Tuesday, June 28, 2011

One Of Those Days

Today is one of those days. I don't know why. Usually it's something the first time in the morning that triggers it and really ruins my whole day. But nothing out of the ordinary happened. Maybe it was because I had an extremely stressful day at work yesterday. Who knows?

I hate these days. As I am writing this I am getting more and more down, depressed, ticked at everything for no reason. These are the days I dread the most because there is no real explanation as to why I feel this way.

You know what? As I mentioned I just completed six hours of evaluation from one of the best Psychologist in my area last week. I was referred to him because after years of treatment I have started to get worse again. My memory is fading fast. I first listed my age 9 years younger than I was. Then later in between test I thought about it embarrassed, had her change it on the form. During the break, I called my wife and told her what I had done. She said "Honey, you are not 52, you are 51. I had her change it again.

Anyway, (during these moments, I seem to ramble on) the Doctor who was charging my Insurance company $1,200 asked me what worries me the most. I thought about all I am going through, how I am suddenly getting worse then I replied (The best I can remember)

"I'll tell you what really bothers me Doctor. I have paid an enormous amount of money, that I cannot afford and you all are drain me financially, and it is about to break me, and you cannot fix me. When I had skin cancer and went through 32 treatments of radiation, we knew what the problem was, we had a plan of action, we did it, and it is now gone. You, or any other doctor don't know what is going on in my mind so you don't know how to fix it. THAT is what bothers me the most."

He sat for a minute and then he agreed. "In a way you are right. We can help you tremendously. We can help so you will not have these problems as often, but we do not have a way of getting rid of it completely. We do not have a cure."

He went on to explain "how the mind is so complex..." Trust me, I know. Other minds who does not understand the entire function of the brain, is trying to fix my mind. They say the mind is so complex, no computer made yet today can compare to it. So how then are they going to fix it?

I know some professionals who read this will disagree with the above, but you keep forgetting the MAIN point here: You are reading this from the mind of a Bipolar I person, who at this very moment, wants to curl up and turn off all the lights, turn the music on, and try to shut off my thoughts! My mind feels so tired! But do you know what I am going to do? I am going to mow the yard because I have been putting it off, and it may rain again! Remember you are reading this through the eyes on someone who is mentally ill.

This is my blog...good or bad.

Monday, June 27, 2011

She Was Someone's Mom"

I had a couple of ideas what I was going to write about next, but something happened to me this morning and I cannot get it out of my mind.

As I mentioned before, I go to my usual quiet place for every morning. I was the only one sitting at the tables in direct view of the flat screen T.V. on the wall always set to news. What I like about that set up is it is turned on "mute" so I have to read the subtitles if I am interested. Most of the times I am not.

As I am sipping the coffee I heard the door directly behind me open from the kitchen. I recognized the manager's voice "You can stay for 30 minutes then you will have to go." I glanced over my shoulder, and just a quick second glimpse I saw all I needed to: A hopeless person with several plastic bags full of no telling what was standing there.

I continued sipping my coffee aware the person was behind me on the other side of the partition. I heard a little shuffling of the bags, but not much else. The workers behind the counter were discussing this person as if she had already left.

"Did you catch her?"

"How did she get in?"

"I don't know, but she was eating stale breakfast rolls strait from the trash.”

On and on…

A little more shuffling of the bags. I could not understand why she was just standing there, behind me. She was really in the hallway near the door. Was she ashamed to come all the way in? I did not look long enough to see what type of person she was. I thought about it, could I give her money? I did not have anything in my wallet. “Oh” I thought, “If I had a lot of money I would buy her food, take her somewhere safe where she could eat, bath, and someone could take care of her. I would ask her what drove her to that? What was her story? No doubt she would not want to talk about it.

I could not stand sitting there with her behind me. I looked at my watch. She had about 15 minutes left. I got up and went to the counter for my usual refill to go. It is so hot, I always stop by the fountain machine and cool it down with water. Then I almost bumped into her. I glanced at her hands and he had a dirty medium size soda cup with the lid and straw off. She had gotten it out of the trash behind me! That was noise I was hearing.

“I’m sorry, go ahead.” I said stepping back. My eyes were on the cup.

“No Sir, please go in front of me.” It was a quiet, very polite voice.

I topped my cup with water, put the lid on it, turned and looked into her eyes. She had warm, soft eyes. Her face was clean. A few wrinkles were around her eyes but that was just about all I noticed. Her smile was kindness but half ashamed. I backed up slightly and turning to leave I replied “Thank you, now help yourself!” knowing she was invisible to the counter employees.

I walked out to the car, hurting inside. She was about my Mom’s age! She really reminded me of an aunt I have. She did not smell. Just the glimpse I saw without staring, she looked rather clean. What happened to her? What was her story? I thought of mom who was walking down the street on the sidewalk with her suitcases in the middle of night. What if we had not saw her.? Could this be what happened to this lady? She is “Someone’s” Mom!

Then as I drive somewhere to park and finish my coffee where I can think, I thought about all the homeless people in this country. Just the other day I heard this figure and it made me sick: On a given night, an estimated 672,000 people experience homelessness. This means 22 out of every 10,000 people are homeless in America.

Now, we are fighting battles in every country BUT our own all across the globe. According to the National Defense, it is estimated in just one campaign alone, it costs us Americans $1 Billion PER DAY! How many mouths will that feed???

Ok, This page is not to be political. So I’ll get off the wagon…for now…trust me, I’ll be back.

Here’s my point. I know the restaurants can not afford to feed all the homeless, and once they start, it would never end. But couldn’t they just give her a few, before running her off? She is someone’s relative. Do they miss her? Are they looking for her? Do they care?

As I drove off, it started to rain. In just about 10 minutes, this kind looking old woman will be walking down the street soaked, no way to get out of the rain. That hurts. It will no doubt be going over and over in my mind all day.

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Having A Loved One Committed--My Experience

I am sorry this has taken so long, but you cannot imagine the trouble I have had with writing this. After several days I completed this and while I was proof reading it, somehow, you tell me, just before I hit the publish button everything disappeared. I mean everything! I was staring at a blank page. This blog is set up to 'auto save' every few seconds or key strokes so when it disappeared, it saved a blank page. And, as I typed over half again, I got an error that it could not save it. So...back to square one again. In the middle of all of this, I kept my appointment with the doctor who's title on the wall states he is the "Diplomate In Clinical Neuropsychology." After six hours of questions and tests, I was mentally waisted. As I crossed the bridge home, I got the call we had major plumbing problems at our house. All of this did not help my mood any. I know this is not the best job, but here's my story the best I can remember:

I had a great childhood in that my family was real close. We were not what you would consider poor, but maybe a little below "middle class" back in the days where there were such a thing.

Dad worked hard and mom took care of us three boys which, no doubt was a challenge.. We had supper together every night as a family. Today, mom has said she was sorry that she was so strict on us, but I always say “we turned out pretty good, right?” There is nothing about my childhood that I would want to change.

I don’t remember when it happened, but when I was little dad took mom to the doctor and he prescribed her medication because of “her nervous condition” as she called it. That is all I remember except as long as I can remember she took the medication.

It was not long after my dad passed away, my brother took mom to the doctor for a checkup. She was in good health he said except he questioned why she was taking the medication. She explained she has a serious nervous condition for years, and this helped.. This is the part that makes me so enraged to this day I cannot even see the computer!--- “Mrs.…the medication you are on is not for your nerves, but it is usually prescribed for someone who has depression. I see no reason why you should be taking it!!!!. My mom, who took this medicine for over 35 years stopped ’cold turkey.’ Oh I hope, I really pray that doctor will read this!!!

It did not take long at all and my mom began to change. The mom we all knew became delirious an out of control. While our older brother and I moved back to the Midwest, my middle brother continued to live in the West. He and my dad each bought an acre but they placed their homes not far apart so they could be together. He would call us and tell us what mom had become. He would tell us stories about how he came home from the night shift and she would be standing in the middle of the desert in a thin nightgown with every light on including huge spot lights. He confronted her asking what she was doing and she said “she just ran them all off.” “Who?” my brother asked. “Dozens of them on foot and in cars.” My brother walked the property and there were no footprints in the sand or tire marks. He questioned her and she declared “I know what I saw.” Then there was the time he was awoke by a constant, soft sound. He went outside and there was mom again in the middle dry desert where rattle snakes, scorpions, and everything dangerous came out at night, raking the desert. One time she had gave the grandchildren gifts for Christmas only to stomp into my brothers house and take them away saying they did not appreciate them.

I could list volumes of pages of things like this my brother told us. He finally said he could not stand it any longer and by himself he could not look after her.

My older brother and I suggested mom move back here with us in the Midwest. Mom jumped at the opportunity, mainly to get away from my other brother who “hated her.” Until we found a good place for her to live, we agreed she would move in with us. She was going to stay with me for a couple of weeks, then my other brother.

My wife welcomed her and told her our house is yours. My daughter gave up her room for mom and slept on the couch. It was good for about two days then it started going down hill. My wife and I tried to include her in everything, but she became withdrawn. She would sit on the couch for hours obviously upset at something. I would ask her “mom, what’s wrong?” and she at first would reply “nothing.” Then I came home and she was on the couch crying. I asked her again what was the matter and she said she should leave because it was obvious we did not want her.

Then, what happened next came as a major shock to me. The stories my brother had told us about came to life. Mom walked over to the window and quietly said “I knew it!” I asked her what she mean and she said “those people out there was on my plane. They followed me.” I went to the window and saw my neighbor out in the yard. “Mom, that’s my neighbor. He was not on your plane.” “Are you calling me a liar?” she replied. “Everyone one of them people out there was on my plane and now they are watching me!” There was only my neighbor outside and no one else. I said “mom, my neighbor was not on your plane, I saw him out cleaning his motor home 3 days ago, and besides, there are no one else out there.” It got so bad while I was not home my wife made an excuse to go somewhere and sat in a parking lot and cried.

One day she came down from upstairs with her suitcases. She said she was leaving, going somewhere where she is welcome. I asked her where she was going and she replied “anywhere but here!” I called my brother and he said go ahead and take her to a motel and he would go there in the morning and check up on her. Well, that was a nightmare. I did not want to put her in just ant motel, I wanted it to be clean and in a nice area. I drove to one, and she said no, she was not staying there. I ending up driving by three more with the same results. Finally, I said  “the next one we come to is it, like it or not!”

I took her to the room and she looked around and said she was not going to stay in that room. She did not give an excuse except, she just won’t. Two more rooms, the same. “They are watching me.“ At the last room I noticed her looking at the radio clock on the nightstand beside the bed. There was a red light indicating the it was P.M. I put it all together and said I would be right back. I don’t know how or why the manager put up with this but I got another key and went into the room before her and unplugged the clock and that room worked for her.

Over the next several weeks my older brother worked with her, and they decided that if she would (in no uncertain terms do what we asked and take the medicine) they would find an apartment for her to live in. This excited her. They drive around and found the perfect place. It was safe, clean, and she was on the second floor with large picture windows overlooking the park, and it was close to both of us. Mom was like her old self. She was happy and fixed it up so nice. It was spotless, you could not find a speck of dust anywhere, even above the door jams!

Well, this did not last long. Mom liked to walk which was good for her. My brothers and I had always said she was in better health, physically, then all three of us put together. One day my wife saw her walking in the pouring rain, but she had an umbrella. However, the umbrella was under her arm, closed. My wife rolled down the window and asked her to get in and she would drive her wherever she needed to go. “It is not raining very hard, I am fine.” She replied. A couple of days later, we found mom walking down the street dragging two suitcases. She was leaving. When asked where she was going, she replied she didn’t know.

Because it was unsafe to leave mom alone, we were afraid she would just pickup and leave and we would never find her again; she denied that anything was wrong and kept to her beliefs that everyone was out to get her; she would not let us take her to a doctor  (we would not use the words Psychiatrist around her); she became more delirious, more and more seeing people that was not there; would not let us help her at all,  and on and on so we had no choice to have her placed in a mental hospital until we could figure out what to do, but we did not have a clue how to go about it. That day my brother went to an attorney to seek advise, and she drafted the documents we would need. Now I know the laws and procedures vary from state to state, but this how it happened where we lived to the best of my knowledge.

 He called and said he was going to have to have her picked up and take to a mental ward in the hospital. The local police picked up mom at her apartment, against her will…in handcuffs. This was on Friday. On Tuesday, we went before a Judge to have her declared  mentally incompetent. {Definition} An individual is defined as mentally incompetent if he is manifestly psychotic or otherwise of unsound mind, either consistently or sporadically, by reason of mental defect, among which are retardation, schizophrenia or other acute hallucinatory and delusory defects of mind, certain types of epilepsy and other seizure disorders which render the individual coordinated and mobile but of unsound mind, bipolar disorder which results in sporadic psychosis (but not simply mild or moderate bipolar disorder), and other disorders which consistently or sporadically render the individual starkly incapable of maintaining awareness of and responsibility for his actions.

 I will never forget this as long as I live. It is burnt in my mind forever. I hope and pray NO ONE has to witness this. Before we went into the court room I was standing in the hall. There were some prisoners standing with a sheriff by there side. I looked down the hall and I say my 68 year old mother slowly walking my way. She was dressed in orange prison clothes. Her hands were in front of her, and I saw the handcuffs. Then…oh try if you can to picture the mom you love with all your heart…shuffle down the isle in leg shackles!!! I promise you my legs almost buckled in front of me! As she came near me she gave me her eyes met mine. It was not a look of sadness, but a look of hatred, almost evil. Her lips were slowly moving. I stood in front of her and pointing to the leg shackles and told the sheriff to take them off. He said “Sir, step out of the way.” I glanced at the strong prisoner standing near me and he was not even in handcuffs. “Please, where’s she going to go, take them off!” I declared. He said he was not going to warn me again, get out of the way. I found out later, she tried to escape and this was there policy. It still cut my heart out.

  After seeing what I just witnessed, what happened in the court room is almost a blur. I remember the judge saying something, then he looked at me and asked me to take a seat in the witness box and tell my story. I would not, could not, look at mom while I told him everything I knew. My brother did the same. The judge ruled her mentally incompetent and place my brother as her guardian and the guardian of her estate.

They took her to a mental facility. She actually had a nice room that was about the size of a fairly large motel room. However, what she thought was happening to her all along was now a reality: they monitored her day and night. The door only opened from the outside. Per my brother, they gave her medication.

Now, during all this time, my brothers and I slightly disagreed on different things regarding all of this, but I will always thank my brother for his insight. She was there about a two months, and we could see some improvement. My brother had her released in his care for one day. He had paid the rent on her apartment during all of this time. There was not one word said in the car. He pulled up to the apartment and asked mom to get out. He unlocked the apartment and mom walked in. My brother said she looked around and even walked into the bedroom where everything was just as she left it, even the Bible laid open on the nightstand to the last verse she was reading. She started crying. My brother sat her down and said, “mom, you have a choice. You can continue to stay where you are, or you can come back here. But, and this part is not up for discussion: if you chose to stay here, you will go to the doctor as often as needed, and you will take the medication he tells to. I will make sure you take the medicine everyday if I have to give it to you myself. But I promise you, if you give us a hard time about this, if you do not do what we think is best for you or you stop taking the medication, you will go back to where you are now and I’ll give this apartment back. You will never leave where you are now mom.”  Mom starting crying and asked “why are you doing this to me?” My brother told her “You don’t believe it, but it’s because we love you.”

Today Mom now lives by herself in the apartment. It is spotless, so beautiful, that when the manager wants to show a potential renter an example of what the apartments look like he uses hers. She does not drive but like I mentioned earlier, she is strong as an ox. When the weather is good she walks miles at a time. Then she catches a city bus and goes shopping. She knows all the schedules. All the bus drivers like her. One day it started raining just after she finished shopping, and the city bus driver actually drove into her complex and let her out by the door so she could make it into her building without getting the groceries or her soaked!

I don’t know how she did it, but there was a tree growing outside her picture window and it started obstructing her view from the soccer field. The manager of the apartment complex could not do anything about it because it was bordering on the city’s property. One day she called real happy “that tree is gone!” I asked how and all she said was that she called several people at the city building and three days later, they came and removed the tree.

Sure, there are many, many times we see signs of her illness come out. But these are little things compared to what we went through. Sometimes she’ll say something that may hurt a little, but we keep telling ourselves “she can’t help it.” He mind is sharp as a whip! She can remember every birthday, anniversary from  great-grandchildren all the way down to friends and distant relatives she hasn’t seen in over 30 years.  We all make sure we call her each day, and she always ends the conversation with “I Love You Son!” MOM IS BACK!!!

Now, forget everything else I said, but I bet the below comment will get more attention than any of the above. Remember the ’state of mind’ she was in. Remember how horrible it was, and how unsafe it was to leave her alone. Speaking from someone who knows more than you realize about all these actions and experiences  including medication, I will NEVER believe it is the ‘one’ shot per month that has made a miracle come true. It’s not counseling, because she refuses to talk about it, and if she does she says we are lying or “I know what I saw.” There is not a miracle shot. But, I believe with all my heart it is a combination of the medicine; her deep desire not to be in the facility she was in; wanting the love of her family, and above all: Her faith in GOD. Take whichever you want, I’m just glad to have Mom back!

"My Mind"

Friday, June 10, 2011

Having A Loved One Committed--Preview

I just wanted to stop by for a minute to tell you what I am working on. It is taking me awhile because it will be long, but for the most part as I go back in time I am picturing and the entire painful process all over again.

This true story of what I had to face when we had no choice but to have our mother committed to a mental hospital from the beginning to where we are now. It was an awful experience, one that we did not have much choice, but I don't think I could go through it again.

Most people do not have an idea what happens. Ours was worse because of her situation. I hope you will be patient will me. This is one of the hardest I attempted to write.

Bless you..be back soon.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Update On My Situation

If you have noticed I have been mentioning "daydreaming" a lot lately. I have since I was a little child but it has become much worse. It is constant now. When I am driving, I fail to turn where I want to because my mind wanders. When I am at home, instead of planning what I want or need to do to the yard; cars; home improvements; planning for what I am going to do on my extra day off from work; before I go to sleep at night; when ever I can at work and so on. As you can see, its basically all the time.
Daydreaming in itself is not bad: 1) As long as  as it does not consume your life; 2) They are not bad daydreams that does harm to oneself or anyone else. Several severe cases of Bipolar-schizophrenia people especially with suicide victims or murders have been linked to constant "daydreaming" -planning on how they are going to carry out the act.

My daydreams are kind of like the picture here. I am constantly in another place, perhaps another time. In my mind there is nothing I "have to do" or any problems whatsoever, just total peace. However, one sign that bothers me and especially my doctor is in my mind, I have almost no interaction with anyone at all. I guess in my real life I am leaning toward that direction because I have no "friends"at all and I really only speak to someone unless I have to. I am talking even when my brothers or mother calls, I get upset because they are interrupting my thoughts, or I just don't feel like talking to someone at that given moment, which is basically all the time. An example is couple pages before this one I was writing and my brother called. Thinking it was important I answered. Just that alone ruined the rest of my day! My mood went from so-so to horrible and continued until I went to sleep.

This is how I start my day. I am a coffee addict. My family knows I do not want to talk to anyone, especially until after I have my coffee in the mornings. So, I go to the same, quiet, place every morning almost 365 days a year. There, I walk up to the counter, they know me, we do not speak, I lay the same amount on the counter and they hand me the coffee and I sit in my same spot every morning (God forbid someone is sitting at my table!). This happens every morning. If, by any chance an acquaintance (not a friend because remember I have none) comes in and sits at my table then once again, my entire day is ruined.

A couple of days ago I went in for my normal doctor visit. We discussed this, and the problem that my memory, especially short term is horrible. She is worried so in a couple of weeks I am going to a clinic for a Neuropsychological Evaluation and other kinds of tests she did not explain. With small breaks, this will take about 4-6 hours, depending on how well I do.

I know what my doctor is afraid of, and seriously to be honest with you I think about it a lot is this: If eventually my mind desires or requires that other life, it will find a way to make that happen. As you can imagine this can take happen in many ways.

It effects my writing big time. But another thing that hurts my writing is I only have a very short amount of time each day. If I had more time I could write better, and plan it out so it would not only be easier for you to follow along, but it would flow better. Another thing is once I am ready and feel up to writing, I cannot stop until I publish it. I just can't. This hurts my topic, wording, and the entire outline of the page, I am so sorry but I cannot help it. When my mind is able to write I'd better get it down as soon as I can because I don 't know when I will finish. The time in between posts is NOT because I am planning the next page, it's because I just am not able to write. Once I am, I'd better get it done as quick as I can, I hope and trust you understand. 

I want to give you more. You who faithfully read this deserve more and for that, once again I am sorry. 

Talk to you soon...

"My Mind"

Monday, June 6, 2011

Dreaming--Pressure off my Mind


Relieves Pressure off my tired Mind...

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

About the Author

Listen to the below video as you read this. When you are done, watch the scenes and then, in our own way we can then listen to it together because I am listening to it as I write this. It is so soothing to me!

Kenny G-Songbird

If you really want to know about the Author of this blog, this song, and the tranquility of the video is what I am! Oh, if you only knew! More than I would like to admit this is where I hide. I hide in my music, and in my daydreams, anywhere other than where I am at the time. My daydreams are so real to me! I can watch the above and almost smell the freshness in the air. I can feel the cool sand as I walk along the beech and let the waves cover my feet. I am laying on the beech for hours. My mind is so relaxed, nothing of any pressure comes in; no day-to-day worries that always seem to be magnified by my condition; my mind is so relaxed I feel the pressure and the release slowly disappear. The major and serious symptoms that caused me to this point is slowly fading away.

And we wander why suicide is so common with Bipolar 1? There has to be a release somewhere...whatever that may be, it has to happen! Some find the release in drugs, suicide, and yes, much worse. After over eight years of treatment; going through 3 doctors before I found the one that really does help me, my release is what you are listening to and watching right now. Eight years of treatment and combination of medicine and dosage that will at least help me 'get by'. Now, as you can see I have found other avenues of release that works for me, even though at times I wish I didn't have to 'come back'. We all are different but what keeps me going is God and my family. Without that, I would want to never come out of the scene you are now watching.

A movie star just reported she has Bipolar and is depressed. Looking back and seeing the signs of my life I have lived with "depression" when I was fifteen years old, and the rest of years (more than thirty :) has been slowly building steam to where it was eight years ago and where I am today. Depression? I wish that is all I had.

Anyway, I'll listen to this song once more before I hit the publish button. Just wanted to share a thought with you, and anyone else who can relate to what I am talking about. I want treatment, I am being treated, and I want to be with my family forever. But once in awhile, I will disappear into something like this video. It feels so good! If you are like me, I hope you find a release like this one that helps, and does not hurt.

 ~~We need it.

"My Mind"

Not Guilty By Reason Of Insanity.

The BAD part of writing a blog and having Major Bipolar is it is impossible to “stay on tract.” My mind plans out topics in sequence and then I cannot control it and it goes onto a different subject. This is not fair because I am not true to my readers. They expect one thing and I throw them a curve. The GOOD part is it is MY blog. I am not being paid to write it so I can write wherever my mind goes.

In the May 26th addition of WSJ there was an article about Jared Laughner, the man who shot Rep. Gabrielle Giffords and 18 others leaving 6 people dead has been declared mentally unfit to stand trial. In other words: “Not guilty by reason of insanity.” Laughner was evaluated my two mental-health experts whose findings were that he was not able to understand the charges against him nor aid his attorneys in his defense. 

 The law varies from state to state, but in most courts that recognize the "insanity defense," someone is found to be legally insane if he or she meets one of three conditions (Partial list):

* Because of a mental disorder, the defendant did not   understand that what he or she was doing was illegal.

* Because of a mental disorder, the defendant did not know what he or she was doing.

* Because of a mental disorder, the defendant was compelled to commit the crime by an irresistible force.

Insanity: “Insanity is a legal term pertaining to a defendant's ability to determine right from wrong when a crime is committed. The short version of Law.Com is: Insanity. n. mental illness of such a severe nature that a person cannot distinguish fantasy from reality, cannot conduct her/his affairs due to psychosis, or is subject to uncontrollable impulsive behavior.” Insanity though does nothing to define the true mental condition of the persons mental illness such as schizophrenia and other psychotic disorders (and I will wage about 80% that when this is over, Bipolar will be mentioned later in this case somewhere.)

However, the issue at hand is: If Laughner refuses treatment or medication can the Federal Government force him to take medication. Personally I am not a lawyer so I don’t know how it is from state-to-state, but in my state…you can. I know because of a personal experience of a family member of mine, but that will be another story…I think.

Ok, compared to hundreds of murderers, especially brutal and horrific serial killers, how can they ALL NOT be insane? I will copy direct excerpts from Wikipeda Encylycopdia on two Serial Killers found not guilty by reason of insanity.

“Jane Toppan: In 1901-02, after she was in custody, Jane Toppan confessed to dozens of murders. She was extremely dangerous and more than a little unhinged: she would spend the rest of her life at Taunton State Hospital, dying in 1938 at the age of 81. Her killing spree started in 1885, when she was training to be a nurse. She took to experimenting with patients, using different combinations of medicines and chemicals to tweak their nervous systems and slide them between life and death. She also later admitted to being aroused by the process of killing. Toppan got away with her deeds for a while, especially when she entered private practice, after which she started racking up more victims by killing her landlords and later her foster sister. After killing an elderly man named Alden Davis and two of his daughters, the Davis family requested a toxicology investigation, which turned up traces of the poison Toppan had used. She was eventually charged with multiple murders, but she was found not guilty and declared insane.”

“Peter Woodcock brutally murdered three young children in 1956 and 1957. Woodcock was apprehended for the murders in 1957, found not guilty by reason of insanity, and placed in Oak Ridge, an Ontario psychiatric facility located in  Penetanguishene. Following the completion of a treatment program for Woodcock and other psychopathic individuals, he was deemed  greatly improved, and sent to a medium-security hospital in Brockville, Ontario in  1991. There, Woodcock claims, he fell in love with fellow psychiatric patient Dennis  Kerr, who rejected his sexual advances. During the first hour of his very first weekend pass in thirty-five years, Woodcock stabbed Kerr to death. Woodcock was being supervised on the pass by Bruce Hamill, a former patient who killed an elderly Ottawa woman in 1977. Hamill was an accomplice in the Brockville murder, and both  men were subsequently returned to Oak Ridge. Woodcock has told how the treatment  program served only to make him more adept at manipulating others. Having spent the majority of his fifty-three years in custody at Oak Ridge, Woodcock died there on  March 5, 2010, his 71st birthday.”

Ok, what about a serial killer believed to have bipolar and found “GUILTY”

“In 1977 Robert Christian Hansen was arrested and spent five years in prison. After a customary mental evaluation, a prison psychiatrist concluded that Hansen suffered from "bipolar-effective disorder" and requested that the courts order him to take lithium to control his mood swings. Regardless, the order was never enforced and Hansen was released after serving just one year.  Later, Hansen led investigators to each grave site, heavily covered in snow, and they would mark the trees with orange paint. By the end of the day Hansen had revealed the grave sites of 12 unknown women. On February 27, Superior Court Judge Ralph E. Moody sentenced Hansen to 461 years plus life, without chance of parole. He was then remanded to Lewisburg Federal Penitentiary in Pennsylvania.”

Friends here is my point. The above sick individuals are nothing compared to the ones I have on file. In your wildest imagination you could not come close to the stories of hundreds of serial killers and what the did to their victims. It would make you so sick you would have nightmares for weeks. The 3 listed above is nothing! So what should the punishment be?  Prison? Death Penalty? Mental Institution? Or give them the treatment they gave their victims? All I am saying as someone who was (is?) diagnosed as Bipolar 1-serious manic depression - there is no way in the world you could convince me any serial killers are sane! NO SANE PERSON COULD DO WHAT THEY DID! Ok, so what should we do with them? I have my ideas, but I will leave them to myself.

I know, this page in my blog is unlike what I ever wrote before but no one can convince me in a million years that someone “sane” can willfully, plan out, enjoy, get excited and gratification on each and every victim and be sane. I just had to get this off my chest...sorry...mind.

This is my blog…
Laughner will either spend the rest of his life in a U.S. Medical Center for Federal Prisoners, or later if the doctors decide after treatment and/or medication he is competent he will go to trial and could get the death penalty.