Semi-successful Suicide

The story behind this story is far too involved to write, here. It would take, not just a book, but volumes of books….

In 2006, I had been battling with a diagnosis of, “Bi-polar Disorder,” for 4 years, which I knew, from the time I was originally diagnosed (2002), was wrong. I had a psychiatrist, who liked to play God. By the order of the court, he had the right to play God. I was on probation, and part of my probation requirements was, “must take all medications as prescribed by a psychiatrist.” This meant that I had no right to refuse what was going into my own body.

I had this guy figured out very quickly. He took human beings, and turned them, one way or another, into permanent paychecks- either by keeping them locked into his “Westwood System,” or by having them institutionalized in another facility that was ran by the same system. In 2004, while doing a stint on his psyche unit, we had a meeting. During this meeting he said to me, and this is a direct quote, “My prognosis for you, is to have you permanently institutionalized, and you will be, one way or another.”

My reply to this was, “I have you figured out, and I knew the piece of shit that you are. My prognosis for you, is to dismantle your little “System,” and be standing on the tarmac to see when they ship your sorry ass back to Haiti.” He didn’t like that statement at all.

I will skip over a bunch and get to the subject of this paper. By 2006, he had me on the highest dosage of Seroquel that the FDA would allow him to give me without them pressing malpractice charges (1200mg per day). This was the old kind, before all of the lawsuits made them change to “Seroquel CR.” The side effects of this drug were bad enough on their own, let alone the withdraws if you were to stop taking it.

I had just moved into an apartment around August of 2006 in a new city, the same city he operated out of. I didn’t know anyone, so I didn’t know who was “bad” and who was “good,” yet.

Some of the people I met were bad, as they eventually stole all of my medications. This was “Dr. D’s” chance, and he knew it. Even though I had witnesses, and the police vouching for me, he refused to issue refills of my medication. Then, the withdraws began. I didn’t sleep for days. I had nightmares while I was awake. I saw people change from people into demons right before my eyes. After enough of this sort of thing, any persons mind will say, “I can’t take it anymore.” I had hit that point.