This would be hilarious if it wasn’t true. Is there some way we could maybe protect kids from these kind of charlatans?
Valerie seemed like a happy, well-adjusted 8-year-old when she went to summer camp for a week in 1993.
She was popular at school. She got excellent grades. She worked hard to please people.
But when Valerie came home from camp, she was withdrawn. She cried. She was hard on herself, always worrying that she was being bad. She kept saying, “I don’t feel like myself.” [wild irrational speculation: something happened at summer camp!]
Her parents – who asked that the family’s last name not be used because they feared Valerie’s name would later turn up in a computer database, possibly stigmatizing her – took her to a psychiatrist at the University of Iowa College of Medicine. The doctor put Valerie on 20 milligrams a day of Paxil, a newly released anti-depressant.
A week later, Valerie was worse. She began hitting herself with her fists. She ate less. She spoke in whispers and became so overly compliant that she asked permission to do the simplest tasks.
Valerie was hospitalized in a psychiatric ward. Her daily dose of Paxil was increased to 30 milligrams, then 40 milligrams. Still, she got worse.
She became bedridden and rigid. She had to be fed through a tube. [she’s just crazy see? It has nothing to do with the chemicals!]
After a month, she was taken off Paxil and put on Haldol, then nortriptyline, bethanechol and Ativan – all anti-psychotic drugs.
Yet she remained largely silent and emotionless. [why bother with communication? she’s surrounded by idiots]
“No medicines seemed to work,” said her mother, Deb, who, like Valerie’s father, is a dentist in Iowa City, Iowa. “She went downhill faster and faster.” [gee I wonder why? She’s been taken from her family and friends and placed in the loving care of psychopathic ideologues with boxes full of toxic chemicals and massive amounts of debt to pay off for their medical “education”]
The psychiatrists suggested electroconvulsive therapy, commonly called shock therapy or ECT. [heroic doctors to the rescue with head-hammer therapy!]
“By the time we got to ECT as an option, I begged to have it done,” Deb says. …
Valerie was shocked 19 times, once every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning for about six weeks. She got a two-second electrical jolt each time. Her brain seizures averaged 52 seconds. [and they were just about to start drilling when…]
After the 12th treatment, Valerie’s dog was smuggled in against hospital rules. Bugsy, a Boston terrier, jumped onto Valerie’s lap and lovingly licked the girl’s face.
Sitting in a wheelchair, she hugged and petted her dog.
“To this day, she credits the dog with curing her,” says her mother. … [stupid girl, she doesn’t know about steam-powered brain-engines or neuropsychopharmacological-industrial gagoplexion tinikers. Luckily we have authority figures in white coats who understand all these complicated things!]
She has no memory at all of summer camp in 1993.
Valerie caught up with her school work in two weeks: “I work hard.” She still gets A’s.
But she scored slightly lower on the standardized Iowa aptitude test, her mother says. She concentrates a little less well than before.
And Valerie sometimes laughs at odd things or doesn’t seem fully engaged. She takes 20 milligrams of Prozac a day. “She’s still a sensitive little girl,” her mother says.
This is what they call a success story in psychiatry. This girl barely got out alive and only partially permanently damaged.
The brain is the seat of the soul. It’s the “thing” that you’re talking about when you say you love someone. If you think your child’s soul is diseased (or more properly, IS a disease) maybe you should go see an exorcist, for yourself if not your child.
Clue for the naive: at best they don’t know what they’re doing. At worst they know and they don’t care.