A 2023 Field Trip — Millwood Hospital
The first entry in a series showing you what happens behind closed doors when you think you’re doing the right thing…
Introduction to Mental Health
Going back into my youth, I’ve seen counselors and therapists for mental health since about double digits. It’s a white culture thing here in the United States, and at least I never got medicated until I found my own trio — alcohol, nicotine, and Mary Jane. Overall, going to talk to somebody who is being paid to listen is pretty useful.
Just like a chat-bot on the computer it’s an input-output thing. Being dishonest with the self and using the appointment just to pass the time, well, I know a lot of people doing that right now and paying money for the service. Personally I prefer getting lessons even if small nuggets to work over in my own head later. So with this two-way-street understanding, I’ve also played the field.
Not every counselor deserves to be noodling around in my head. The bell curve is real and I’m a Writer — we came up with Psychology. You, ahem, professionals, are using a manual we wrote to try and be scientific with an artform. How do I know this? Well, I’ve decided to dedicate 2023 to taking awful, sometimes painful field trips to report back to society at large what happens behind closed doors.
In this first entry, we’re going to explore Mental Health treatment in Tarrant County by way of John Peter Smith Hospital and Millwood Hospital. When you, concerned relative or parent, send your loved one to these people, you deserve to know what happens. I’m going to tell you straight up, swear on any book, my word as my honor and I will sleep fine at night, things you need to know but will cringe once you know.
Ending 2022’s Rollercoaster
Before my trip to John Peter Smith (JPS) floor 10, 2022 was finally over and I was free from the ankle cuff as an inmate patient. I think it was four nights with 24/7 observation and only up to use the bathroom. Well, I asked for a bed pan for Deputy Childs to not have to uncuff me but she made me use the toilet because she’s an awful person who should take helium hits off the tank. She wears a badge and is partially responsible for me thinking about taking my life for the first time ever. If there’s any justice in this world, she’ll be four pointed for a month and then serve hard time in a silent labor camp Louisiana style.
Arrived at the 10th floor by way of claiming I was going to walk in front of a BNSF train and didn’t really mean it. I had no ID, no phone, and no money, so I knew my insurance or the mental health field would be there. It wasn’t a good option, but it was an option. No money down, just make sure to be honest with the water-works about how the soon-to-be-ex-Wife abused you and took your child and turned all your closest relatives and friends against you and blames everything on you but wants to “work things out” right…
Voluntarily into JPS and started to realize how awful the next few days might be — tired and desperate, nothing like a waiting room from purgatory’s rejected IKEA store — and that’s when the fun started. Whoever came up with the idea of packing in a bunch of looney tunes for transport and unfettered access to drugs by which to calm them didn’t think it through. Booty juice time!
Ever seen a 6’3” black woman about 300 pounds take on a 6’4” black dude about 280, four nurses, make that five, and then a Cop? I didn’t see it but I heard it on the other side of the door. I mean, she liked my dimples so I was partial to her struggle against authority, and wow, did she give them the business. My kind of lady I guess.
Buy the Ticket, Take the Ride
The way JPS 10th floor works is they do intake and then shuttle / prisoner ship to a facility willing to take their charges. I started voluntarily but because I had an idea how to kill myself, I got switched over to involuntary commitment. Thanks a lot JPS brief interview about why I was there and said it was the only time I’ve had an ideation — I’m sure you did all evaluations by the book and your Patagonia wearing Ken doll is better than my impression of him…reading a checklist…
Eventually I got informed that my ride to Millwood Hospital was upcoming. I didn’t know about it until after the COVID swab up my nose. You’d think a guy like me who talks and listens a lot might be able to remember being told how things work. You’d be right, I would remember, but they didn’t say anything of merit. Well, I mean Jasmin had a nice rack but didn’t get any jokes so trying to offer her a splits workout three times over wasn’t worth the effort. Latinas are such wildcards but good to look at from time to time.
Let’s Compare Branding to Reality
Welcome to Millwood!
Look at this awesome branding — such a happy family with all kinds of text inferring how well Millwood can help. Let’s look at some more pictures from their website. How do they present their treatment conditions and what to expect on the inside? Well, let’s just say that it’s 63 degrees 24/7, everything runs by a schedule they don’t even keep — it says Vitals at 7 am but every day they did them at 5:45 because they’re under-staffed — and they make up the rules as they go. Apparently I had to wrap my gown over my nipples because “there are ladies here” and that’s in the book. Yes this is what some little thresh-voiced scrub wearing grey scrubs told me to my face. Gee, I didn’t know his name was Millwood!
Look at those comfy chairs — I didn’t see those! There definitely were group therapy sessions but by no means as intimate. Mostly it consisted of an African immigrant reading from a checklist and arguing that it’s her culture to have her personal phone in hand while running a meeting. Yes, that’s a conversation that happened and yes I have a witness or three. Therapy consisted of being lectured by a bad TED Talk transcript.
Wait, that looks like a hotel lobby. Those chairs are way too comfortable to be from the Arlington location. Also see the exposed thermostat on the back wall — that would be locked away behind plexiglass in the real Millwood. Don’t forget the fake plant in the background because that’s a suicide hazard (I guess) which is why the place was bland as a funeral home cadaver storage — well, based on the temperature…
Why am I not surprised it looks like this dude is praying to get out of there? Also this is totally fake because the hottie in white still has her watch. The woman in green still has her earrings. I’m thinking this might be out-patient, but who knows…oh wait, they aren’t wearing shitty McKesson scrubs and socks…
Speaking of out-patient, a young lady there during my stay came in for out-patient counseling and they messed up her paperwork and kept her in-patient. It’s a rumor I picked up but the streets talk real. When I discovered I was involuntary versus voluntary, well, it was time to take a good long look at this place and talk with the other crazies.
For-Profit Mental Health by McKesson
Maybe you’re not familiar with the name McKesson but they got off easy in the Oxycontin epidemic and paid their way out of trouble. So it’s very ironic in a place for mental health and addiction treatment their logo is everywhere. The box of facial tissues. The bath soap. The socks they gave out.
McKesson is to healthcare what Kimberly Clark is to toilets. They sell just the worst basics possible to make the proles keep working and in line. Every fixture in Millwood was horribly engineered and frustrating to operate. Want to brush your teeth? Good luck unless you plug the sink. Hot water in the shower? Maybe, depends on the room
Want to get some actual sleep? Make sure you weren’t in my room with the street light directly outside shining bright all night. Of course this is totally reasonable as a setup to help somebody work on mental health, because being able to be clean should be a challenge, right? Wait, no?
The low-rent conditions were abhorrent to the level of “I want whoever sent me here to spend two days here” challenge that would break any Boomer or Karen within hours of seeing the place. It’s depressing by design to maximize revenue. Like an industrial kitchen, you can clean the place with bleach and a hose, because it’s not like anything of value will get affected.
Africans are Terrible Healthcare Providers but Great at Torture — Especially Nigerians
Racism is bad, but I know cultures and that’s what I’m citing here. The coolest guy there was from Liberia. The worst group? Nigerians. That’s right, the CHOP YOUR DOLLAR culture that should’ve been given white phosphorus for years based on how they scammed our elderly have arrived. Guess what — they are just as awful here as they are back home. Then there’s the Physician’s Assistant from Cameroon…
Ted and Judy are two Black Africans that I want to see punished for what they did to me and how they treated my mind and body. I am bruised to this day from their refusal to give me medication or allow me to heal myself. When I finally re-read their own rules to them, Charles and the team stuck me with tranquilizers in my ass. Ted and Judy are responsible for harming me and breaking their own rules and I want to be made whole for this awful experience.
Yes, I am handicapped, and no, Michelle you curt disrespectful bottom feeder RN, some bruises you can’t see with your eyes. That’s why you, Ted, Judy, Charles, and a handful of others are going to answer for your conduct and actions. You harmed me in ways that I never figured would happen in the course of treatment to get healing. What you did was torture and I’m going to seek justice.
Maybe Millwood will try to shut me up, but just know this is the first entry in the Fucked Up Field Trips 2023 series and I’m already booked next week for another facility. I have more to share about the Tarrant County Corrections department and the differences between FWPD and the Sheriffs (only one group wears body cameras) when it comes to attitude and apple bushels, so stay tuned. Mental health treatment shouldn’t be Abu Gharib you sons a bitches.
