Sara is being held against her will at St. Boniface Hospital: Not Dangerous, but Still Locked Up: Unjustified Comittment in Canada
By: Aubrey Ellen Shomo
Manitoba, Canada - A young, progressive vegan, named Sara Arenson, is being forcibly held and drugged at St. Boniface hospital in Manitoba, Canada – not because she has been deemed dangerous – but simply because she has been diagnosed with a biological brain disorder. She has been held there since January 23rd, 2005.
On the unit, she has been declared incompetent because she sees the diagnosis and treatment of mental illness as a form of social control. She has been labeled Bipolar Manic because she would prefer to be outgoing, explore new and creative ideas, and because she has adopted a policy of radical honesty.
Her mother was instrumental in securing her commitment because she left home. In her mid twenties, she did not want to listen to her mother's complaints that she had not taken a shower for three days. She slept at a hostel for an evening then agreed to meet her mother and a friend at a local diner.
Instead, she was picked up by the police. She went willingly when they promised she would not be forcibly injected. That proved an empty promise.
At the hospital her psychiatrist yelled at her that “[she] has a brain disorder that will deteriorate without treatment.” She explained to him her political views regarding mental illness, and that she did manage her health and moods with vitamin B12. Her psychiatrist informed her that there was no research showing that vitamin B12 was effective.
Because her psychiatrist disagrees with her choice of treatment – and because of her political views about mental illness, all power has been taken out of her hands, and is now being wielded by a psychiatrist who - in sheer hubris - is unwilling to even
consider her alternatives.
She complains that smoking is allowed on the unit and she cannot escape the smoke. That exposure is very distressing to her, just as the lack of adequate vegan food. They have only milk (not soy milk) and soda on the unit, neither of which are consistent with her lifestyle.
Beyond the food, her contact with the outside world is extremely limited. She can only speak on the pay phone for 10 minutes out of an hour. She understands the rule for the free phone, as it is a community resource, but considers it unfair to only allow her - on her own dime - to communicate with the outside world for 10 minutes out of the hour.
She was forced on medication after an emotional argument with her mother – who was centrally responsible for her commitment. She is taking Zyprexa, Ativan, and Risperdal orally, because she was told if she refused, she would be held down and injected.
As for the reason for her detention: It is worse yet. She has been certified, not because of danger, but because of a substantial risk of deteriorating farther. Any schizophrenia, schizoaffective, or bipolar diagnosis (probably among others) is sufficient for most psychiatrists to claim there is risk of further deterioration. In other words, simply being diagnosed is often enough to be committed.
The Manitoba Mental Health Act allows involuntary commitment if a person “is likely to suffer substantial mental or physical deterioration if not detained in a facility.” Thus, she has limited recourse on appeal, and asks for activists to call, write, or do whatever is possible to help her.
In even worse news for her, she has been certified as incompetent, so they can under law inject her if she refuses. The requirements to forcibly drug her seem to be only that she 'lacks insight,' and that would be because she doesn't believe that MI exists. The statute directly reads:
“17(2) In determining whether a person is mentally competent to consent to a voluntary admission under clause (1)(c), the psychiatrist shall consider whether the person understands the nature and purpose of admission and whether the person's condition affects his or her ability to appreciate the consequences of giving or withholding consent.”
That is all the information I could get on this, as her ten minutes ran out while she was telling me her story.
You can contact Sara directly, on the unit, at 1-204-235-3443 (open after 8 A.M Central Time).
She asks that you call the nurses’ station and lodge your complaint directly with the unit, as well as following the usual channels. The nurses’ station number is 1-204-235-3444.
The patients inquiry phone no: (204) 237 2193 email: sbghweb@sbgh.mb.ca-----------
Patient Relations Officer:
St. Boniface General Hospital
409 Tache Avenue
Winnipeg, Manitoba
Phone: (204) 237-2306
Fax: (204) 231-0647
These words were written by Sara on October 10th, 2004, and posted friends-only. She now wants them made public.
This was posted with Sara's permission to her journal by mixedstate. She is currently at St. Boniface Hospital and is being forcibly drugged.
Personally, I find the words below to be the writing of a beautiful young woman, possessed of a wonderful mind and strong heart.
I don't understand how anyone could fail to see the insight in her words:
I preferred my madness. I liked viewing every event, every chance encounter, as something of magickal significance. I liked to think that some of us actually were dreaming a new dream, beyond the mechanistic banality of our culture. I thought a new world was being born. I was there to welcome in that world. That was the only job I ever had or wanted. I didn't want to be part of the machine, and for a while I believed I could exist outside of it, I could be whatever I dreamed of being in the moment I dreamed it.
But others didn't see that I chose my dream. They said that it had no meaning, that my behaviour was a symptom of a sickness that I was in denial about. Once I was "healthy" again, I would be able to cope. I would see that coping was the only rational response to the situation that we find ourselves in.
And I said, "Fuck that, I don't believe you."
Jieun said I was brave. Now I don't feel so brave anymore. I've taken my dream and submerged it again, for fear of my own safety, for fear of being forcibly given brain disabling drugs again. But I see that in submerging my dream I submerge my very nature. I also see how much fear I still live with, a fear that so-called "therapists" couldn't understand, because they would probably believe that I possess some invisible pathology.
On the deepest level, I feel rejected. By almost everyone. I feel others' love for me is conditional, dependent on my own good behaviour. When I went to St. Norbert, Louise promised me I could be my complete self and I wouldn't get hurt again. She brought me to the hospital. And in that place where there supposedly wasn't going to be judgements, I felt judged and abandoned... And no one would talk with me when I was sad, plus they had no idea that my health problems were anemia, and seemed to be upset with me for my tiredness. I felt so lonely at one point that I called the Klinic crisis line -- not because I wanted to kill myself (far from it!), but because I had no one to talk to. And the woman at the end of the phone eventually asked me what would make me happy... And it was a walk, at that point... The talk alone had done so much...
I don't think I deserve what has happened to me... The confinement, the drugging, the lack of close friends to talk to... When that anonymous person said that I didn't have friends because I was so strange I scared people, something else broke inside of me... I felt completely unacceptable to everyone... But I know I'm not really like that... I'm very loving, and I do hate the way the world is, I do see reality differently than the official version, and sometimes I get excited and tell people what I honestly think and feel. I guess I hope that they're receptive to my intense energy. But they're not... They think they have to fix me for having emotions, or get me to someone who can.
I don't want to be fixed. I want to be accepted as is. And I want love. And I want adventure. The problem is that I don't see how any of this is going to happen, how it's possible, anymore. I used to dream about not being lonely... As a teenager I dreamed about my ideal lover... And now... well, I don't know if I'll ever find that person... Just one person, just one best friend, someone to hug me and kiss me and feel how precious I am, someone who values freedom over social acceptability, who wants an intense life, not a routinized life, tied into social machinery. And we could travel... Sing, act, meet people and feed them if they're hungry, listen to them if they're lonely, offer acceptance and hope where we can...
When I do this alone I get locked up for it...
What is the quality of my loneliness? It's like a little bird with a broken wing, stuck on the pavement. I fear that you who read this think I'm untouchable now... But I'll get up again if someone would just look at me and really see me, see that which is lovable.
I've gotten so lonely that I've even reinvented an old imaginary friend, who I used to write poems about. I know she'd made up, but at moments I can project my dark feelings onto her and feel her accepting them, and I feel a little less alone.
I can't really see a way out of my loneliness, except trying to hope that I will find my people one day. Other lunatics? Precious, precious hope.
By: Aubrey Ellen Shomo
Manitoba, Canada - A young, progressive vegan, named Sara Arenson, is being forcibly held and drugged at St. Boniface hospital in Manitoba, Canada – not because she has been deemed dangerous – but simply because she has been diagnosed with a biological brain disorder. She has been held there since January 23rd, 2005.
On the unit, she has been declared incompetent because she sees the diagnosis and treatment of mental illness as a form of social control. She has been labeled Bipolar Manic because she would prefer to be outgoing, explore new and creative ideas, and because she has adopted a policy of radical honesty.
Her mother was instrumental in securing her commitment because she left home. In her mid twenties, she did not want to listen to her mother's complaints that she had not taken a shower for three days. She slept at a hostel for an evening then agreed to meet her mother and a friend at a local diner.
Instead, she was picked up by the police. She went willingly when they promised she would not be forcibly injected. That proved an empty promise.
At the hospital her psychiatrist yelled at her that “[she] has a brain disorder that will deteriorate without treatment.” She explained to him her political views regarding mental illness, and that she did manage her health and moods with vitamin B12. Her psychiatrist informed her that there was no research showing that vitamin B12 was effective.
Because her psychiatrist disagrees with her choice of treatment – and because of her political views about mental illness, all power has been taken out of her hands, and is now being wielded by a psychiatrist who - in sheer hubris - is unwilling to even
consider her alternatives.
She complains that smoking is allowed on the unit and she cannot escape the smoke. That exposure is very distressing to her, just as the lack of adequate vegan food. They have only milk (not soy milk) and soda on the unit, neither of which are consistent with her lifestyle.
Beyond the food, her contact with the outside world is extremely limited. She can only speak on the pay phone for 10 minutes out of an hour. She understands the rule for the free phone, as it is a community resource, but considers it unfair to only allow her - on her own dime - to communicate with the outside world for 10 minutes out of the hour.
She was forced on medication after an emotional argument with her mother – who was centrally responsible for her commitment. She is taking Zyprexa, Ativan, and Risperdal orally, because she was told if she refused, she would be held down and injected.
As for the reason for her detention: It is worse yet. She has been certified, not because of danger, but because of a substantial risk of deteriorating farther. Any schizophrenia, schizoaffective, or bipolar diagnosis (probably among others) is sufficient for most psychiatrists to claim there is risk of further deterioration. In other words, simply being diagnosed is often enough to be committed.
The Manitoba Mental Health Act allows involuntary commitment if a person “is likely to suffer substantial mental or physical deterioration if not detained in a facility.” Thus, she has limited recourse on appeal, and asks for activists to call, write, or do whatever is possible to help her.
In even worse news for her, she has been certified as incompetent, so they can under law inject her if she refuses. The requirements to forcibly drug her seem to be only that she 'lacks insight,' and that would be because she doesn't believe that MI exists. The statute directly reads:
“17(2) In determining whether a person is mentally competent to consent to a voluntary admission under clause (1)(c), the psychiatrist shall consider whether the person understands the nature and purpose of admission and whether the person's condition affects his or her ability to appreciate the consequences of giving or withholding consent.”
That is all the information I could get on this, as her ten minutes ran out while she was telling me her story.
You can contact Sara directly, on the unit, at 1-204-235-3443 (open after 8 A.M Central Time).
She asks that you call the nurses’ station and lodge your complaint directly with the unit, as well as following the usual channels. The nurses’ station number is 1-204-235-3444.
The patients inquiry phone no: (204) 237 2193 email: sbghweb@sbgh.mb.ca-----------
Patient Relations Officer:
St. Boniface General Hospital
409 Tache Avenue
Winnipeg, Manitoba
Phone: (204) 237-2306
Fax: (204) 231-0647
These words were written by Sara on October 10th, 2004, and posted friends-only. She now wants them made public.
This was posted with Sara's permission to her journal by mixedstate. She is currently at St. Boniface Hospital and is being forcibly drugged.
Personally, I find the words below to be the writing of a beautiful young woman, possessed of a wonderful mind and strong heart.
I don't understand how anyone could fail to see the insight in her words:
I preferred my madness. I liked viewing every event, every chance encounter, as something of magickal significance. I liked to think that some of us actually were dreaming a new dream, beyond the mechanistic banality of our culture. I thought a new world was being born. I was there to welcome in that world. That was the only job I ever had or wanted. I didn't want to be part of the machine, and for a while I believed I could exist outside of it, I could be whatever I dreamed of being in the moment I dreamed it.
But others didn't see that I chose my dream. They said that it had no meaning, that my behaviour was a symptom of a sickness that I was in denial about. Once I was "healthy" again, I would be able to cope. I would see that coping was the only rational response to the situation that we find ourselves in.
And I said, "Fuck that, I don't believe you."
Jieun said I was brave. Now I don't feel so brave anymore. I've taken my dream and submerged it again, for fear of my own safety, for fear of being forcibly given brain disabling drugs again. But I see that in submerging my dream I submerge my very nature. I also see how much fear I still live with, a fear that so-called "therapists" couldn't understand, because they would probably believe that I possess some invisible pathology.
On the deepest level, I feel rejected. By almost everyone. I feel others' love for me is conditional, dependent on my own good behaviour. When I went to St. Norbert, Louise promised me I could be my complete self and I wouldn't get hurt again. She brought me to the hospital. And in that place where there supposedly wasn't going to be judgements, I felt judged and abandoned... And no one would talk with me when I was sad, plus they had no idea that my health problems were anemia, and seemed to be upset with me for my tiredness. I felt so lonely at one point that I called the Klinic crisis line -- not because I wanted to kill myself (far from it!), but because I had no one to talk to. And the woman at the end of the phone eventually asked me what would make me happy... And it was a walk, at that point... The talk alone had done so much...
I don't think I deserve what has happened to me... The confinement, the drugging, the lack of close friends to talk to... When that anonymous person said that I didn't have friends because I was so strange I scared people, something else broke inside of me... I felt completely unacceptable to everyone... But I know I'm not really like that... I'm very loving, and I do hate the way the world is, I do see reality differently than the official version, and sometimes I get excited and tell people what I honestly think and feel. I guess I hope that they're receptive to my intense energy. But they're not... They think they have to fix me for having emotions, or get me to someone who can.
I don't want to be fixed. I want to be accepted as is. And I want love. And I want adventure. The problem is that I don't see how any of this is going to happen, how it's possible, anymore. I used to dream about not being lonely... As a teenager I dreamed about my ideal lover... And now... well, I don't know if I'll ever find that person... Just one person, just one best friend, someone to hug me and kiss me and feel how precious I am, someone who values freedom over social acceptability, who wants an intense life, not a routinized life, tied into social machinery. And we could travel... Sing, act, meet people and feed them if they're hungry, listen to them if they're lonely, offer acceptance and hope where we can...
When I do this alone I get locked up for it...
What is the quality of my loneliness? It's like a little bird with a broken wing, stuck on the pavement. I fear that you who read this think I'm untouchable now... But I'll get up again if someone would just look at me and really see me, see that which is lovable.
I've gotten so lonely that I've even reinvented an old imaginary friend, who I used to write poems about. I know she'd made up, but at moments I can project my dark feelings onto her and feel her accepting them, and I feel a little less alone.
I can't really see a way out of my loneliness, except trying to hope that I will find my people one day. Other lunatics? Precious, precious hope.