FBI Encourages Vanderbilt To Break Me (Haldol)

I have to find a decent place to write, and when I do, I will explain what has happened most recently, with collusion by some FBI persons. I discovered, absolutely, that the FBI was partially or fully behind an unethical admission of me to a psych ward. I was not "committed" to a mental ward, but reviewed, and you have no idea what kind of suffering I have endured in the fucking United States of America.

I'm not saying all are bad, of course, and not all FBI either, but once again, I have evidence proving some within the FBI (who probably have shadier associates) have continued to block me from making reports they don't like, and have encouraged others to malign me.

I have evidence.

And it is beginning to tie in with what happened to me and my son in Canada, unfortunately.

Then again, it may be that just 1 or 2 from the FBI were already waiting to collude with another group that is ultimately pulling strings, and then wants the credit to go to the FBI, to alienate me further from getting a report made and investigated.

How disappointing that I looked up the medications they forced upon me, only to see one of them is used to "silence Soviet dissidents", which is really what's being done with regard to me and my son. Maybe some of those Soviet dissidents can relate, or maybe someone from the U.S. is trying to make a dirty point.

I haven't figured it all out, other than that what is done using me and my son is illegal and inhumane.

I took a shitload of Haldol and other antipsychotics--these were forced upon me--and you can see what kind of good it did.

It served an agenda of the 1. Rich & Corrupt, and 2. Poor & Brown-nosing.

It was done to undermine me again, and to try to "paper" me with false documentation to tarnish my name. I was also told to keep quiet or else. The point was made that worse would happen if I didn't.

I could play it any way that I want. I could take the meds and walk out and hope no one tortures my son and I anymore, thinking "The Threat" was gone. Maybe they would leave me alone. I hoped, just as I hoped when I pretended to be pregnant. But to play that out, is false. My other option was to describe what happened, which is exactly what some want me to do, in hoping I will ruin my own name by revealing too much.

I noticed one thing that night, before what happened: a LOT of rich assholes around. I also noticed they were almost giddy and I knew right away that something was up and that that if I didn't stay at the homeless shelter that night, someone had already forecasted, to the delight of despicables, what I would do instead.

I knew, and I thought against going to the hospital, to be examined for the poisoning I say occured and my hurt knee. The hurt knee is not an emergency unless it doesn't improve but the poisoning and fact that it occured, is still a fact.

I knew they were planning and counting on my going to the hospital.

And I knew they would try to accuse me of mental problems if I did. So I decided to go anyway, because if I didn't, I could never prove what horrible things have happened and how, once again, my attempts in the U.S. to secure my civil rights and equal treatment, were going nowhere. If I don't document these things, then I have no claim for political asylum or for others in the U.S., who are the real criminals, to be apprehended and locked up for good.

I chose to take the risk of being involuntarily medicated, in order to get more of the proofs I needed and to bring more of the larvae from the dirt. Grubs.

So, even knowing what has been going on, and knowing that my reputation is on the line; knowing D.C. hasn't done anything about forensics, and knowing that Tennessee has a law which allows someone in their right mind to be medicated against their will if they present to ER, I took the risk of either having the analysis done or ending up with more evidence of cruel and politiks-influenced treatment.

I didn't know for sure what would happen, but I knew there was possibly a set up.
I walked into it anyway.

Before I even went to the shelter, before I was leaving to walk to the hospital, I knew something was up. It was the same day that they had the big parade in town and all the black vehicles and people from out of town. A lot of rich were in town that evening, and from different states too. I called for a taxi to make it back to the shelter in time. One person who was connected to the taxi driver and feeling elated, was driving a blue VW bug with TN plates 142 WFZ. How he knew the cab driver I don't know. I memorized and remembered his plate number 1 full week after that evening. I only noted it because of the looks exchanged and then the sobriety of the taxi driver when I said it out loud. It was suddenly not a very funny game, whatever was going on.

I made it to the shelter with the cab driver, and then wondered why I was even staying there when nothing was being done about me or my son. At the very least, I could try to be examined for the arsenic poisoning. At least get an initial outcome or review.

When I walked out, I saw a lot of people who were expecting me to go towards the hospitals. Why? because obviously if the FBI locally was doing nothing, this is where I might go, esp. as I was reporting that very day how the Mees lines were growing out on my nails.

I had a whole group of people driving around, scouting out whether I was going to go down Church st., and then another group driving around, scouting out Broadway. Looking very happy about my walking in that general direction.

Very, very, happy. Giddy.

And then I saw a few others who already knew what was going to happen and who expected impending doom and who were frustrated and hoping I would turn around or reconsider.

I guess I chose to walk into the trap to see just how well it was laid out.

It was providential (can't say 'lucky') that I was able to get back out. Slightly damaged but not necessarily permanently damaged.

I at least got a little discovery out of the whole affair.

But let me tell you what they did, because even I would not think this possible when I was going to an established and well-regarded University Hospital with a reasonable attitude.

The short of it is that I was stripped to be viewed completely naked by 4-5 women,
threatened to be strapped down onto a mattress that was on a concrete floor by both men and women (5-6 of them),
and was forcibly injected with a damaging anti-psychotic drug that I didn't need.

I do not want to live in the United States of America anymore.

Do you hear me Barak Obama?

Not only that, there were other international people who also contributed to crimes that occured to me under legal guise. This was nothing more than amusement to my enemies, who had their triumph. Some of you just haven't computed what kind of a "game" you are really participating in and how you have encouraged abuse and assault.

It was the fault of Vanderbilt, of the Nashville, TN FBI (from what the doctors told me), and of Middle Tennessee Mental Health Institute, military, and those other "attached" parties that influenced what occured and encouraged it.

I guess I only explained a small portion of facts before giving my opinions, but I'll start at the beginning and name names as much as I can.

What happened to me was assault, abuse, obstruction of my freedom of movement and travel, violation of civil and human rights and privacy, and it was done with the knowingly false claim that I was mentally ill and needed this kind of treatment. I was also stolen from. Employees from Middle Tennessee Mental Health Institute stole over a dozen business cards people gave me, an envelope which contained a whole roll of stamps, and the only pen that was on my person: a "Free Will Baptist College" pen in blue and white, which was taken from me and then replaced with a blue and white pen that said "BadCock" on it, which I was given when I was leaving.

In just a minute, I'll start from the top, from when I first walked into Vanderbilt, having decided I would take FBI Special Agent Diane Harsha's recommendation that I go to Vanderbilt Hospital. It was Vanderbilt that did the first bad things and then they decided to ship me off to MTMHI, where then more incidents occured.

No, I might back it up a little. I might back it up to the moment I walked past the U.S. federal building off of Broadway, which is where I first met Brad Uhl at the DEA offices, and where two windows were lit up with one window casting a blue light and the other window casting an orange light. From a U.S. fully federal building.

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I stopped here and went to a next-door store to buy more chocolate.

I was trying to find an antidote to the shit they forced me to take, and there is no antidote. My cholesterol went from normal or low to sky-rocketing though, so I was thinking about buying wine to cut this. Instead, I went for Toblerone milk chocolate with the nougats. I bought a bar and then went back just now to buy another bar of the same and then a large Hershey's Symphony bar of chocolate.

I had the idea to put on music and thought, "kate bush" but didn't know what song. I chose "running up that hill" and then selected a remix I've never heard.

Arrows.

All arrows at the end.

The choreographer has the man and woman drawing back arrows with a bow. It made me think about what God told me he wants to give me: arrows.

It's the first time I've ever seen this remix video, with the arrows.

I will post the link here. www.youtube.com/watch?vaF-2FrUYIVA
I looked up other versions and maybe there was always the arrows at the end. I don't (didn't) remember this. Not when I selected it and not from subconscious either--wasn't thinking of arrows. But maybe someone else was, or God was, and I believe this song was intended for me at this time.

I then looked at a different live one, where she pulls a real arrow and bow. I think it's the first I've seen this one, but who knows. The length of her arrow is about the length I saw in my dream and I saw myself, or this woman who I thought in my dream was myself, pulling an arrow out of her bag but it was on her own back. And I don't remember a bow. Just the arrows in a bag and ready to throw. And the doe. www.youtube.com/watch?v=9U1crhhEC9A&NR .

Whenever I hear this song, I want to dance. I see ballet choreography and can feel myself dancing, and I want to sing too. One song that makes me feel like singing, dancing, and running all at the same time. Painting. I wonder how it would be to paint to oils with this song? I am now listening to the 3rd or 4th version of this song. At this moment, I would paint in purple and black. Dark purple. Not violet. Not lavendar in any shade. Purple. Lydia.

Lydia and her seashells. Her dyes. And a sharp knife for the canvas, to make marks through the oils. vertical and horizontal. One long horizontal slash somewhere near the bottom. Thick paint. Not a thin veneer of oils, but thick. Something like cutting through cake frosting. A little stickier than that. I only see black and purple. I cannot see any other color.

I looked up something about Lydia and got a trivia page with both a nun and mention of Alexander the Great. I skimmed it though and it describes the setting of Lydia. It's from a page called: "A Quick Look At The Conversion of Lydia"

A man falls to his knees. Shock.

I don't know what I want to do more--sing or dance. And I am not sure what this means but I know it's important.

Soon I will go back to telling what happened to me with Vanderbilt and the other place. After I post the link to the conversion of lydia and have had enough of this song, because I can't write about what happened while listening to this song. www.funtrivia.com/en/subtopics/A-Quick-Look-at-the-Conversion-of-Lydia-329418.html.

I just noticed the youtube poster for the version I'm hearing now, is "fallingdown08". But in the mind's eye, I saw a real man (not sure who) falling to his knees and in shock and I think hands together as prayer to God form.

The fushia shirt I wore on the way to the nuthouse was made in Turkey. Which I only think about now, reading that Lydia was originally from Turkey. No connection. Just thinking about how Lydia comes to mind and then what I wore while being escorted on false pretenses to the nuthouse.

I had on what I said I had been wearing. I was wearing jeans with boots and then a long sleeved black shirt with a short sleeved fushia shirt over it. The Made in Turkey shirt. The one tht looks like the color of P. Williams tie in certain light. But I had covered it with a thick knit cream colored sweater and you couldn't even see it. I had my silk scarf with the lattice over it, just to go with my coat for something warm.

When I went to Vanderbilt, I wore the sweater until they told me to undress and get into a gown. I did. Then they told me to dress to go to the nuthouse and I was given my clothing and I put on my blue jeans, boots, my black shirt with the fushia shirt over it and the scarf over the fushia and I left the cream sweater in my hand.

Some looks of shock. Actually, it did shock some people there, which was the only satisfaction I got at all. No, I wasn't lying. The only other looks of shock came when I was then taken to the nuthouse and told to strip naked in front of all of these women who stood there and stared at me. They said, "Lift up your bra" and I exposed the thin fushia shoulder pads I had hidden inside of my black bra, for months. Since last spring or summer.

Oh, someone did not like what I just wrote and they deleted it very fast. A whole long sentence.

I've had 3 fushia shirts. I kept the shoulder pads of the 1st one tucked into my bra. There's the 1st one I discovered at Goodwill but couldn't get because I didn't have anything to make it look right with, but the shoulder pads were already taken out and I was able to keep them. The 2nd fushia shirt I wore in some of the photos I took. I guess I won't say what the brand name of the 1st shirt was. The second one was "Clio". And then there is the fushia shirt I got at the homeless shelter which just says made in turkey on it and makes me think of the Eastern Orthodox church in Turkey that I used to see a lot of photos of--the one which has the painting by the monks, of Christ stepping on the head of the serpent. I don't know why I have never wanted to part with the shoulder pads, but it was my secret until I finally had to wash my one and only bra out and let it dry at the homeless shelter.

I remember the day I tried on the first fushia shirt on. And the other clothes I had picked out, which I never got. There was a man who I don't remember now, in the background, with a genuine smile. And there was a woman there, also trying on clothes, who always acted like she hated me.

I have no idea why these people cannot leave me alone enough to have a small job and a little bit of happiness with my son.

I am almost thinking the women are the worst. 4 cats just walked by, smirking smugly. I cannot stand them. None of them prettier than I am, just cattier and happy I don't have work or their man. The men only hate me when I don't want them. Or, I guess, when I see through the superficiality of the women they hang out with or are related to. Reality bites. Earlier this evening, after I posted only to the first comments about the arrows, this woman came down from her hotel room, with a few men, and commented loudly, as she stood next to me, "I feel nauseous." She refused to look at me. I can't help but not like insecure women. When they are insecure about themselves, they make the worst of the jealous women. I never have any trouble with secure women, or women happy with themselves.
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Back to the horror story. Which is true, by the way. I had Chicago's "You're the Inspiration" come to mind but thought it was one of those projections so I thought about what I wanted to hear. "Hey Mama" by Tupac.
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I am not going to live in the United States of America.

Every single time I give someone connected to FBI or law enforcement or investigative agencies, a chance...Every single fucking time, someone in there who is corrupt screws it up for everyone.

I have not been treated like a citizen of the United States. Neither has my son. We have been treated as outcasts and enemies of the U.S.

The U.S. used MY birthday for the day they decided to sneak in a little law they should have had in place before kidnapping my son from me in Canada, and slandering me as being paranoid schitzophrenic.

I now know it was the FBI.

The fucking FBI is the party responsible for defaming me to Canadians.

It was the Seattle FBI that spread defamatory information about me to other law enforcement and to Canadians. Which is the only reason why Canada hesitated when I said I'd made a complaint against some of their employees.

They can't take any of my reports, because they are guilty. They should have been upfront and told me from the start: "We're sorry, we can't help you because it would be a conflict of interest because we are already legally liable for defamation of your character."

If the FBI took my report and investigated, they would be proving some of their own employees defamed me. They can't "handle the truth" because they are too cowardly and afraid of being sued over it.

They had outside people influencing some of their inside people and then screwed it up for everyone who was FBI, making the FBI an adversary to the truth.

Which is why the FBI wanted me to go to Vanderbilt.

They, like the Catholic lawyers, NEEDed me to be diagnosed or treated as nuts. Because otherwise, they spread defamatory information about me to Canada that they could be sued over for billions, not millions, billions of dollars.

Would've been nice if I'd married "into" the agency. Sort of a protective cover from my suing their asses. Since I didn't, they just let me go.

They allowed me and my son to be tortured. And then they tried to intimidate and threaten my family.

I had MTMHI doctors tell me straight out what the FBI did.

And they told me this while they were injecting me with Haldol to screw up my mind and punish any of my supporters or anyone who loved or cared about me.

Vanderbilt, for their part, their nurses told me, "We got your address from your passport information" when I didn't have a passport on me. I guess I'm getting ahead of myself.

Here's the test: If it's just 1 or 2 getting ahead of everyone in the FBI, then it's someone dirty who wants to protect others who are dirty. If it's a major bureau problem that I won't beat, then the FBI will refuse to help me and my son, no matter which agency I go to, in any state.

It's starting to look systemic. The only way someone could have cleared the FBI from liability would have been to take my report and investigate. By blocking my report and trying to encourage others to smear me further, they cultivate a lawsuit and a human rights investigation.

The problem is, they are getting international people involved. Because they already know this is going to the UN.

The head of the UN is Eastern Indian.

Panetta must have really gotten off when he heard I'd been injected with Haldol. He probably told his dark curly haired mistress every detail. Panetta went to East India to cultivate favor.

Every single one of the doctors who "diagnosed" or "treated" me at MTMHI was Eastern Indian. I had 3 doctors and they grouped me with the ones that were Eastern Indian.

Which works for certain jewish groups that have close ties with East India.

I was told I wouldn't leave until I "believed" I had "never been poisoned."

My trip to MTMHI was retaliation. It was retaliation for being one of the fucking best whistleblowers this country has maybe ever had. Who can't handle the truth? I have a long list.

I was told to say I had never been poisoned and that no one had ever medicated me without my consent, even as I recognized some of the medications were the same fucking shit people have given me in public, without my consent. Had the exact same effect.

FUCK YOU.

I learned, positive proof, that I was medicated without my consent as WELL as poisoned. And someone in U.S. top gun control, wants me to announce to the public that it never happened.

Why? unless it was their own relative that pulled the stunt?

The only people who were ever honest with me were Pakistani. Not saying they're all good, but most of the time, they didn't lie to me or pull punches. All of a sudden, I have the East Indian gang mod-squad out doing favors for white politicians.

I wrote to the 3rd East Indian doctor I had who was maligning me, finally left him a note that said, "I think there may be a conflict of interest if you know FBI agent Diane Harsha or the Sterling-Tanzer family."

The next day, everything changed.

It was probably Harsha, but since I know Mike Tanzer had connections with politically powerful Eastern Indians, I threw that in for good fucking measure. For all I know, these Eastern Indians were just props. Props for something else. But still, I was taking names.

My guess is that someone wanted to have me mistreated by some Eastern Indians so I would then complain about what happened, anger more Eastern Indians, and thereby tamper with the influence of the UN head.

Hello Panetta. I saw some of your fucking "friends" in town last week Fucker (they weren't Eastern Indian).
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I walked past the federal building on Broadway with their blue and orange light display.

I walked to Vanderbilt ER. It took at least a 1/2 hour so there was a little time to position, but I think people knew, based on how I was blogging already and where it was leading. I was writing about being stolen from as well, and describing the stolen items in detail.

Oh yeah, and about the ever-hot-topic of William of Wales and his pryncess. So some people were pissed. The day before I was writing about my stolen jewelry and then the next day I'm wearing fushia and black that supposedly matches his tie; ripping the CIA to shreds, and talking about the FBI and other gang shit at the same time.

It was FBI's Diane Harsha who told me to go to Vanderbilt though. That was her hospital of choice.

I am not a Vandie Fan.

All of the talk about Vanderbilt being rated #1 is a bunch of bullshit. I've been to better hospitals on the West Coast and whoever is writing reviews is also getting paid double. I guess Vanderbilt needed stronger student representation or the money or something.

My thoughts, while walking to Vanderbilt, were:

"Number 1 rated in hospital services doesn't mean number 1 in ethics." The Nazi's had the "number 1 best" scientists and doctors because they were "willing" to use human subjects for experimentation and torture. So yeah, they ended up being "number 1" by trading their souls, pure Faust, for glory. Some faded glory honey.

Vanderbilt is doing the exact same thing. Human experimentation, and providing a safe haven for those who are in research in this field.

I will never go to Vanderbilt--I will never apply and I wouldn't go to their college if someone PAID me to go there and I had no other options.

So I thought these things but then though, "Oh, just go there, because you know they want you to, and the FBI told you to, and then you can say you went to Vanderbilt and tell the public how you were screwed over and how their #1 rating is pure bullshit."

A review by Cameo Garrett, believe it or not, may have more weight than some fucking U.S. News or other media review where there is bias and a need to churn for butter. Think whatever you want about me, but in general, I feel confident that most people can trust me to be 100% honest at least MOST of the time, not on a PT basis, based on my discrimination of who I'm talking to.

Fuck Vanderbilt University. They are NOT Number 1, they do NOT have #1 doctors, and they did NOT display #1 professionalism when I went to their Emergency Room.

The other thing I didn't like, was this weird vibe I got when I crossed over their campus grounds. I love international people, seriously, but I got a seriously messed up vibe going past that section of the campus.

Something is NOT right with Vandie or the students they are bringing in.

Again, believe me, I love international students and people and that's why I liked D.C. so much. But there was this corner of the campus where the International students association and the medical research clinics were, and I did not get a good vibe. I even had some glares from international students there and I didn't know why.

I tried to contact the Vanderbilt administration or college side of things because when I was going through what happened at the ER, I thought, "The people at the top will take care of this because they will not want a few assholes to ruin the good name (if it is indeed good) of Vanderbilt."

So I tried to reach them but I was cut off by Vanderbilt police and security (one guy Irish) and then told they were out for the weekend. I had no recourse. I tried calling Baptist to be transfered and I was cut off by the Vanderbilt psych ward people. I even called 911 and of course no one in the U.S. did anything to check on what was going on.

When I got to the Vanderbilt doors there was a whole fucking team waiting around just for me. I am not kidding. I walked in the doors and the front desk receptionist was a piece of shit.

She was latina or hispanic, and I don't know what her affiliation is, but she was a piece of shit. It's not a mean comment either because I have "proof" of her shittiness. I can't remember her name but it was hyphenated and latina on both ends. She was petite and fairly attractive and had a necklace around her neck with one ball on it, which was exactly like "the balls" necklace I had that had been my mother's, which was stolen from me. It wasn't the same thing, but the ball was pearl with the gold filigree. It was a shorter chain and didn't have two balls, and her ball was smaller than my mother's had been, but that's probably another God-given clue to her family's general character (one ball short of a set, and little).

I was polite with her and said only that I was there to be evaluated for a possible poisoning and a bad knee. I added nothing else to this. I mean, nothing else. That's all I said. I later found out she had written: "patient says she is poisoned and being chased."

That bitch needs to lose her job. She was smirking when she wrote this, I remember her expression, but I assumed it was just for my claim of poisoning. I didn't suspect that she was writing up and adding shit to my record to make me SOUND totally looney.

I told the administrator later, "If I had been scared and felt 'chased', I would have gone to police, not the ER."

The administrator told me, "She wrote it down twice." I said, "Then it sounds like she wanted someone to pay attention and she wrote it down wrong twice."

Someone seriously needs to investigate that woman and her family because they are not good stock. Also of concern was how closely her necklace did match the one that had been my mother's. When I first had a shitload of clothing stolen from me, the only suspects were some white women visiting from California and the hispanic housemaid who had a key to the apartment. It could be coincidence, but I'm sure my mother's jewelry didn't just disappear or get trashed. Someone wore it.

So this front desk receptionist for the Vanderbilt ER was a hispanic woman who was there at about 11-12 p.m. last Saturday on the 15th. Then, standing in front of me was a woman who was wearing pearl earrings in the shape of violets as I had drawn. Hers were very thin and papery looking, but the same idea and although there was hardly a resemblance, it was clear these women were posturing there to have me notice.

Every single person at Vanderbilt that saw me that night was either Catholic or Jewish. I believe just a couple of the guards were Protestant and they were assholes. The security guard who later tried to prevent me from using my cell phone to call for help, and who started calling me "Peanut" was, supposedly, Protestant, and he was watching me from the moment I went into ER. His name tag said "D.A. Justice".

So first of all, I went to the intake nurse, after the Dishonest-Latina-With-One-Ball Receptionist.
I have no idea what they wrote, but I said the same thing to them that I said to the receptionist. I was told to go to this back room and sit but then they did nothing there. I sat next to an orange and blue box that had "finished" scrawled on the box in black.

When the first admitting nurse was asking me questions, I felt the tightening of my heart and some kind of technology thing but I didnt know where from except that it was someone there.

So then I was in the room in the ER, the regular room, after a whole team of doctors had peeked around a corner at me. I told this first physician that I was there because of vaginal and rectal bleeding at the same time when I wasn't on my period, which later resulted in white lines on my nails and toenails. I told him I thought it was from some kind of poison that would cause internal bleeding. And then I also told him I had osteochondritis dissicans and that I had fallen very hard on my knees and I hadn't been able to run normally since so I was concerned about a small fracture or piece that could have broken off.

He sat there and listened and nodded for about 5 minutes.

They didn't have an internet or wifi connection there that would allow me to blog what was going on.

He acted fine with things, but then asked if I wanted to kill myself or kill someone else. "No" I said. His name was Dr. Seth Right (or Wright).
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I had to recharge the batteries on the laptop so I left it alone and did some reading and listened to Tremaine Hawkins (potter's house and what shall i do). Then I tried to look up Seth Wright again. I found him.

This is so political it's not even funny.

I had not looked him up before now, and right now, the time is...let me check...it's 1:07 a.m. Central Standard Time. I started this post hours ago and have been distracted or had the battery run out really fast a few times.

Dr. Seth Wright is another Harvard alum. Is it any wonder? Hell for Harvard.

That is another University you couldn't pay me to attend. They seem to turn out more unibombers and crazy-killers than any other Ivy University I can think of. And look at the photo of Wright! (yikes--will post, but for the impatient he's on the Vandie site). He looks like the father of the Arizona guy who just shot a bunch of people. They at least have the same look in their eyes. Seriously. Check it out.

He is a "Diplomat" of some kind, on an international medical level. Which is really interesting, considering what I had just written, about my having had a bad vibe around the international and medical research side of the Vanderbilt campus.

Anyway, this is the doctor who sat and talked to me for about 5 minutes and I swear to you, I said nothing about FBI, or being chased or anything. I kept it normal and only mentioned the possible poisoning and my knee. He left the room and I later found out, he immediately wrote up legal papers to have me detained and admitted to the psych side of Vanderbilt Hospital. (Remind me to NEVER, EVER, date or associate with anyone who has gone to Harvard).

I am trying to find the other guys. I wrote down their names right after I met them and I said some of their names on my 911 call when I was told I was being restrained without cause. What was odd was that when I started naming them, the operator cut me off nervously. If you listen to her, it's nervousness. Why was she more concerned about their being named publicly than in what was happening to me?

There was Seth Wright, and then someone with a name like Dr. Helmutt or Helmudd, and then a Dr. Perrine and then there was also a nurse with the name tag GaryAllan (all squished together like that). It took a whole team of them after just 1 Dr. Wright wrote me up after 5 minutes.

Dr. Wright did not take my vitals, and although I had complained of symptoms of poisoning and also having a broken knee possibly, he did no physical exam at all. He didn't check my knee or even touch me. He did nothing but wait 5 minutes until he could race back to frantically file paperwork before I got up and left of my own accord.

After Dr. Wright left without explanation, a nurse came in and put a stethoscrope to my chest and feigned interest. This was nurse Gary Allan, who had on a Star of David necklace on. He then took the most remote amount of blood--not enough for any kind of CBC or analysis of arsenic for sure. Then, within 10 minutes, a security guard came in, on the heels of Helmutt, who I found out later, wrote a report claiming he actually examined my leg.

No one touched my knee or leg at any point, at any time.

It was the worst experience in ER medicine that I have ever experienced, second only to the mulitiple times Wenatchee refused to treat my migraines when I was in horrible and excruciating pain.

When the security guard came in, another one came in too. So that made it 3 male doctors, 2 male security guards, and 2 female nurses standing by as I was told I was not allowed to leave. I reached for my cell phone and said I had some calls to make and the security guard D.A. Justice tried to prevent me from making any calls. I picked up the phone after he started smirking and calling me "Peanut".

All of them should be fired.

None of them will be.

Therefore, Vanderbilt has earned it's negative review and hopefully potential medical students will look elsewhere, to colleges that are actually integretating ethics into the curriculum.

I kid you not. This fucker literally started calling me "Peanut". Right after I was told I was going to the nuthouse.

Very professional environment there. This was the self-professed "Protestant christian". He tried to block me from using my cell and then there was someone else there so he backed off a little bit and I was able to get to the phone. I called 911.

I was panicked at that point, and just said, "I am at Vanderbilt and came here to be examined for a hurt knee and possible toxin of some kind and this is all I said and they are trying to send me to the psych ward."

There was zero legal basis for what happened.

There were some fucking liars too. From the receptionist who lied and added "...and she thinks she's being chased" to the Dr. Helmudd. I found out he lied after I asked to speak to the director in charge and she went over the reports after I said no one had even examined me in the most preliminary way (no one looked at the lines in my nails, or examined my knee...nothing). She read to me that Helmudd reported an exam of my knee and noted "no point tenderness" or something like that. The fucker didn't even touch me. None of them did except for the nurse Gary Allan, and all he did was listen to my heart and take blood.

These people were writing up false reports and sending ME to the psych ward.

I want to know more about Helmudd because it was after I said HIS name that the operator on 911 sort of freaked out. I am sure there is some kind of surprise with him.

So they forced me to sit in a wheelchair. I said, "I can walk" and I was not resisting. They forced me into the chair anyway. They wheeled me into the psych ward where I was told to strip in front of a woman who watched. I was allowed to keep my underwear on. I then had all my belongings put into a locker in a line of lockers that had blue and orange locks affixed. A nurse named Susan talked to me and she said she was writing up papers for me to be sent to a full-on nuthouse. I guess someone always has to win a bet, don't they?

Make it work, anyway that you can. Please, dear god, make something fit so we can "win" this fucking game. You can twist the meaning of anything.

In this whole time, I never said anything remotely alarming. I have said more in this post alone, than I said there. I was being honest too. I said that I had been misunderstood.

The nurse told me, "We need to confirm the address we got from your passport." I didn't have a passport on me. I wondered how they would come up with my passport address out of all the possible addresses I have.

Earlier in the day, and the day before, I had been online on my computer almost all day, looking up proper passport information.

They threw up this passport comment like a fucking gangster throws up signs. (cocky head to the side with a smile and big eyes, "we got your address from your passport.")

That's when I realized the FBI was probably involved.

Who else would have access to my passport which I had reported STOLEN years ago?

I'm not staying in Tennessee and I'm not staying in the U.S. Period.

My entire family should be compensated for the SHIT we have all been through.

My passport is not even active and these medical professionals were making fun of the fact that they had me in their psych ward and the only use of any passport to me was in giving address information to psych ward people.

FBI. I thought about this and about how FBI Agent Diane Harsha had specifically wanted me to go to Vanderbilt. I thought about the DEA man Brad Uhl who is more fucked in the head than 3 pigeons in a parakeet cage. I prayed for that fucker and he lost his little cheek twitch, to turn around and pull this kind of shit on me. And I know he lost his cheek twitch because I know. I prayed for him despite his sorry ass and the way he had treated me. It was pity prayer. He needs them more than I do, but he's the one with a paying job. Which is totally ironic.

I am not praying for any of them anymore. You lost my protective covering. When my son is with me, and if any of you fucking do your job and take my report of corruption and investigate, I will pray for you again. You're on your own now.

I asked to speak to the director after Susan told me I was being summarily sent to a psych ward with a bed. I talked to her and she did nothing but read to me how others lied about me.

All of them, up to this point, except for the security guard, were Jewish and Catholic. Mainly Catholic. Dr. Wright was Jewish I believe, maybe Catholic. Dr. Perrine--Catholic. Dr. Helmutt--Catholic. Dr. Gary Allan (jewish? because of the star of david? I don't know). Then Susan, the psych nurse I had to talk to, told me she was NOT Catholic, but it was BS. Her parents were Catholic and she was Catholic for 40 years until, she claimed, a few months ago when she decided to go to a "non-denominational christian church." Bullshit. Then the director after Susan told me yes, she was Catholic.

They managed to somehow get ahold of someone who was "not" supposedly, Catholic, next. They told me I had to talk to the Middle Tennessee manager or counselor about intake.

During this entire time I never had an outburst. I never resisted anything and I spoke in peace.

What have I received for my attempts at peace?

Everything I owned and loved taken from me, by force, and with a quasi-legal covering that's not even there. I have had my enemies manipulate and use the law against me and others and just grind me into the ground.

So they brought Colleen in, who was wearing a bright green sweatshirt and she didn't want to divulge her religious inclinations but I said it was important to me, in order to discern potential conflict of interest. She said to me, "Well I'm not a JEW and I'm not Catholic either." I don't know what she was, but she wasn't a good example of any kind of a christian.

She said she had to ask me questions and then cut me off, walked out and told others, "She is not answering my questions". I got up and called after her, "I AM answering your questions and I want to answer the rest of them." She refused. She just said I was admitted.

To be technical, I wasn't "committed". I guess, over here, it's different. I was not formally or informally "Committed" to a psych ward. It was all supposedly evaluation but it was bullshit. All of it was bullshit.

However, they didn't explain this to me when they told me I was being sent to a hospital with a bed. They allowed me to think I was being committed.

They let me try to make a few calls on my cell phone but I couldn't get ahold of anyone. Then they were telling me to get dressed to go to the nuthouse.

I had come in with just jeans and a cream colored sweater showing. I put on my fushia shirt and draped the scarf over it and I sat up straight in the police car. I had nothing to be ashamed of--they did. I wasn't going to lie down across the back of the seat so no one could see me. I wanted to be able to look out of the windows and see if there were any clues as to who was lingering to watch the events unfold.

When I came out of the bathroom looking like I was wearing a fucking Prince William engagement party tie, they almost lost thei...they DID lose their composure. Jaws dropped sort of thing like they couldn't believe it.

I wasn't fucking lying assholes. The black lattice of my scarf, over the fushia top, was a ringer for his fucking tie. So what.

Dr. Perrine sat at the desk at Vanderbilt psych for awhile. He was rude. Then they said I could use my cell phone. Then a black woman came in and I said, "You've been to Washington D.C." She stopped and said yes, she had friends and had visited there. I said, a few minutes later, "and you know people in Maryland." Her sort of mocking and nonchalant smile fell. I was right. And she reminded me of some people in Maryland too. I didn't say who.

The cop came, along with security guards, who stared at my scarf over the shirt. It was all they did. Stare. They put handcuffs on me.

It was an Officer McCormack or something like that. He had black sunglasses on and put my in the back of the car where I sat up straight and cussed him and the United States of America out. I told him he should go back to the fucking military, which he admitted he'd been in. Then I said this government was FUCKED if they put the INNOCENT mothers and children in practical bondage and slavery and then keep allowing stupid journalists to write stupid articles in "Foreign Affairs" about the dangers of our slipping middle class and growing plutocracy and then end their article with the admission that they had no solution to offer. I said I had read the same articles over 5 years ago and all of them say the same thing and none of them offer any solutions. The rich and corrupt just get richer and buy out the poor and corrupt. And then YOU, I said, with tears starting, separate a baby from his mother who is one person that could be valuable and who hasn't done anything to deserve this. I said I wanted fucking nothing to do with the U.S. and knew that on the day I found out they used my birthday to sign in a new law about children's rights, which was nothing more than a desecration of the sanctity of my relationship with my son.

MY SON. Oliver Garrett.

When he started blinking and I could see him blinking even though his sunglasses were thick, I told him he was getting nervous because he knew I was fucking right.

As we drove, I saw a ton of assholes. I didn't have any paper for all the numbers and plates I wanted to write down. One asshole had florida plates and I remember him and his sneering. At that time, in that moment, it was 75% upper class assholes that we were passing. And the "beautiful people". Who knows why the hell the beautiful successful people feel that I am a threat to their ventures. A few looked sort of sad or sorry or something. There were a lot of Italians on the road. I mean, for TN, more grouped together than usual.

So the Officer arrived at the building. I stopped swearing and talking and was taken into a lobby and the handcuffs were off. I recognized the man at the front desk. He was a black man I have seen a number of times, actually, and around me.

Then I found out the first doctor I was going to talk to was a Dr. Divursula. Which, I said out loud, "...is really interesting since last night I had her name come to mind." I didn't even know who she was but I picked up on a "diversula" only I mainly got "ursula". Someone had been fucking discussing me and plotting this event for awhile. I wondered if she was Eastern European because it sounded like that kind of name but then I met her and found out she was Eastern Indian.

They started running games the moment I set foot into the building. Off an on people were still using the technology stuff, but only a little bit, and they were just watching me. They wanted me to write things out in my own hand for them too and when I realized that's what they wanted me to do, I handed the pen back to them and said, "Why don't I let you write this down." I didn't want samples of my handwriting all over the place and I didn't know what they were doing this for.

Then I sat in the office of Divursula and she only talked to me, and I only talked to her, for a few minutes and she said, "I am admitting you." I said, "You can't admit me. I have to be suicidal or homocidal or psychotic and I'm none of the above." She said, "You think you were poisoned so this is psychotic." I said, "I'm not psychotic and I'm not acting psychotic at all." She said, "You are paranoid and this is psychosis." I said, "No it's not, paranoia is totally separate from psychosis even if they can be comorbidities." I talked to her for about 5-10 minutes and she was already trying to diagnose me.

I started to wonder about Diane Harsha again. When I had tried looking up this FBI agents' name, I had only pulled up matches from Eastern India for this last name so I wondered. Instead of being an advocate, this particular woman was anything but. I wondered if she was one of the Catholic Indians from some Mother Theresa part of India and I asked what her religion was because I saw a gold chain necklace but couldn't see the pendant. She refused to tell me.

Looking at the wiki on the place, Vanderbilt is involved. Vanderbilt got involved with research and operations of this place in the 1960s. I just looked this up. It figures and it fits.

At any rate, I said nothing tangental, nothing odd, and nothing bizarre. I was definitely not psychotic either. I later told someone this was ridiculous and she didn't even know what she was talking about, to say even if you had one (paranoia) you also had to have the other (psychosis).

I couldn't believe it.

First, a summary judgement by Dr. Seth Wright. Next, summary judgment by Dr. Divursula. Then after this, I was taken into a different ward where there was a nurse by the name of Martin who was really acting obnoxious and kept cutting me off and getting in my face. I also intuited he knew Chris Rozollo. He told me I had to go into this room to strip in front of female staff. They took my scarf from me saying I couldn't have it in there. Then they took the "Free Will" pen out of my hair. Actually, they took that pen when I first walked in the door.

I asked for my contact numbers and to call a lawyer. I had been asking to call a lawyer since I was in Vanderbilt and I was refused this. The entire time I was at MTMHI, they stalled and refused to allow me to call an attorney.

4-5 women came into the room and told me I had to take all of my clothes off. It wasn't enough for them to have 1 or 2 women. They had a whole pack of women staring at me. They told me to take off my pants. Then they told me to take off my underwear. They let me pull this back up but then said to lift up my shirt and said to lift up my bra. I did and knew it was unnecessary for them to all be there. One woman who got in my face was military. Ex military. I said fuck you a couple of times but nothing more and I didn't resist and I wasn't violent at all.

They then had me go to talk to another doctor, Dr. Johan, who was also Eastern Indian. He had me in his office less than 4 minutes. He said "are you suicidal? homocidal?" and I said no, truthfully. He said, "I am giving you an injection of haldol and ____________" (I don't remember what the other one was)."

I knew enough to know haldol is a mind altering, very strong antipsychotic with serious dangers, short term and long term. I said, "No, please don't. I don't need that and why can't you observe me for a little bit without medication?" He said, "If you don't take it, we will FORCE you to take it."

They had me go into the room again, where they had me strip, and with men and women and then opened a door to a room that was all concrete and pointed to a large mattress on the floor. They told me if I didn't let them inject me, they were going to force me onto the mattress and hold me down. The room was all concrete with a vinyl floor and then nothing else but a plastic mattress with straps on it.

I didn't fight it because I knew there was no point. They would hold me down.

There was zero justifiable reason to inject me. I was not displaying any sign of psychosis. I wasn't violent. I wasn't even swearing. I wasn't agitated anymore than any normal person would be, in that situation. It was full on abuse and assault and injection of a medication that is harmful, under the guise of legality. It was retaliation and punishment and

I FUCKING HATE THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

It only got worse.

According to other patients, I passed out. I was let out of the room and it was about 5:30 p.m. or so on Sunday the 16th.

I was let out and went to a room and sat in a chair. The other patients told me that within a couple of minutes,

Oh, but first, after I was given the shot, I went to my knees and I cried and prayed to God, out loud, with my back to the nurse Martin and I prayed that God would protect my mind and body and that God would send his message to the families of Wright, Diversula and Dr. Johan and their children and that bad things would happen to their families in India and any relatives and that God would make his own point. I prayed that this nurse Martin and these families would recall my prayer and acknowledge my God when they began to see things fall apart for their own families, and to know the power of God is real. I prayed protection for my son.

The next day Dr. Johan was wearing some 'Jesus" symbolism shirt. My prayer was nothing more to him than clinical interest. He wasn't afraid of my prayer and he had no fear of the Lord. He had zero faith in my prayer and I saw that my prayer had been relayed by the dutiful male nurse.

After I prayed on my knees, I went to my seat and passed out.

The patients told me my head was against some hard part of the chair and it was like I was dead. They said the nurses and doctors told everyone to get out and go to one room. I was carried to bed as far as I know.

I had a roommate. I woke up the next morning around 7:30 a.m. and there was some other woman in the room. The rest of the day she was quiet around me. That day I was given medications which I concealed inside my cheek but they were even planning this out. I was a rat in a lab and nothing more. They were allowing other psychics in to try to predict what I was going to do next. They used me.

I am not kidding.

The next night I woke up after I had not taken the medication they gave me. My roommate who had seemed so helpless and quiet was typing away on a cell phone of some kind. We were not allowed any cell phones or technology. She was sitting up in bed, texting away on something she held in her hand that looked like a blackberry or something to me. I don't think she expected me to wake up. But I did because I wasn't so drugged up.

Anything could have happened to me the night before. I didn't remember anything and I didn't remember passing out.

But when I talked to my parents and my mom asked if I had been violent, or agitated or anything, I said clearly and honestly, "No, I wasn't. I said a couple of swear words, but I was 10x worse in the cop car than I ever was in that hospital."

They had talked to someone who had a lawyer and I knew what they and everyone else knew--what had happened to me was illegal. It would be covered up as "legal" just like everything else that has happened to me and my son.

I just looked up Haldol and "torture" in the same search on google and there is a lot of information about Haldol being used for torture and considered a form of torture. The first article that comes up under this context is of the USSR using Haldol and "therapeutic drugs" as the first line of torture. I guess this is because people like me value their minds and brains and know this is one of their best assets and that tampering with this, is affecting their future and their civil rights. It has also been used in the War on Terror, against prisoners of the U.S. And now, I know, even against U.S. citizens.

I also wonder if it's been used for interrogation because after being sedated, I had 1-2 "patients" start asking a lot of very personal and political questions, rapid-fire. "Where would you go if you left the U.S.?" "What are you going to do when you're out of here?"

I am also wondering why my cholesterol levels sky-rocketed when I've always had extremely low cholesterol, if Haldol supposedly lowers it. I had excessively high cholesterol levels for both categories and nothing I've done is different with my diet. I've only had a few eggs, and no meat, and I only took one medication for a very short time (DHEA) and low dose and I quit it over 2 weeks ago and only took it for less than a week. There is nothing that explains my high cholesterol.

I went into the mental health place with no droopy eyelids, also, and after they dosed me with Seroquel, my eyelids drooped and stayed droopy. Maybe the combo of Haldol and Seroquel. I had the exact same antihistamine effect as I had described having after I reported someone "medicating" my coffee at Starbucks when the town police were present. Remember this? Well, this has happened to me more than once.

These people are fuckers.

It got worse than my passing out. I didn't just pass out cold from Haldol one time. On another day, when I was supposed to be observed by a whole "team" of doctors and nurses and pharmacists (about 20-30 in one room), I was given so much Haldol there is no way they didn't expect a reaction. And then I looked at the chart papers when I was released and they lied. I spent an entire day being tortured with an inability to speak at all because my jaw and tongue were contorting and they wanted to leave me like this so this fucking observation team with new pharmacists, could see what it looked like. I spent 8 hours in a state of what looked like very severe Parkinson's disease, when they knew what the antidote was and how to control it and yet refused to do so until the medical team was able to see me. This is when I was told it was the FBI that is involved. I was literally told the FBI was the party that was encouraging this and there is more. I was also told specifically that it was the FBI that gave those doctors parts of my "Blog" to accuse me with. Is this who gave Canada my blog when I was accused of being "Paranoid Schitzophrenic?" Is this the "state authority" that defamed me? Is this why the FBI left me and my son alone and allowed gangs and other persons to harm us, knowing all along that their defamation of me made me and my son vulnerable?

This is the same FBI that illegally kidnapped my son from me and set me up with collusion from Canadians. If they didn't, why are they trying to protect themselves by defaming me and why are they not even taking my report? They have refused to take my report just as the Vanderbilt Harvard doctor didn't even do do a physical examination.

I hate Tennessee, I hate the U.S., and I want my son back. The U.S. has made me worthless, intentionally. My guess is that it's because if they didn't get their piece of the pie, they don't want anyone else accepting me into their country, when they continue to abuse me freely here and use my son as well.

I swear to God, to those who believe me just a little, the U.S. has allowed some of the very same things to happen to my baby boy. Oliver is not the same and will never be the same.

I am not kidding and I'm not delusional. It is the truth.

There is a wide range of normal for cholesterol and never in my life has this been a problem. Everyone has super low blood pressure and cholesterol. My cholesterol was reported as being over 320-something. As for the rest, my vegetarian ways are not harming me. I was in normal range for everything else, even iron.

The weird thing is I cut out meat and then my cholesterol soared, which is strange.
*********************
This is totally divergent, but I've been up all night, cramming in 1 week's worth of blogging I was forced to give up. I didn't write by hand while in there. I started writing a blog post to mail to a friend to post for me. But that was it.

I devised a strategy while I was there. How many times have I thought I need a prepared small prison-asylum bag of things, or "emergency pack", as if I am really living in Nazi Germany. I don't really like to include Germany with the word "Nazi" anymore because I don't think Germans today should suffer for what ancestors may have done. But anyway. I am just glad to be writing. Writing. Writing. writing. I love my voice! even if I can't sing anymore. I love the sound of my own voice, ruttering through the morning like a wheelbarrow on cobblestone (that one is for Hitchens). (now I have to look up the word "ruttering" and see if it means what I imagine it means). I have no clue. I find ruttering in connection with japanese & babies according to google search. ?

I was thinking too, and laughing, at the way my comment about wearing the fushia and black scarf sounds. What every man wants to hear: "I wore your colours to the nuthouse, just for you!" I took your photo of you in the homeless newspaper with me too!

I actually didn't wear the fushia shirt on any other day. I wore it on the day I was wearing it naturally, under my sweater and then after that grand occasion, I set it aside. I wasn't going to break it out mid-week for no reason at all, and not without the scarf--it loses "something" without the scarf.

I did discover, that out of the things I "carried with me" on the way to the nuthouse, things I was allowed to keep, I had that homeless newspaper in my coat pocket. So I stared at this on Day 2 and thought, "This has never been more pathetic. The only photo I have with me is one of Prince William."

You carried me through WILLY! Really!

I told someone there, "I am not going to tear it out and tape it to my wall."

I just looked at the photo from time to time and noticed his chest hair. Looked away then, thinking it's not right to notice chest hair on royalty. And thought, "That was daring. He's not even wearing an undershirt and he left 1 button undone."

Then there was the other photo. I thought the guy in the back sort of looked like Vladdie Laddie.
Anyway.

I guess I joke but then think I am detracting from the monstrosity of what happened. It's sort of bad to combine humor with something serious, if I want to be taken seriously.