I met a former mental patient at a potluck today.

He told me about what drugs he was made to take there. One was a seratonin inhibitor that made him extremely depressed. The depression made him want to eat more, and, like most people, he'd compensate for that by eating more. He'd thus get double helpings of dinner, gaining 70 pounds this way. And, from what I understand, the nurses and doctors made fun of his extra weight. Thereby, causing more depression.

A viscious cycle, indeed.

It actually made me very fucking angry to hear what he had to go through. He told me that the drug he was on, would have killed him in 3 years. Said that the effects would have made him forget his name, or his memories. Into a vegetable, basically. For some reason, the drug was discontinued... he wasn't put on it anymore, at a certain point.

He also told me about the brain injury he had. He couldn't remember how he got it. I asked him what the last thing he remembered was. He told me that he was working at some sort of engineering place. What his last memory was, was a knock on the door to his office. It was men, dressed up as firemen. They asked him if he was the head engineer. When he responded with a "yes", they just smiled and left.

And that was the last thing he remembered.



I gave him my e-mail address. He told me he made rap songs, and said he'd send me over some.