Getting the cool medication. Getting the tasty powdered scrambled eggs the hospitals serve. Getting the scenic view from a back of an ambulance taking me the psyche ward. Hearing that soothing sound of a hospital door slamming shut and being locked behind me. Meeting my level headed, mellow, fellow inmates the first day of a luxurious 8 month stint in a locked ward. Getting to experience first hand what Frankenstein’s monster must have felt like when he was strapped to that gurney.
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You forgot to mention the group hug with extreme prejudice (flying tackle) and complimentary Haldol injection in the booty followed by a two day, all expenses paid visit to the Quiet Room. Luxury! 
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Ain’t schizophrenia grand?
Yoobetcha. One of my favourite bits has always been living in absolute, abject fear of things that don’t and can’t possibly exist, and having this fear dominate EVERY PART OF MY EXISTENCE. I don’t always like the side effects of my meds, but it’s sure nice to be free of that fear.
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I’ve been tackled by my uncle before after getting extremely rage filled and finally giving in to the false thoughts.
I don’t miss sitting in my Jeep Wagoneer in the middle of one of the hottest summers on record in Oklahoma for three day and two nights. Had the sense to get a water jug filled with the hose on the property or I probably would have died.
Yep thats what happened to me 
hospital was a relief for me when i was first hospitalised but i could have done without the rugby tackle even though i know now that it was necessary, there was no other way now when i think about it
No fair. I missed out on getting the big net thrown on me like some of my fellow patients.
When I was 16 and living in a group home for disturbed youth, I was restrained by a defensive tackle from Mercyhurst Uniuversity’s football team and a chiropractor who worked there part-time. Let me tell ya, chiropractors can be evil. That guy inflicted some of the worst physical pain on me that I’ve ever felt.
Oh, and I deserved it, I was very bad that day. Still hate chiropractors though, always will.
How rude of them.
When I freaked out I was POLITELY escorted to the isolation room by four nice orderlies in crisp white uniforms— and chained down like a dog.
My father sat on me. Ultimate humiliation and helplessness -
Dang, that had to be embarrassing.
Try vacuuming a nurse. (No, I don’t remember why I thought this was a good idea.) All I can tell you is that something like this attracts the wrong kind of attention.
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