HI, I'm new here. Stumbled on this forum by accident. My experiences of PV emulate most of everyone else's here. I was a "patient" from December 18, 1993 to April 5, 1994 (I remember the date vividly, because I remember hearing about Kurt Cobain's suicide on the radio, on the trip home). I'll go by my initials - MM, just in case anyone here might remember me - being so much older made me stand out so much more.
Fortunately, I had one distinct advantage that most of the others didn't - I was 18 when admitted and turned 19 a few days in, and was given the choice of here, or jail. As an adult, I could literally get up and sign out whenever I wanted to. Only if I did, I'd go back to immediately jail, or was TOLD I would, by staff (total lie, I later found out). Fortunately, I had an impatient judge, and I was forced to leave after completing close to 5 months. I was only PCI'd once, but I didn't go down easy, because I was equal in size to about 60% of the staff, at the time. Took 7 of the bigger males to pin me down.
My first day was a nightmare. I was taken up to STU-2 ("STU 2. Sucks to be you..", as I used to joke to myself to hold on to some reminence of sanity..) in that old gray van, by Mr. Moon (A pale, scrawny, stubbly, dweeb who looked like he should be climbing a mountain in Seattle, somewhere - always wearing that blue and black Northern Face jacket, and those nerdy, narrow, thick glasses that are commonplace nowadays.) and Mr. Craig (The man was a 6ft 3, ex-football player with a chest the size of a cars hood, who obviously served as the intimidation factor). I wasn't even in the van 5 seconds before the hell began. As I tried to strike up a nice conversation with my new "counselors", seeing as how I was informed I'd be here 6-12 months, I thought I'd try and be pleasant about my situation. I was informed that since I was a "legal adult", they were gonna have all kinds of fun with me. I was called a "goth", even though I didn't wear black, or even look or act like one. I was told I had tried drugs I'd never touched before. I wasn't even an hour in, and I was being assaulted on all fronts. Then came the strip search and shower.... They knew my situation (about facing jail) and took full advantage. The anal rape or shanking jokes came at a steady barrage.
To this day, I still have nightmares of that place. I can't watch "Santa Claus: The Movie" or "The Hunt For Red October" because those were two of the rare movies we got to watch while during my stay. I still can't sleep with any light in my room, what so ever, because of my experience in STU. I used to be able to tolerate Enya (one example of the music we were forced to listen to at lights out.) now I cringe whenever I hear any song from "Sheperd Moons". I'm still in therapy, to this very day, for all the abuse I received at group "therapies". I was severely bullied at school, until I moved in 1987. Regular school, back then, was a day at the races, compared with PV.
I think the only good day I had there was Christmas day, not to long after I was admitted. We spent the day watching the aforementioned movie, and a few select football games. And my final day when I told Dr. Vance Sherwood he was an "demented, sadistic, egomaniacal, fucktard with a fucking hilarious haircut, and questionable a doctorate credential". I was told that since I was leaving AMA (Against Medical Advice) I was to be given a quarter for a pay phone, and told to walk into town several miles away - driving in a car down Jones Bend is a long enough drive... Imagine having to walk it with 2 hefty bags full of clothes, supplies, etc... Even worse, imagine being in an unfamiliar city, out in the middle of nowhere, with no money, no transportation, or communication with civilization - your real home being some 250 miles away.
Fortunately, they called my parents and lawyer to let them know I had been released. So I had managed to walk for about 2-and-a-half hours before my dad pulled up. He angrily did a u-turn on the middle of Jones Bend (not because of anything I did). I never looked back. It took another 5 years for him to finally believe all the abuse that I told him went on there. My mom suspected something was amiss about 2 months in.
If I knew then, what I know now, I would've stayed in jail. I would've served 2 weeks, tops. But I still probably hold the record as the oldest patient ever admitted there.... The only two people still there that I recognize from my stay there, still employed there are Bob Pegler and Todd Roberts. BTW - I'm 34 years old now, and live a fairly average life. But my experiences there will haunt me until the day I die.
BTW - I hope using proper former staff names is okay. Feel free to edit the names if necessary.
