Pencil Art done under Barbaric Conditions at Hospital of Central CT: Brutal Aversive Conditioning.

CLICK ON THE PICTURES TO ENLARGE THEM.

 

There were few rewards for behavior that toed the line at New Britain General Hospital (HOCC). Mostly it was punishment. If I was found with even a stub of a forbidden pencil, I was carried off to the Supermax seclusion cell, stripped naked and left alone.

 

At that point, being teeth-chatteringly blue with cold, I would swat a nurse in such a way that she would feel assaulted and bring on the goon squad of “I want to hurt someone today” guards to put me in four point restraints.

 

Why would I induce this? Because then they would at least cover me up afterwards with the mercy of a sheet, for modesty not warmth mind you, and I would beg for a blanket in vain. But at least my body would be protected from head to toe from the blasts of the A/C up full bore, and I could rest after I had had screamed out my lungs and my despair for a lonely twenty minutes or more.

 

No one cared, no one heard or paid any attention. The doors were double, and the cell was utterly soundproof. NO one ever even knew I was locked in there. When my screaming was too heart-wrenching for the softer ones of the staff down the hall in the room where they had retired to, they simply turned down the monitor and intercom so they didn’t have to listen.

 

I know, because I heard when the telephone rang, telling the person sitting outside the inner door they could turn it back on now (after I had quieted down). This was brutality of the nth degree. But they always called it treatment for safety, though I mentioned the CMS regs to the security guards one day as they were inflicting their usual pain in order to bring me to the room, and they stopped in their tracks.

“You’re kidding,” one said, “Its true that the only legal reason for seclusion is Imminent Danger to self or others?” (I had been brought there for disturbing the peace…)

 

I nodded, Look it up. She looked gravely at the others. but proceeded o do what she had been ordered to do anyway. And I proceeded to behave in a wildly immodest and terrified fashion likewise…knowing I would be left alone and freezing for at least two to three hours, no matter how fast I calmed myself.

 

They didn’t care. it was PROTOCOL…

 Angry at me, the doctor put me in Four point restraints the first day I was there, freezing cold and thirsty , in physical pain, and mute...No one responded to my plight.
Angry at me, possibly justifiably, for slamming the door on him (I had been brutally restrained and secluded in the ER for NO reason the night before) the doctor put me in four point restraints the first day I was there, freezing cold and thirsty , in physical pain, and mute…No one responded to my plight. This drawing picture got stained from my efforts to save it from the trash, because every time they put me in seclusion the nurses would tell Housekeeping to throw my art and journals away. “It ‘s just trash” they would tell the cleaning woman, even though I begged them to preserve my work. Finally I wised up and mailed out everything I wrote and drew to my friends on the outside. Also I should mention that my rage at Dr Balkunas stemmed from his walking in to my room and pointblank telling me he would not let me communicate with a pen and paper, and would not sit with me at all unless I spoke with him…so my  rage, both from the restraints the night before and his  brutal dismissal of me, just exploded.

 

 

 

 

 

 

No one could hear me or see me in the Supermax Seclusion Room, or so I felt..since no one ever communicated with me in my agony...
No one could hear me or see me in the Supermax Seclusion Room, or so I felt..since no one ever communicated with me  when I screamed in cold or pain…only to tell me to shut up or lie down.
This is what the voices really instructed me to do...
This is what the voices really instructed me to do…
The Behavioral Care Plan was so torturous that if I was found with even a magazine or a pencil stub I was put back to Square one, no matter how far I had come...this happened at least ten times in 3.5 weeks.
The Behavioral Care Plan was so torturous that if I was found with even a magazine or a pencil stub I was put back to Square one, no matter how far I had come…this happened at least ten times in 3.5 weeks.
They had a camera in my room, supposedly to monitor me all the time, so how did this happen? I thought they were telling me to do it!
They had a camera in my room, supposedly to monitor me all the time, so how did this happen? I thought they were telling me to do it! Nevertheless, all heads and backs are turned away from me, and the room is empty.but for the hospital bed, which could be conveniently used for four-point restraints and often was.

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