunshine. The important thing to remember is to stay off the lakes in your rowboat or canoe. But a wind storm in an urban setting can be an eerie experience, especially if one is imaginative and spending the night on the Riverview Hospital grounds in Port Coquitlam.

Mental patients – I have found – are like everyone else. Those whom we know and love are just fine. It’s the strangers we have a tendency to mistrust. But when I am anywhere south of Hope or Princeton, I begin to notice that there are a lot more strangers strolling about than there are friends. Many have attributes that would qualify them as being “weird” in downtown Fraser Lake. (Simply not wearing parkas and winter boots in April would do that.)

When the sun goes down in the city I never know what to do with my purse. Draping its strap across the opposite shoulder used to deter snatchers, but now I hear that is not enough. Seasoned crooks merely cut the strap and run. Even though it contains nothing more valuable than Kleenex and an occasional cough drop, I clutch mine closely to my bosom. Holding my head up I stride confidently, gazing neither left nor right, hoping to create the illusion that I am armed with a lethal weapon or at the very least have a black belt in karate.

Cottage 119 at Riverview is for patients’ family members to stay when they are visiting. Conveniently, it was right around the corner from where my son resided. At five-thirty on Easter Sunday Bruce and I were finishing dinner when there came a tremendous burst of wind, followed by a high volume of screeching and wailing sounds from somewhere outside the building. The creaking of branches from nearby trees, as they gnashed and rubbed together, completed the symphony.

Each succeeding gust of wind produced more banshee-like shrieks that pierced the air above the droning sounds of traffic on the nearby highway. These high pitched sounds were not unique to the Riverview area. Later that evening my daughter phoned and said the same eerie noises emanated from outside her in-law’s home several miles away. The hydro was off over there, she stated, which made things even spookier.

She wondered if her not-very-courageous, nervous and overly imaginative mother was up to handling the situation.I assured her that in the event of a power failure, my finger was poised to dial the telephone for a taxicab. Bruce had to leave at 9 P.M. If I was alone in the dark at that time, I was out of there!

Bruce and I discussed the history of the large tract of land known as Riverview. We agreed that the lush grounds would be a wonderful place to live, if one were considered “sane” and did not have to be there. There has been a concerted effort afoot by entrepreneurs to get their hands on the valuable piece of real estate, and build condos and monster homes upon it. That hope is not being shared by mental health advocates and promoters of Hollywood North.

People in the film industry are often seen skulking and lurking in and around the architecturally-pleasing old buildings. I have noticed that mental patients are usually pretty laid back. Chances are if a really weird character was spotted on the Riverview grounds, it would be a movie or television star and not a resident.

There are many beautiful trees on the Riverview grounds, most of which shed their foliage in great heaps in the fall. Now outside our window, we could see these wrinkled pieces of brown parchment, the corpses of last year’s beautiful leaves, begin to rise and dart erratically up into the darkening sky like flocks of small, hungry bats. The scene was more reminiscent of Halloween than Easter.

My son was now mentally stable. I could tell because his sense of humour was evident. He had mentioned that there was an historic graveyard located a short distance from the cottage. Just then a gust of wind blew up, setting in motion whatever it was that caused the shrieking noises.

“Perhaps its the ghosts of long dead mental patients,” Bruce suggested with a grin. I was not amused.

Omineca Lakes Mental Health & Addictions Advisory Committee

I’ve been very busy lately as secretary for an advisory committee on “Mental Health and Addictions” recently set up in our Omineca-Lakes health district by Northern Health in Prince George. Members from five communities meet via video-conference- There are dollars in the bank to use for consumer education and/or employment creation ventures; we connect with RCMP; health service providers, etc- even our local MLA .(The query for him was more low-income housing – he promised to push for that) Very interesting and caring people on the committee. Hopefully, will make a difference in the lives of some of those who aren’t experiencing the quality of life that the rest of us do. Lots of problems with alchohol/drugs up here in the north- many addictions appear to stem from an underlying mental health disorder.

“Occupy”

I’ve been following the Occupy movement that set itself up in  groups of  shiny blue plastic domes in parts of Vancouver this past while. What began as an admirable protest against the enormous financial gap existing between the privileged and underprivileged in society, has deteriorated into a 1960′s  mish-mash of idealism, delusion and drugs. The movement has lost most of its  support in the public eye. The few benefactors are the enterprising homeless who scurried from their usual hidey-holes to squat in one of those unoccupied rain-proof tents for the night. The homeless will miss the comfort that comes from having a relatively decent night’s sleep under a plastic dome.

When did the word “homeless” become just another noun in our vocabulary?

I wonder if any of the Occupiers paid attention  to the irony – that those who identify themselves as being “underprivileged” (in comparison to the rich) must appear to be extremely privileged to those who dwell in doorways and under bridges?

I don’t believe the word “Occupy” was the best label for what started out as a laudable cause. (Labels are so important – like book titles.) Someone recently pasted on Facebook that what was further needed was “a revolution”   I don’t believe that’s the way to go either.

My sense is that the change needs to begin at the top. Those at very top of the human food chain have acquired more assets and have more control than they can possibly deplete in one life-time – or in their descendents’  lifetime- or on and on into future family generations.

Once in a while one of  our “over-privileged” -Warren Buffet is one of them – has voiced that he  would be perfectly happy to pay more taxes. Way to go Warrren- get together with other mult-millionaires and mulit-billionaires and advocate to help lessen the gap!

October

OCTOBER

Now that it’s October
And for sure our summer’s over…
I dig up the window boxes,
Pillage petals, roots and stalks ‘n
Scatter corpses on the ground
Dead plants lying all around

Replace them with some flowering bulbs
With dreams of springtime I indulge
I tuck them in the rich black earth
That was my summer flowers’ turf

Mound them high with peat moss fill
To protect from winters’ chill
When snow and ice encase the world
And darkness through the days unfurl.

The flowering bulbs may not survive
But Northerners like me will thrive
There’s only one thing helps us cope -
In winter we subsist on hope…

Bring on the seed catalogues!

Peacefulness (one of the Virtues)

PEACEFULNESS (ONE OF THE VIRTUES)

It’s hard to differentiate
‘Tween angst and anger; hurt and hate
When in your heart you feel a pain
It could simply be the rain…
If someone whom you love a lot
Does not give a second thought
To what you deem important stuff
You think they do not care enough
That of course is likely true
But does not mean they don’t love you
The ball is now within your court an’
Bite your tongue before retortin’!!

Layton- ania

Perhaps the extreme sense of loss we Canadians are experiencing at the death of Jack Layton  is that we think Jack’s “time at bat” – to use baseball terminology - was cut short before he’d rounded the bases?

Perhaps his death at the relatively young age of 61 will spur others to concentrate on what carried him through the length and breadth of his political career? Jack’s priorities were simple. They’ve been lauded  throughout the ages in religious writings, fiction, nonfiction, poetry, memoirs and ordinary everyday conversations. Our heroes have always been those who raise the quality of life of fellow human beings who happen to be underpriveleged and/or suffering from debilitating circumstances.

Jack’s principles were those that most of us would like to adhere to. When times were tough in the old days people actually enjoyed helping one another. They communicated and shared what they had. Oldtimes still recall the spirit of  ”the good old days” during the Great Depression of the nineteen-thirties.

Canadian politicians need to know that what most of us REALLY want is to assist others who are in various states of distress. We may whine and complain that we don’t have enough; but there is a deep psychological need inside each and everyone of us to assist our fellow human beings. The happiest people are those who willingly give up on that third car or bigger house, to help others.

Or like Rick Hansen did- wheelchaired around the world to assist others who were in the same circumstances as he was (Had to put that in – Rick Hansen is my favorite Canadian hero!)

We must shout it loud and clear so that the present and future generations of politicians can hear us: please assist those amongst us who are downtrodden. That needs to be a priority.

It was Jack Layton’s priority.

 

 

Bee’s Recovery From Depression

In  the spring of 1985 my daughter Bee recovered from her horrific struggle with symptoms of  major depression. The final verses of her song  “The Hall of Mirrors” describe the  experience of attaining joy and spiritual renewal.  Since that time she has managed all symptoms without the use of medication.

Is anybody out there? Can anyone see me?

Is anybody waiting for me to start to see

what’s going on outside of me?

(— Arms are opening, reaching —)

(— Hands are opening, touching —)

(— Eyes are opening, seeing —)

(— Hearts are opening, melting. —)

Walking outside of the Hall of Mirrors,

brand-new sights to catch my eye.

Living outside of the Hall of Mirrors,

the whole wide Universe can be my guide.

Working outside of the Hall of Mirrors,

helping other prisoners to be free.

Life outside of the Hall of Mirrors

is everything that life can be!

Is anybody out there?

Can everyone see me?