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Forgiving my abusers - part of my healing

This poster says "To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you"

November 7, 2007

I had been contemplating for years if I should forgive my many abusers. I had been angry for years and would not give up that anger that was eating away at me. It was my baggage of despair, of
hopelessness, of shame.

I decided within the last month to forgive all my abusers - my parents, my Uncle Lyman, my former husband Fred, and many others I shall not mention.

I felt the anger and hate towards my abusers was eating at the very core of my soul. It affected my health greatly. I would overeat when I felt the feelings of anger and I ate to comfort myself
into being comfortably numb. I also used psychiatric drugs that were toxic to numb me.

I realized last month, hating my abusers was futile. It was wasting my precious energy everyday that I could be doing something useful and more meaningful.

I prayed in my heart to let the anger and hate leave me and I saw a phoenix in my mind flying from out of the ashes, the ashes of emotional pain I hung on for years. I don't want that emotional baggage weighing me down anymore. I want to live my live and be free of the anger. Anger is fear.

I want to let know of the many layers of pain I have surrounding my body which is the layers of fat that insulated me from feeling any emotional pain. I don't need to overeat and stuff down my emotions
from the pain from the past. I have suffered enough.

Today I got up and went on the internet and felt happier than I have been in my life. I felt lighter,
not holding on to past anymore.

I want to feel all my feelings without having to use food to numb them.

Just because I forgave my abusers does not mean I have to associate with those people. I have
cut them off years ago, but I had not forgiven them for many years.

Anger is a waste of time for me especially when it was something that happened many years ago.
Some of the abuse damaged me badly, but it is up to my heal, that is my job. I have done lots
of healing in the past. I have had alternative therapists, feminist therapists, sexual abuse counsellors,
social workers, regression therapist, and the list goes on.

I like to draw and am not very good at it but I try. I want to art today and have fun. I laugh more
and smile more than I ever have. When I laugh it is a deep belly laugh and I feel so much better.
Laughter is the best medicine and it costs nothing.

Forgiveness is a journey, it takes time to be able to forgive people who hurt you. Those people need to forgive themselves also.

You can't forget what happened to you. It stays with you all your life but you learn how to cope with all the trauma.

I just wanted to share that with you all.

Forgiving feels good, I feel free to be me and not have part of my soul imprisoned by anger and
rage and animosity towards my abusers.

I know my truth and my abusers know who they are.

I believe that victims and abusers both need healing. Abusers have often been hurt themselves and then they lash out at others. I am not saying what abusers do is ok, I am saying they were once
victims themselves. Abusers need to look at themselves and take stock of their lives and see
how they have hurt people and see how the long term effects of what they have done can have on their victims and their families and friends. I believe anyone can change if they want to and have the desire and realize what they have done is wrong.

The criminal justice system needs to do more healing work with people inside our prison system.
The present system does not work. Putting someone in a cage is inhumane. There needs to be
preventive measures taken when problems arise in kids, not later on when they commit the crimes.
Violence is not ok. We need to work to making our communities safer and by making our
citizens feel secure. This can only be done if everyone in the communities work together for the greater good of all.

Compassion for all goes a long way....I have come to this point in my life where I realize this.

I know this to be true.

Love is the answer.

Sue chains herself to Prime Minister's fence

Above is a picture of the former Prime Minister of Canada, Jean Chretien

Above is a picture of Rex Murphy, television commentator

The Prime Minister's residence at 24 Sussex Ave, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada. In front of the house
is an iron gate where Sue chained herself.

Sue chained herself to the iron fence shown in this picture at the Prime Minister's residence at 24 Sussex Ave in Ottawa on November 21, 2000 to protest the cuts to Vocational Rehabilitation for people with disabilities like Sue.

Jane Scharf dn701 at freenet.carleton.ca
Mon Nov 27 07:28:02 EST 2000

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P R E S S  R E L E A S E       FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Persons with Disabilities Shafted Again

Contact: Sue Clark: between 10:30 and 3:00 at 231-6722 or 234-7492

On Monday November 21, Sue Clark Chained herself to the gates of 24 Sussex
home of Prime Minister Chretien to protest the loss of all vocational
rehabilitation sevices for persons with disabilities. The loses are due to
withdrawal of the national standards and funding by the Liberals in 1996
when they brought in the Social Transfer Act.

Chretien defended himself about  Sue Clark's accusation of no vocational
rehabilitation help for the disabled left in Canada  in an interview with
Rex Murphy on Friday November 24. In the interview Chretien said we are
doing a lot of good things for the disabled with HRDC money. (This is the
first time to our knowledge that a public statement about he disabled has
been made in this election.)

Chretien said he visited a program the other day that was helping disabled
with training so they might be able to get a job someday. THEN HE SAID THEY
WERE BEING SHOWEN HOW TO MAKE SKIES AND SKI POLES. And that it warmed his
heart to see these people who are very disabled doing work. Fortunately
this will enrage the community of persons with disabilities because this is
not voc. rehab. this is WORKFARE the only so called help left. No basic or
post secondary and no real skills training. All low-end entry level work
with no remuneration.  And it is very very doubtful they will ever be hired
because a) the government does not protect from discrimination any longer
and b) what call for hiring would there be in an industry that has access
to free staff doing the work on workfare.

Sue Clark says, her peers are being forced into slavery because of their
disabilities. WORKFARE  is  not dignified and it entrenches our
helplessness and hopelessness. Workfare is against the United Nations Human
Rights Declaration under which Canada is a signatory and in gross violation
of section 15 of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms which is suppose to
protect us for discrimination. The only reason they are able to force into
workfare is because we have disabilities.

Our disability pension levels already leave us in destitution and now we
are offered workfare as our only option to disability pension instead of
education or proper skills training.

This is war against Canada's most vulnerable and I am prepared to fight if
the government is going to continue to treat us like second class citizens.
At least 10% of the population have to contend with disabilities, which is
enough of a burden without right wing bigots like Chretien, plotting our
demise in favour of big business interests.

-30-

Chretien Defence Against the Sue Clark Chaining

Jane Scharf dn701 at freenet.carleton.ca
Sun Nov 26 07:39:32 EST 2000

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Dear Enlightened Electorate: Chretien defended himself about the Sue Clark's accusaton about no vocational rehabiliation help for the disabled left. Rex Murphy interviewed Chretien on Friday and Chretien said, we are doing a lot of good things for the disabled with HRDC money. (This is the first time to our knowledge that a public statement about he disabled has been made in this election.) Chretien said he visited a program the other day that was helping disabled with training so they might be able to get a job someday. THEN HE SAID THEY WERE BEING SHOWEN HOW TO MAKE SKIES AND SKI POLES. And that it warmed his heart to see these people who are very disabled doing work. Fortunately this will enrage the community of persons with disabilities because this is not voc. rehab. this is WORKFARE the only so called help left. No basic or post secondary and no real skills training. All low end entry level work with no renumeration. And it is very very doubtful they will ever be hired because a) the government does not protect from discrimination any longer and b) what call for hiring would there be in an industry that has access to free staff doing the work on workfare. Jane Scharf, Canada Action Party Candidate for Leeds and Grenville http:www.CanadianActionParty.ca

Sue's pics for videos

Sue speeches

Carleton University, Senior Social Work Students, November 1987

Jim Albert, a professor asked me to speak at his class of social work students and I did. I was nervous but I did it anyway. I spoke about my experiences as a psychiatric patients and how psychiatry violated many of my human rights, the lack of affordable housing, and mental health in general. The class was small. I got a $35 honorarium for this from Carleton University.

Jim sent me a letter thanking me which said:

Carleton University Memorandum:

written by hand

Nov 13/87

To: Sue Clark

Dear Sue:

Thanks very much for coming into my class and sharing your experiences and your thoughts on
improving services. The students really appreciated it and said it was a very good class. Let's keep in touch. Regards.

Signed: Jim Albert

***************************************************************************
Sue's speech to the Community Services Committee, Ottawa City Hall, RMOC Headquarters
lll Lisgar St, Ottawa - Thursday, August 3, 2000

I am Sue Clark, I have been an antipoverty activist in Ottawa for the past l6 years. I am here to
speak about the homemaking services Anne Hubbert requires and also to support her. I have
known Anne for about l5 years. She has required the use of homemaking services in our region
for several years as a result of ill health. Now Anne will not be getting the required hours of
homemaking she requires to remain in her home as an independent person but will have to move
to a seniors residence at the age of 54 years old. This is an inappropriate solution for Anne.

How many more Anne's are in our region? Many more I am sure. Anne's independence is right
whether she has disabilities or not! Do we take away Anne's freedom and privacy for sake of saving dollars and creating new regulations and policies that are only feasible on paper and not for the
people they are intended for. I call this a crime against humanity. My freedom and privacy are
the only things I have that I will fight tooth and nail for. I have several disabilities as well. I have
post trauma stress disorder, a short term memory disorder caused by electroshock treatments in
1973, and severe arthritis in all my joints. Isn't a person's health the vital key for life? Without
good health, a person's quality of life goes down hill and so does their income in most cases.
You can't work effectively if your health is dependent upon numerous pills, doctors, therapists,
and the little bit of homecare there is available to an ill person.

What is the answer? I would say there should be an assessment of the whole homecare services
in our region with a focus on evaluating how effective the hours of homecare are to each client.
In other words, how did Anne lose so many homecare hours that now she is required to move into a
seniors residence as a result. The priority of the project should be maintaining a person's independence for a long as they are able to remain in their homes.

Anne has lobbied on her behalf and others for more homecare services for many years. I commend
her for her effective efforts and results. She is articulate, intelligent and focused. She is an
excellent public speaker in health issues. Why has Anne not been hired for a consulting job
with the region? Perhaps her increased income would have alleviated some of the problems we
are hearing today.

The real experts in this case are the ones who use the services not the ones who develop, plan,
and administer services. If the region hired a few people using the various services in the region,
perhaps there would be improvements made to all services.

I hope I never have to use the homemaking services in Ottawa. I probably would get very little
hours. My health is not as bad as Anne's but is getting there. With the added stress in my life,
that being an activist, living in poverty, overeating to calm my self down, getting fatter by the year
has increased my blood pressure sky high and I have diabetes type II. I eat at soup kitchen
at St. Joe's Women Centre in Ottawa everyday.

How many more health casualties will happen like Anne with all these cuts to vital services? Some of the homeless have died on our streets in front of us due to a lack of affordable housing, and how many
more have died or will die from all these health cuts? Can anyone from the committee answer this
question before it is too late? Thank you to the committee for allowing me to speak today.

Sue Clark

**************************************************************************

A family of war vets

Jim Watson

Above is a picture of Jim Watson who now an MPP for the Ontario Liberal government just re-elected
for a second term in the Dalton McGuinty Ontario government. Jim Watson was also an Ottawa
City councillor and then was voted in as the Mayor of Ottawa.

Sue tells off the Mayor of Ottawa - Jim Watson at Ottawa City Hall formerly on Sussex Ave

I walking downtown alot in Ottawa. I would see poor people mostly homeless looking into the garbage cans on the sidewalks and pulling anything out of it like half eating sandwiches, a half fixed bottle of soda and then eating the contents and walking away. This made my heart sink and I felt physically ill
seeing such poverty on the streets of Canada's capital, Ottawa, a wealthy nation.

One day I had the opportunity to speak out about homeless and poverty and I did. There was
Ottawa City Hall council meeting with the Mayor of Ottawa Jim Watson and his city councillors
at the former City Hall on Sussex Ave. The older city hall sat dormat there next to it. This
new facility was impressive. Perched next to the water it had high tech everything in it.
As you entered the main doors of this city hall at the end of the long hallway was the City Hall
Chambers were the Mayor and his councillors had meetings.

The Chamber hall was very fancy indeed. It had high raised platform where the mayor and councillor sat. It was a dark oak and it was done by a carpenter by hand. The seats for the public sloped down in the front of the this impressive oak platform. In the middle of the seating area for the public
was an electronic device where wheelchairs could be lifted and which rarely well. Kevin Kinsella
a person with disabilities and an activist was in the automatic wheelchair high tech device that
got stuck when Kevin was high in mid air. It was all very embarassing to the mayor and city councillors who saw this. The people in the public gasped outloud when they saw this. It was
very humilitating for Kevin as well.

Mayor Watson and his city councillors were having a meeting one day and I walked in and signed a sheet asking to speak on a poverty and I was granted to speak and I did.

I had a tiny tin garbage can with me and garbage bag full of garbage I had collected.
I took out my garbage can and sat it on the ledge in front of me and I opened my garbage bag and the contents smelled pretty awful for sure of the rotting contents in it. Jim Watson looked perplexed but
let me continue.

Paul Martin

Above is picture of the former Prime Minister of Canada and he was the Finance Minister for the Federal Liberal Government for years.

Sue tells off Paul Martin

I was at St. Joe's Center when one of the staff asked me to come into the office. Someone had called the drop in center from CBC and wanted to know if a person on social services would like to be on national tv to speak about poverty issues. Paul Martin the federal Finance Minister was holding his ? at the Museum of Civilization in Hull. I said I would attend. CBC paid for my taxi and I had to leave by 6:50 a.m. to get there and I did. I was up early and had on my best clothes. The taxi promptly picked me up and I was excited. Something like a prize fighter before a big match. Here was my opportunity to tell Paul Martin what I thought on national tv.

There were people all over Canada picked to be on this national broadcast. People from financial backgrounds, health backgrounds, poverty activists like myself etc.

I told one of the moderators I wanted to speak. I stood up and said my name. Paul Martin was about five feet away up on a higher level mock stage. I saw his cold blue eyes staring at me and sizing me up. Little did he know I could hold my own with the best of them and I did. I told Paul Martin
I was a person with diabilities and I was an antipoverty activist for years in Ottawa. I told him that
nothing very much was being done for persons with disabilities and there were lots of studies getting dusty in some office filing cabinet. I told him I called the Prime Minister's office for a job, then
Jean Chretien and I never got a call back. Mr. Martin acknowledged more had to be done for
persons with disabilities and was surprised the Prime Minister's office did not call me. I also told him that homelessness was a national disgrace and he agreed that it was.

A reporter from a Toronto newspaper asked me for an interview after the event and I did.

Here is the article

Ralph Klein's government

Above is a picture of Ralph Klein, the former Alberta Premier. He was notorious for his behaviour.

Sue tells off Ralph Klein at the Westin Hotel in Ottawa

I got a ticket to see Ralph Klein speak at the Westin Hotel in Ottawa and it was 40 dollars and paid for by some friends. I really appreciated that as Ihad wanted to tell of Ralph Klein off for years and I had my opportunity and I did and it was covered in the Ottawa Sun the next day.

I sat at a nice big table with a white tablecloth with people that I did not know. I wore my best clothes. that day. I looked presentable and did up my hair and put on my makeup.

Believe it or not, Ralph Klein came into the big meeting room and passed right in front of me, about a foot away. He had on a suit and wore this big cowboy hat on his head. Ralph Klein, the Premier of Alberta was walking right in front of me in living color. That sure was an experience I can tell you.

Ralph got up and introduced himself. Everyone in the room knew this man, who wouldn't?
He got up and babbled away about how his government cut costs in Alberta and how his government had a big surplus of money much he liked his job and that he was good at it. His speech went on for about half an hour non stop. This man is verbose to say the least. He laughed during his speech and made some political jokes too. He did not take himself too seriously up on stage. He was used to making lots of speeches and this was just another one.

There were about 500 of us listening to Ralph Klein.

He asked if anyone had any questions, I sure did. Boy, it felt good at last to tell Ralph what I thought and I did.

I asked him about his government buying bus tickets for people on welfare to move to British Columbia and move away from his province Alberta. He admitted his government did buy those bus tickets and he laughed.

I told him I thought that was unfair of him and he should have treated people on social services better and not cutting their welfare rates by 20 percent.

I told him I was glad I was a disability pension in Ontario and not in Alberta.

Everyone clapped after he spoke. I felt a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach knowing this man
did not care how the most vulnerable in our society were treated. I found him to be obnoxious
and insensitive. He was full of himself that day at the Westin. People nicknamed him Ralph the Knife, little wonder why!

I had a good meal, spoke to some people at my table and was happy to leave that meeting room.
When Ralph Klein walked out of the room, I knew I had done my job well that day speaking up
for people on social services. I was glad to see Ralph go.

**************************************************************************
Here are some stories that were in the news about notorious Premier of Alberta

Welfare decline misleading

By SUE BAILEY / The Canadian Press

OTTAWA - The number of welfare cases plunged to two million from 3.1 million between 1994 and 2000 as provinces cracked down and job markets picked up, Statistics Canada said Thursday.

Politicians often hail such numbers but social activists say they illustrate heartless attacks on the poor. Tighter welfare restrictions have swelled the homeless ranks and caused suffering, they say.

"The study shows that the provinces in Canada are involved in a race to the bottom," says Robert Arnold, president of the NAPO. "Each one is getting stingier with welfare payments and eligibility in an attempt to get poor people to move away." Alberta Premier Ralph Klein went so far as to buy bus tickets to British Columbia to help cut his welfare rolls.

Across Canada, social assistance use fell most dramatically for single moms, says the first report to track national rates by family type. About one-third of single mothers were on welfare in 2000, down from one-half in 1995. "Eligibility rules were tightened, especially for new entrants, benefit levels were cut, snitch lines were introduced and other rules were adopted," says the study.

It examined four family groups - singles, couples with children, couples with no children and single moms - in all provinces. Welfare recipients were defined as anyone aged 18 to 64 who declared more than $101 a year in social assistance or had a spouse who did.

Alberta consistently issued the fewest cheques to singles, with a user rate of 9.2 per cent in 2000, followed by P.E.I. at 12 per cent. At the other end of the scale, Newfoundland had the highest rate of single people on welfare, 21.4 per cent, followed by Quebec at 21 per cent.

The nasty '90s were a bad time to be poor and it's no better today, said Sue Cox, executive director of Toronto's Daily Bread Food Bank. Support was slashed across the country after 1994, she said. Cox witnessed an "extraordinary rise" in food bank use after the Ontario Conservatives under Mike Harris cut welfare benefits. Single moms were hit especially hard. "It drove them into fairly dangerous situations . . . where they and their families were at real risk as they tried to reduce the cost of housing by moving into crowded and very poor conditions."

A strong economy hasn't helped shut down services like hers, Cox said. Food banks in the greater Toronto area now serve about 175,000 people a month. "The strain on the charitable sector has been enormous, and not one that they've been able to meet for the most part."

Governments could humanely help people off welfare by not cutting them off drug benefits and other supports when they land jobs, Cox said.

John Murphy, chairman of the National Council of Welfare, says government policy has too often amounted to punishing people for being poor. His group advises Social Development Minister Ken Dryden. Better child-care and retraining services are badly needed, Murphy said.

"Provincial and territorial governments keep the rates so low with the [corporate] misconception that by squeezing people they'll get them back to work."

**************************************************************

The Loose Tongue of Ralph Klein

Updated Thu. Nov. 9 2006 7:42 PM ET

Bill Doskoch, CTV.ca News

Ralph Klein will probably go down as one of the more quotable politicians Canada has ever produced.

His predecessors as premier of Alberta and leaders of the provincial Progressive Conservative Party were the buttoned-down, MBA-educated Peter Lougheed and the amiable former quarterback and oil executive Don Getty.

Neither one ever gave a protester the finger. Ralph did it as environment minister during a 1990 meeting about a contentious pulp mill project.

One agitated protester advanced in front of Klein and flipped him the middle digit. Klein didn't miss a beat, glaring and flipping it right back at him.

"He doesn't take any guff from anybody," Don Martin, political columnist and author of the biography King Ralph, told CTV.ca about Klein. "And what was the result? His popularity went up five per cent."

The son of a professional wrestler, Klein first worked in public relations and then began an 11-year run as a popular reporter with CFCN TV in Calgary, a CTV affiliate. He shocked his friends by announcing in 1980 he would run for mayor and then shocked everyone by winning.

He then got his chance to shock the country by complaining in January 1982 about "eastern creeps and bums" driving up the crime rate in Calgary.

"That put him on the national scene, but he handled it so beautifully in terms of damage control. He went right down to eastern Canada and dealt with it," Martin said.

"So off he went, and before you know it, he's the toast of Toronto," he said. "He learned something from that, that you can talk your way out of trouble, and he did."

Here are some of Klein's choicer remarks over the years:

"I wasn't surprised that she crossed over to the Liberals. I don't think she ever did have a Conservative bone in her body. Well, maybe one.

Klein at a charity roast, talking about Tory turncoat Belinda Stronach -- who used to date Foreign Affairs Minister Peter MacKay -- on Nov. 7, 2006.

"You get a lot of free dinners but after that you get sort of tired, especially when you quit drinking, and then it's no fun at all, so I don't know why they would want to do it."

Klein talking to reporters at the Calgary Stampede on July 10, 2006 about his potential successors.

In the same scrum, he said: "I wake up in the morning and I say, 'Why am I here?' And it's because I'm not all there!"

"I'm no doctor, but I think that Mr. McGuinty's got a case of premature speculation.

Klein in March 2006, commenting on Ontario Premier Dalton McGuinty's declaration that Ontario would oppose any Alberta-style health reforms that might lead to two-tiered care.

"I ought not to have thrown the Liberal health policy at our page Jennifer, and to Jennifer, I apologize most sincerely. ... And I also apologize for referring to the document as crap, Mr. Speaker."

Klein apologizing in the Alberta legislature on March 1, 2006 after throwing a Liberal Party health policy booklet and narrowly missing a legislature page.

"They didn't look severely handicapped to me, I tell you that for sure. They both had cigarettes dangling from their mouth and cowboy hats."

Klein speaking to a Tory provincial election campaign rally in Calgary on Oct. 27, 2004. He was talking about two women who were "yipping about AISH payments," which go to Albertans who are severely handicapped.

He later followed up on that in Grande Prairie by saying: "I'm sure none of you want to talk to me about AISH. No, because you're normal -- severely normal people."

"You would have to eat 10 billion meals of brains, spinal cords, ganglia, eyeballs and tonsils."

Klein in 2005 on the risk being infected with bovine spongiform encephalitis, or mad cow disease.

"We're basically the same party, you know. Conservatives and Republicans are quite the same."

Klein speaking to reporters in Washington after a 2003 meeting with U.S. Vice President Dick Cheney.

"I guess any self-respecting rancher would have shot, shovelled and shut up, but he didn't do that."

Klein's 2003 advice to an Alberta farmer on what he should have done after finding a BSE-infected cow in his heard.

"Dinosaur farts."

Klein's 2002 offering on what might have brought on the Ice Age that killed off dinosaurs.

"I'm going to try and stay clean as long as I can, but if from time to time I have a glass of wine, don't make a mountain out of a mole hill."

Ralph Klein after an infamous December 2001 incident in which he showed up inebriated at a homeless shelter in Edmonton, berated some of the residents for not having jobs, then throwing money on the floor and leaving.

At the same newser, he said, "I'm telling you, it feels good to get up without a hangover."

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Ralph's World."

Klein addressing his supporters on March 12, 2001 after winning a landslide victory in the 2001 provincial election.

"A fine city with too many socialists and mosquitoes. At least you can spray the mosquitoes."

Klein speaking in 1990 as a Progressive Conservative MLA from Calgary.

Great instincts

While Klein frequently shot from the lip, he had great instincts about when it was time to turn on a dime and apologize, Martin said.

"I was talking to him about Peter MacKay today," Martin said on Oct. 30, referring to the federal Conservative minister accused of implying Tory-turned-Liberal MP and former girlfriend Belinda Stronach was a dog. "He said, 'Did he say it?' And I said, 'I think he said it.' And Klein said, 'Well, if he said it and didn't apologize for it, then he's not a very smart politician'."

Klein was so famous for his mea culpas that when he left Calgary's city hall to enter provincial politics in 1989, his staff gave him sweatshirt that had "I'm only human" printed on it.

"And he is. That's the interesting thing about Klein. He's not a robot like so many of the politicians today."

While those outside the province might raise their eyebrows at Klein's pronouncements, one had to understand that Albertans had a long-term relationship with Klein and realized he wasn't being malicious, Martin said.

A few too many drinks

However, even Klein can't wave off some things. His appearance at the Edmonton homeless shelter was a bottom.

Although right-wing radio talk show callers supported Klein, that incident embarrassed most other Albertans, Martin said.

"He understood that and said he couldn't just shrug his shoulders and say, 'I'm only human, I had a couple drinks.' He had to go one step further and take a public vow of abstinence."

Martin met with Klein on Monday in Calgary's St. Louis tavern, where Klein as mayor used to hold court, and was amazed to see Klein drinking coffee out of a beer glass.

"I'm going, 'that's a first for me; I've seen everything now'," he said.

Actually, Martin speculated that Klein's quitting drinking may have been partly responsible for what some saw as a decline in the premier's political acuity.

"I've always argued that Klein's social connections, his political antennae were fine-tuned by the fact that he'd go to these receptions. He'd drink with people and people liked to drink with him.

"When he started to go home at 9 p.m. to watch his favourite show on the Discovery channel, he started to lose his connection with the average person."

In the 2004 provincial election, Klein -- who's never lost an election -- saw an erosion in popular support for the first time since he entered politics, Martin said.

This spring, his party voiced its displeasure, and Klein had to vacate his 14-year hold on the party's leadership about a year before he wanted to.

However, during the interview, some guys came up and asked Klein for autographs, so that's some evidence he's still popular amongst average Albertans, Martin said.

Ultimately, however, it is time for Klein to move on. "He knows it, we know it, and we're never going to see the likes of him again," Martin said.

****************************************************************************

Mike the Knife's government

David H. Tsubouchi (Minister of Community and Social Services


SOCIAL ASSISTANCE

Mr Bob Rae (York South): I'd like to ask a question of the Minister of Community and Social Services. I'd like to ask the Minister of Community and Social Services, when was the last time he bought tuna at 69 cents a tin?

Hon David H. Tsubouchi (Minister of Community and Social Services): I guess this is a lesson on economics.

I also apologize again. I still have a touch of laryngitis.

Interjections.

Hon Mr Tsubouchi: Thank you for the sympathy.

To the leader of the third party, there are many places where you can buy tuna for 69 cents. In fact, even if it's not priced at 69 cents, quite often you can make a deal to get it for 69 cents.

Mr Rae: Since the minister is now on record as saying that he himself has gone and bought tuna for 69 cents a tin, I'm sure he'd like to tell everybody where that is.

I'd like to ask him by way of supplementary, in response to his answer, which I can honestly say I was not anticipating so I do not have a text for this, but I'd like to ask him, when was the last time he bartered for food?

Hon Mr Tsubouchi: These are very interesting questions today and I thank the leader of the third party for them.

I think the whole object here is to look and see whether or not we're looking at the rate cuts. Obviously this is what the leader of the third party is getting at. We strongly believe that we have reduced the rates to 10% above the average in the other provinces. With all due respect, I think the leader of the third party is really asking whether or not it's possible to buy food on this type of a budget.

I would be happy to share with the leader of the third party perhaps not the entire text of this but certainly afterwards I can share this with you. I had some research done to indicate how and whether or not someone who is a sole single on benefits or a single parent with a child -- we've actually provided a budget here. Someone had asked me that before, whether or not someone can budget for this. I have it here in this binder. I'd be willing to share this with the leader of the third party.

Mr Rae: I'd love to have it. I'd love to have a copy and I'd like to share it with all the working parents of this province. I'd like to share it with the women and children who are out there now. I'd like to know what you and your ministry and the cabinet think is enough to live on. I think the people of this province would like to know what that is, and I'd like to hear from them, because I trust their judgement a whole lot more than I trust yours or the cabinet's on the basis of what it takes to live in this province. Their experience is much more eloquent than your data.

By way of final supplementary, the minister's aware that under the existing way of life for people on social assistance there are 100,000 people on social assistance who are now working in the STEP program. I wonder if the minister can explain why those people who are now working -- not the ones that you've ordered to go out and get a job, not the ones that you've told should go out and get a job, the people who are now working -- why, for example, for a single person who's working, their rate has gone from $842.85 to $769.85 and why a single parent with one child who's working under the STEP program is going from $1,721.95 to $1,393.69. Why, even in the world of your own tellings, of your own truths, of your own pieties, would you be punishing who have already taken your advice and have gone out and gotten a job? Why are you punishing those people as well? You're punishing everybody in the province.

Hon Mr Tsubouchi: First of all, our government is committed to breaking the cycle of dependency and giving people the incentive to get back to work. With all due respect once again, our commitment was to make sure that people have the opportunity to earn back the difference between the old base rate and the new base rate. We're not taking about programs to enhance income, which obviously the leader of the third party is right now. So I don't have to explain this, because once again we strongly believe that by reducing the rates 10% above the average of the other provinces, not at the average of the other provinces but 10% above, certainly this is going to be sufficient.

The Speaker (Hon Allan K. McLean): Official opposition, new question.

Mr Dominic Agostino (Hamilton East): My question is for the Minister of Community and Social Services. Minister, this is a can of tuna -- it is dented -- for $1.09. If you can tell me where you can get a dented can for 69 cents, please let me know because we'll buy it. Take a close look at it -- not 69 cents, $1.09 at every store where you can get it.

The Speaker: Was that your question?

Mr Agostino: No, it's not. Minister, in the throne speech, in the House yesterday, yourself, the Premier, stated that welfare recipients could earn back the amount of money you reduced without a penalty, a clawback or a reduction. Minister, this information is inaccurate; it is dead wrong; it is a myth.

In fact, this government by its policies is punishing people on welfare who want to work. You're penalizing people who you encourage to go out and get a job and then the clawback does not allow them to earn the amount of money that you've cut from them.

Minister, you know your statements are wrong. You do not understand the system. You do not understand your own ministry regulations. How can you make changes to the act without a common understanding of what you're doing? How can such punishing changes take place when the minister does not understand the social assistance system in Ontario?

The Speaker: The question's been asked.

Mr Agostino: I ask you to admit to the House today that the information in the throne speech that you gave, that the Premier gave, was wrong. Will you commit to changing the regulations for people with jobs to earn it back?

Hon Mr Tsubouchi: It's difficult to pick a question out of all that rhetoric. But, once again, with a little bit of work the people in this province have the opportunity to earn back the difference between the old rate and the new rate. Once again, I have to say that what we have done is remove disincentives for people to get back to work. It's very important for people to get off this cycle of dependency, and this is what this is intended to do.

Mr Agostino: Again, the minister by that answer has shown us once again that he does not understand his own regulations, does not understand the comments he made yesterday. Minister, yesterday you said people can earn back the amount you cut without a penalty or a clawback clause.

The reality is, with a single person, a single parent with one child or a couple with two children, in every single case the clawback clause kicks in before the reduction so therefore they will be reduced the amount of money that they can earn before you take away from them. You allow people after the clawback to keep 25% of what they earn. Before that happens, the reduction is already greater than you have anticipated.

Minister, the information you gave is wrong. You're not addressing the question again. These misguided and uninformed decisions are causing the hardship, the pain and the chaos in Ontario today. What province do we live in? What irrational decisions is the government going to make today?

Again I ask you, Minister, can you clarify your statements of yesterday, where you stated that the clawback clause you have in your regulations to allow people to earn back what you have deducted from them -- because the facts do not bear that out. Change your regulations and make consistent what you and the Premier have said in the House.

1440

Mrs Elinor Caplan (Oriole): Just say yes.

Interjection: Who's asking you the question?

Hon Mr Tsubouchi: Yes, is this the second question?

I will say this to the honourable member for Hamilton East: We are prepared to ensure that there is the flexibility in the system to make sure that everybody can earn back the difference without clawback. This is an assurance I will give to the member.

Secondly, I just want to repeat the message one more --

Mrs Caplan: Repeat that.

Hon Mr Tsubouchi: Would you like me to repeat that? Is that what you said? I will ensure that there is the flexibility there. We've had individual circumstances brought up prior to this date in the House. I've also asked that if these circumstances are brought to my attention, we will deal with them. I will give this House the assurance that everybody will be able to earn back, without clawback, the difference between the old rate and the new rate.

ODSP

ODSP has called me many names and put me down but I say "Who says I want to fit in?"

The Ontario Disability Support Program (ODSP) as it is officially called but I call it
"The Ontario Deprivation Starvation Pension"

I have been on the ODSP since 1984 making this my 23 year living on a meagre pension from my
Ontario government. We had to wait 11 years for an increase. Last year in 2006 we got 2%, wow what a raise eh, give me a break! and then next month in November 2007 we are going to be
getting another 2% increase monthly on our cheques, roughly $20. more a month. With the hydro rates having gone up, food costs rising, rents going up and the list goes on. We need to have
an income to be at the cost of living every year and it is not. I am living 50 below the poverty line.

*************************************

ODSP has called me many things on my huge file. Here is what they have called me:

Jeanne Roemdeau, a VRS Intake Counsellor called me the following in her report about me
dated April 6, 1988 - File No. 101010

very loquacious woman

extremely assertive and be very demanding of her rights

************************************

Wendy Riley, my VRS worker called me in one report dated July 12, 1995, a report to her
supervisor Anne Amys, Memo #3 File No. 307-101010

flamboyant person

colorful dresser

a non-conformist

quite unique

strong willed

radical,

strong in her viewpoint

Her approach is one of anti-psychiatry.

**************************************

Wendy Riley wrote another report about me on June 22, 1988 Intake Memo #1, file no. 101010

She presents as a verbose and somewhat of an eccentric individual in that she wears a number of
anti-psychiatry buttons on her clothing and relates in a hyperactive way (rapid speech, extraneous
information and wondering off topic). However, she has obvious intellectual ability, seems
motivated to engage in the rehabilitatin process and has has a variety of past work experience.

**************************************

I called my friend Jane Scharf and told her I was called "eccentric" by Wendy Riley and Jane told me that is a compliment, it means I am one of a kind, there is no one quite like me and she sure is right.

It is ironic that the Ontario government doles out pennies to us each month and they got a 25% fat
increase on their cheques. The Ottawa City Hall councillors got a big increase go on their cheques
as well as the federal member of parliament, it makes me sick. The most vulnerable people in our
society who are disabled get a raise of mere peanuts in relation to their big pay hikes. Shame on
these governments for being hogs when it comes to their paycheques.

The ODSP office in Ottawa has been nasty and cruel to me at times. I like to shake the tree so to speak and I got a good licking in them in some respects. If you bite the hand that feeds you sometimes they will bite you back and they have.

Here are some of the nasty things they have done to me. I applied for ODSP in the fall of 1984 after
my former husband John Clark and I have been on Welfare for about 6 months. I had asked my
welfare worker if there was pension for people like me who had a psychiatric background and I had bad nerves and found it hard to go back to work. My welfare worker who worked at the Welfare
office at 495 Richmond Road in Ottawa, told me there was no such pension. I believed her and did not investigate for myself and I should have. Don't believe what the worker says, check it out for yourself with someone higher if you gut feeling tells you differently. I learned a good lesson from that is all I can tell you.

A friend of mine Lise had a cousin who was visiting her at her apartment in the South end of Ottawa.
It was the summer of 1984 and John Clark and I had gone to visit Lise and her boyfriend.
Her cousin and I were talking about social services. I told Lise's cousin that my welfare worker
told me there was no disability pension and her cousin told me that was a lie. The cousin was
on ODSP and the office was at 10 Rideau Street in Ottawa located next to the Rideau Center.
I got the phone number from the cousin.

Boy was I angry at hearing that news. John had lost his job at the Ottawa Civic Hospital for no good reason a long story that I will tell in his bio in this book. See the section called "John Larry Clark".
We had to pay the rent and the phone and we ate well but had no extras at all. We could not
buy a coffee outside at all. We counted and pinched every penny. We did it.

I called Ms. Quinn of ODSP and told her the story. I told her that if John Clark and I were not
on ODSP in one month, we would call a lawyer. She believed me. She asked me for the welfare
worker's name and in a about a week we got our first ODSP and it was susbtantially higher than
a welfare cheque, not much more, but enough to buy a coffee and maybe see one movie if we
were lucky.

We lived at 57 Bayswater Ave in a one bedroom apartment. The apartment was too small for us.

About a year later, Sarah Burell an ODSP worker, other known as an Income Maintenance Officer came to see me and John Clark. She filled out an ODSP form. It was "Special Report to Medical Advisory Board" dated October 18, 1985. The form had my name on it: Sue Clark, 103-57 Bayswater Ave, Ottawa. Reference file no. 371312. Local office no. 211. Caseload no. 138

Here is some of what was on the form filled out by Sarah Burell.

Question 2 asked: "Present activity or daily manner of living - Note particularly what activities
of work the applicant/recipient is able or accustomed to do at home or elsewhere each day"

Answer: Sarah Burell wrote the following "Day hospital, 3 days a week, housework, read, does
some writing, member of Star Trek Club

Question 4 asekd: Income Maintenance Officer's observations on applicant/recipient:

Answser: a. appearance: Obese

b. obvious disabilities: Nerves

c. Mental alertness: "scatter-brained", repetitive

d. Posture: Normal e. Gait: Slow

f. Behaviour: friendly, highly repetitive g. Distress: anxious, nervous
rocks in chair while talking

Physician Address Treatment/Medication

Dr. Pecher Monfort psychiatrist
Dr. Bajwa 356 Woodroffe, Suite 106 psychiatrist
Dr. Vlahoivch St. Anne Clinic general practice
Dr. Rabie - has replaced Dr. Vlahovich

Record of applicant's/recipient's hospitalizations/attendance at clinics for the past five years:

Hospital/Clinic DATE
From To

Monfort - for nerves Aug 26/85 Sept 26/85
Ottawa General - overdose Sept 29/84 Oct 15/84
Queenseay Carleton 1981 for one month

Section III - Applicant's Education, Training and Employment:

Education: College, Algonquin, secretarial

Occupational History

Secretary May 75 to Oct 78

Clerical June 79 to Aug 80

REMARKS:

Cecile Cyr is a nurse at the Montfort Hospital (Day Hospital) adminsters most of her medication/.

LI Carbonate (Carbolith) 300 mg - 6 caps a day
Thioridanize 25 mg 4 a day
Thioridanzine 10 mg

Sarah Burell signed her name and dated the form which was October 18/85

Calling me "scattered brained" crossed the line I think.

**********************************

VRS - Vocational Rehabilitation Services:

ODSP has a section called VRS which stands for Vocational Rehabilitation Services. At one time, the Ontario government would send a person with disabilities to University or College to get their degree and pay for all of the education costs, books, transportation etc. The Mike Harris government took that all way with Bill - Social Assistance Reform.

VRS - Vocational Rehabilitation Services

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Sue healing survivial and healing techniques

Above is a picture taken by Sue's husband Steven Wittenberg in Ottawa in September 2007

Sue has many techniques and tools she used in order to heal from her past.

RELAXATION:

When Sue is either feeling hungry, angry, lonely or tired like in the 12 step program HALT, Sue
will take a day to relax. Sue does the following:

- takes a long hot shower or bath
- shut the land line phone off and cell phone off for the day
- stays indoors that day if you need to
- makes a nice breakfast with all the trimmings, make a healthy lunch and supper and order out
or go out for your meals
- plays nice soft music that you like
- don' t read the newspaper or listen to the news - most of the news can be negative
- call a friend who will listen to her and not judge her
- write in a journal all of her feelings whether good or bad
- write a letter to someone she is angry with an not send it and then tear it up
- draw some pictures, do a pastel or oil painting, or use crayons and color in a regualr coloring book
- do a puzzle
- play solitaire
- wash her body and hair with some nice smelling body lotion
- don't put make up on that day
- wear pj's all day
- read some magazines
- read a good book
- make some tea
- cut out pictures from a magazine and make a collage
- write a poem
- go onto the computer and play some fun games
- know that today will pass and tomorrow will be better
- lay down on the couch and do nothing but watch tv - put on some game shows or put on a funny movie
- call the distress centers if you have to and pour out all your troubles to them
- make supper for a friend and keep it low key, something easy to make or order out
- go for a long walk and take a camera and take pictures of the flowers, the birds and the scenery
- make a scrapbook of anything
- make a list of all the good things you have done
- make a list of all the good qualities about yourself
- make a list of gratitude for the things you are thankful for
- cry if you want to and tears are a healing tool in themselves, left it all hang out
- cry with a friend and they will have a shoulder for you to cry on, a safe place to fall
- go on a picnic by yourself and bring your favourite foods
- go shopping and buy yourself something nice - special for you
- mark down the 5 funniest things that ever happened to you
- calling someone and telling them you love them
- hugging someone you love and telling them how much they mean to you and why
- putting on some music and singing along, you don't have to be a great singer, but sing for fun
- looking outside the window and watching the cars and people go by
- write down a dream you have, something you want to have or do in life, write a story about it
- start a "forgiveness" journal of those you want to forgive. Write what the person did you to you, how it made you feel and why you want to forgive them - releasing the anger will be a weight off your shoulders and make you feel better
- don't like your job, write down jobs you would like to do, what makes you happiest when you are doing it or around it.
- take a ride in a hot air balloon
- go the local fair and have fun
- go to an art museum and stuy the pictures and read up on the picture's history, take a tour of a museum in town
- get your hair fixed up at the hair salon - its feels good to have someone take care of your hair
- go to your favourite restaurant and bring a friend
- put on some music and start dancing - dancing will make your feel great and energized
- take your pet out for a long walk

Know you are unique and one of a kind in this world. There is no one like you. You are special.

************************************************************************************
When someone dies...

Sue has lost friends in the past. Here are Sue's suggestions on what worked for her:

- crying is ok and let out all your feelings. If you are in public sometimes the tears will flow and you can't help it, if someone asks what is wrong, just say someone passed away. Don't be embarrassed.
People will understand.

- call your friends and family for support.

- don't isolate yourself. If you are feeling down and depressed for a long period of time tell people.

- visit your friends and family and invite them over too

- go to a bereavement group in your area. There are one to one sessions and also group sessions.
Sharing with others who have gone through the same thing will not make you feel like you are the only going through this

- take time to relax, easier said than done

- it will take time but the healing can begin from all the sadness when someone dies. We will never forget them but the pain of losing them does lessen as time goes by and it is bearable afterwards
Emotional pain is hard to put in words sometimes, if someone asks how you are doing, just say you are having a rough time. If someone wants to talk about the person who passed away and it is too
painful for you just tell them that you don't want to talk about it that day maybe another day.

- get a counsellor at the local community center to talk things over if you want to - a social worker

- surround yourself with people who are safe and good to you

Algonquin Heron Park Campus 74-75

Above is a picture of right to left: Sue and her friend from College, Cathy Lewis from Chipman,
New Brunswick.

Sue attends Algonqiun Heron Park Campus in Ottawa from 1974-75.

I got my secretarial degree from Heron Park Campus which was part of Algonquin College in 1975.
I had 10 months of fun at this campus.

I was living with Fred Wegner my future first huband to be. I lived at 370 Forest Street with Fred and his two teenage boys Manfred and Walter. I went to the Unemployment Department on Slater Ave at the time and asked to see a counsellor. I wanted to go to school and get a bursuary. I asked the woman counsellor who sat in front of me what type of courses were available. I told her I was let
out of the Brockville Psychiatric Hospital the year before and I needed to continue my education.
I had a grade 12 diploma from Champlain High School in 1972.

The counsellor quirmed when I told her I was a former psychiatric patient. She rolled her eyes a few times. She told me about the Heron Park Campus Secretarial course. She told me I had been out of school for two years. I told her so what. I was 19 years old and I needed to get a degree of some kind to get a job. I fought to get into my secretarial course. I only was given 16 weeks for a secretarial
refresher course. I said ok and took the course and took my chances at furthering my education.
I had nothing to lose.

I took the bus from my apartment building next door to Carling Ave and went to Heron and Bank and got off. The campus was behind the Canadian Tire on Heron Rd. I was taking psychiatric medication
at the time and I felt sleepy. I sometimes would miss my stop and the bus driver would have to yell
"Sue, you missed your bus stop, don't forget your lunch and briefcase". I had forgotten my briefcase a few times before and my lunch. I had the same nice bus driver most of the time on the route to school.

The school was large. As you came into the entrance, the office was to the right and the cafeteria was
in the middle of the school. I has a locker at the back of the school. There were new students entering the secretarial program every week. I met my friend Cathie Lewis at college. She was l8 years old and tall and thin and pretty. Cathie was from Chipman, New Brunswick. I told Cathie I was living with an older man 23 years my senior. She thought that was odd.

Cathie and I got along famously. We would sit and talk at lunch time and laugh about everything under the sun. Cathie had a carefree relaxed attitude about everything. We would chum around after school. I took my brother Chris to visit Cathie who was living at the Ottawa YMCA in a room.
Chris liked Cathie as a person and thought she was nice.

Cathie told me one day about the rock group Steppenwolf was coming to Ottawa. I bought tickets for my brother and I. Cathie came along to the landsdowne civic center in Ottawa to see the group.
I was naive about street drugs for sure. Never took them before. On the floor in front of the stage
were lots of people. A young man came by and he opened up his jacket and had lots of pills attached to the inside of his jacket. I yelled over to Cathie 'Hey Cathie, this man is showing me lots of pills" I waved my hands to where the man was. Someone said to me "are you for real?"
Cathie yelled for me to shut up. She came over to me and pulled me aside and said never do that.
I asked her why. She told me that man was a drug dealer and it was illegal for him to sell those drugs and that there were Narks around. I asked what was a nark. She said a nark was an undercover
officer who looks for drug dealers. I turned ten shades of red from embarrassment. I led a sheltered life so to speak in some ways.

We all sat in front on the stage close to the amplifiers which is not a good thing to do. My ears were bussing for a few days, I almost went deaf I would say. Steppenwolf played lots of good music.
We got up and danced and so lots of the crowd. Cathie took drugs sometimes as most young people did. She gave me a capsule of mescaline, some type of street drug. Never took street drugs before and that would be the last experience for me. I sure could hear the music real well and everything
was real nice and peaceful to me. The drug was beginning to work. It affected my co-ordination somewhat too. It was one hell of a concert, one to never forget. Those rock'n'rollers had their act down to the wire, they knew how to put on a spectacular show and they did. They pleased the crowd for sure. There was a thunder of applause after the concert was done for Steppenwolf. The song "born to be wild" was played by the band that night, my favorite song.

We all left and it was took a long time to leave the landsdowne civic center there were so many people
We got on the buses and went down to Carling Ave. I almost got hit by a city bus when I thought
the bus farther away than it was. My perception of distance was hindered by the drug.

The next day at Algonquin, I had to sign into my class on a piece of paper. I signed my name 15 times and the teacher asked me if there was anything wrong with me and I told him I was tired and didn't sleep that well and he looked at me as though he didn't believe my excuse. I did not elaborate with him. I never took any street drug until much later on. I tired Marijuana once when I was married to Fred. I choked on the joint and that was enough of that drug for me.

Fred and I had a fight in our apartment on Forest Street. He threw me onto our bed roughly. I told Cathie this and she told me to leave Fred but I did not listen to Cathie, something I would regret later on. Fred would apologize and make up it up to me and it was like a honeymoon period for a while
and he would get violent towards me again.

Fred was drinking heavily. His sons were attending high school. I told Fred I thought I may be pregnant and he said not to worry, one more kid would be no problem. I was not pregnant, my period was just late.

I was only given a 16 week course. I had forgotten the shorthand I had taken earlier in high school
as a result of the electroshocks I had. I had to fight with Mr. Younghusband about getting more
weeks added to my course and I got it. I had to do a song and dance practically. I was in college for 10 months rather than 16 weeks. It was a year in my life I shall never forget

I had to take Business Math. It was a 4 week course and after 4 weeks I was still in class and I
could not learn very quickly. I was frustrated. I was put in another Math class with a teacher who
taught alternative teaching in the USA. He told me I learnt by someone showing me the data on the board not by the book. I was a visual learner. I took the math course and got a B average. The teacher told me I could do anything if I put my mind to it and I have.

One day I was at my locker between classes. A guy who a locker beside me had a plastic bag over his mouth and he was breathing into it. I ran away and I was confused and not sure what he was doing.
My friend Cathie told me "he is sniffing glue, stupid". I did feel stupid.

The comedy group of McLean and McLean showed up at our campus and their off color jokes had us all in stitches with laughter. They wowed the crowd for sure. We had so much fun.

One day my typing teacher an older woman was in a snarly mood and liked to pick on me. This one morning she looked down at my hands on the keyboard as asked why I looked down at the keyboard when I was typing and this was my answer "That is my style, that is me". Some of my peers in the class laughed.

I saw some painters painting the hallways and I felt very ill and nauseous. I realized I am very allergic to fresh paint and so I left the school that day. I had a headache and vomited. I stay away now from
places that have been freshly painted.

After class one day, my professor who was a black man and very handsome asked me out for a drink.
I declined. I told him I was living with my boyfriend. He was ok with it. He used to dress really
nice and wore flashy clothes and had a sports car.

I went to the doctor in the Spring of 75. I had a nasty cough you could hear half a block away. My
family doctor told me I had whooping cough and it was contagious. I went to the office at the campus
and told them I had to take a week or two off sick leave. They told me to get going quickly after I told them what I had was contagious - the cough. I was off for two weeks and I would have to catch up in my homework. I did.

I would play jokes on the teachers. One of them was this - new students would enter a class and it would end at 10 to the hour. 40 minutes after the hour, 10 minutes before class was finished, I would
yell, class is over for the day, thank you students. The teachers did not find this funny but some of
my classmates did.

The students at Heron Park Campus were all different ages. It was interesting to talk to many of my peers. I learned alot about different cultures and heritages.

The head of Algonquin College came to see us. He was a nice man who had encouraging words for us.

I had to go one week work experience and I chose the Secretarial Program Section at the Woodroffe
Campus. I was the head of the department's secretary for one week. She was a nice lady and the staff treated me well. I used a selectric typewriter, one that had a key to erase a mistake. It had
a white ribbon with the black ribbon.

The head of the department told me her husband had some type of shell fish and had a terrible reaction and almost died in hospital. I had never heard of allergies like this before.

My stepson Manfred gave me a nice wallet for my birthday in April. I put my purse under my desk.
for a few minutes as I went to another office at the opposite side of the campus. In my purse I had
lots of bus tickets, 20 dollars and all my I.D. My wallet was stolen and I had to ask a secretary for some bus tickets to get home. It was the last day of my work experience.

I graduated in May 1975 from the college and I had had good marks. My brother Chris attended the small ceremony and I was so proud of myself. I got a nice certificate "Secretarial Sciene" Each graduate was given a flower along with their certificate.

I called the federal government and got a typing test to do. I passed the test with flying colors.
I was asked to go into the Surgeon General's Branch part of National Defence (DND). I was two weeks after I graduated and I had my first real job. I had to sign some papers for the RCMP to check my background and they did, I got a secret clearance.

My boss was Major J.P.D. Robinson or "Robbie" as some people called him.

Valerie G.

I met Valerie when she called my group "The Ottawa Advocates for Psychiatric Patients" (OAPP)
Valerie and I became fast friends. Her father was a doctor in Montreal. Valerie was a nice woman.
Valerie was Jewish. I told her my first boyfriend was Jewish and that his name was Marvin H. and he was from Toronto.

I told her I was engaged to him but when he told me he had had one sexual encounter with a man in his past I dropped him like a ton of bricks. Marvin got suicidal because I broke off our engagement. I wanted to marry a man who was straight and not bisexual. I still loved Marvin but thought if I married him that he might turn to other men for pleasure and I did not want that. Marvin wanted me to move to Toronto and I said no. Marvin wanted the engagement ring back. It was an engagement ring he gave that was his ex's. I said no and sold it to a jeweller many years later for 20 dollars, I needed the money. The ring was beautiful. It had a diamond in the middle surrounded by many small diamonds. I think Marvin should have bought me a new rings and not his ex's.

Marvin was a good person and nice. I wished I could have married Marvin but I did not want that.
Marvin is a private math teacher in Toronto.

Valerie was a nice person. She liked men and had lots of boyfriend on the go. She was in her 30s, she was beautiful and men liked her too. She loved men. She had a pretty face and a nice body. She had a nice personality too. She was a bubbly type of person. We had fun when we got together. We laughed a lot. A man from Sweden was using her and I told her. Igmar kept her hanging on.

Dustin met Valerie in Ottawa on a nature walk. They clicked as friends right away. Dustin invited
Valerie over to his apartment. Valerie sat down on the couch and took out a condom and said to
Dustin "you're so cute and handsome, let's do it" and handed the condom to Dustin. Dustin took the condom and blew it up into a balloon. Valerie looked devastated but got Dustin's point. Dustin
wanted no part in having sex with Valerie. Dustin was too much of a gentleman to take advantage of Valerie. Dustin has class. Valerie and Dustin remained friends. Dustin took no offence to
Valerie advances towards him. Valerie told Dustin "Sue is pretty, why don't you go out with her"
He did.

One day I went to visit Valerie at her apartment on Somerset Street near Bank Street. She had a small bachelor apartment. On her kitchen table she had a box opened that had condoms. I asked her if she made all her men put on the condoms and she said sometimes she asked them to, others times she did not ask them to. I told her she knew AIDS and STDs were around and she should practice safe sex. I told her to tell her men "No glove, no love". I didn't want anything to happen to Valerie. I was like a big sister to her. She was not offended and she said I gave her good advice. I never judged Valerie about all her men. It was her life style, not mine.

I remember having a Chinese meal with her at a restaurant. It was a real experience. Valerie was very knowledgeable about everything. She was smart. She used to work as secretary at a Montreal University. We talked for hours. With Valerie you got lost in her conversation and you never released how much time had passed by. Valerie was very entertaining. Her sweet qualities and
her awareness about everything around her wanted you to stay longer with her and listen to her more.
She was capturing to say the least. I liked spending time with Valerie. You never forgot the time you spent with Valerie. Valerie was unique and one of a kind.

Valerie respected me. Valerie had a child like quality about her. She was very refreshing and bright. She was a joy to be around. She was kind and sweet. She had this tremendous laughter that was contagious. When Valerie laughed, everyone around her started to laugh. She looked at the world as if everything was new to her and she was seeing everything around her for the first time. Valerie loved life and she lived to the fullest extent of it. I admired Valerie at her zest for life. Valerie was always on the go, out and about you could say.

Valerie told her father that she wanted to go to Paris to find a man to fall in love with. Her father thought Valerie was losing it so to speak so he went to the court house in Ottawa and had his daughter committed into the local loony bin for 72 hours. Nothing was wrong with Valerie the doctors told her dad and they let her go after her 72 hours were up. Her father must have been a very controlling man.
If Valerie had gone to Paris she probably would have met a man and fell in love and then left him shortly after to return to Canada, all she probably wanted was a fling...

Valerie just wanted to travel and be romanced by the beautiful city of lights, Paris. I have had the same dream from time to time. I am sitting at a small cafe late at night and a handsome French man comes over to me and speaks to me in a Parisian accent and asks if he can sit down and I say yes. He buys me a glass of wine and that is the start of a very romantic evening. Valerie's idea about a trip to Paris was harmless and so were her dreams of getting a man in Paris.... who wouldn't want to visit this great city and fall in love....everyone has dreams and I believe this keeps up our spirit and passion alive...

Valerie left Ottawa and then moved back to Montreal. I miss Valerie. I miss her laughter, her honesty, and her carefree spirit.... Valerie was one of a kind...a special person....

Valerie was a woman who did what she wanted and didn't care what people thought about her...
I liked that quality about her...she was her own person and the world was her pallet to paint on...

Where ever you are Valerie, I wish you much joy and happiness...

When Sue had ECT in 1973 at BPH

ECT Hurt Me

by Sue Clark-Wittenberg, 2007
(copyright)

The day I got my first ECT
I recall the room was white
the nurses wore white
the doctor wore white
and I was white as a sheet with fright

I lay on my back on the bed
with wires put on both sides of my head
a rubber band put on my forehead
and a rubber mallet stuck in between my teeth

I was scared to death, terrified
I wanted to jump up and run
but I could not
I saw the ECT machine
right to my left
and knew that horrible machine
was going to be turned on
any minute
and it would hurt my brain
and it did

I woke up after the ECT
dizzy, confused and did
not know who I was
where I was

I was put in a wheelchair
I missed my breakfast
and had to to wait for lunch

a peer on my ward
told me many years later
that when the staff grabbed me
to take me to the ECT room
I screamed, kicked and bit the
staff and hollered
"Somebody, anybody, please
help me"
But nobody did

ECT hurt my brain
No one told me
truth about what ECT
would do to me
because nobody cared

So that is why I want ECT
the atrocity that it is
to be banned, to end
to stop now
so no one else has to
go through the torture
like I did which is called ECT
------------------------------

Sue's health problems

I have numerous health problems. Since 1984 I have had Diabetes Type II and I started to take pills for my diabetes about 6 years ago.

I presently have the last stages of Bell's Palsy which means the left part of face is paralyzed to some degree. I had an inflamation in a nerve in my face. I had this in 1980 the first time on the same sight of my face. It last for three months. Last September in 2006 I got Bell's Palsy again. It has been a year now and I still have it. It affects my speech to some degree and my vision in my left eye and affects my hearing in my left ear. One eye brow is higher than the other and my left eye looks smaller as a result.

I am obese and have been since 1973 when I first entered the psychiatric wards. I became a compulsive overeater to cope with the stress on being on locked wards. I have lost 50 pounds since
the late 80s.

I have high blood pressure and I take two types of medications for this daily.

I had a mini stroke last September around the same type I got Bell's Palsy. My memory is even more impaired than it was and I sometimes use different words for what I want to say. For instance I have called a bus a boat etc and the list goes on. I laugh when this happens and just try to use the
right word. My cognitive abilities are slower. It takes me longer to figure things out now.
The fingers on my left hand do not bend properly when I make a fist. They bend only slightly now.

I have severe arthritis in all my joints and spinal stenosis and that is why I use an electric wheelchair
since 2003 because it afffects my mobility. I can walk about 50 feet and then I have to sit down
as my legs won't hold me up any longer than that.

I have had two kidney stones and two operations. My last operation for my left kidney was in 2005.
Dr. Watterson at the Ottawa General did an excellent operation. Dr. Kitt the head of the Ottawa
Hospital sent me a get well card in the mail.

I have bad asthma and have been hospitalized many times. I take puffers for my asthma.

I have chronic bronchitis and respiratory disease.

I have a severe case of Post Trauma Stress Disorder (PTSD) as result of the abuse I suffered as a child and the abuse I suffered in two marriages.

I have poor circulation in my feet because of diabetes. I wear glasses.

My father paid tons of money for my teeth as a kid. I had lots of dental work done by an oral dental
surgeon, Dr. Morin who had an office on Gloucester Street in Ottawa in the 60s and 70s. I bit him once when I was a kid and he was angry and told me not to do that again and I didn't. I saw him until I was l7 years old, for about 10 years I would say. My brother Chris had lots of dental work done by the same dentist. I have good teeth and I see a dentist at Carlingwood Dental Center in Ottawa.
I don't wear false teeth, I still have all of my teeth for now, thank goodness.

Two specialists in Ottawa two years ago asked me why I am still alive. I told them I born of good Irish stock and I am a tough cookie. They laughed. I am a tough cookie only when I have to be.

I would like to lose more weight and take up exercise. I have been saying that for many years now.
I need to take better care of myself.

I am in chronic pain but I don't take any pain killers. My family doctor told me my blood pressure is too high to be able to take pain killers. He doesn't want me on them. I rest alot and lay down when
my pain is unbearable and that seems to help my back pain. I have arthritis in my back and spinal stenosis which is a very painful condition.

I eat well. I sleep well. I do not smoke. I used to smoke cigarettes when I was 19 year old to 21. I quit in 1976. I do not use alchohol. I did have a drinking problem at one time in my first marriage to Fred Wegner. I do not use street drugs and never did. I was not into the hippie life style. I dressed up the part but I was a square and still am. I don't allow people to smoke in my home as I have
severe asthma.

I used to have a home maker now and I do my own housework with the help of my husband Steven.

Sue's suicide attempt, Sept 29/84

Above is a picture of the Ottawa General Hosptial on Smyth Road in Ottawa.

Sue suicide attempt on September 29, 1984

John and I were having problems in their marriage. John had lost his job at the Ottawa Civic Hospital in March of 1984. I confronted my uncle Layman Sage about his molesting me when I was 4 years old. John and I began to argue all the time. John and I were on welfare, social assistance and did not have much money to live on at all, just enough money to pay for our rent and buy food - no extras.

John and his father John Sr. were in a battle together over something financial between the both of them. John went bankrupt that year and he and his sister Jackie from Montreal were not getting along. Jackie sent John a nasty letter. It was if our world was crashing all around us and it was.

I sent John out one afternoon on a few errands. It was September 29, 1984, a day after my
parent's wedding anniversary. I was feeling very depressed and suicidal and did not tell John.
When John left the apartment I went to the kitchen cupboard that had bottles of all different sorts
of psychiatric medication in all shapes and colors. I had hundreds of them stocked away. I did want to die and that day I meant to die. Life was too hard for me and my nerves were bad and I saw no
way out at all....it was as if this big black cloud was overhead...a cloud of blackness and of sadness and pain and I wanted it to just end, to end the pain I was feeling...I was overwhelmed...I needed to die
I said to myself...

I took out a pitcher of milk and looked at all the bottles of medications before me. I took so many
pills I lost track after a while. I took the pills with milk. I realized after about a half hour I wanted to live and I needed to get some help ....I didn't have a phone at the time so I went to the Italian restaurant was on the corner of Bayswater and Wellington St. I talked to the head
waiter and told him I need a taxi. He said he was too busy to help me. I then walked across to the hotel across the street. I was the only standing there in front on the front desk. I told the man
at the counter to call an ambulance because I had taken many pills and I needed to get to a hospital.

The hotel receptionist called the ambulance service who demanded to talk to me in person. The man
handed me over the phone and I spoke to the ambulance service. Someone asked me when I took the pills and I had said "about half an hour ago". The person told me I sounded coherent and told me to get to the hospital on my own. I heard two people speaking behind me. I looked around and a middle aged black couple that overheard my conversation. They came over and told me I could take their
taxi that was coming for them. I thanked them and a few minutes later I got the taxi ride.

The taxi driver asked my why I was going to the hospital. It is very unusual for a taxi driver to ask this from a stranger. I nonchantily told him I had taken over 140 pills. He sounded very hyper
and told me he would get to the Ottawa General quickly. I asked him why and he did not answer me.
The pills were taking effect and I did not realize this...everything looked blurry to me and I was
very confused all of a sudden...the taxi driver sped down the queensway....he dropped me off at the Emergency ward and walked me in....I went up to the counter and it was busy....I stood there waiting and looking over at the tv that had on some cartoons, I was very interested in the cartoon show.
The nurse asked why I was at the Emergency Department and I told her I had taken 140 pills,
she asked "14 pills", I said 'no, 140 pills" and told the nurse I wanted to sit down and watch the tv
show so I did. A few minutes later I only remember someone with a white coat on and only saw their bottom of their pants.....and then I passed out....

I was sent to Intensive care and did not know because I was out cold. The pills had taken full
effect and I was in a coma. I had a private room. The nurse called my brother who lived over the hill
from the hospital. He was told I was in critical condition. My brother never came to see me.
John Clark visited me while I was in Intensive care for 3 days. I was out for most of those 3 days in and out of consciousness. I remember once waking up and someone handed me a cup of black juice
and I said to them "is that ashes from cigarette butts you are trying to give me?" I was told it was drink to help clean up my system....I lost consciousness once again. I was on a respirator to breath
apparently and remember the nurse telling me..."don't pull that off your nose, Suzanne, you have
to keep it on to breath..."roll over, Suzanne, we have to change your sheet" I could hear the nurses say...I could not see anything at all.

John Clark came to see me and held my hand he told me. He was worried about me. The staff told him I was critical but in stable condition, my condition was upgraded.

I remember waking up in an elevator and my bed was moving. I asked the porter what was going on.
He said "don't you remember coming into the hospital. We put you in Intensive care and now
you are being transferred to the Psychiatric Ward of the hospital". I looked around me as he wheeled me onto the 4th floor of the Ottawa General Hospital. He took me up to the nurses's desk and left me laying on the stretcher. The nurses asked me tons of questions. I was put in a private room
right next to the other side of the ward next to a nurses station. The rooms next to me were also
people who tried to commit suicide. I was not allowed to put on my street clothes and had to wear
a blue jimmy shirt and some blue paper slippers. I had my own washroom and shower.

A doctor came into my room one morning shortly after I arrived at the Psych ward. He asked me if I remembered him and I said no. He said he was the doctor in Intensive Care. He asked me when I came into ICU why I had tried to commit suicide. He said I mumbled under my breath "death wish".
I told the doctor who I did not recognize I am glad ICU saved my life and I thanked him and his staff.
I told him I was depressed and he said he guessed that I was because I would not have done something so desperate if I was not depressed. I shook him hand and he went on his way.

John Clark, my husband came to see me as well as my brother Chris and his friend Larry. The ward
had to long wings to it. You got off at the elevator on the fourth floor and hung a left and then you were on the ward as you walked down the corridor. The outpatient psychiatry office is there and some offices to see social workers and psychiatrists and psychologists. Then you would see a big nurses'
desk and then the first wing of the ward was to the right and left and in the middle of the wing was the recreation room with a big tv and lots of books and magazines to read. This was the social gathering place of the ward to meet and chat and get to know everybody if they let you get to know them.

I was next to the other wing past the recreation room overlooking Smyth Road. It was the beginning of fall and the leaves on the trees were turning colors and trees were beautiful to look at. Fall is my favorite time of year because of the pretty leaves and the weather is cooler. I don't like the summer
as the summers in Ottawa are very humid and hot.

A young woman came into my room one morning and introduced herself to me. She said she was the psychologist on the ward assigned to me. She told me she wanted me to do this long psychological test with hundreds questions and not to worry, she would pick it up in a few days. I agreed to do the test without looking at it first. The test was called Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory (MPPI) and is one of the most frequently used personality tests used in the mental health field. This assessment or test was designed to help identify personal, social, and behavioral problems in psychiatric patients. I looked at the test and was shocked to see some of the questions.
One questions was "Do you think you are the anti-Christ". I looked at some more of the questions
and then decided I did not want to do this stupid test. So I tore it up in two and threw into the garbage can.

A few days later as she had stated earlier in the week, my young female psychologist came to ask for the test I was supposed to have done. I told her I did not like some of the questions and she told me some psychiatric may think they are the anti-Christ. I told her I tore up the questionnaire. Well the psychologist was not impressed and told me so by saying "what do you think this place is a spa and
you are wasting my time here". I told her I did not want to come to the Pysch ward but that I was shipped up to the Psych ward from ICU because I had taken 140 pills and went into a coma for 3 days and that ICU saved my life. I took offence to what she said and reported her to her boss. The next day she came to see me and she was nice and sweet as pie. Her comments were out of line and she knew it. I learned to stand up for myself on the ward.

The hospital food was shitty - very bland and had no taste - tasted like rubber to me. I was put on a diabetic diet as I am diabetic and I had to lose weight as I was obese and still am. I lost about 6 pounds in one month and I was happy about that.

Every morning there is a routine on the ward. Around 7 a.m. the lights are turned on bright in the hallways and in your room. A nurse comes in and says "good morning" I don't do mornings very well as I have chronic insomina and I have since I was a kid. Living in a chaotic home that was unsafe you learn to sleep with one eye open at most times. I am moody first thing in the morning and late at night, I am like a bear. As I turned around after about half an hour later in my bed to face the door in my room, about 6 people in white would rush in and say "good morning, Suzanne, how are you this morning?" I still had a hard time to open my eyes as I had sleepy dust in them and was not fully awake. It sure is shock in the morning to see 6 faces staring over you while you are still in bed still in your pjs. My breath stunk and my hair was a total mess.

"my team" as they would call themselves would consist of my psychiatrist (shrink), primary nurse,
occupational therapist, psychologist, social worker, student shrink (maybe 1 or 2 learning the ropes of psychiatry with the senior shirnk teaching them).

I would tell them how I felt and if I was improving from my depression, getting better whatever that meant. I was depressed most of my life, how do you get 'cured" in one month is beyond me.
They would question me and ask if I felt the pills were working and I would say I didn't want to be
on mind altering drugs and they would tell me I was "sick" and "mentally ill" and it was best to stay on the pills for the time being. Then the head shrink would tell me when I would be released from the hospital. I asked to wear my street clothes and not the 'Jimmy" blue night gown where your
derriere hangs out and in my case it was too small so I had to wear one the front and one on the back of me and I had to wear those silly looking blue paper slippers. I would take a shower and wash my
hair every morning and then get dressed and brush my hair and put on a bit of make up if I felt like doing so.

I eventually got transferred to a four bed room with 3 other women roommates. One day I walked in and saw this teenager who was one of my rommates and she was being bullied by one of the nurses
that if she did not take her meds, she would be tied up with restraints. I saw the whole thing. My roommate got more hyper as the nurse threatened her with the restraints. The nurses put the four point restraints on my roommate. One of each wrist and one on each ankle, and that is when all hell broke out in that room. My roommate lost it completely and was yelling out of control and was freaking out as the nurse walked out of the room. My roommate was red in her face from yelling so much and you could see the veins in her neck bulging out of her neck and she tried to get free from the restraints and tried to kick her legs and wave her arms around.

I told my roommate that I was a patient and also a mental health advocate and I did not think the
restraints were ok and so I told her I would untie here and I did. She was very relieved to have the
restraints taken off her. The nurse came in later and asked her who untied her and she pointe to me.
I told the nurses that the restraints were barbaric as far as I was concerned and no one not even a dog should be tied up that. I told her I was mental health advocate and she looked puzzled. The nurse
did not retie the woman to my relief and to hers.

Restraints are still being used on psychiatric wards to tie patients to their beds. Psychiatric oppression happens on the wards in many forms and this is one of them.

Sue and Steven's videos

Sue's photography

Sue's friends who passed away

Jan Chatre - diabetic coma, Pierre, Richard, Brenda, Eleanora Melodoro, Rita ???, christie bodkin, steve thomas,
glen, anne hubbert, darlene charlebois, katherine kay villeneuve, june lawson,

Dennis Hunt - a friend

lllllllllll


Above is a picture of Dennis Hunt on the right of this picture. Dennis is wearing glasses.

Dennis Hunt was a good friend of mine. He used to live with another friend of mine, Dustin Munro.
They were room mates. Dennis and Dustin used to live on Kirkwood Ave in Ottawa in a two bedroom
apartment.

Dennis spent most of his adolescent years at the Ottawa Regional Center in Smith Falls, Ontario. The center had residents with people with severe handicaps. He left the Ottawa Regional Center and then moved to Cornwall and had a room mate Renee. Then he became a client of the Ottawa-Carleton Association for Persons with Developmental Disabilities (OCAPDD). Dennis was a quiet person. He had a soft voice and he was a gentle person.

In January of 1991 a friend of mine named Valerie Gold called Dustin and asked him if I could come over to visit him. Dustin lived on Kirkwood and it was a very cold night and I had on these thin leather boots not made for the winter weather. I took two buses and finally reached Carling and Kirkwood Ave near the Westgate shopping center. I had to go in and out of the building lobbies in order to warm up. My feet were almost frozen solid. I couldn't afford a good pair of winter boots at that time.

I met Valerie when she called my group "The Ottawa Advocates for Psychiatric Patients" (OAPP)
Valerie and I became fast friends. Her father was a doctor in Montreal. Valerie was a nice woman.
She was Jewish. I told her my first boyfriend was Jewish and that his name was Marvin Hersh and he was from Toronto. Valerie was a nice person. She liked men and had lots of boyfriend on the go.
She was in her 30s, she was beautiful and men liked her too. She had a pretty face and a nice body.
She had a nice personality too. She was a bubbly type of person. We had fun when we got together.
We laughed alot. A man from Sweden was using her and I told her. Igmar kept her hanging on.

One day I went to visit Valerie at her apartment on Somerset Street near Bank Street. She had a small bachelor apartment. On her kitchen table she had a box opened that had condoms. I asked her if she made all her men put on the condoms and she said sometimes she asked them to, others times she did not ask them to. I told her she knews AIDS and STDs were around and she should practice safe sex. I told her to tell her men "No glove, no love". I didn't want anything to happen to Valerie. I was like a big sister to her. She was not offended and she said I gave her good advice. I never judged Valerie about all her men. It was her life style, not mine.

Valerie respected me. Valerie had a child like quality about her. She was very refreshing and bright. She could converse about any subject. She was a joy to be around. She was kind and sweet. She had this tremedous laughter that was contagious. When Valerie laughed, everyone around her started to laugh. She looked at the world as if everything was new to her and she was seeing everything around her for the first time. Valerie loved life and she lived to the fullest extent of it. I admired
Valerie at her zest for life. Valerie was always on the go, out and about you could say.

Valerie told her father that she wanted to go to Paris and get a man. Her father went to the court house in Ottawa and had his daughter incarcerated in the local looney bin for 72 hours. Nothing was wrong with Valerie and they let her go after her 72 hours were up. Her father must have been very controlling.

Valerie just wanted to travel and be romanced by the beautiful city of love, Paris. I have had the same dream from time to time. I am sitting at a small cafe late at night and a handsome man comes over to me and speaks in a Parisian accent and ask if he can sit down and I say yes. He buys me a glass of wine and that is the start of a very romantic evening. Valerie's idea about a trip to Paris was harmless and so were her dreams of getting a man in Paris.... who wouldn't want to visit this great city and fall in love....everyone has dreams and I believe this keeps up their spirit...

Valerie left Ottawa and then moved back to Montreal. I miss Valerie. I miss her laughter, her honesty, and her carefree spirit.... Valerie was one of a kind...a special person....

I finally came to an apartment building with three floors. I buzzed Dustin and he saw me from the third floor and thought I was an old lady because the lights made my blond hair look white. He came down
the stairs and said hello. Dustin was a tall handsome young man with dark brown eyes and a nice smile. He invited me up to his apartment. Dustin sat on the big chair and I sat on the sofa.
Dustin and I started to talk right away as if we knew each other for years. Dustin told me he had
a room mate named Dennis. Dennis came into the apartment and I introduced myself to him.
Dennis was in his early forties and he was also tall and wore glasses. Dennis was shy. He did not
speak to me much at first, he was sizing me up you could say. Dennis was no one's fool. He listened to everything I said to Dustin. We talked for hours and then I told the men I had to go home.

Dustin offered to walk me home to my apartment building at 1485 Caldwell Ave, an Ottawa Housing
complex housing the poor. Dennis came along. It was a 10 minute walk and it was real cold.
I lived on the 14th floor and I invited the men in. We sat down and then talked for a long time.
It must have been about midnight when I said goodbye to Dustin and Dennis. They were so nice to me. Dustin gave me his phone number.

I called Dustin the next night as asked to come over to watch TV. Dennis answered the phone and I got mixed up and used to call Dennis "Dustin" and I used to call Dustin "Dennis". It took me a while to get their names straight. You could say I had an crush on Dustin. Dennis would often answer the phone and say Dustin was not home from work yet. I would go over and wait for Dustin.

Dennis finally opened up to me. He trusted me. Dennis was a good man and very smart. He worked as dishwasher. He had his own Visa Card and did most things on his own. Both Dustin and Dennis had a counsellor come in monthly to help them from the OCAPDD. Her name Marlena program. Dusiin and Dennis were part of the SIL program which stands for Semi Independent Living. Dustin is not
developmentally delayed. He was just part of this program to help him integrate into society after living so long in group homes since he was 9 years old. Dennis and Dustin got along well.

Dustin worked at the Saxe building at 75 Sparks Street on the manual elevator. He worked there for
7 years from 1990 to 1997. He now works for Loblaws in Ottawa.

Dustin started to rent cars. Dennis and I would tag along. I had a driver's licence and would pay
1/3 of the car rental and we would drive all around Ottawa and the surrounding towns and villages.
Once we went to Consecon, Ontario to see a group home called "Bayfield" run by ?????

We used to like to go into old abandoned houses. One evening on a Sunday, it was August 4, 1991
Dustin was driving me and Dennis and we were on highway 44 near Almonte, Ontario. Dustin and Dennis had gone into this abandoned house and I had stayed in the passenger seat of the car while the men saw the old house. Dennis came back and sat in the back seat behind my seat. Dustin came back and got into the driver's seat.

In front of us a black sports car pulled up in front of us a few meters away and a red pick up truck was
across the highway from us and another car pulled up in front of the black sports car. A tall thin
man got out of the passenger side of the sports car with long thin hair and walked towards our car.
I opened my door for a minute and said hello to the man and he said nothing. He had a hard cold stare
as I looked at him, not a good sign at all I thought to myself and I was right. I turned around
to the back seats and told Dennis to lock his door and roll us his window. I did not notice the tall
man with his hand on the handle of my car door as I was talking to Dennis and my back was towards my car door.

I turned around and looked at Dustin and told to take off quickly and he did. Our car's tires squealed as we left the side of the highway. The man in the black sports car and the other two cars that we near him followed us closely behind. Dustin was going about 120 km and he sped up the highway for
5 minutes. We came into Almonte and sped and then we saw a pizza parlour and then I yelled, "go into there" and Dustin did. He thought it was a driveway but it actually was a lawn and a sidewalk he went over, but he did manage to drive into the laneway of the pizza parlour. We saw a young man coming out of the place with a pizza box in his arms. Dustin told him some cars had been chasing us and asked where the OPP was. The young man gave Dustin the instructions to the OPP office.

The three cars had sped off into the highway nowhere to be seen. I was relieved. It was an awful
experience to say the least. We went to the OPP office and pushed a buzzer on the front entrance
of the building. Someone answered. We told them the story and they said they could not do much if we did not have a licence number.

I believe the men wanted our car as it was a brand new car rental. This type of thing has happened before on our highways. I can only speculate what they would have done to us if they had done this.
I believe my angels were watching over us that day for sure.

We would got to Swiss Chalet and have dinner somtimes. Sometimes we would go to other placees like the Stittsville Flea Market past Bells Corners near Ottawa. I would drive sometimes. I prefer driving on the highway rather than city driving. I get too impatient sitting in city traffic.

Dennis and I would talk when Dustin was out of the house. Dennis told me he wanted to visit his sister Betty in San Francisco and he did in April 1992. He hadn't seen her in many years. Betty and her
husband were very nice to Dennis. Dennis took some pictures of his visit and he showed them to
Dustin and I. San Francisco is a beautiful city with a great big beautiful bridge called "The Golden
Gate" bridge.

Dennis would never quit a job right away. He would get a new job and tell the boss he would work one week free and if they liked him they could hire him and then he would quit his old job. Dennis was smart. I had never thought of doing anything like that.

Dennis and I would laugh our heads off sometimes. He had a wonderful sense of humour. He was
like a brother to me.

In 1992, Dennis went to see Dr. Birnbaum in Ottawa. He had a sore side and his family doctor sent him for a scan. It came back negative and Dennis's side still hurt so his doctor sent him again to the doctor. Dennis had cancer in his liver. It took awhile for the doctors to find out. Dennis was in the hospital from September 7 to Octobert 9th at the Ottawa Civic Hospital.

One night I was a Dustin's apartment and Marlena, Dennis's counsellor called and told us the bad news about Dennis. Dennis had about 3 days to live. Dennis knew as he was told he had to make a will .....I asked to speak to Dennis. He had to take off his respirator in order to speak. I told him I loved him. I hope he heard me. Dustin also spoke to Dennis.

Dustin and I were devastated about the news about Dennis. I cried and cried and Dustin tried to console me. We read from Dennis's bible he had at home. On Friday, on October 9th, Dustin and I went to the Ottawa Civic Hospial and wanted to visit Dennis for one last time.

A nurse on Dennis's ward told us to sit down on the bench nearby. We told the nurse we would not be long and wanted just to say hello to him. The nurse told us the family needed to be called. I got confused. The nurse had compassionate eyes and she was telling us with her body language something that I could not figure out yet.

She asked Dustin to go into an office with her behind the nurses' front desk. Dustin went in with the nurse into a room and then the nurse came out quickly. She sat down near me and told me to follow her into the same room that Dustin was in. I followed the nurse.

I walked into the small room and Dustin had his head in his hands and he was bawling his eyes out. I figured out quickly that Dennis had died. I wailed loudly. We stayed for about 10 minutes and we both could not stop crying I took Dustin into my arms and we both cried together. I am sure the staff at the nurses' desk heard us. Dennis was 43 years old when he did.

Dennis died in a private room. His mother and two of his sisters Lois from Russell, Ontario,
and Pat from Dunrobin were there when he died. Dennis had a respirator on his mouth. Dennis was pain free as he was given medication.

Dustin and I left the room and we were still in shock. Someone came off the elevator and they knew
Dustin and started to ask general questions about the hospital. I was in shock and everything
seemed amplied. People voices seemed louder and the lights seemed brighter. I said we had to go as a friend of ours just died.

On the bus on the way home, I don't remember much of that day at all. It was one of the saddest
days of my life. Dennis was close friend of mine, he was like a brother to me. It was as if I lost a family member. To this day it is still difficult to speak about Dennis without choking up and tears swelling up in my eyes.

I went to the Dennis's funeral in downtown Ottawa on October l4th at Hulse, Playfair and McGarry funeral home on Mcleod Stret in downtown Ottawa. It was a a beautiful sunny day. I had left the The Well a drop in for Women on Somerset Street. One of the staff hugged me before I went to Dennis's funeral. I put on a nice skirt and top and wore black patent leather shoes and a nice pearl necklace. I looked very sad and I was. Dustin was there and he sat with me. Dustin's parents sat across from us. I bent my head down and could not contain myself and I cried out loud.
I did not stay to greet the family afterwards as I was in no mental condition to do that. I had to get away and be on my own for awhile. I felt as if I was being suffocated, I needed some air. I was having a panic attack and it lasted for a long time that day.

Dennis was cremated and his ashes were buried at the Beechwood Cemetery on October l7th. Dustin and I and Joanne Harvey and her boyfriend showed up for the ceremony. Joanne Harvey was Dennis's former counsellor and a good friend. Joanne married her boyfriend later on. Joanne and her boyfriend lived in a nice older home near Bank Street in the Glebe area of Ottawa near the
Rideau Canal. Joanne had to be St. Bernard dogs. She had Dennis come over and walk her dogs when she and her boyfriend were away. Joanne fixed her home so nicely. She had an old fashioned bath tub with a shower curtain all around it. Joanne is a friendly, nice and a good person. Joanne has long
blond hair. Her and her boyfriend got married in the big Roman Catholic called "Notre Dame Cathedral Basilica, the oldest church in Ottawa. She split up with her husband later on. She still works for the OCAPDD and she helps to organize the wonderful Christmas dinner every year which I go to with Dustin. Joanne is an excellent organizer.

A man rode up in a small car and got out with an a small box in his hands, Dennis's ashes. The man was from the funeral home. They lived together in a nice house near
Bank Street. It was a sunny day and the weather was perfect, not a cloud in the sky. Some birds were flying overhead and some birds were chirping in the trees.

It was a horrible thing to witness. After the ceremony I went into flashbacks of memories of riutal abuse I had experienced as a child and which I had suppressed for over 30 years. A can of worms had just been opened for me by Dennis's death. I will discuss the ritual abuse later in my book.

Dustin Ross Munro

Above is a picture of Dustin Ross Munro taken in 1991 in Ottawa. Dustin was 23 years old.

Founded in 1973, by Phyllis and Philip Baldwin, Bayfield is a private rural residential setting designed for youth with special needs. Children referred to Bayfield have experienced psychiatric, psychological, social, and/or academic difficulties.

We are located in the village of Consecon, ten miles south of Trenton, Ontario. The residence is licensed by the Ministry of Community and Social Services and the school is inspected by the Ministry of Education.

Bayfield provides extensive activity programming with school, recreational, vocational and clinical components. The staff include: Child Care Therapists, Vocational Instructors, Special Education Teachers and Clinical Staff. Psychiatric, psychological and neuropsychological consultations are provided, in house.

Bayfield's history of success is based upon commitment and common sense.

GENERAL INFORMATION

Bayfield accepts residents through various community agencies and private placements. Age limits range from pre-adolescent to young adult.

The preliminary admission criteria are:

1. Family and social history as well as pertinent medical, psychological and psychiatric data.
2. Placement history and present living arrangements.
3. Characteristics of the young person that would clearly indicate a need for treatment in a residential setting.
4. School related information and history.

Bayfield believes in a partnership with the referral source in order to provide the best possible service to each young person and their family.

Bayfield's approach is based upon commitment and common sense and maintains a contemporary clinical perspective on the young people we serve.

OUR VISION
''Building on our heritage of commitment and dedication,
we will set a high standard for providing diversified services
that will enable all individuals, in our care
to realize their potential.''

OUR MISSION
''Bayfield's mission is to provide a range of treatment services
to children and youth, who would benefit from an environment
that encourages growth, change and positive interaction
in the family, community, and within the rights and
responsibilities of each individual, by offering quality programs
that develop occupational skills, academic skills,
life skills, mutual respect, common sense and morality.''

John Larry Clark

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Above is a picture of left to right: Larry Lawson, Chris, my brother and John Clark. John was protesting on Parliament Hill in April 1984 his unfair job dismissal from the Ottawa Civic Hospital
on March 30/84.
Above is a picture of left to right: Joan Stinson, one of my friends and John Clark

Above is a picture of John Clark in Verdun, Montreal where he used to live.

Above is picture of John sister, Jackie holding her firstborn baby Adrienne at her christening.
Her husband Bill Gandhey is standing next to her.

Above is a picture of front to back: John's mother Liz in dressed in white, his father John sitting next to her, Bill sitting next to Jackie. This picture was taken at Christmas 1982.



Above is a picture of John Clark as a young boy taken in Wales. John was born in Wales. His mother Liz
was Welsh and his father was Polish.

Jane Scharf, Activist

Above is Jane Scharf who is holding a protest outside the Ottawa Mayor Larry O'Brien's office this summer 2007 on Elgin Street, Ottawa Jane is holding her dog Angel. This picture was taken in August 2007. Jane Scharf and I have been friends for almost 20 years.

Jane has two daughters, Tracey Schaf and Kayla Welch. Tracey has a girl named Amanda.
Kayla is in high school. Kayla is deaf and she has top marks in a regular school. Jane went to jail for over a month in the mid 90s fighting for Kayla's accommodations in school. Jane won everything for Kayla. I helped her too along with many friends of hers. I remember sleeping overnight at a sit-in
at the Education Ministry on Merviale Road in Ottawa. I slept in a hallway. I woke up in the morning and staff member almost walked on top of me as I lay sleeping. I recall banging on the front door
of the offices with my heavy flashlight. Jane and I and some others sat in an office with some of the
education top executives. Someone played a guitar and some of us spoke out to support Jane.
The Ministry had a conference call going on. I remember sadly seeing Jane being whisked away
into a police cruiser to go to jail. She had handcuffs put on her. I had to look away it was just to
painful. Kayla needed the best accommodations as she was deaf. Kayla was a preschooler then.
Jane fought to get Kayla the best hearing aid that cost $1,000 dollars each. Jane fought to
get Kayla some speech therapy. Jane fought to get her a teaching assistant to help her in school
and to get her a carpet for her classroom and tennis balls put on the chairs as the regular chairs
made lots of noise for Kayla when pushed on a regular floor. Kayla has an 82% average in school.
Very impressive I say. I am very proud of Kayla.

When Kayla was born in January of 1991, I was anxious to see her. Jane and her boyfriend Tom
Welch brought Kayla to my Caldwell Ave apartment in Ottawa. She was only a few weeks old.
She had on a white bunting coat. She had a kiss curl in the middle of her forehead and straight
hair standing up. She had these big eye and looked up at me. I held her and said to her "Welcome to the world, Kayla, your aunt Sue just thinks you are perfect, the best and I gave Kayla a big kiss.
Kayla is a wonderful young woman who is vibrant, vivacious, kind, caring, smart, and nice and beautiful. Kayla has it all in one package. Watch out world, Kayla is here. After Jane and Tom left I cried out with job. I was so happy that I saw Kayla. She was a beautiful baby. Jane and Tom
looked so happy and they were proud parents for sure.
Tracey is Jane's oldest daughter. She is nice and intelligent. Her daughter Amanda was born at the old Grace Hospital in Ottawa. I saw Amanda when she was a day old in the hospital. Amanda
has this peachy fuss of hair and had long fingers. I took into my arms and tears started to flow down my face. I said to Amanda. "Welcome to the world, you beautiful baby. You have long fingers,
you should play the piano when you are older".

Tracey has a good head on her shoulders. She is smart, calm, and reliable. The type of person
any mother would be proud of. She is a good mother. Jane did a good job with Tracey and Kayla.
Amanda is a wonderful girl. She is animated and a happy child and likes to go to protests. Tracey is more reserved and doesn't like protests. She stays in the background. Kayla likes to go to protests
and she has done some speeches before City of Ottawa committees and some Ontario Legislative Committees. What comes out of the words of babes is amazing and truthful. Kids say it the way it is.
I like Jane's dog Angel which a Russell Terrier. She is so calm and cute and playful.

Jane is a human rights activist. She will support any cause she feels there is injustice whether it be welfare rights, disabled, poverty, homelessness. She puts all her heart and soul into what she does.
She is a kick ass, no nonsene type of person. She has won all of her cases. She had an advocacy firm and fought for her clients tooth and nail. She looks you straight in the eye and you better not give her any bull, she can see right through you. Jane is intelligent, tenacious, ethical and has a heart of gold.
I consider her a "sister"

When Jane and I got together to fight our causes, Jane said that the strategy between us for fighting our causes was similar to John Lennon and Paul McCartney uniting to create music, it was magical.
Jane knows how to read legislation and policy and legal papers which I do not comprehend and have no interest in. Jane was the agitator and I was one yelling out the slogans and watching everything going on. I came up with protest strategies and help make up the press releases and do research on the subject. When we went to a meeting Jane would be on one side of the room and I would be on the other side of the room, it was like a boxing match but I would call it a verbal boxing match. We knew
how to knock out opponents with our words. Jane had the info and the facts at hand, and Jane and I would get into the room and our verbal karate knocked them out. We knew our facts and people knew that. We had integrity and we had a reputation of saying it the way it is. We kicked ass really good at meetings. People saw us coming a mile away and they knew our style and knew what they
were up against. It was something to see for sure. I love protests so much, it gives me a natural
high for weeks.

I went to hundreds of meetings with Jane in Ottawa over a course of about 15 years. We got to know
all service providers, all the antipoverty groups, the political parties and what they were made of,
and who was honest and who was not, who played the game fairly and who did not, and who our
allies were. We had some and they are still tight with us.

We found out people want their funding and they can't speak out or they will lose their funding,
but I think they choose not to shake the tree and cause trouble because of their funding.
Some groups had instigators that closed them down.

Jane and I never had an office. I don't have a good computer, no fax machine and no printer.
I managed to do lots of work without any pay, hardly any equipment and no office. For almost
20 years I have worked with Jane. We worked our asses off to expose people and groups
that were full of shit, either misuing the money or exploiting people, or doing nothing at all, or pretending to help people when they weren't. We know all the groups in Ottawa re poverty.
Some were good, some were not. We publicly exposed them and that felt good. There is so
much corruption out there. A shovel won't do it to clean all of the crap that there is out there.
Some groups just cared about their funding and nothing else. Some groups worked hard and
fought hard and had integrity. One of those groups was OCLISS run by Maxine Stata. It closed
down after several years and was disbanded after people got onto the board and ruined the group
for no good reason. OCLISS did lots of good things in Ottawa for poor people. OCLISS was
becoming well known and strong in the community and some people feared their success and that
is what happened. When you get too powerful, people want to knock you down and get rid of you.



I met Jane Scharf 1988 at a protest at the Welfare office on Richmond Road on April 1988. Lynn Horne came with me to the protest. Lynn Horne was my room mate. It was pouring rain and I told Lynn I didn't want to go to the protest. She told me, "get out of bed lazy bones, you aren't gonna
melt, you aren't made of sugar". I took a shower and got dressed and we headed over to the
big Welfare office near Byron Ave.

It was raining for sure. We both had our umbrellas. A lady named Maxine Stata wore a black cape with a hat like the pope's and with a sign that dead 'Poop on the Pope". There were 15 protesters there and we circled this statue made out of iron. Arthur Pope was the Welfare Commissioner at the time. So the sign was a pun about Mr. Pope.

The protest was organized by Jane Scharf. The protest was about the new welfare policies.

There was an article in the Ottawa Citizen on April 28th which read:

By David Scanian, Citizen Staff Writer

About 15 people marched in the teeming rain outside regional government's social regional government's social services building Thursday to protest new welfare policies they call coercive
and unnecessary.

Jane Scharf, organizer of the protest and coordinator of the food bank at the McLeod-Stewarton United Church on Bank St in Ottawa (<-----correction was made) fears many people will be cut off welfare, forcing them to rely on food banks.

"We have reports of people whose benefits have been discontinued and they have no means
of support.

The protesters carrying placards and shouting "not well, not fair" circled for two hours outside the
social services office at 495 Richmond Rd, east of Woodroffe Avenue.

The new policy introduced in January, allows welfare workers to cut off recipients who refuse or leave
a job. To get back on welfare, these recipients have to make seven telephone or two personal
contacts with potential employers each day for five days. Even then, a recipient loses five days
of eligibility which for a single male means about $80.

Workers can also place recipients on supervised job searches allowing the worker to verify job
applications with employers. In extreme cases, a worker can cut off a welfare recipient not carrying
out a "reasonable" job search.

Art Pope, the region's social services commissioner, said this week that "no more than a few
dozen" recipients have been cut off since the new policies were introduced. But he said the department has not compiled precise figures.

Pope has said the job search requirements are aimed at young single males who often need a push
to look for work.

But Joan Gullen of the Citizens Advisory Committee, a social policy watchdog that has sharply
criticized the changes, said these people represent a tiny proportion of all welfare recipients.

"They didn't need to initiate these kinds of policies for a very small problem" said Gullen who
joined the protesters Thursday.

Nancy Beauchamp of the Ottawa Council for Low Income Support Services said the rigid scrutiny
of welfare recipients is based on the assumption there are lots of jobs open for them. This isn't the
case for many unskilled welfare recipients, she said.

Pope said in the past when the economy was weak, welfare workers were more lenient. But with an
unemployment rate of 4.9 per cent in Ottawa-Carleton, he said the number of employable people on
welfare should be lower. Employable recipients currently make up 68 per cent of the nearly
13,000 general welfare recipients.

Tuesday, welfare rights groups in the Outaouais said the Quebec government is proposing inhuman
changes to the welfare system. A document leaked to a Montreal welfare rights group shows the
province intends to slash welfare spending by $140 million over the next three years.

If the government goes ahead with the proposal, payments would be reduced to all of Quebec's
649,000 welfare recipients unless they're willing to take part in job training or other educational
program
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Marian Crow introduces Sue - revised ok

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A picture of Marian and her husband John Crow (now deceased) This picture was taken at their apartment in Ottawa on Somerset Street in the early 1990s. Marian and John gave Sue one of the kittens.
Above is a picture of Marian Crow's family: Left to Right: Clowie (Marian's grand daughter), Marian, April and Reme, Marion's son (April is Remee's girlfriend) Clowie is one of their children. They also have a son. This picture was taken in August at the Ottawa International Airport.

Above is a picture of Marian Crow taken in 2005 near Sue's house in Ottawa West near Deschenes Rapids Lookout.

Marian is a good friend of mine. I can always count on her to listen to me when I call her. She has a heart of gold. Marian is a very intelligent woman. She went to school and got her M.A.

Marian will tell it to me straight. She is honet, forthright and says what is on her mind. She one of my mentors.

I met Marian when she applied for a job at the Psychiatric Survivors of Ottawa (PSO) I am the founder of the group which now employs 3 staff members full time and it has been going since 1991.
It is run by psychiatric survivors. Marian got a job at Psychiatric Survivors of Ottawa. We became friends and have remained so over many years.

I count Marian as one of my friends and I am glad she is. I have learned alot about life from Marian.
Marian is a kind and caring person. This world needs more Marians.

Sue Clark-Wittenberg

MARIAN CROW INTRODUCES SUE:

Sue has asked me to write a letter to her site to talk about how I know her. First of all, I am a mental health counsellor working at an agency in Northern Ontario.

I met Sue when I was a student at the University of Ottawa, on a student placement as outreach coordinator for the Ontario Psychiatric Survivor Alliance. Sue was a frequent visitor at the office, and we often spoke about her work in advocacy and peer support.

From 1992 until 2002, I coordinated the "customer-as-expert" program in Education Services at the Royal Ottawa Hospital. Sue became one of my frequent, and most valued, speakers.

In this program, current and former psychiatric patients were provided the opportunity to learn presentation skills, help to build presentations, and support to make presentations to Royal Ottawa staff and student groups. There is a video of one of these presentations in which Sue appears at the hospital's library.

Sue is a powerful speaker. Her sincerity and honesty shine through, as well as her anger at how both she and her peers had been treated by psychiatric service providers. Her experience is a common one, but her ability to articulate and communicate her experience is unique.

I have continued to be friends with Sue over the years. Without exception, I have found her to be a tireless advocate for all and any persons who come to her for help. At this time, she has focused most of her energy toward the abolition of electroconvulsive therapy, and her website is built around this purpose. She continues in her own way, however, to help others by providing information, support, and help with navigating the systems on which persons with psychiatric problems become dependent.

I have grown to love, respect and admire Sue. I wish her all the best with her website and book.

Marian Crow, M.A.

Mental health counsellor

Minto counselling centre

Cochrane, Ontario
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Steven Wittenberg - revised ok

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Above is a picture of Steven's family. Front row: left to right: Lillian, Steven's mom (now deceased) and Donald, Steven's father
Back Row: left to right: Steven, Lynn, and Donna - both are Steven's sisters

Above is a picture of Steven's father, Donald Arthur Albert Wittenberg. Donald is 84 years old now and lives in a retirement home in Ottawa


Above is a picture of Frances Elkie, a former friend of Steven's taken at Parliament Hill in Ottawa

Above is a picture of Steven at the Ottawa General Hospital on the 4th floor in April 2000. Steven was a patient at the hospital because Steven had many seizures that would were out of control and not responding to his usual medications. Steven has epilepsy. Steven was there for two months. Steven is seen here with a hospital staff member

Above is a picture of Steven's family: Front row: Left to Right: Donald and Steven
Back row: Left to Right: Donna, Lynn and Lillian (Donna and Lynn are Steven's sisters)
Donald is Steven's father. Lillian (now deceased in 1999 due to cancer) is Steven's mother.



Above is a picture of Steven's family taken in 1991 in Manitoba and Lynn and Dough's wedding: Front row: little girl is Donna's daughter Melissa. Standing behind Melissa is Steven's mom Lillian.
Back Row: Left to Right: Lynn in a white dress and her new husband Doug holding their infant son
Stefan. Next to Doug wearing glasses is Donald, Steven's dad. Steven is behind his niece wearing white who Lynn oldest daughter. The lady wearing a brown and white dress is Lucy is Lynn's youngest daughter. Lucy has her arm her aunt Donna wearing a dark blue dress.

Above is a picture of Steven at his 40th birthday party at his sister Lynn's apartment in Vancouver in 2000.

Above is a picture of Steven as teenager.

Above is a picture of Steven at his grade 12 graduation taken at the High School of Commerce
in June, 1981

Above is a picture of Steven taken on his 16th birthday in 1976 at his home at 34 1st Ave in Ottawa where he grew up.

Above is a picture of Steven taken as a teenager at Christmas in 1976 in Ottawa

Above is a picture of Steven taken down East in Canada when he was ll years old

Above is a picture of Steven down East in Canada when he was ll years old

Above is a picture of Steven taken he was l5 years old in 1975 at a school McHugh School in the Riverview Public School in Ottawa

Above is a picture of Steven and his friends from the neighbourhood on 1st Ave in Ottawa in front of his house which was at 34 1st Ave. Steven was 10 years old and it was the worst winter in Ottawa in
1970-71. Lots of snow that winter

Above is a picture of Steven taken when he was 6 months old in October 1960. Left to Right:
Lynn (Steven's youngest sister who 6) and his older sister Donna who was 10 years is holding
Steven who was a baby

Above is a picture of Steven and his sister Lynn who came into Ottawa in August 2007 from her home in Vancouver. Lynn took Steven and Sue out for lunch at Tucker's Marketplace restaurant in Ottawa. It was the first time Sue met her sister-in-law. Lynn is a very nice down to earth person.

Above is a picture Left of Right: Lynn, Sue and Steven at the Tucker's Marketplace restaurant in Ottawa, August 2007


Above is a picture of Sue's husband Steven at his church called "Britannia United Church" in Ottawa.
Steven is a choir member.

Sue's favorite picture of Steven taken at Tim Horton's on Richmond Road near Woodroffe Ave in Ottawa. Steven sure loves his coffee.



Above is a picture of Sue and Steven on their wedding day with Rev Allan Gallichan who performed the civil ceremony in Ottawa at Sue and Steven's apartment building common room in February 2006.

Above is a picture of Steven and Sue and Santa taken at the Carlingwood Shopping Center in Ottawa
December 2005 before Sue and Steven got engaged to be married.


Steven was born in Ottawa in April 1960 at the Grace Hospital which was on Wellington Street.

Steven grew up in Ottawa in a house at 34 1st Ave near Bank Street in the Glebe area of Ottawa, Ontario. Steven was sent to special education in public school. Steven was put on the psychiatric drug Ritalin that is used for kids who are hyperactive. Steve got his grade 12 from Commerce High School in Ottawa in 1981.

Steven was given the small pox vaccine a live vaccine when he was a month old and the vaccine didn't take so they did it again when in October 1960 when Steven was 6 months old. His mother told him
that Steven broke out in blisters all over his body and it looked the pictures she had seen of small pox.

Steven's mother called the doctor and the doctor said it was a rare reaction to the small pox vaccine and it would have to run its course. One day on a Sunday in February of 1961, Steven's two sisters Donna and Lynn were sitting in bed with Steven laying between them. His sisters noticed Steven had a really high fever and the girls went running into their parents' bedroom and yelled "something is wrong with Steven".

His parents got dressed and rushed Steven to the Ottawa Civic Hospital emergency department. They tested Steven for meningitis and the hospital called in a neurologist Dr. Edward Attack. He did a test called an EEG. on Steve. The doctor said there was a scar on Steven's brain caused by the rare reaction to the small pox vaccine. They kept Steven in the hospital and put him on some medications called Dilantin and phenobarbital. The doctor told his parents that Steven would be on the medication for two years. After two years, the doctor took Steven off his medications but he started having seizures, so Steven went back on his medication and has been on them ever since.

Steven's father's name is Donald Arthur Albert Wittenberg. Herman and Elsie were Donald's parents. Donald grew up in a house at 55 Sussex Ave in Ottawa. Herman was fire fighter in Ottawa and he retired as a captain. Elsie was a housewife. Herman and Elsie had 4 boys and 2 girls. Walter,
Violet, Herman, Harvey, Donald and Ethel.

Steven's mother's name was Lillian Ena Walker . Her and dad and mom were Lawrence and Ada Walker. They had 6 girls: Laura, Ruth, Margaret, Lillian, Mary and Phylis. Steven's mother lived on a farm out in South Mountain, Ontario. Her dad Lawrence Walker was a farmer. Her mom
Ada was a teacher before she got married and then became a housewife.

Steven's sister Donna Carr lives in Stittsville, Ontario. She is a nurse. She is divorced from Frank Carr who lives in Texas. Donna lives with her daughter Melissa and Melissa's child a girl named Haley. Donna has 3 children. Tammy, Paul, and Melissa. Tammy is married and has two boys. Paul is married and has one boy. Donna Carr works at the Queensway-Carleton Hospital in Ottawa. Donna has a boyfriend named Jim.

Lynn is married to a musician Doug Thordarson and they have a son named Stefan who is a teenager and a musician also. Doug is a violin teacher. Doug was Lynn's violin teacher. They fell in love and got married. Lynn is a nurse.

Lynn has two children from a previous relationship. She has two daughters named Lucy and Rachael.
Both girls have children. Lucy has a boy and a girl. Rachel has two girls. They all live in Vancouver,
British Columbia.

Steven's mother was a nice lady and was very good to him. Steven's mother Lillian died of cancer in 1999. She died in her home in Stittsville, Ontario. She was 80 years old. Steven misses his mother very much.

Steven was abused when he was l3 yeas old by his father Donald Wittenberg and it continued for many years. Steven called and confronted his dad who denied abusing him. Steven asked his father if he was ever abused as a child and he said yes. When Steven asked what type of abuse, his father would not say. Lynn his sister believes Steven was abused. His sister Donna does not believe Steven. Steven is estranged from his father and his sister Donna at the present time. Steven's mother never knew about the abuse, it was hidden from her.

Donald Wittenberg lives in a retirement home near Ottawa and he is 84 years old. Donald worked
for Statistics Canada as a clerk at Tunney's pasture in Ottawa since the late 40s and worked there
for over 30 years. Donald was a Navy seaman during World War II. He went all over Europe.

Steve does not want to bring any criminal charges against his father. Steven sees a therapist in Ottawa to deal with some of the issues from his past.

Steven met his wife Sue at the psychiatric peer group called "A Post Psychiatric Leisure Enterprise" (APPLE) which had group meetings and activities at the Main St community center in Ottawa. Sue and her husband John Clark helped to run the drop-ins. Sue would call the members of Apple to remind them of special events. Sue would call Steven's home and talk to his mother Lillian and give a message. Little did Sue or Lillian know that 23 years later Sue would marry Steven. Sue never had the opportunity to meet Lillian, Steven's mother as she had passed away in 1999.

Steven and Sue lost track of each other for years. One day in 2004, Sue was at Carlingwood Shopping Center and she was getting a coffee at Treats coffee shop. There she bumped into Steven who did not recognize her. Sue was in her electric wheelchair and went up to Steven and said "Is your name Steven". He said yes. Sue and Steven began to talk together. Steven started to remember Sue after she told him who she was. He remembered going to the Apple meetings. Steven asked Sue what had happened to her as she was in a electric wheelchair. Sue told Steven she had severe arthritis and spinal stenosis, and she did not have a car accident to cause her to be in a wheelchair. A great aunt of Sue's was crippled in her mid 40s too. Sue has some mobility left. Sue can walk about 50 feet and then has to sit down as her legs and spine will not support her. Sue is in chronic pain most of the time but cannot take any pain medication as her family doctor told her that her blood pressure is too high.

Sue and Steven got to know each other and met for coffee often. Sue was dating Dustin and was not very happy in the platonic relationship for l5 years for lots of reasons. Sue liked Steven. Steven was shy and never had a girlfriend. Steven was 44 years old. Sue liked Steven because he was kind and he would listen to Sue when she had a problem or needed support.

Sue asked Steven over for lunch sometimes. Sue kissed Steven goodbye on the cheek at Carlingwood Shopping Centre one day in October in 2005 and that was Steven's first kiss.

On October 21, 2005, Sue was making lunch for Steven. Steven was late and Sue was worried as Steven was never late and if he would be late he would have called Sue. Sue waited for Steven and finished cooking lunch. Sue started to worry about Steven

Steven finally showed up one hour late. He knocked on Sue's door loudly. Sue opened the door and Steven was very hyper and upset and talked very loudly. He looked angry. Steven sat down and told Sue that he was Carlingwood Shopping earlier. Steven saw a woman's coat on an empty chair. Steven stood near the chair and watched to see if anyone would sit down. Somebody came by and sat down
but for some reason decided it probably not there coat. Steven said to himself he would take the coat to lost and found department at Carlingwood Shopping Center. The lady who sat down yelled "my coat" but Steven did not hear the lady because Steven walks quickly. When Steven got to the Laura Secord candy store, Steven was pushed up against the display case by some Carlingwood security officer and some police officers. Steven said he was taking the coat to guest services lost and found.
Steven had his hands up in the air against the glass. We are police here and they put handcuffs on Steven. Steven said he did not do anything wrong. He was not stealing the coat.

The security team and the police took Steven to the Carlingwood security office. They looked through
Steven's I.D. They checked Steven's pockets for anything and they looked in his case that he was carrying. They asked for speak to Steven's father when Steven had proper ID on him. The women's c coat had car keys in one pocket. The cops asked if Steven was going to steal the car and he told them he did not know how to drive as he had epilepsy. The cops mocked Steven for a time and then gave him a paper to show up in court for theft over $5,000 and the Carlingwood security team gave Steven
a paper saying he could not come back on the premises for one year.

Steven told Sue all of what happened and Sue got very upset and angry at the way Steven had been treated. Steven did nothing wrong at all. Sue tried to calm Steven down and eventually Steven did relax and quiet. Sue and Steven had a chicken meal.

Sue called her friend Jane and she told Sue she knew of a good lawyer who fought human rights lawyer. Yvar Hameed was a lawyer who had an office near Bank St. Also Jane advised Sue and Steven to call up the security team and say they would hold a protest at Carlingwood shopping center because of how Steven was treated unfairly. It was the Christmas season. The Carlingwood management called their security consultant in Toronto. A man called who was a former cop. He told Sue that Steven should not worry that he had done nothing wrong and everything would be ok.
He told Sue that Steven would have his trespass notice rescinded and he could back to Carlingwood
Shopping Center immediately. It was one week since the incident happened. Steven went back to Carlingwood and resumed his normal routine of going to the Woodroffe Branch Library and then
meeting Sue for a coffee at Tim Horton's. The security team never bothered Steven again.

Sue called and got an appointment with the lawyer for Steven. Sue and Steven showed up for the lawyer's appointment. Steven told Yvar and his student lawyer Nick St. Pierre the whole story. Yvar said he would take the case for free. He believed what Steven had said and thought it was a human rights case for sure.

Yvar would send Nick with Steven to go to the police station while Steven gave his finger prints
and picture at the Ottawa Police Station on Elgin St. Steven was nervous but Sue went with him and told him it would be ok. Nick showed up and went with Steven to do the procedures. Steven came out and he was ok.

Steven and Sue went to court as Steven had a court date. Steven was very stressed out. Nick was with Steven and the judge gave Nick a new court date for Steven. Nick spoke to the crown and the crown's office would be willing to drop all the charges if Steven's doctor gave his lawyer a letter explaining his disabilities or he could wait for a year and go to court. Steven opted for the letter from his doctor. Steven asked his doctor for a letter and the doctor told Sue it would take 8 weeks and cost $250. Sue explained that Steven needed the letter the next day or he would have to go to court.
Sue did some fancy talking and got the letter for Steven from his doctor the next day. Nick the student lawyer called Steven's family doctor for the letter with no success. Steven brought the letter to his lawyer who in turn passed it in to the crown. A month later, Steven' had his charges dropped by the crown and his fingerprints removed and his picture from the police department. Steven won his case and has no criminal record. Steven had done nothing wrong in the first place. Steven's doctor reduced the price of the medical letter to $125 which Sue has not paid yet.

Sue advised Steven not to pick up anything someone may have forgotten like an umbrella a coat etc in the future. Steven did not want to go through that again.

Sue and Steven became closer as they met everyday. Steven needed the support. Eventually Sue and Steven fell in love and decided to get engaged and then get married which they did.

Steven and Sue got married in February of 2006 in a civil ceremony by Rev. Allan Gallichan.
It was Steven first marriage and Sue's third marriage. Steven was 45 years old and Sue was 50 years old. Never too late to find love, Sue says.

Dustin, Sue's ex-boyfriend took the news hard. Sue's brother did not attend the wedding. He did not like Sue leaving Dustin. Sue makes her own decisions and knows what is best for her.

Dustin and Sue were estranged for 6 months as friends. Eventually Dustin came around and now Sue and Dustin maintain a good friendship together. Dustin treats Steven fairly.

Sue and Steven founded in May 2007, the Wittenberg Center to End Electroshock. Sue is an electroshock survivor. The center wants to inform the public about the harm done by electroshock and is working to ban electroshock universally.

Steven likes hockey and football. He also likes to listen to music and go onto the internet.
Steven likes to socialize with friends and have coffee at Tim Horton's, his favorite coffee. Steven likes to go the library everyday. Steven has a wonderful sense of humour. He likes to watch these programs on TV: Unsolved Mysteries, Here's Lucy, Keeping Up Appearances, The Beverly Hillbillies, and Batman and news programs.

Steven's goals are: to get an office for the Wittenberg Center to End Electroshock, to get a house,
to get a part-time job doing office work, join the YMCA and do exercise, to grow old with his wife Sue and to have a happy marriage, learn how to cook. Steven dreams of world peace.

Steven is a good husband and person. He is a patient, kind and caring person. Steven is very forgiving. Steven has integrity. Steven tells me what I need to hear and I like that about my
husband. Steven is straight forward. Steven has a wonderful sense of humor and that helps
me lots in life. I needed a partner who was strong, kind, loving, forgiving, patient, nice, and loyal
and Steven is all of that and even more. I am learning new things about Steven everyday.
The world needs more Stevens. I love my husband very much and more every day.

Sue's activism - part 5

under construction

Sue's activism - part 4

under construction

Sue's activism - part 3

under contruction

Sue - activism - part 2

Above is a picture of Queen's Park, the Ontario Legislature Building in Toronto, Canada
Above is a picture of Bob Rae, the former Premier of Ontario


Above is a picture of Grace-Edward Galabuzi who worked in Bob Rae's office and who assisted Sue

Sue sings at Queen's Park

I was being harassed by my old boyfriend Stephane. I decided to skip town and go to Toronto, Ontario. I had stayed at Nellie's Shelter before. Nellie allowed me to stay 3 times a year for a few weeks to do my work in social justice.

Nellie's Shelter was a place I could let my hair hang down and relate to other women with similar
experiences. The staff were nice and friendly and accommodating. The women who stayed at
Nellie's shelter all had a story of their own to tell, very often not a good one. These women had
experienced hardship in their lives and circumstances that put them at the doorstep of Nellie's.

Nellie's shelter has four floors. As you come into the shelter, the office is to the left and the
staircase is facing you. To the right is a big livingroom and next to it is the dining room.
Down the hallway is a big kitchen. On the main floor is the showers and the tub and toilets. Downstairs in the basement is a tv room and a laundry room a phone to use.

I slept alone in bedroom as I snore loudly. The staff knew that from complaints I got from some of my room mates from when I stayed at the shelter before.

I was on the third floor. I had put my suitcase down and said hello to Joanie Headley one of the staff
who became a friend of mine. She came to visit me in Ottawa on the weekend my first husband had died Januzary 1989. She did not Fred had died. She helped me cope with the grief I was experiencing. She took me out for Chinese dinner which I enjoyed. Joanie is such a nice person.
I have not seen her since 1995 when I was in Toronto.

I had been there for about a week when I started looking for housing in Toronto. I heard the waiting lists were very long. I combed the streets for housing. My feet started to get blisters and I had enough of being told that the housing lists were like 5 years for this place, 7 years for this housing,
10 years for this housing and the list went on. I just got fed us of being told I had to "wait" and I had
no patience in all in what I was hearing.

I got on a subway and I started to cry outloud and let the tears flow. A lady handed me some kleenex.
When I was finished crying, I asked someone on subway where Queen's Park was. I was given the instructions and then got off the subway and jumped onto a bus. I was abled bodied at this time.
I got off the bus and to the left I saw a large building with the Ontario flag and the Canada Flag on it.
A vast area of green grass and a long sidewalk awaited me. I was ready to fight for my rights.
"Housing is a right" I said to myself as I marched into the building. I went into the Queen's Park like a warrior ready for fighting. Having some Irish and Portuguese blood in me fueled my passion for the fight awaiting me. Little did I realize I would not have to fight for very long.

I went to the reception desk as I walked into the Legislature. Someone told me to take the elevator
to Bob Rae's office, who was the Premier of Ontario at that time. I saw a security guard and asked
her where Bob Rae's office was. She told me I needed an appointment to see the Premier. I told I did not have one. I walked around the corner and in big bold letters was a door with the letters "Bob Rae" on it. As I looked to the right, I could see all the other floors above me as I looked up.

I started to shout "I am Sue Clark from Ottawa and I need housing now", "I was told I have to wait
10 years, 7 years, 6 years, and I can't wait for housing, I need it now". I was getting louder and louder. I waved to some people on the other floors looking to see what the commotion down below them was all about, meaning me. Some of them waved back.

The woman security guard standing beside me became irritated at me and said "You can't shout in here and you will have to leave the building now". I asked her if there was a by-law prohibiting someone from singing. She said no. So I proceeded to sing the opera "Madame Butterfly" I am not a very good singer and I sound like I have a frog in my throat. I got louder and louder. I sounded awful for sure.

About ten minutes later, a nice looking tall black man came out of Bob Rae's office. He approached me and asked me respectfully "May I assist you". I told him who I was and why I was at Queen's Park. He asked me to come inside Bob Rae's office and I did. We sat on a leather couch in the Bob Rae's reception area of his office. I could see a long hallway with offices in front of me. The gentleman listened to me patiently as I whinned about all my housing issues.

The man who I later found out was Grace-Edward Galabuzi who worked in Bob Rae's office. He was
professional in his manner and treated me nicely. I told him that I needed housing and that I had
gone to many co-ops and other housing and could not find any housing as there were waiting lists for all of them. I told him I was angry.

I told Mr. Galabuzi that I would come back the next day and sing some more. I knew many operas and it would be no problem for me to come back and sing all day. I meant it. I had to get a place to live. Mr. Galabuzi was genuine in his wanting to assist me. He took down my name, where I was staying and the co-op where I wanted to live which was at Dundas and Sherbourne Street. I asked for his name and put it in my address book. He shook my hand. I was very relieved to know someone wanted to help me. I was at the end of my rope before that. Hope was vanishing from me and I knew my fighting spirit would help me out. I did.

I walked out of Queen's Park more relaxed. It was a sunny day and everything seemed to be going my way or so I hoped.

I went to shopping center to get a cup of coffee. I am a caffeine addict. I drink 4 or 5 cups of coffee a day. I needed my fix of caffeine. I reflected on what happened earlier in the day. I hoped that
my strategy of going to Bob Rae's office would work in getting the housing I needed and wanted.
I then realized what I had done was very brave of me, maybe a bit bizzare but I hope it would work.
Beggars can't be choosers.

A few hours later I entered Nellie's shelter when one of the staff members came out of the office and told me I had a message. I took the note and it said to call the co-op because they wanted to know the day I was moving in. I put the note in my pocket.

The next day I decided to return to Ottawa. I thanked Nellie's shelter staff. I took a bus out of Toronto heading for Ottawa. I was afraid to move into a big city, I got cold feet you could say.
My family and friends were in Ottawa, most of them. I got home sick.

When I got back into Ottawa, Jane Scharf called me and told me that some co-op called and asked me
where I was. Jane told them I was back in Ottawa. I forgot to call the co-op I was did not want the apartment after all. I was embarassed to say the least.

So that is one of my social justice actions that worked for me and then I declined the offer.

I have recently emailed Mr. Galabuzi. He is a professor at Ryerson in Toronto.

I thank Mr. Galabuzi for assisting me.

Sue's activism - part 1

Above is a picture from Left to Right: Larry Lawson, my brother Chris and John Clark protesting on Parliament Hill at the Centennial Flame in April 1984 in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada . John Clark my second husband was protesting his unfair job dismissial from the Ottawa Civic Hospital where he worked as a porter for 10 years. The signs read. Larry is holding a sign that says "unfair dismissal of my job by Ottawa Civic Hospital on March 30/84. I am John Clark. I took the picture.

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A POEM BY PASTOR MARTIN NIEMOLLER

In Germany, they came first for the Communists, And I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Communist
And then they came for the trade unionists, And I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a trade unionist;
And then they came for the Jews, And I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Jew;
And then . . . they came for me . . . And by that time there was no one left to speak up."

"First they came…" is a poem attributed to Pastor Martin Niemöller (1892–1984) about the inactivity of German intellectuals following the Nazi rise to power and the purging of their chosen targets, group after group.
some of which were psychiatric patients.

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Sue's activism - 1984

John my second husband called me from work and said he had just been fired. It was March 30, 1984
He was in tears. He said he would tell me about everything when he got home, he was too choked up
to talk at that time. I said ok. I waited for John anxiously. I was scared, upset and agonzing what were we going to live on for money. I was not working. John had worked at the Ottawa Civic Hospital for over 10 1/2 years as a porter bring patients from their rooms to the other departments in the hospitals and back. He was good at his job.

I did not know this still much later. When John was coming home he thought about committing suicide
and by jumping off the Champlain Bridge. My cousin Marcel had done that 3 years earlier. Marcel walked int the rapids near the Champlain Bridge and he drowned and died. The only thing that stopped John from committing suicide he told me was me. He did not want to hurt me. I am glad
he did not do this to himself.

John came home and was visibly shaken up. His eyes were red and I knew he must have been
crying lots. I was crying too and I had tears rolling down my face. I asked John to sit down and took his hand in his. He told me that the administrator Mr. Pearlman asked to see him and he walked into is office. He was told he was being fired. He was told he pushed a patient on a stretcher through
some doors and that the stretcher and the patient hit the wall. The patient complained of being in pain.
John never did this and would have heard the stretcher hitting the wall. The patient never said anything to John. John did not believe this, he believed they just wanted to let go of him and made
an excuse. Earlier that year I went to see Mr. Pearlman as he got a letter from the Ottawa Civic Hospital saying he took a pencil for a ward clerk's desk. He took the pencil by mistake. I told
Mr. Pearlman in his office it was ludicrious to send him a letter for a pencil. John had to mark down on a paper where he had to go so he wouldn't forget. I asked Mr. Pearlman who was the incompetent person who wrote the letter.

John and I went to the ward where they said there was a big scratch on the wall and we could see nothing at all on that wall. It had old paint and no big scratch.

I had to fight for John because he could not go into the adminstration as he was working during those hours. I had heard of other unfair dismissals from the Ottawa Civic Hospital so it was not new to me.
Recently in 2006, a porter at the same hospital told me of them trying to get rid of them and they
were fighting it.

I got angry that John was fired for no good reason. I called my mom and she told me to fight back and protest it. Well, I never protested anything before and I had to think about it and I did.
John and I talked at home for hours about what to do. I had no one to call to ask what to do. I didn't know any other protestors at all.

I called the CBC and read out the letter about the pencil incident and the CBC reporter on the line was flabbergasted. He said he would go down to our protest at the Civic Hospital on April 1, 1984.
It was a cold winter day and we got bundled up and brought some big blankets with us.
We got there about in the early evening. The CBC did not a camera available to take our story.
All their cameramen were out at the big fire at an Italian restaurant on Bank St that evening.
A man came by with a regular camera. As the reporter snapped a picture me and John, an Ottawa Police cruiser came. The reporter got into his car quickly and took off. I am glad the reporter had a chance to take a picture of us. On air that night the CBC TV news did a small clip of a picture of me and John and saying he and I were holding a protest in front of the Ottawa Civic Hospital that night. CBC said they called the Ottawa Civic Hospital administration and go no answer from them. The office was closed. It was April 1, 1984.

John and I went to the bus shelter outside the hospital and had our signs out for full view of the
car going by. Carling Ave has lots of traffic. It was getting chilly so to warm up I would walk into the
Ottawa Civic Emergency department. The Civic has hired a security guard to watch us 24/7. The security guard followed me into the hospital. I was told I could not use the bathroom. I told the staff
it was against my human rights not to be able to use the washroom, so the security relented and let me use the washroom. I would be in there sometimes for 20 minutes or more just getting warmed up.
Then I would walk back to the bus shelter and then John would do the same thing. One time John
fell asleep on the toilet seat. The security guard knocked on the stall and told John to leave and he did. All through the night we went back and forth to the washroom and the same security guard would follow us.

About 8 a.m. in the morning, John and I were sleeping in the bus shelter outside the hospital. It was
Monday, April 2nd. A man dressed up in a long wool coat came to us and said to John for him to follow him. He had to clear out his locker. John was gone with the man for about half an hour.
John came back with his pay cheque. He normally would have to wait for it but he got it. John
cleared out his locker and had some things with him

We soon left as were cold and went for breakfast down the street. It was sure nice to take off my big winter coat and have some food and something hot to drink. We got warmed up quickly in the
restaurant.

We did not know but the Ottawa Civic Hospital came out to us early in the morning to the bus shelter as they were warned that CJOH news was going to interview us that morning. The hospital wanted us gone and we were not there when the CJOH showed up at the hospital.

John and I called lawyer re wrong dismissal. The lawyers wanted retainers and we did not have that type of money. John made an meagre salary at the hospital.

John was called back into the hospital to talk to his union and the administration of the hospital.
John was offered another job at the hospital in the kitchen and John refused the job offer.
John was then given his superannuation and then resigned. It would say on his file he had
resigned and was not fired. John signed loads of papers and he was gone as an employee of the
hospital for good. In a way John was relieved in a way of the hospital harrassing him. He could finally sit back and relax and look for another job.

In July of that year John and I went to Disney World in Florida. John and I needed a vacation for sure. We had a great time for one week, memories that will last a lifetime. The people in Florida were so nice that I did not want to come back to Canada. They say hello to you right away. They are laid back and relaxed and never in a hurry. It is too hot in Florida to want to do anything in a hurry.
Every afternoon there was a mist of a shower that cooled things off for awhile. We stayed in a big
hotel in Kissimmee, Florida next door to Orlando where Disney World was located.









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Sue's Activism - 1988

My second husband John Clark and I had a roomer called Lynn Horn who was a friend of theirs. They lived in a two bedroom apartment at 57 Bayswater Ave in Ottawa. It was 1988.

Lynn woke me up on day and told her to get out of bed as there was a protest at the Welfare office
on Richmond Road. I got up and saw some rain pouring down and told Lynn to forget the protest.
Lynn was Sue's secretary for the group she founded "Ottawa Advocates for Psychiatric Patients"
(OAPP). Lynn said "listen lazy bones get out of bed, I am your bath water running". Sue complied and got ready for the meeting. I did not do mornings very well. I and Lynn took a local bus to the Welfare office. Lynn and Sue had umbrellas. Maxine Stata who was head of OCLISS - the Ottawa

Council for Low Income Support Services on Beech Street. Maxine had on a black raincoat and made a hat in the shape of the pope's hat and had a sign that read "Poop on the Pope". The welfare commissioner's last name was Pope. Jane Scharf was another protestor that I had just met.
I liked Jane. I asked for Jane's phone number as she was pulling away in her car after the protest. I I called Jane the next day and Jane and I have been good friends ever since.

I learned the ropes of advocacy from Jane. Jane was the co-ordinator of the McCleod Stewarton
Food Bank in Ottawa. Jane met her boyfriend Tom Welch and her daughter Tracey who was a teenager. Tracey was a nice girl. Tom and Jane had been together for a long time. Jane got her
B.A. from Carleton University in Ottawa.

Sue did not get her Ontario Disability Support Program (ODSP) cheque. It was the end of June.
Sue had to pay her rent. Sue had a bladder infection and needed some medication. No cheque, no drug card (Ontario Drug Benefit) from ODSP.

Sue was despondent and depressed. What was she going to do? She went to ODSP and Carol Fortier a worker told her to see her husband and get some money. Sue told the worker she was separated from John. Sue asked for a drug card to get medication for her bladder infection and Carol would not give her one. Sue was frantic by this time and called Jane at work. Jane said she would be down the ODSP office at 4:15 that afternoon to help Sue. Sue was anxious and waited patiently. Jane demanded that Sue get prompt attention at the front desk at ODSP at 10 Rideau St. Jane was told Sue could use a food bank. A police officer was called into the office and the officer spoke to Jane and Sue. He acted as though both of the women were causing problems, but that soon changed.
A young woman came into the office with a baby in a baby stroller. She was visibly very upset.
She yelled she needed to see a worker. The police officer asked the lady what was wrong. The woman said she was the McDonald's on Rideau Street and had just cashed her ODSP earlier in the day and when she was in the bathroom she put her purse down on the floor to attend to her baby and when she turned around her purse was gone, and all of her money for the month.

A worker took the woman inside the office. The police officer called some food banks for Sue but they were closed. The officer looked upset and told Sue and Jane that he would talk to a worker.
They would not make a new ODSP cheque for Sue but the officer told the staff to have Sue's cheque ready after the holiday and he would looking into the matter himself. Other police officers had been called. 3 cops were in the office. Sue and Jane and the 3 cops went into this tiny elevator, there was hardly any room to breath and Sue said outloud "I never felt so safe in all my life" and everyone laughed.

Sue got into Jane's car. Jane had some food for Sue in trunk from the food bank. Jane gave Sue $40.
to get her medication for her bladder infection. Jane took Sue out to a restaurant to eat. Sue felt better with the help of Jane's support.

Jane and Sue called Elizabeth McKenzie who was the head of the PIAC

Sue and John Clark got separated in April of 1988. Sue got John a room down the street from where they lived on Spadina Street. Sue met the lady who ran the rooming house, a nice Italian lady with a big heart. Sue had a friend named Michael "Mike" and he had separated from his wife Linda. Michael is the stepson of one of the reporters for CJOH TV. Sue and John met Michael and his wife when
they moved into the same apartment building at 57 Bayswater. They had one son, he was a year old then and he was named Steven.

One night when Sue was alone as Lynn had gone out to see some friends, Mike called Sue and wanted to see her at her apartment to talk about things as he was depressed. Sue told Mike to come over.
Mike showed up and he was a bit tipsy, as he had had some beer. Sue was laying on the couch and Mike was sitting on a chair close to her. Sue had a lamp on a coffee table beside her. Mike turned off the lamp, the only light on in the apartment. Sue thought Mike was joking around until she felt Mike climb on top of her and then started to push one her arms down on the couch. Sue yelled "stop" but Mike did not. He managed to put his weight on top of her and managed to pull off her panties as Sue had a housecoat and a nightgown on. Mike forced himself on top of Sue and Sue tried to fight him off but he was a big man. Mike raped her. After he was done, he told her not to say anything to anybody and left in a hurry and gave Sue a dirty look. Sue was in shock and she hurt down below.
Mike was rough with her.

Sue told Jane the next day what had happened. Sue told Lynn that Mike had raped her and soon Lynn moved out of Sue's apartment. Sue was stuck with having to pay all of the rent by herself and she couldn't afford to by herself. Sue had to get housing right away and applied at Ottawa Housing and her first choice was Caldwell, no one told Sue she had three choices of apartments to look at before deciding where she wanted to live.

Sue was on top priority for housing with Ottawa Housing as John Clark has physically abused 2 months before and she had police records and went to the hospital and had her bruises and cuts reported on a medical file by a doctor at the hospital. John had bruised Sue at Westgate shopping center in a corridor. Sue and John had an argument and John punched and grabbed Sue.

Sue moved into 1485 Caldwell a big building with l5 floors. Next door was another high rise also part of Ottawa Housing.

Marcel Legare, Sue's cousin

llllllllllllllllllllll

Above is a picture of the Ottawa Civic Hospital where Sue's cousin Marcel Legare worked in the kitchen. The hospital is on Carling Ave at the intersection of Parkdale Ave in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada

Above is a picture of Sue's cousin Marcel Legare and his girlfriend Bonnie who later become his wife. This picture was taken in the mid 1970s.


Above is a picture of Sue with her cousin Marcel Legare's children. His daughter was 3 years old and his baby boy was born after his death. The baby boy was 4 months old. This picture was taken in 1982 in Ottawa at Bonnie Legare's apartment.

Marcel Legare, Sue's cousin commits suicide at the Champlain Bridge in Ottawa in the fall of 1981 in Ottawa

Sue had a cousin named Marcel Legare. Shortly before his death, he called up Sue and told she was his favorite cousin. Sue liked Marcel because he had a gentle nature. Sue lost touch with Marcel for a number of years as his father Gerald "Gerry" Legare, Sue's father's brother had a reputation for not paying the rent nor his bills and moved from town to town all the time to escape his debtors.
Gerry would hold odd jobs but never really had a permanent job. Gerry was married to Theresa.
Theresa's mom Blanche married Gerry's dad Albert Legare, a little confusing isn't it?

I remember my parents speaking about Marcel and that an awful accident happened to him at home one day. Marcel sat on the stove and the stove was red hot and he got badly burned. He spent some time in hospital. His legs were burned and his back side but not his face and his arms. Marcel, my cousin had the nicest smile, it could light up a room. He was very special.

Sue remembers visiting Gerry and Theresa and their four kids. Diane was married and had a baby.
Louise, Marcel and Michael lived in Whitby, Ontario and Diane did not live too far away. It was a rural area. Uncle Gerry has oil paintings he has completed all over the house. He painted replicas of famous paintings, he was good but not outstanding, just average you could say. He gave two of his small oil paintings to Sue's dad Paul Andre who was his brother. Aunt Theresa had gained lots of weight and looked very stressed. Theresa kept pulling out her hair and she talked non stop.
The house was small. I met a boy named Joe Brown there in Whitby. I had a big crush on him.
It was the late 60s and I just changed my name from Suzanne to "Sue". Little did I realize that the country singer Johnny Cash had written a song called "A boy named Sue" Well my cousins and their friends made sure I would never live that down. They mocked for a long time over that. I can laugh about that now.

Louise said her boyfriend was involved with one of the motorcycle groups in the Whitby area. I had
no idea what motorcycle gangs did because I was that naive. Louise was very shapely and pretty and lots of boys like her. She was some good looking you could say. My cousin Marcel was handsome.
He had a ready made smile and I liked his laugh. He had lots of curly hair.

Gerry had his whole family live in a small camper car the type of camper you use to go camping.
His camper was his home and it was pretty small to say the least. I could not understand that.
I did not realized my uncle was poor and that is all he had. Gerry was unstable and could not keep
a job at all for very long. One time Gerry showed up with his family and the camper at 66 Calais Street in Touraine.

There were rumours that Gerry was molesting Louise. Louise never told us anything but her step grandmother Blanche was told. Louise eventually left home at 14 years old and got permission from Blanche to get married at 15 years old and she did. She married a nice guy who was her boyfriend. She lives out West now and her kids that are all grown up.

I have not seen Louise Legare since 1971. Diane used to work in reception at the Ottawa Civic Hospital. She was married three times and is remarried now and is a grandmother. Michael was adopted when aunt Theresa was in the Brockville Psychiatric the same time Sue was in 1973. Uncle Gerry gave up son for adoption. This made Aunt Theresa very upset and depressed. Aunt Theresa divorced Uncle Gerry and then married her boyfriend who she met at the psychiatric hospital named Joe. Aunt Theresa became disabled and had to use a walker and then went into a retirement home in Ottawa. Uncle Joe died. Joe was illerate. Aunt Theresa used to help her husband.

Marcel married Bonnie. I saw him and Bonnie the last time at Diane's apartment in Ottawa in the late 70s. We had a nice time. Bonnie and Marcel were engaged then. Bonnie and Marcel got married.
They had a little girl and they lived in a townhouse in Kanata. Marcel worked in the kitchen at
the Ottawa Civic Hospital. Bonnie and Marcel fought and then Bonnie left him for awhile. Bonnie was pregnant with their second child.

Bonnie works as a hospital clerk at the Ottawa Civic Hospital. Marcel quit his job at the hospital and then bought into a franchise photo lab. The franchise did not pan out and he gave it up. Marcel tried to get his job back at the hospital to no avail. Marcel became depressed and was admitted to the Royal Ottawa Hospital on Carling Ave, a few blocks from the hospital he had worked at. One night Marcel escaped from the locked psychiatric ward and got into his car that was parked in the parking lot and head for the Champlain Bridge. A witness said they saw Marcel stop his car on the bridge and run down to the rapids and kept walking until they could not see him anymore. Marcel committed suicide. A few days later they found Marcel's body floating in the water.

I was at the Ottawa- Queensway Hospital Psychiatric ward when Marcel died and my family did not tell me. I found out when I went to visit my mom in Vanier and saw the death notice on the bulletin board. I asked my mom why no one told me Marcel had died, and she told me they did not want to upset me because I was in the hospital. I was angry because I would have wanted to go to Marcel's funeral. My dad told everyone that he bought flowers and they did not show up. I think my dad never bought any flowers for his nephew and said he did. My dad is a miser. He spends lots of money on himself though. In 1987 he paid $2,000 for a canoe trip up to Northern Canada for two weeks. I had asked me dad for some money to pay for clothes as I was on Welfare and he did not help me out.
It was a hot summer and I had no summer dresses. I was obese and I could not find clothes my size
at the thrift shop.

Gerry died a few years later in Vancouver. Gerry married a black girl. Gerry had heart trouble.
My father was upset and I spoke to my dad on the phone. His brother Gerry had molested both his
daughters Diane and Louise. Dad never went to the funeral in Vancouver. He had the money to go but didn't go. I don't think my father tried to help his brother financially at all during his lifetime and my dad had to money to do so.

I invited Theresa and her new husband to meet Fred when we lived in a townhouse on Woodridge Cres near Bayshore shopping center in Ottawa I liked my aunt Theresa a lot. She was a kind person.
Joe was a quiet and a happy man.

Gerry lived in a house in Ottawa before my aunt landed up in the psychiatric ward at Brockville.
Gerry had women coming over and taking naked pictures of them. Louise and her boyfriend took me for a walk. Her boyfriend took out a pill bottle full of pills and asked me if I wanted any. I was naive and didn't know exactly what those pills were and I just said no. I saw Louise in her bedroom sniffing her nail polish and I was shocked. Never knew people did that.

Louise was a shapely young girl with a big teeth and beautiful hair. She was always nice to me.

Gerry lived in Vanier across from the Friend's Bingo in a second floor apartment. Gerry and his
family always ate french fries. Gerry moved his family to Toronto. Our family visited them in
Toronto. I remember the street cars. Ottawa used to have street cars but I was too young to remember them. My mom told she took me on the street cars when I was a baby in 1955.

Gerry had a funny sense of humour. Dad is good with his money and Gerry was not. Dad was stable in his employment and did well and got promoted to be a chief of a Translation Department. Gerry
only had odd jobs throughout his life. Dad was very intelligent in some things and was an intellectual and Gerry was not.

Gerry saw very little of his sister Carmen who lived in Gatineau pointe and was married to Robert.
Carmen had three girls. The girls are all grown up now and have families of their own. Carmen remarried a businessman.

Gerry rarely saw his dad Albert. One day when I was a teenager, my dad looked over to me and said "Suzanne, you are a shizophrenic like your uncle Gerry. I did not know what a schizophrenic was. I asked my dad what a schizophrenic was and my dad never answered me . My dad was emotionally abusive to towards me, and sometimes he physically abused me as well.

My dad never gave me any affection. He was very cold and uncommunicative towards me. He basically ignored me. I would talk to him and he would just walk away not caring about what I had to say. I felt neglected and hurt. All I ever wanted was a hug from my dad and I never got that
unless I hugged him first but he was always cold towards me. My father's indifference towards me
caused me to have emotional problems and some of that was towards men. My father was not a good role model for a dad or for a man. I got very confused as to how to relate to men after I left home.

I always kept going out with older men probably looking for a father figure, someone to late to,
to get the affection I never got from my father, that is what I theorize.

Chapter 6 - new

lllllllllllll



Above is a picture of Sue's mom Theresa with Joaquim Armenio Monteiro who was a bell hop at the Flamingo Hotel in Lisbon, Portugal where Sue and her mom visited in the fall of 1971. Joaquim
and Sue had a crush on each other. He and Sue corresponded with other after Sue got home from Canada. Joaquim said he might have had to fight in Angola.
He is now a professor in Portugal. Sue has not seen Joaquim since 1972, 36 years.

In 1971 Chris (holding the plaque) and Sue welcome their dad Paul Andre home after one of his
vacations in 1971.


Above is a picture of Sue and her boyfriend Sayed Shelbaya taken at 158A McArthur Road. Sayed lived on the llth floor of this building. Sue was l7 years old and Sayed was 33 years old. He worked at Statistics Canada at Tunney's pasture in Ottawa as a Statistician. He is married now.

Above is a picture of Sue's mom and dad, Paul-Andre and Theresa Legare taken at the apartment at 158 McArthur Ave in Vanier. Dad is retired from the government.

Dad and Chris had moved into the new condominium at 158A McArthur Road,apt 1710 in Vanier, Ontario. Our two bedroom apartment was on the l7th floor. I had to share a very small bedroom with my brother and I did not like that, I wanted my own room. I was going to be seventeen and what teenage girl wants to share a room with their brother at that age, I think not. It created tension for me.
Dad was working as a the head translator for Customs and Excise near the
Ottawa Public Libary on on Laurier and Metcalfe streets in downtown Ottawa.

Dad had high blood pressure and he had to take pills for it everyday. Our apartment had a small livingroom and a small kitchen and dinning area.
Dad gave my brother and I in 1972 a $2.00 a week allowance. Dad was a miser
and I did not like that. I started to babysit for a single mom in one of the
apartments where I lived. She was a thin and petite woman with shoulder length hair. He had a daughter that was about 8 years old. She was dating one of the
executive staff of the local garbage company. He was married. He and her would got to Montreal where he showed her with the best of everything. He had a taxi
chit number and she could take a taxi anywhere she wanted anytime of day.
She had a heart defect. She died in her early thirties. I went to see her when
she was in the hospital and she was dying and her lover looked very devastated, you could see in his eyes he really loved her.

I put up an ad in the laundry room of building to do housework. A man called me one day and asked if I was still interested doing housework and I said yes.
The man was 33 years old and he lived on the 11tth floor and he was an Egyptian
who worked at Stats Canada at Tunney's pasture as a statistician. I did his housework and after a few months I started to date him. He was good to me
and took me over to see some of his friends. His name was Sayed Shelbaya.
I was l7 years old. He played Squash at the Rideau tennis club.

An australian friend of his came over to visit and stay with Sayed for awhile in his apartment. Sue was th wife and she was Australian, her husband was Egyptian.
They were a nice couple and I introduced them to my mom and dad. Mom invited them for supper. Sayed and I and his Aussie friends went to Montreal one day and we stayed overnight. Mom took and fit but I assured her I had a separate room that night. I lied.

One day one of my friends from my former high school Christine came to visit me.
I was late for supper. As I opened the door my mother grabbed my shoulder lenght hair and whipped me inside the apartment by the hair. Christine has
never seen any type of abuse at all in her life. Mom yelled at me "I feel like throwing you off the balcony right now". I lived on the l7th floor. Christine
made a quick dash to the apartment door and took off down the elevator.
Christine called me the next day and said my mom was very cruel and abusive and she never saw anything like that before and I should leave home right away
as she was afraid my mom would be violent with me again. I did run away from home shortly after that.

I called Marvin my bofriend and he lent me some money to go to Montreal for the day. I did not know but there was a all points bulletin in Canada issued by the police. The police all over Canada were looking out to try to find me. Mom called the police and told them I was missing. I called the police from Hull one day and told them I was fine and I would not be going home. When they asked where I was living I quickly hung up the phone.

I stayed with Christine and her brother. When their parents got back from Florida I was homeless and had no where to go. I was missing lots of my high school classes and the school psychologist asked me to come into the office to visit her and I did.

I told the high school psychologist why I left home as my mother was abusing me.
She suggested I go to the Royal Ottawa Hospital on Carling ave and talk with
someone in Emergency. I was anxious and nervous and was homeless and had no where safe to go to and no one to run to who would help me in family. I did not want to tell my relatives because of what my mom might do to me if she found out

Advice: If being abused, what to do

ADVICE TO SOMEONE READING THIS TODAY AND IS BEING ABUSED, GET SOME HELP NOW!

Here are some resources to get some help and assistance in Canada:

http://www.womennet.ca/ - has a long list of resources for women for each province in Canada i.e. shelters etc.

http://www.kidshelpphone.ca/ - kids help phone is a 24 hour service where counsellors speak to kids about any issues. The toll free number is: 1-800-668-6868 in Canada

But this is my advice to anyone who is reading this and is getting abused, tell everyone you know and meet and tell them what happened and someone will help you out.

Don't be afraid to tell your counsellors, teachers, police, relatives, friends and their families, priest, rabbi, reverend, kids helpline, go to any community center and tell someone, tell your family doctor, walk into an emergency department of a hospital and tell them what is going on, walk into a police station and tell them you need help, dial O and ask for the police on any phone, dial 911 if you have to.

Do anything to keep yourself safe. Tell a school nurse or counsellor or a teacher. Tell them all of what is going on, what type of abuse you are experiencing, who is doing the abuse and how many people and where the abuse takes place.

Get names and phone numbers, street addresses of your abusers and bring them with you. Where the abuser works or where their house is. What is their cell phone number, home number, work number, where do they work, get the addresses, names of their friends, family etc. Somebody will help you.

Call your local police station and ask to speak to a police officer, if that person does not help you, call again and tell the operator that the person they referred you to did not help you and ask for someone else to help you.

You may be afraid to say anything to anyone thinking they may not believe you but someone will, just keep telling your story to as many people as you can, there is hope out there, No one has the right to abuse you under no circumstance no matter what you did or may have said to someone. It is against the law to abuse someone.

If someone puts pressure on you to have sex that is not ok.

You deserve to be treated with respect and not be violated either sexually, physically or emotionally.

Chapter 2 - New

llllllllllllAbove is a picture of Sue's cousin Linda Flay. This picture was taken at Linda's graduation from
Nursing School. Linda is a nurse at the Cobourg General Hospital. Linda is remarried now and
has 3 grown children. Jennifer is a teacher in Ottawa.


To the left is a picture of Sue
family's second floor apartment
at 178 Carruthers St
in Ottawa

To the right is the front of the building and the street next to this building is Scott St.
Sue lived here in the late 50s.



Our family moved when I was three years old to 178 Carruthers Street near Scott street not far from Holland Ave. We lived in a second floor apartment that had 13 stairs to the main street. I remember good times and bad times at Carruther's street.

My brother and I shared a bedroom. My brother was in a crib and I had my own small bed. My brother called me "Tuzane" as he could not say "Suzanne" as it was too difficult for a young child to pronounce.

The teenage boy across the street taught me how to skate. My father would make a rink and slide in the backyard in the winter.

One day when my mom and I and my brother had a nap in the afternoon as we always did, my brother Chris decided to go for a walk outside. It was a cold winter day and Chris managed to put on his snow suit by himself and his boots. My mother woke up and could not find my brother Chris and she was very upset and worried. She called the police and all the people she knew. She told me to get dressed and go outside and look for my brother. I was about 4 years old.

I went outside and it was a very cold winter day. I looked all around and could not see my brother anywhere on Carruthers Street. I felt worried too. All of a sudden I turned around towards Scott street and saw my brother Chris smiling and waving his arms as he was walking towards me in his winter snowsuit. My brother said "Tuzane, is mom mad"? Yes I told my brother. Chris and I walked up the stairs to our apartment and my mom gave my brother a beating he wouldn't forget for a very long time.

One of our neighbours was mother who was an amputee. One of her hands and forearms was missing. Another neighbour of ours was a developmentally delayed boy with disfigurements to his face and hands. He used to throw stones at Chris and I. He lives near me around the corner now and he has changed. He is very nice and friendly and we speak often when I bump into him. His name is Michael.

We had a wooden swing outside in the backyard. One day my brother was on it and I got hit in the face when it went up into the air. I was hurt but not badly.

One day a man with a old fashioned camera came by. He had a horse with him. He asked my mom if she would like some pictures taken of me and Chris and she agreed. She dressed up in our finest clothes. I remember the man putting a drape over his head and then he took some pictures. Chris and I were on the horse in the pictures. I had long brown hair with ringlets and had on a pretty dress and Chris had on a small suit. We looked so cute in these pictures. My mom has all those pictures.

My mom asked her sister Caroline "Cannie" daughter Linda Flay who was a teenager to come and babysit my brother Chris and I. My cousin Linda was coming over to our second floor apartment when she saw my mom push me down the l3 stairs outside our apartment and I fell on the ground in front of my building. Linda didn't say anything. She was too afraid to.

My mom told her to do some household chores when she was babysitting my brother and I. When my mom got home Linda forgot to do the housework. My mom threw my cousin Linda across the room. Linda told her mother Aunt Cannie and Cannie never sent Linda to babysit us again. Aunt Cannie never said anything to my mom.. She did not want to rock the boat.

I remember my third birthday party at Carruthers. In the picture I have a nice cake in front of me with candles and some gifts. I looked so happy. I hid my pain as a child.

I was a nervous child and I had to go and see the doctor because I chewed my right thumb nail down to the cuticle. My mom had to immerse my thumb in some type of liquid solution in order that my thumb nail would heal.

My brother and I would swing from the kitchen cabinet doors. My parents didn't like that very much at all. We would play outside together in the backyard and we had lots of fun together.

One day I remember an awful thing that happened to my brother Chris, he must have been about 3 years old. I saw my dad push my brother from the livingroom into my parents' bedroom where he hit his chin on the steel metal bed frame. My parents took him to the hospital to get stitches. He still has a small scar on his chin to this day. My parents I assume lied about how my brother's chin was split open. Child abuse was a taboo subject for so long.

Mom was washing dad's clothes one day when he looked into one of his pants pockets and found a hotel receipt from Montreal. Mom put two and two together. Dad was away on some weekends with some of his friends. Dad admitted to having had an affair with a secretary.

Mom was devastated. She loved my dad so much and was really committed to him My aunt Olive said my mom never got over what my dad did. Mom lost 90 pounds in three months after that incident. My uncle Lyman did not recognize my mom when she had lost all of that weight. Mom was an emotional eater, when things bothered her, she would go to the fridge and get some comfort food. Mom's weight has gone up and down like a roller coaster all her life.

My mom became pregnant after she had my brother Chris. My mom had a miscarriage.

My mom went to work in the evenings at the Westgate Restaurant at the Westgate Shopping Center. She was saving up money to put a down payment on a house. My dad had a mini Austin car. I remember my father wrapping my brother and I in blankets as he walked down the stairs to put us in the car to pick up my mom from work.

Carruthers Street was in the poor section of town. I do remember playing with lots of kids and having fun.
There was a school across the street.

I remember my mom coming into the bedroom I shared with my brother who was in a crib. I had a small child's bed to sleeep on. My mom told me I had enough of having a bottle at night and she was going to cut it up and I would never see my bottle again. I screamed and cried all night. I was old enough to do without a bottle.
I must have been 3 years old. My mom took a knife and my baby bottle in two.

I remember another babysitter. She was a young teenager and she come into my bedroom and close the lights and then put a latch on the outside of my bedroom door. I screamed and hollered and told her in my small child's voice, "don't lock me in".

I remember getting out of my bed during nap times and selling my marbles to a kid on our block. I liked to sell things and still do. I love flea markets and I love to go to shopping centers and have a meal and a coffee and see everything at all the shops.

I have gaps in my memories throughout my childhood.

Fritz "Fred" Wegner

llllllllllllllllllllllll

Above is a picture of Cathy Lewis, Sue's friend at Algonquin College, Heron Park Campus. Cathy
was from Chipman, New Brunswick. Cathie and Sue were good friends. Cathy lives in Alberta now
as far as Sue knows. Sue was 19 years old. Sue got her secretarial diploma from Algonquin College
in 1975 and started a job after two weeks of graduating and worked for the Surgeon's General's
Branch, National Defence in the Jelnor Building on Nepean Street in Ottawa. Major J.P.D. "Robbie" Robinson was her boss. Sue was the civilian secretary for the adminstrative branch.

Above is a picture of Fred Wegner, Sue's first husband taken in 1980 in the summer. Fred won
$25,000 in the Cash for Life Lottery. This picture was taken at Fred's workplace at Lemieux Island
Purification Plant in Ottawa where he worked as a gardner (horticulturist) Fred was 47 years old.


Above is a picture of Manfred Wegner, Fred's oldest son taken in the late 70s. Manfred was a teenager.
Above is a picture of Fred and Sue Wegner on their wedding day in November 1975 in Ottawa.

Above is a picture of Manfred Wegner, Fred Wegner's son, he is in the background standing up
in a white shirt.

Above is a picture of Walter Wegner, another son of Fred Wegner. Walter did not like his picture being taken.


Above is a picture of my first husband Fritz "Fred" Wegner taken in our townhouse on
Woodridge Crescent taken in the 1977 . I gave Fred a nice pocket watch for his birthday and he is looking at it in this picture. Above on the all is a picture of Fred and me geting married in 1975.
Near Fred are bottles of alcohol. Fred was an an alcoholic.

I got out of Brockville Psychiatric Hospital in September of 1973 and a social worker from Ottawa came to pick me up and drive me to Ottawa to the Margeurite home a half way house for women who came out psychiatric hospitals which was on Cathcart Street and run by a nun named Irene Despards.
Sister Irene was a huge woman with a big booming voice. She could be very happy and nice most of time. Sometimes Sister Irene could be nasty and get into a bad mood sometimes. She was just a regular person trying to do her job the best she knew how.

I remember sitting at the big table for supper. The group home probably housed 7 women including myself. We would have big hearty meals and there would lots of laughter at the dinner table.
Sister Irene would having all of us laughing. She was French-Canadian. I cared about Sister Irene, she was good person. We had all had turns to do dishes at the house. When it was my turn to do dishses I would go upstairs to my private room - I had a private room because I snored something awful. I would hear Sister Irene yell "Suzanne, come down and do your dished tonight". She would
laugh and say I was trying to hide in my room and not do my chore and she was right. I would hand my head down on my cheat and apologize to her. She would wrap one of her arms around me and tell me go to ahead and start doing the dishes. I had lots of dishes to do but I did a good job and got those
dishes spanking clean.

I felt sleepy most of the time as I was taken heavy doses of psychiatric medication. I would go upstairs after supper and most times would fall fast asleep. I had gained lots of weight and I was about 40 pounds overweight. I did not like how I looked at all. I looked bloated too.

I called Sayed Shelbaya on his job, my old Eyptian boyfriend and we started to go out again. He would pick me up at the group home and one night I got home late past the curfew. Sister Irene asked that I come into her office and she gave me a good tongue lashing. I was humilitated when she started to
accuse me of Sayed and I having a torrid affair. It was none of her business and I told her so. Shet told me in no uncertain terms if I did not like the rules I could pack up soon and find another place and I did. I called my Aunt Olive, my mother's sister who had roomers who lived at 951 Alpine Ave near
Lincoln Fields Shopping Center. My aunt picked me up at the group ohme and my few boxes of belongings. I said goodbye to Sister Irene and the girls at the group home. I had only lived at the
group home for a few months. I was happy to leave but I would miss some of the women who lived there as some of them had become some of my good friends.

My aunt Olive had a nice bungalow on Alpine Ave. Her son Dow lived with her and he was about the same age as me. Olive had one or two roomers. She had a bedroom downstair in the basement. Olive was married to Johnny Burns but they split up in the late 60s. Uncle Johnny had a pet monkey and it did its business everywhere and Aunt Olive did not like that. Johnny named his son Dow after the beer. Aunt Olive worked at the Carlingwood restaurant as a waitress for years. Johnny and Olive met overseas during the war. They had a daughter named Patricia "Patsy" and then had a son named Dow. Uncle Johnny could play the accordion. Johnny moved out of the house at Alpine and took up with a lady named Dot who worked at the Bay in the restaurant another waitress. He eventually married her. Aunt Olive did not date and she liked it that way.

Aunt Olive was a hyper woman who was always on the go. She come home and once a month she would take the tips out of her trunk and put them on the kitchen table and there was a mountain of coins. Olive was a good waitress and she had her regular customers who would come in to see her.
She paid for Dow to have golf lessons and he won an Ontario golf award once, and paid for his college as well. She spoilt Dow. Patsy had a more difficult time in life. She got pregnant as a teenager and giave up her son Tyrone. She then met an American Service man named Robert "Bob"Rodney and then they got married and had a daughter named "Venus" Dow named his niece after the planet Venus.

The war in Vietnam was still going on when Bob got married to my cousin Patsy. He volunteered to go to Vietnam as he was an American citizen. Patsy and Venus lived off of Scott street in a rundown apartment while Bob was away in Vietnam. He never sent his wife any money and Patsy went on
social services. Patsy did not care for Venus very well. She did not care to her baby's diaper rash
and the baby's bottom was always scarlett red. She let her baby run around on the cold tile floor with nothing on in the middle of winter in her drafty apartment and the baby got pneumonia. Her house was filthy and a mess. Her apartment stunk of dirty diapers. Her mom Olive helped her with food.

Eventually Bob came home and he had Post Trauma Stress disorder. He went to Olive's house one night when he got back from Vietnam. Venus was a toddler and sleeping on a double bed when he went into the bedroom with the light closed and took a baseball bat and started striking the walls.
Thank goodness he missed his toddler laying on the bed. He had emotional problems when he came back from Vietnam. Bob and Patsy moved to Belgium and other place in Europe. Pasty and Bob
eventually got divorced. Patsy moved in with a purple heart decorated soldier from Vietnam and he lived in Texas in a trailer with no air conditioning. Patsy got pregnant with this man's baby and he
eventually told her to go home and he would come and get her and he never did. Patsy had her baby
girl Medea in Ottawa. Medea's father was never heard of again. Patsy lived with Venus and Medea
on Stewart Street in a large three floor townhouse. One of her boyfriends Roger lived with her for a while. I lived with Patsy on and off when I had separated from my first husband Fred. Patsy would knit and crochet beautiful afghans and dresses and sweaters and sell them to people in her community.

Pasty was fun to be around. I went to a parade with once in Sandy Hill and I had a riot. I dressed up like a clown and Patsy was dressed up like Raggedy Ann. Patsy had a good heart and was kind.
Patsy did not drink alcohol and did not take street drugs. She was a square like me. She lives in
British Columbia now as does her brother. Aunt Olive retired to Hot Harrison Springs and had a
pizza parlour out there that did not do too well. My cousin Dow changes his name to George.
I would like to contact Pasty "Tricia Rodney" as she likes to call herself and I would like to contact
George Burns. I lost track of them. Pasty apparently had breast cancer. Venus and Medea her
daughters live out in British Columbia too. Patsy was good to me.

Well I moved into my Aunt's house when I was l8 years old. I had just left the group home run by the nun named Irene Despards. In March of 1974, my aunt Olive and my cousin Patsy and I went to the Bayshore hotel for a few drinks, to have an evening out.

I was sitting with my aunt and cousin when a tall man with blond hair and glasses came by. For some strange reason, I said to the man "sit down, I want to talk to you, and he did". I liked his smile and he was good looking, tall and slim. He bought me a drink and then we started to dance and then he asked me to his apartment and I did. He lived on Pinecrest Ave on the corner of Carling Ave.
He had two sons living with him. When we got to his apartment, he woke up his two boys and said I have a girl over here. He was quite proud he had a girl with him. Fred asked to me to show him some ID, he thought I was younger than 18 and I showed him some ID. I was l8 years old going on 19 years old. Fred was 42 years old. He was a real gentleman and walked me home to Pinecrest Ave.
He called me and then invited me to supper. He cooked a big roast and I ate most of it, as I was
really hungry and he could see that.

I was living on 60 dollars a month for food. I paid my aunt Olive 60 dollars rent, my welfare cheque was $120. a month. I never told Fred this as I thought he would judge me if he knew I was on welfare. I told her I worked for the City of Ottawa as a planner. Fred never said anything but I knew he knew that was not true. We started dating and I liked him a lot.

My mom bought me a black coat that looked shabby so Fred bought me a nice beige coat to look nice.
He took me under his wing so to speak and treated me like a little princess. Fred spoilt me to some
degree you could say. I feel in love with him. After a few months, I moved in with him and his sons Manfred and Walter into an apartment at 370 Forest Street on the 2nd floor.

I started to go to Heron Park College part of Algonquin College off Bank Street. I went there from May 74 - 75. I took a secretarial degree and got top marks.

In April in 1975, two weeks after my graduation, I got a job at National Defence at the Jelnor Building on Nepean Street in Ottawa. I worked for the Surgeon General's Branch. Major J.P.D. "Robbie" Robinson was my boss, the right hand man to the Surgeon General who was then Admiral Roberts. After Admiral Roberts, was General Leach.

I was the secretary for the Admin department. Eleanor Faulkner was the clerk for the St. John Ambulance. Len Turner was a clerk, and Chief Warrant Officer Ballantyne was our 'chief". Chief was a soft spoken overweight man. He was very patient with me as I started my new job. He was the nicest boss I ever had. The major was a hyper man who smoked all the time. I would take dictation in his office and he would have one cigarette in the ashtray burning and then ligth up another one. His nerves were shot.

The Major always wanted his work done right away. He would write out his letters using a pencil and using a ruler to make sure the lines were straight. The major was neurotic and was always changing his letters. I would retype the same letter with minor changes a few times. He asked me to correct his grammar which I did. He was strict but he was fair most times. He and his wife adopted a little boy as they tried to have a chiild of their own to no success. As his little boy's adoption papers were being
prepared, his wife got pregnant and they had a daughter. His two kids were cute. Sonja and Mark
His wife was a nice woman. One day I was taking dictation and his wife called him and said she had a car accident. His wife said she was ok and so were his kids. His pen flew out of his hand and landed on top of my dictation book. His car was totalled but he was happy his family was not hurt.

Fred and I got married in November 1975 in a civil ceremony by Rev Good at his house near Ottawa.
Fred was there with two friends and my brother Chris was there too. I invited my brother over the night before to make sure he got to my wedding on time. We drove up in a car. It is snowing a little bit. I had on a beautiful autumn chiffon dress and I had gone to the hairdresser in the morning at Lincoln Fields Shopping Center to get my hair done and I had little lilies of the valley in my hair.
I looked beautiful. I was so happy to get married, I was in love and had lots of hope for a good future.
My dreams were about to shatter very soon in my marriage.

Fred and I had a nice wedding reception at our apartment on Forest St. Manfred, my stepson bought
our wedding cake a three tier white cake at his job where he worked at the Britannia Bakery at the
Britannia Plaza. It was so nice of Manfred to do that. Walter was there too and helped out. One of
Fred's friend's wife came over that morning and helped to prepare some food. Fred looked happy and he drank alot at our wedding reception.

Fred and I got nice gifts and his co-workers gave us a lovely comforter for our bed. Fred and I had quite the mess to clean up after the reception. One of Fred's friend's wives had taken the lower tier of the cake to put away in a freezer for us.

Fred could be so charming you wanted to be around him all the time. When Fred drank he became a mean drunk who talked about World War II and that he was a teenager in Berlin who was forced to participate in the Nazi Youth. Fred' was born in Berlin, Germany. His father was a colonel in the
calvary. His mom was a housewife. Fred had siblings.

Fred's job in the Nazi Youth was to be on the fire brigade duty. He would pull people out of burning buildings after the bombs were dropped by the allied forces. He and some others in fire bridgade
would put the dead people in the middle of the street and pour lye on them to stop the prevention of disease. He would talk about all of this when he was drunk and he said he missed his family who he had not seen for years in Berlin because of the Berlin Wall separating East Berlin and West Berlin.
His family lived in East Berlin.

Fred was a German border guard patrolling the Berlin Wall on the East German side. Fred escaped to West Germany. He had to fight to get into Berlin Wall. Something awful happened and he said some people were badly hurt but he would not elaborate. He was investigated by the West German authorities when he escaped from East Germany. He was allowed to live in West Germany.
Fred met a young German woman and married her and immigrated to Canada. Fred and his wife
lived on farm and Fred became a farm hand.

Fred got tired of being a farm hand and then started to build his own house in Limoges. He and wife
had their first baby boy named Manfred. Then they had another boy named Walter. Then he had a girl.

His wife eventually left him for an Austrian man and she had a son by him. His wife returned to him with her son and then Fred and his wife had their other two boys and daughter. They lived in Russell, Ontario. Fred worked in Ottawa and his wife worked for Loblaws as a big supervisor for the deli
department.

Fred did not drive, but his wife did. Fred abused his wife and then she left him for good and went to live with the Austrian man again and they moved to Austria with their own son.

Fred moved to 810 Pincrest Rd at the Olympia apartments in a two bedroom apartment. When I met Fred that is where he lived.

Fred was a very generous man. He would buy me clothes when I was first going out with him.
Fred loved to laugh too. We got along good for the first while.

Stephane Theodore Fortin

lllllllllllllllll

Above is a picture of Sue's former boyfriend, Stephane Theodore Fortin. It was his graduation picture for Grade 12. He was born in 1967 in Ottawa, Ontario. Stephane is now deceased (1967-1995)

Stephane and Sue in love: drowning together in a pool of psychiatric drugs (1989 - 1990) Ottawa, Ontario

This text has been edited and some portions deleted.

I met the love of my life in January 1989. I had put ad in the Canadian Mental Health Newsletter about my group called "Ottawa Advocates for Psychiatric Patients"(OAPP) . The year before I saw a letter from someone in Ottawa who wrote to Al Cote the consumer advocate for the Ottawa Citizen. A young man wrote he had purchased a membership for a health club and wanted his money back as he was not feeling well emotionally. I saw the ad and said to myself, I would like to meet this person and help them. Well it did happen, believe it or not. I did not know the person who wrote to Al Cote - the consumer advocate reporter who had a consumer column in the Ottawa Citizen. I did meet that person who wrote to Al Cote, and that was Stephane Fortin - be careful of what you wish for.

Stephane called me one night when I lived at Caldwell Ave in Ottawa Housing. I answered the phone
and this young man said he saw the small ad about my group and he needed some help, some advocacy. I said I would meet him but not in my home as I had no office. He agreed to meet me at the McDonald's restaurant on Rideau Street in downtown Ottawa and I described what I looked like.

I went downtown to meet him. Stephane came through the entrance of McDonald's. A tall man
who was overweight with an handsome baby face came in and smiled at me and said "Are you, Sue Clark?" and I nodded yes. Stephane started to laugh out loud. He had this laugh that was
contagious. He said he recognized me from the description I gave him. He sat down at the my booth.
We both ordered a meal and then chatted for hours. It was as if I knew Stephane all my life. He was easy to talk to and he and I laughted alot that night. We clicked instantly. I was attracted to him
and his energetic and bubbly personality. He was so handsome I could not keep my eyes off him.
I had separated from my second husband John Clark for about 9 months. John was dating a woman he knew who lived at in Sue's apartment building on Caldwell Ave also called named Suzanne. Stephane had dated a girl for a year or two but it did not work out.

Stephane and I said goobye that night and I got his phone number. I said he could visit me soon. The next day I got a phone call and he said he wanted to visit me and so I said sure. I wanted to see Stephane again. I think he guessed I liked him. He was very intelligent and did not miss a thing. He had great insight into everything around him. He was a good judge of character and he knew I was a safe person, that I would not harm him and I would be a good friend to him. His instincts were good.

He came over to my house and I need some help to get my place organized. He was a very organized and neat person. Everything had to have it place. He was very clean about himself and so was his room that he rented.

I showed Stephane my portfolio of all the advocacy I had one and showed him the newspaper clippings
from the newspapers. He enjoyed me telling him all the stories of me and Jane Scharf and Karen
Tracey and all of our battles with the Ontario Disability Support Program, Ottawa Housing and with the police. He got a kick out of me and I knew he respected the work I was doing. He acknowledged me and my work. I needed someone to like the work I was doing.

We had supper and then Stephane went home. I didn't want him to go home, I wanted him near me.
He came over everyday and after a month I did not ask him to go home that night. He slept on the couch for another month and both of were respectful of our boundaries. Everything was platonic
were about two months.

I visited him rooming house on Sweetland Ave in Ottawa off Laurier Ave. His big room was on the third floor. I was abled bodied then and could climb the three flights of squeaky steps up to his room.
There were three others roomers on his floor with one bathroom with a shower stall.

The first night I visited his room we talked so much I missed my bus to Caldwell. I slept on the floor and he respected me.

His room was neat as a pin. Nothing was out of place. It was so tidy I could hardly believe it.
Stephane was 21 years old and he was applying to Ontario Disability Support Program (ODSP) as
he had bad nerves from a traumatic childhood. He was seeing a psychiatrist and taking psychiatric drugs.

Stephane liked to sing and he was an excellent singer. He played some cassette tapes for me. He liked music. Stephane was very sexy. We both were sexually attracted to each other. Stephane was gorgeous. He was soft spoken and shy somewhat.

One thing led to another and we made love the first time in his room. He was a very passionate person. I never knew love could be as good as it was with him. He made me feel special like no other man had. He was a great lover. I was 33 years old and I was insecure he might find someone younger. He assured me that would not happen and he never did.

When people saw me and Stephane together, they would ask me if I was his mother and that hurt me but Stephane would just laugh it off and think it was funny. Stephane was a prankster and would
make up stories in a matter of minutes to make me worried and confused and then say he was only
joking. He knew how to get me going and he knew how to push all of my buttons. Stephane was no one's fool. He told me loved me and he did. I loved him too.

I started to take psychiatric drugs again. I had been off them for about a year and a half and I was doing well without them. Stephane felt guilty that he was taking psychiatric drugs and I was not.
Stephane was addicted to the pills and he told me so. He started to get aggressive and told me I needed the pills too. He hassled me about this all the time.

Stephane and I had argued one night at his room on Sweetland Ave, some petty thing. I was laying on my back in his rug in his room. Stephane was taking his pills from a pill bottle. All of a sudden Stephane straddled me and forced some of his pills into my mouth and would not get off me until I swallowed the pills with some water. I was really upset by the whole incident. When Stephane fell asleep that night, I called my friend Jane Scharf in Ottawa. She knew me well. I told her what
Stephane had done and told her I was feeling suicidal. She knew when I called her if I was really
thinking about suicide or if I just need to vent my frustrations. When I was suicidal she knew how to calm me down and so I could think rationally and find solutions to what was frustrating me. Sometimes she spoke to me on the phone for hours as I was so frazzled. I believe if Jane was not around to help me in those days, I would not be around here today.

Stephane and I were emotionally dependent on each other but our relationship was not a healthy one.
We were two prescription drugs addicts on the road leading to the road to hell. Our life together was
starting to become a hell, a hell that one does not want to go through even for one minute it was so bad.

We would fight about the issue of my not wanting to take psychiatric drugs anymore. I wanted to
get off the psychiatric drugs again . I told him psychiatric drugs on the whole were toxic and I did not want to take psychiatric meds anymore. The police were called sometimes when we yelled too loud at our apartment on Caldwell Ave. The cops wanted to see both of us to make sure we did not have any injuries from fighting. When the cops saw that we were only verbally abusing each other, they left, a lover's quarrel they must hav thought to themselves.

One night I threw a ceramic teapot on the kitchen floor. Stephane was in the living room and this set him off. It scared him the noise of the teapot breaking. I told him I was angry. He had gone to visit a girl he had met on a radio show who called in to one of the french radio shows he was listening to. He did not cheat on me and I knew that, but I did not like that he visited another girl and that is why I threw the teapot. He said he was sorry. He never visited her again.

I am a jealous person when it comes to my men. I am insecure and I can act out.

We fought from time to time. I yelled at Stephane to get off his drugs and told him he was a drug addict and he took a fit. He went into my storage room and took out a crow bar to use on me,
but I acted real calm and cool and told him I was sorry. He called emergency at the Royal Ottawa
Hospital and told them he was out of control. He put down the crowbar only after I hid in the bathroom door and prayed he would not kill me. He smashed the crow bar into the bathroom
tile floor near and gouged a piece of tile out of the floor and then I told him calmly to put the crowbar down and he did. Then Stephane started sobbing loudly and told he me he was sorry. We both cried for hours holding each other. I forgave him and told him I was sorry for provoking him. I never told anyone about this incident until many years later.

One night he threw me on the waterbed as we had had an argument. We both made up quickly.
We sometimes would fight over silly things.

We both paid for everything equally, 50% each down the middle, the rent, the food, the cable, the bus fare. We were both fair with each other in our financial matters.

I kept taking my psychiatric pills and so did Stephane. One day I was walking down Merivale Road with Stephane. It was the summer of 1989. We left our apartment at Caldwell Ave and were headed to the video arcade down the street. Stephane and I would like to play PacMan and Stephane was a good player. He and his brothers would play video arcades lots. I never won against Stephane in
playing PacMan.

When we were walking home one night from the video arcade on night, Stephane yelled out in public on Merivale road at the top of his voice, "Sue Clark, you are a schizophrenic and you need to take your pills as you are sick". I yelled at Stephane to shut up and he did not, but got louder and louder as we walked along the street. I was so embarrassed I just wanted to crawl into a hole and never come
out. We had another big argument after that.

In July 1980, Stephane and I had lived together for about 7 months. I was getting sick and tired of him
bullying me into taking psychiatric drugs and I was getting more afraid of Stephane for good reasons.
His behaviour towards me was getting more aggressive and violent.

One day Stephane and I had a bad argument and he threw me hard against the back of our apartment door. I was hurt. Stephane went to take a shower and I took my keys and went out of the apartment
to the convenience store down the block called the "Quickie" store. I used a pay phone there and called the police. I told the cops Stephane was in the apartment. I waited for the police to show up and brought the two police officers upstairs to my apartment. Stephane was still in the shower, he liked to take long showers. The police knocked on the bathroom door and informed him to dry up and get dressed and he did.

I told the police I would like to call his sister Francine who was living with her boyfriend and their daughter in a townhouse near St. Laurent Blvd in Ottawa. I told Francine that there was an argument between her brother and I and that the police were there and I needed for him to go over to her house and she said it was ok. Stephane grabbed his pills and some of his clothes and left.
Stephane looked sad and so did I. After the cops left with Stephane, I broke down and cried all night.

Stephane called me a few days later to ask if he could pick up the rest of his stuff and I said ok. His
sister's boyfriend drove him. Stephane came into the apartment and was very cool towards me.
He said goodbye and that was it.

He went to live with his mother later on that summer. She lived on Baycrest Ave. Jean had a two bedroom apartment. I sent Stephane a card and told him in the card I was suicidal. Stephane became worried about me and then shortly after landed up at the Ottawa General Hospital psychiatric ward in September of 1989. I went to see him and he was flirting with an Italian girl who was very
pretty called Gabriella. I was jealous and angry but did not show Stephane my real feelings, but he guessed how I felt. Gabriella had only eyes for Stephane and she followed Stephane with her eyes
whenever he left or entered a room. Stephane had 2 brothers.

I went home and got panicky. Here was Stephane on the ward and he was in bad shape. He
was very doped up with all his meds. I landed up in emergency and was suicidal. All of the stress
was too much for me to take. I landed up on the same ward as Stephane at the Ottawa General Hospital psychiatric ward. Stephane was indifferent to me for awhile and gave me the cold shoulder.
One night he walked down the hallway and came into my room in the semi darkness and scard the
the hell out of me. He told me in no uncertain terms to get out of my bed and he wanted to talk to me and I did. We walked down a long corridor with no rooms nearby. He told me he wante to be with me
and he needed me to respect him and vice versa. I kissed him on the cheek . He squeezed my arm
tight and wanted to do more with me but could not as we had no privacy. He had a look of passion in his eyes and I knew he wanted me then and there. We told each other we loved each other. Earlier in that day I went to the Westgate shopping center and got my hair dyed and cut and got my fingernails
done and wore a nice outfit that night when I came back to the ward. I wanted Stephane to notice me and he did. He knew I was making a play for him and it worked. I wanted him back badly and would have done anything to win back his affections.

People on the ward started to gossip. Gabriella had her nose bent out of shape once she realized me and Stephane had lived together earlier in the year and we were former lovers. She gave me and
Stephane the cold shoulder for the remainder of our stay on the ward. I was happy as I got my man back. We were discreet but the staff and patients found out we were back together again. It was easy to see as we looked into each others' eyes, the look of love was there for everyone to see.
We did not display our affection to each other directly. We had enough sense not to do anything
in the romance department on the ward, it was not the right place nor the right time.

We had group therapy together. A doctor and a nurse and some patients put their chairs in a
circle and we all started to talk one by one of what was on our minds. Well, Stephane blurts out he had lived with me and I was embarrassed as he looked so young and I looked old enough to be his mother,
the doctor and nurse just looked a bit shocked but listened to what he had to say. Stephane wanted me to more like a woman and not like a mother. He wanted me to make him feel like a man and not like a kid. He was resenting the way I treated him. He had lots pride and dignity and I was not
helping him to maintain that. He was very articulate and told eveyone that he cared for me but
that I had to change my behaviour towards him and I told him I would try to do my best.

Stephane told his psychiatrist Dr. Gosselin he wanted to get off his meds, and Dr. Gosselin took him off his meds cold turkey, not a good thing to do all. A person should be first me weaned off their meds.
One day I was in the livingroom watching TV and then I saw Stephane having a nurse and an orderly
trying to walk Stephane to his room. Stephane could barely stand up and his eyes were rolling back into their sockets, Stephane was having convulsions. Stephane was taken his room and put on one to one supervision around the clock. I could no visit Stephane in his room, a few rooms down from
my room on the ward. I cried all night I was so worried about him. After a few days Stephane came out of his room and he was angry for the doctor taking him off his pills cold turkey. He knew he
had convulsions because I told him. He did not like Dr. Gosselin at all. He found the doctor to be
a bully.

One day I walked into my room. I shared my room with three other patients. We had a bathroom and a shower in my room. One of my roommates was being scolded by a nurse. The young woman
started to yell at the nurse. The nurse threatened to put leg and arm restraints on her and tie her up in bed if they did not stop and she did. The female patient went hysterical. I saw all of this happening.
No one came to her aid as she yelled "Somebody help me, take off these straped now, I don't want to be tied up". The nurse who tied up the young woman left the room. I told her I would help and I untied her restraints, I set her free and then she calmed down for sometime and then returned to her old self. After awhile the same nurse came back into our room and said the patient "who untied you?"
and I said to the nurse that I had. I told the nurse I was mental health advocate as well as a patient
and I told her tying up the girl against her will was violating her human rights". The nurse gave me
a hard cold stare and and then walked quickly out of the room. Whether or not she believed that I was a mental health advocate I do not know. I only know the staff did not tie up the young woman again after that while I still a patient on the ward.

I told Stephane I was going to walk out of the hospital and get out and I signed some papers that said I was being released against the hospital advice that I should stay. Stephane was still in the hospital when I left and he did not want me to leave him there on the ward. I said I would visit the next day and I did. Stephane told me he wanted to sign out of the hospital and I helped him do it. He got his belongings together and we took a taxi to my home at 1485 Caldwell Ave. I lived on the 14th floor
in a one bedroom apartment facing Caldwell Ave overlooking Merivale Road and Baseline Road.
Across from my apartment building was a big field and to the left was a privately owned apartment building. Down the street to the left was the "Quickie" convenience store and number 14 bus stop.
To the right was the community center and a kids outdoor pool and some private residental houses.

Stephane told me to order some food and so I did. Stephane and I paid for everything 50-50. Stephane was fair like that. Stephane and I would sleep together but did not make love for about two weeks. Stephane's nerves were stretched to the limit. His experience at the Ottawa General
Hospital psychiatric ward traumatized him. He became suicidal because of it. I took care of Stephane 24/7 around the clock for 8 months. I never left him alone for one minute. I had no other support to help us. Being together all the time was taxing on the both of us.

Stephane had to go to court when I met him. A year before I knew him he had found a visa card in someone's purse and used in a convenience store. It was a woman's visa card and he got caught.
I got him a good lawyer in Ottawa. He was afraid to show up in court but I was there. Stephane got
a one year probation sentence because he had no criminal record in the past. He thanked me for my advocacy. I went with him to his probation meetings.

When I broke up with Stephane because he was abusive to me, I told his probation officer what happened and that Stephane was not living with me anymore.

Stephane stayed with his sister Francine and her boyfriend from Bangladesh and their little girl Florence. Francine told me her boyfriend would make fun of her weight. Francine was obese.
She found out eventually her boyfriend was seeing another woman in Ottawa who came from his
native land. His two brothers lived with them. Florence was about two years old and she was so cute.
She was an active little girl who lived liked to play and dance around when she heard music play.

Francine and Stephane were close emotionally. Stephane depended on his sister for emotional support. Francine was very jovial and a nice person. Francine was generous and had a good heart.
I liked Francine and she liked me too.

Stephane and I would visit Francine and she would visit us at our apartment on Caldwell. I enjoyed
Florence, Stephane's little niece. Stephane would buy her clothes and buy her toys. He loved his
little niece so much. He was good with children and he was patient with them. Florence liked to me around her uncle who adored her so much.

When Stephane and I broke up for good in the summer of 1990, my heart was broken. I would wake up everyday and cry for hours. This continued for at least a year. In the winter of 1991, I met Dustin
who lived a few streets over from me on Kirkwood ave. I was introduced to Dustin by a friend of mine.

Dustin and I started to go out a few months later. Dustin lived with a roommate named Dennis.
They shared a two bedroom apartment on Kirkwood Ave. Dustin worked on an old manual elevator at the Saxe building on Sparks Street. Dennis was a dishwasher for Nortel.

Stephane eventually moved to Fairlea Ave near the Herongate mall close to his mom's apartment on Baycrest Ave. His sister Francine eventually left her boyfriend. She and her daughter moto
Stephane's apartment building. Stephane and Francine lived on different floors.

One day Stephane heard someone frantically yelling for him to open up his door. His niece Florence
who was about five years old was screaming at the top of her lungs. Stephane opened the door and Flornece yelled that she could not wake up her mother Francine. Stephane and Florence went up to
Francine's apartment. Francine looked like she was sleeping peacefully but in fact she was dead.
Stephane freaked out and the police showed up. Stephane was too distraught to go to his sister's funeral. He never got over his sister's death. She was only 28 years old. She had complained to Stephane a few days earlier that she had a sharp pain in one of her legs. Stephane told her she should got to the hospital but did not. Francine died of a blood clot.

Stephane became suicidal after his sister's death and he went in and out of psychiatric wards. He told me one day when I bumped into him on Elgin Street. I had left 'the Well' a women's drop in center
at the corner of Elgin Street and Somerset street. The drop in was in the basement of St. John's
anglican church.

Stephane told me that he was having a hard time to accept his sister's death and told me about some of his suicide attempts. I did not tell him I was seeing Dustin but he knew I was going out with Dustin. He saw me and Dustin coming out of his apartment building which was close to his mother's apartment on Baycrest. I could tell Stephane missed me but was too proud to tell me. In his body language I knew he still cared. He would laugh and look at me with his big brown eyes. I did not have the same feeling for Stephane anymore because I liked Dustin my boyfreind. Dustin and I had a platonic relationship for 14 years. Dustin was 13 years younger than me, a year younger than Stephane.

Stephane bought me an ice cream cone and we went into the park nearby and sat on a bench and talked together for about an hour. I told Stephane I had to go and we walked me to my bus stop on Slater Street. I wished Stephane the best and he did the same for me.

A few months later I bumped into Stephane again at the Rideau Center. He was sitting on a bench
nearby the cafe where I was. I am sure he saw me before I saw him. I stopped and said hello.
We walked over to the Rideau Center food court and started to talk. He said he was living at the
Shepherds of Good Hope in a room down the street. I told him I was seeing Dustin. He said he knew.
We talked for a long time and then I went home. About a month later I went to see a friend of mine named Ruby. She and I had a mutual friend named Violet who lived next to Ruby. Violet was a nice lady who always invite all her friends for supper. We had great times together. Ruby liked to drink and so I had a few drinks and I got a intoxicated to some degree. I called up Stephane and said I wanted to meet him at the Rideau Center and he said he would. I called up a taxi on Forward Ave
and got in. Ruby gave me a nice plate of the Wizard of Oz that I stuffed into my big purse.
Anyhow I got the Rideau Center and was short a dollar for the ride, and told the driver that was all
I had. The driver argued with me and then told me to get out of his cab and he was angry for good reason. That was first and last time I short changed a cabbie driver. I was too drunk to realize I did not have enough money for the taxi. I could walked pretty good and I saw Stephane coming down the
escalator and we said hello. We talked for hours at the Food court. I told him that I needed to talk to him. I told him I did not like him being abusive to me in the past and he apologized to me. I apologized for my behaviour towards him too in the past. He told me he missed me and he wanted me to come to his room. He was depressed. I did not want to go to his room and told him. He looked angry at me. He turned to me with very cold eyes and said goodbye. I watched as he walked away.
I gave him a hug but he did not return my hug. He pulled away from me.

A few weeks later I got a call from Stephane at home. He told me he was calling everyone he knew to say he was going to committ suicide soon. I got frantic and told him not to do that. He asked me earlier in our conversation if I was happy with Dustin and I said yes. He told me I was lucky and that
he wishe me well. He thanked me for helping me and he told me he did love me. I told him to
hang on and that life was precious. He said he could not cope with his sister's death and then said goodbye. After he hung up, I sat there in a stupor and in shock. I could not believe what Stephane had just said. Stephane said he was going to kill himself all the time. I thought it was one of those times whereby he thought of suicide and probably would not do anything to himself. In retrospect,
I regret not calling the Shepherds of Good Hope where he lived and inform Stephane felt suicidal.

Later on December 21 of 1995, Stephane did commit suicide only I did not realize it. I did not read
the obituaries of the papers anymore. Too many of my friends had passed away. Dustin saw the
obiturary and decided not to ruin my Christmas. I knew Dustin was keeping something from me but I did not ask him what it was. I was consumed by the Christmas season that I loved and en joyed.
In the middle of January in 1996, I finally demanded that Dustin tell me what he was hiding from me.
I was in my apartment in Ottaw West. I had a mattress on my living room floor that I used for a bed.

Dustin told me he had something to say that would shock me. He warned me first. "Stephane is dead" Well I dropped the phone and jumped onto my mattress on the floor in front of me and wailed loudly for hours. I was in shock. Finally the next day I called Dustin back and asked when Stephane had died. Dustin told me Stephane died on December 21, 1995 and he was 28 years old. Too young to die. I went into a severe depression for 3 months. I isoloated myself and stayed alone at home
and watched tv for 18 hours a day. Dustin would visit and I would either sit there and say nothing or cry during the whole time he visited me. He tried to get me out of the house to no avail. I looked very sad people told me when I did go out. I was not myself. I bottled up all of my feelings in public but could not mask my sadness from the world, it was evident on my face. I don't hide my sadness very well. My eyes had a look that was full of pain.

I had been distraught over Stephane's sister death a year earlier. I went into a depression then too.
I don't handle someone dying very well. I am a very super sensitive and emotional person. My friends called to give me emotional suppport. These days I can talk about Stephane calmly as it been almost 12 years since he committed suicide. I still feel the pain of his death when I speak about him,
that type of pain never goes away, I just bury deep into my heart and soul. I loved this man so much
it is hard to describe. Stephane and I were soulmates, very much alike, it was uncanny. We would finish off each other sentences and we thougth alike and did things alike. He was the love of my life but I have learned to love again.

I put all of my heart and soul into our relationship, I gave him everything I had and a gave all of me to him. I did not keep anything for me. I got lost in our relationship and forgot to look out for number one me. My needs came last and that was not a good thing. I forgot to look after myself and nuture myself.
I never want to do that in a relationship again. give and and give until there is nothing to give because I gave it all. I did not have the self respect and self esteem to remain an individual and look after me. I became second best and that is all I ever expected from a man was to be at his beck and call
and not care about me. I changed that type of toxic thinking but it took many years and therapy to get it right, I am number one and I count and I have needs and I have to look after me becasue if I don't hwo will, no one. I had to take responsibility for my actions and become accountable to me and others.
I took stock of myself and did not like what I a saw. I saw a woman who willowed in her own self pity and let people push her around and abuse her and use her. One day I woke up and said 'enough of this, no more, no more abuse, no more being used..that is it...I was sick and tired of being sick and tired....

I started to learn to say no and say I will think about your request. I stopped being a 'yes' person to '
everyone around me. I thought if I said no to someone they may leave me for good. I had a feeling of being abandoned and that came from my dysfunctional family of origin, my immediate family.

The hospital food was bland and often cold when it came up to our ward. The portions were small and the menu was not very good. Cheap food that tasted like rubber.

Every morning at the Ottawa General psychiatric ward around 7 a.m. the medical staff would make their rounds to see all the patients. I was sleeping in my hospital bed when all of a sudden I heard a man's voice say "hello, Suzanne". I rolled over to face the door of my room and I saw 6 people in white hovering over me. There was my psychiatrist, my primary nurse, my psychologist, my occupational therapist and some medical students. I looked up and had to clean the sleepy dust from my eyes. My hair was not combed and I must have looked like some else to them. I am not a pretty
sight first thing in the morning. It is very imtimidating to have all these people looking right over you like you are some sort of specimen to them, very unnerving to say the least.

My "team" as they called themselves asked me how I was doing. They asked various sorts of general questions. I answered to the best of my ability, that is all I could do at that early time in the morning. I certainly didn't look very friendly to them as I am always grumpy in the morning when I get up for about an hour. I don't wake up easily and it takes me a long time to get going and get
organized in the mornings. Some people just spring out of bed like there is no tomorrow but I just can't do that.

Anyhow my "team" would walk away and whisper things about me between themselves. Then I would get up and take a shower and then get dressed to go to the breakfast room. I would have my hospital
breakfast food and then start my day's activities on the ward that could range from group therapy, or seeing my psychiatrist or psychologist, or going to occupational therapy.

One day I went to see Dr. Bourgon my psychiatrist. He was a man in his 40s. He was French-Canadian. He told me I should try to save my marriage to John Clark to which I threw off my wedding ring in his office and then took his empty small ashtray and threw it on the floor beside me. He did not react at all. He was calm and cool. He did however inform me that I would have to pay for the ashtray and I said I would. I did not apologize for breaking the ashtray. I picked up my wedding ring and put in on one of my fingers. Dr Bourgon told me I should not mask my feelings but show them. He told me if I am happy, my face should show it and if I was angry I should look angry. He told me I was masking my feelings and that was not a good thing to do. He told me I was holding in all of my feelings and showing the world what I really felt by not expressing to them how I felt. When I was a child I had to
bottle up all my feelings and stuff them, I was not allowed to vent to my parents if I thought they were being unfair with me. In my home, you just took what you got and never complained no matter how bad it got at home.

I told my psychiatrist he was right and he figured me out very well. He nodded his head. He thought
I was probably overeating to stuff all of my emotions and went to the fridge as soon as uncomfortable or painful feelings came up. I used food to numb my feelings, my pain. I still do overeat but not as much. I have lost 50 pounds and I am happy. I have more weight to lose but will lose it when I am ready. I had some people around me who were toxic to me and so I ended those friendships.
Some people around me put me down and belittled me so I said to myself I don't need this and so let those friendships go. In my life right now, I have supportive people around me who believe in me.
I trust them is what I am saying and they are safe people to be around.

FRIENDS PICS

Above is a picture of Dustin's room mate Dennis Hunt and Sue's friend. Dennis is wearing a white cap and is in back at the left near the pink fence and he is wearing glasses. Dennis died in 1992 from cancer.

Above is a picture of my ex boyfriend Dustin Munro. We went out together for 15 years until
2005. Dustin and I are still good friends.

Above is a picture of Kayla Welch, Jane Scharf's youngest daughter with two dogs


Above is a picture of Jane Scharf and Billy. Jane is an antipoverty activist in Ottawa. Billy can play the piano like nobody can. My favorite tune I ask him to play is the "Titantic" theme song



Above is a picture of Harry who is a close friend. Harry was a former criminal and civil lawyer in Ottawa for many years



Above is a picture of Sue's friend Marian Crow. Marian is a mental health worker in Ontario.
Sue worked for Marian in the education department at the Royal Ottawa Hospital in the Consumer-As-Expert program. Marian hired Sue because of her antipsychiatry views and that
Sue was a former patient at the ROH. Sue worked there from 92-94.

Picture of Steven taken by Sue

One of Sue's favorite pictures of Steven taken in 2005 at Carlingwood Shopping Center.


Above is a picture of Steven taken at the Carlingwood Shopping Center in Ottawa. Steven loves his
Tim Horton's coffee "Timmies"

Above is a picture of Steven at his wedding reception in April 2006 in Ottawa.


Sue and Steven Wittenberg at their wedding reception in April 2006 in Ottawa.



Above is a picture of Steven's sign langauge class. Left to Right: Lynn, Steven and Cy.

A picture of Steven in the summer of 2007 in Ottawa

Steven on the para transpo bus with his wife Sue. Sue uses a wheelchair as she has arthritis and spinal stenosis.

Steven and his sister Lynn at the Tucker's Marketplace restaurant in Ottawa in July 2007.


Sue meets her sister-in-law Lynn (Steven's sister) from Vancouver in July 2007 in Ottawa

Above is a picture of Steven and his sister Lynn from Vancouver. Sue met Lynn her sister-in-law for the first time in July 2007. Lynn paid for a meal for all of them at the Tucker's Marketplace Restaurant in centertown Ottawa.


Above is a picture of Sue and Steven at a Christmas Party put on by Sue's friend Cathie Mann and her family taken in 2006.

Above is a picture of Steven taken at his church, Britannia United in Ottawa, Ontario. Steven
is a choir member at his church.


Above is a picture of Sue's handsome groom, her husband Steven Wittenberg outside their apartment building in Ottawa

Above is a picture of Sue and Steven before they got married. This picture was taken in Christmas
2005.

Above is a picture of Steven Wittenberg taken at Tim Horton's in Ottawa, Ontario in 2005.

Above is a picture of Steven Wittenberg taken at his 40th birthday at the end of April 2000. Steven's sister Lynn made him a birthday party. This picture was taken in Vancouver, B.C.

Above is a picture of Steven with his two sisters. Left to Right: Lynn, 6 years old, Steven (6 months old), Donna (10 years old) The picture was taken in Ottawa. They lived at 34 1st Ave in Ottawa, Ontario.

Chapter 8

• llllllllllllllllllllllll
  
• 
  
• Though slated for closure in 1999, the ongoing need for mental health services has meant that the Brockville Mental Health Centre (BPH) in Ontario continues to operate as a psychiatric teaching facility, affiliated with the University of Ottawa and Queen's University. The campus provides forensic psychiatry treatment for 100 Ontario Correctional inmates, and 59 long-term care forensic patients. It also provides a wide range of inpatient and outpatient services to approximately 1,300 patients in Eastern Ontario. Sue Clark was a patient there from March - September 1973. Sue Clark was l7 years old when she was admitted to BPH. Sue was transferred to BPH from the Royal Ottawa Hospital in March 1973.

Electroshock (ECT) being administered at the Brockville Psychiatric Hospital (BPH) Sue Clark had 5 ECTSs given to her against her will at the age of l7 years old in 1973. Dr. Louis Sipos was her
psychiatrist on Ward H at BPH. On Sue's 5th ECT, her heart stopped and she had to be revived.
ECT was discontinued for Sue after that. Sue suffers from permanent memory loss and has difficulty learning new things as a result of having had ECT. Prior to ECT Sue had a good memory and had no learning difficulties.

Above is a picture of the continuous bath therapy given to patients at BPH who were agitated or having difficulty sleeping after being placed in one of the bath units in charge of a special nurse. The water flowed continuously.
************************************************************************************
Disturbing news at BPH:

In the summer of 1993, people in Ontario were shocked by one of the most bizarre murders in the province's history. A patient at the Brockville psychiatric hospital was brutally killed in a forest grove on the grounds of the institution. One of the killers, a nearly blind psychiatric patient, walked into a nearby police station and turned himself in. The other murderer lay near the body in a sleeping bag, drugged into unconsciousness. Police found that the myopic suspect is one of the Canada's most dangerous killers, David Michael Krueger. His accomplice was Bruce Hamill, a murderer who had been freed after years of treatment at Penatanguishene's Oak Ridge Institution for the criminally insane. Brockville hospital authorities had let Hamill escort Krueger on his first day pass in thirty-five years. How could this killing have happened? The bizarre story of Krueger's life unfolds in this tightly-written book. It explores how Krueger allowed his strange fantasies to run his own life and how he was able to dupe psychiatrists, lawyers, and fellow inmates of the country's toughest institution into doing his bidding

************************************************************************************
Sue gets admitted to Brockville Psychiatric Hosptial (March - September 1973)

I recall the day I was admitted to the Brockville Psychiatric Hospital. It was in May of 1973. The ambulance attendants were transferring me from the Royal Ottawa Hospital. The ambulance approached the gigantic hospital. The vehicle stopped in front of an old grey stone building. Ward H was awaiting me.

The attendants escorted me into the main admission area of the building which was situated on the ground floor. A nurse came out of a room and thanked the ambulance attendants. The nurse told me to sit down and
place my box of belongings on the floor. I sat on an old oak chair. The nurse asked me my name and started searching the box. I asked the nurse, "What are you doing?" The nurse turned around to me and stated,
"This is a standard procedure here. When new patients are admitted, we examine their belongings to see if they have scissors or razor blades, anything sharp that they can use to harm themselves". She continued her search.

The nurse then asked me to follow her downstairs. We walked down a dimly lit underground tunnel. The tunnel had a wide yellow stripe down the middle of the floor. It was a long and winding tunnel with signs denoting the wards. The nurse took me into a large room along the tunnel. As I walked into the room I saw a man sitting at a desk surrounded by photography equipment. The nurse sat on a chair as I looked about the room.

The man motioned for me to sit in front of a camera on a tripod. I questioned the man by saying "Why do you
want to take my picture?". The photographer looked at me and stated "We take pictures of all new patients being admitted to the hospital. If you escaped from the hospital we could call the police and they could
pick you up by knowing what you look like." The man snapped a few pictures of me.

The nurse returned me to the Grey stone building. We took a small elevator up to Ward H. The nurse knocked on a wooden door that was locked. A petite nurse opened the door. " This is a new patient. Her name is
Suzanne Legare. She was transferred here from the Royal Ottawa Hospital" the nurse said. The petite nurse motioned for me to follow her. "Suzanne, I'm going to show you to your room. Bring the box with you. I
entered a room with two beds. I was instructed to take the bed next to the wall. The nurse left the room. I went to a window that had a thick steel mesh screen on it. As I looked outside I could see a large area of vast green grass. I saw large oaks trees, benches, and picnic tables. I saw many Grey stone buildings adjoined to each other. Some people were walking and some people were sitting down. A few cars went by.

All of a sudden I heard a voice yell "Medication time everyone". I went out of my room and saw many people standing in a long line. A heavy set nurse was standing in front of the line with a steel cart with wheels. On the cart were two pitchers and little paper containers with lots of different colored pills. I waited in line until it was my
turn. As I approached the cart, the nurse smiled and said "Hi, Suzanne my name is Terry. Here is your medication. We call the medication 'happy pills". Take some juice and swallow these". I did what she instructed me to do. I then walked down the corridor. I noticed the ward was co-ed.

As I walked around the ward I passed by a room that had a wooden door that was locked. There was a small window in the middle of the door. I looked through the window and saw it was bare. There was no furniture and the walls had nothing hanging on them. I wondered to myself what that room was being used for.

I then walked over to the t.v. room. I saw some people who had fallen asleep and their heads were drooping onto their chests. Some patients had a blank cold stare as they stared at the walls as if staring into
space. Other patients were smoking cigarettes. There was a black and white t.v. in the room. The local news was on . I heard a staff member holler down the corridor to us "Lunch is ready".

I followed my peers into a huge room. I sat down at a long table. At the back of the room was a cafeteria style set-up. I lined up to get my lunch. A middle aged woman dressed in a white uniform and apron served me. I
put soup and a sandwich on my tray and walked over to my table. An obese woman smiled at me and said "Hi, my name is Louise. I am your roommate. What is your name?" I told her who I was. Louise started to
talk about her hospital stay at the local general hospital the night before. "Suzanne, I got back here to Ward H this morning. I saw you coming onto this ward. I swallowed a few toothbrushes last night. The staff found
out because I told another patient and she squealed on me. Then the staff on duty last night sent me to the emergency ward at the local hospital. They took an x-ray of my stomach and saw four toothbrushes."
Louise started to laugh hysterically.

I was shocked by what she said and just nodded my head. I looked around the room and saw a man cleaning dirty trays off into a big plastic garbage pail. A staff member counted the dirty silverware and said in a
loud voice "The count is o.k. You can all leave now". Another staff member unlocked the dining room door to let us all out.

LIFE ON WARD H

Ward H was a terrifying place. I did not trust most of the staff on the ward. My fellow patients were kind and we looked out for each other. The dangerous people I felt were the staff not my peers. It was like a brotherhood and sisterhood on the ward. We taught the new patients who to look out for (meaning the staff) and to get to know the ropes on the ward. For example, we told each other how not to swallow the pills and putthem under our tongue. I got away with this stunt for months. I was so hyper and agitated on the ward that I was given the long black jelly pills called sleeping pills. I would take two of those pills and they wouldn't put knock me out for hours.

I once asked "Terry" the tall and overweight nurse what would happen to the average person taking these two black sleeping pills. She told me this "it would knock out a horse in no time" I would pour hot water from the bathroom hot water tap and pour instant coffee into a styrfoam cup and pace the halls all night.

Our rooms had no doors but a wall going halfway up. We had a curtain to pull across the makeshift wall. No privacy at all. There was a thick steel mesh on our windows. The door to the ward H was locked. The hallways were in a L shape. You got off at the elevator and then turned right to the locked ward and knocked on the door to the entrance of the ward. As you walked onto ward H, to the left was the men's bedrooms and to the right were the women's bedrooms. In the center of the long hallway was a small nurses' office with a door that went half way up. As you went past the women's bedrooms, you would enter another hallway that was shorter. To the left were a few small rooms, one of which was used for group therapy and one used for the medical students to use like the psychologist etc. To the right of this short hallway was a big recreation room that had an enclosed balcony overlooking the entrance to the building.

The recreation room had an old record player and old records. There was a ping pong table. There were some tables and chairs. We had board games and cards. Most of my peers would congregate there everyday and we would sit and talk about everything under the sun. Some would complain about the hospital staff and the hospital food, some would complain about their medications and that it they didn't like taking it. Some people would sit there stoned faced and stare up at the walls. My peers generally looked very depressed and sad with a look of having no hope in sight for them. This image sears into my memory and makes me sad knowing how
psychiatry that locked me and my peers up. Losing your freedom is an awful and painful experience. Having to ask permission to go off the ward to go for a walk. Hearing the door lock behind you as you enter the ward.

To this day I cannot stay in my apartment all day. I have to get out to have the feeling and know I am free to come and go as I want to and as I wish to.

We had to take public showers a few times a week. I was told to stand in line at the two shower stalls with no curtains, and come in disrobed with no clothes on in front of my other naked female peers. I had just gained 30 pounds and I was already self conscious. I had to stand there stark naked. It was the most humiliating experience of my life that still affects me to this day. I used to cry before going into the shower room. My peers would stare at the floor or look up to the ceiling trying not to look at each other and give some type of respect to each other in that controlled environment.

I believe the staff were trying to break down our spirit. They did not succeed in doing that to me. I yelled at them and told them what I thought about the public showers. The staff would increase my medications to shut
me up. The staff resented patients who were rebellious on the ward.

This is what the Brockville hospital looked like from the outside. You'd pass by the highway and you would see a vast area of grass with buildings in the background. There were benches on the grounds and I would
wave to public as they drove by. The area had huge oak and maple trees. A tennis court was visible from the highway. As you drove into the hospital grounds, you would see the staff wearing white and the
patients walking behind them. Some patients were able to walk on the grounds by themselves.

We were given privileges. Privileges were earned. For example, a new patient would be restricted to the ward. Let's call this privilege number one. Privilege number two would be being allowed to go for a walk with the staff. Privilege number three would be being allowed to go for a walk alone. Privilege number four would be being
allowed to off the grounds. Privilege number five would be being allowed to go away from the hospital for the weekend. Some ward were "token" wards. Patients were given tokens (points) for getting up, some
tokens were given for making their beds and for doing their everyday chores on the ward. Life on the wards were difficult for my peers.

Some of my peers had different problems. I had many roommates during my six months on Ward H. Louise as you read in chapter one would swallow toothbrushes. My other roommate called Amanda was a young girl about l5 years old. She would scream sometimes as she walked down the co-ed ward and then suddenly take off all her clothes and then run down the hallway. The staff would run after her with a sheet to cover her up, and Amanda would kick and scream as the staff tried to subdue her.

Another patient on my ward named Carole was developmentally disabled. She had her room at the end of the hallway on the other side of the corridor. Her door was locked at nights. She would sit at her door and pound her head against the door all night screaming "let me out, let me out". Carole would cry all night. I was terrible to hear her screaming and crying every night. I wished I had had a key to let her out. Louise would try to hit the staff at times. The staff would put Louise into the "quiet" room on the ward. The quiet room was in the middle of the mens' corridor. The door had a small window where someone could look in. The door was always locked.

One day as I walking by the mens' corridor, a few of my male peers were crowded around the quiet room door. I said to them "what is going on, what are you looking at? The men pulled away from the door to let me see what they were looking at. I was in shock as I looked into the door window. Louise was naked and dancing all around the small room. There was no furniture in the room except for a mattress on the floor. I did not see Louise's clothes anywhere. I moved back from the window and went up to one of the nurses and said to her "why is Louise in that room with no clothes on?" The nurse looked me into my eyes with an angry scrowl on her face and said "she got out of hand". I felt so bad for Louise I did not who to call or what to do.

I felt helpless on this ward. It was then that I realized we the patients had no human rights. The ward was a terrifying place to be. I wanted to leave right away. As you walked into our building, you took the elevator up to the second floor. Once you got off the elevator you would turn right and about l0 feet away from the entrance door to Ward H. My ward. You would knock on the door until a staff member would open the door for you. The door was locked behind you. The ward corridor was long. To the left of the entrance door was the mens' dorm, and to the left was the womens' dorm. The womens' washroom had three stalls with no locks on the door. We had a little sink with cold and very hot boiling water. We would drink isntant coffee at night with the hot boiling water from the sink tap. By the sink was a tiny window overlooking to the immediate left of the hospital grounds. You could see a long road and a few houses outside the window. Our rooms had a small night table with wheels. We had vinyl mattreses and pillows.

I remember one morning when I sharing my room with a girl named Amanda. She pulled out of my bed by the hair and pulled onto the floor in a few seconds. I was sleeping like a baby when she terrorized me. The
staff grabbed Amanda and put her into the quiet room. Amanda and I got along well. I don't know why she did this to me. She frightened me to death. My scalp hurt as she yanked out some of my hair by the roots.

On another day, I remember a patient named Betty who lived in Brockville. Her husband had left her. Betty had a nervous breakdown as a result and landed up on Ward H. As I recall, I can still hear her sobbing loudly all night. A male nurse named Mr. Shannon talked to her and tried to console her all throught he night. Her sobbing was heart wrenching.

I started to smoke cigarettes on the ward. The hospital would give us tobacco. The tobacco was strong tasting. My peers would roll my cigarettes for me. I was given a job at the hospital as a recreation
assistant. I help the elderly patients on the wards daily for 25 cents an hour. Every morning I would arrive at 9 a.m. at a geriatric ward. The Polka Dot Door tv show was on as the elderly patients were sitting around the tables watching the tv show. I was told to play board games with the patients. The staff were cold and indifferent to me. I liked working with the elderly patients. I worked for two hours a day and then I returned to Ward H by walking through the hospital tunnel. I then had my lunch and then in the afternoon I would go for walks with some of my peers.

One of my peers came from Hungary. He took me under his wing so to speak. He always accompanied me on my walks in the tunnels and outside on the grounds. He was always a gentleman with me. He was in his forties and I was l7 years old. Another male patient about 25 years old. He had blond hair and blue piercing eyes. He was transferred from upstairs from Ward K the Forensic ward. I never knew what forensic meant and never bothered to ask. H would also accompany me around too. These two men became good friends of mine while I was on Ward H. I did not realize at the time that those men took it upon themselves to protecting me. They were protecting me from the danger that lay lurking in the tunnel.

Some male staff were paying some female patients to have sex with them in the washrooms in the tunnel. A male
patient would be outside the bathroom door as a lookout. If someone came by, the lookout would knock on the locked bathroom door and say "I need to go the washroom". The male staff would leave the bathroom while
the woman would leave later on. I did not know this until a few years ago, and then it became public in the Brockville newspaper. The sex ring at the hospital was then investigated by the local police department. I thank my two male friends on my ward for having protected me while I was in the hospital. They saved me from the horrors in the tunnel.

I had been at the hospital for about a month, that would be May of 1973. The weather outside was starting to warm up and on the wards we had no air conditioning. Our mattresses and pillows were vinyl and I remember sweating alot while I was sleeping. The medications I took had many side effects. I was not allowed to sit in the sun or I would burn into a bright red like a lobster. We were given no sunscreen to wear. I wore a hat to protect me from the sun. I was gaining more and more weight from all the medications and the lack of good nutrition on the ward. We rarely ate fresh fruit. We always were given cakes and cookies for snacks. The food was the regular hospital food that had a bland taste.

We had a recreation room at the end of one corridor. There was a record player, a ping pong table, and outdoor covered veranda. I often played the "Deep Purple" record and the "Moody Blues". One night I wanted to cheer up my peers. We had a stretcher against one wall outside the rec room with clothes on it. I put on about 3 layer of clothes from top to bottom. I walked into the rec room and told everyone, "I am going to shut off the lights tonight, and here is a show for you all". I dimmed the lights and then proceeded to simulate a strip tease show. My peers were clapping and said "More, more". Little did I realize that one of the nurses had just come upon my show. "Turn on the lights everyone, the show is over". I was angry at having to quit the fun. I said to the nurse "why can't we just have a little bit of fun around here. You can't put me away because I am already in the looney bin, eh". My peers roared with laughter bu the nurse looked at me with her big brown eyes. She walked away in ahuff and a puff. My peers cheered as the nurse was leaving. I guess I have always been a bit of a clown. My clowning around has helped me through some of my darkest hours.

During the evening we have no planned activities on the ward. You could watch the local tv shows and I didn't care to do that. I would play "Crazy Eights" the card game all the time. I became a bit of a champion you could say. We had tournaments. I went for walks with my male friends. One evening, my male friend John from Hungary said to me "Susie, let's go to town and get a bottle of wine". I said to John "no way, I can't do that". John told me he would go to town and get a bottle of wine and I was to meet him at the little shack on the grounds. So I waited for John. He showed up with a red bottle of wine and some gum. We sat on the floor of the shack and shared the bottle of wine. I said to John "hey, not bad wine". I took some gum to take away the alcohol smell from my mouth. John had mouthwash with him and I gurgled my mouth with it. John led me into Ward H. He told me to go to bed right away to avoid the staff. I did just that. The next morning I had a hangover for sure. That was the last time John and I shared a bottle of wine on the hospital grounds.

One morning, the recreation director came up on the elevator and was looking for me and some of my peers to go down to his program downstairs in the basement called West OT. Jeff rounded us up and then told us on the way down the elevator "you know Paul the new patient, the big guy who was quiet, well I was walking near the train tracks and I saw his body on the train tracks. A train ran over him. It ruined my breakfast seeing that". I felt sick to my stomach when I heard the news about Paul. Paul had been on our ward for about a month. He was a tall and overweight man who wore suspenders with his pants. He was withdrawn and never spoke to anyone. I guessed that Paul had committed suicide. It was a sad day for all of my peers on the ward. The word got around quickly about what happened to Paul that morning.

I felt like a prisoner on my ward and I was determined to get out soon. A peer of mine told me that I "had to play the game". The game was to go along with the psychiatrist and no matter how you were feeling to say "I feel fine doctor, I am ready to go now". Fake it was the name of the game to get out. I did that and I was going to leave in a few months.

My parents, Paul Andre and Theresa and my brother Christian (Chris) would come to visit me at the hospital once a month. They drove from Ottawa to Brockville. It was an hours drive and 60 miles from Brockville. My dad had a jeep. My dad would give me $5.00 for an allowance for the month. He was always cheap that way. My parents never took me outside the hospital to a restaurant or anything in town at Brockville. We went for a walk on the grounds, and went to the cafeteria. My parents and brother were going to Europe for a month. My family took pictures of me at the hospital. I looked forward to seeing my brother Chris and not my parents. I resented my parents for as long as I could remember. The abuse in our home started when I was an infant.

I used to walk down the tunnel to go to the library. One day I saw a stretcher with a white sheet over it and it terrified me. I asked the orderly "is that a dead body?". The orderly nodded "yes, it is, one of the folks from the geriatric ward". I felt faint at seeing that white sheet on the stretcher. I went to the library and found an escapethrough reading books. It was a small room with lots of books. The librarian was friendly. I recall many years later that a peer of mine had told me she was raped by an orderly in the library after hours. She told the staff on her ward and nothing was done about it. The rape still affects her to this day.

I used to go downstairs and down the tunnel to get my hair done one a week by the hairdressers. There was big room with lots of chairs and mirrors. I felt better when I got my hair done. It gave me a boost that I often needed. The hairdressers were kind and never judged me. I liked to talk and we had many good chats and a few laughs at the hairdressing parlour.

We had a few excursions outside the hospital. I remember going to see a play at a Brockville high school called the "South Pacific". The acting was good. I had a good time and that is one of the few good memories I have from my days of being incarcerated at the Brockville PsychiatricHospital. We had dances in one of the buildings. No booze of course. Someone played records and then you would be asked to dance by one of your peers. I was so heavily medicated at the time I don't remember the dances very well. I just remember a haze of cigarette smoke over the dance floor and loud music blasting into my ears.

A new team of mental health showed up on our ward. There was a new student psychologist, and an occupational therapist in training. The psychologist had me and some of me peers go into a small room for group therapy. You would sit in a circle and then one of my peers was to open up a discussion. Anyone could say anything they wanted. Whenever anyone asked me to speak up, I would just sit there and cry. I would not commuicate with the group. The male psychologist suggested that I meet him alone in one of the rooms for a one to one session. I agreed as I thought I had no choice in the matter. The first few sessions, the psychologist would ask me questions and I would not answer. Finally he said to me "I am going to meet you here every week and I am going to be patient and wait for you to start talking about what is bothering you. There is something bothering you and I want to hear it. You can trust me." I did finally open up to him and told him about my mother physically and mentally abusing my brother and I since we were infants. I told him that my father beat my mother. We met several times in that room. I believe what I told the psychologist was being passed onto my psychiatrist on the ward to Dr. Louis Sipos.

I rarely saw Dr. Sipos for an appointment on the ward. One time I do rememeber going into his office outside the ward entrance door by the elevator. He was a large man with a partly bald head. He had on his desk many little spotted pictures with black dots on a white background. He took a few of these pictures out one by one and asked me to interpret what I saw. This one picture had little black dots all over with no pattern to it. I told Dr. Sipos. "it looks like an artist went wild and threw a black can of paint against a wall". Dr. Sipos. said "very good Suzanne". We chatted for a while and then he told to me to leave his office.

I didn't trust Dr. Sipo as it was he who suggested to my family that I have electroconvulsive therapy (shock treatments) to cure my depression. I told Dr. Sipos. "I don't want to have ECT, it would be like frying my brain like an egg in a frying pan". Dr. Sipos. assured me that the ECT would not damage my brain nor my memory. I did not believe him at all. On the morning I was to have the ECT, I was tired as I did not sleep the night before from being worried about having shock treatment the next morning.

I don't remember this but a peer of mine years later told me who was on the same ward that when the staff came to get me to take me to the room where ECT was given, I kicked and screamed and bit them. The staff had to subdue me. I am not a violent person. I was afraid and I reacted to what I knew was a dangerous procedure. I pushed down on a bed in small room. The ECT machine was a small square steel box with buttons and wires coming out of it. I was given a needle in the arm. I had a rubber stick put in my mouth and then they put this rubber band around my forehead with wires attached to each side of my temples. When I awoke from the ECT, I was put in a wheelchair. I was incoherent. I didn't remember where I was and who my peers were at first. It took me a few days to remember people's names on the ward. I couldn't remember early childhood memories at all.

I was given 4 more ECTs on 4 separate days. After the fifth ECT, I was told I would not receive anymore ECTs because I had had a bad reaction during the last procedure. I had a memory test done at the Ottawa General Hospital at the Neuropsychology ward in 1995. The memory test lasted 8 hours. I was told I had a severe memory loss. I never had any other brain trauma to my head except for ECT. I am living proof of the damage that ECT can do to a person. A few years later, I went to college and had to study twice as hard because I could no longer retain information like I used to. I never had any problems learning anything new before I had ECT. I was an average student with average grades who never had to study or do any homework at all as I had a photographic memory like a zerox machine. I read something once and I remembered it.

I was afraid all the time on Ward H at the Brockville Psychiatric Hospital. I was leary of the staff. I had to watch my back so to speak. I was on a locked ward and anything could have happened to me. I felt helpless on the locked ward like a caged animal wanting to getout of the cage. The longer you are in the locked ward, the more anxious you get to leave the "hellhole" as I called it.

I celebrated my l8th birthday in April in 1973 on Ward H at the Brockville Psychiatric Hospital. What a place to celebrate your l8th birthday is all I can say! My mother bought me some new clothes as I had gained 30 pounds while I was in the locked ward at the Royal Ottawa Hospital. My parents and my brother would visit me once a month at BPH on a weekend as my dad worked as the director of translation for the Department of Customs and Excise in downtown Ottawa next to the Ottawa Public Library. I could see the yellow jeep pulling up to the parking lot from my hospital bedroom window and knew it was my family coming to see me.

I did not cry when my parents and brother left. I had no respect for my parents as they had abused me but I have a lot of love for my brother and did not want him to see me cry so I stayed strong and kept in all my emotions. I would go for a walk outside and find a secluded spot and cry. I did not want my peers to see me cry on the ward either. I had too much pride to show my pain to anyone.

The comradship on the ward is tight. There is an unspoken rule on the ward, don't snitch on your peers. We knew our lives depended on sticking together for support and protection amongst ourselves. We watched out for each other. I did not want to sleep too long at night on the ward. I did not know what the hospital staff would have in store for me the next morning.

I had just received 5 electroshock treatments, ECT or shock treatments as they are called. It was the most terrifying moment of my life when they put you on a white stretcher and tell you to open your mouth as they put a rubber mallet in your mouth and put an elastic tight band on your head and they tell you to "relax". How in the hell can you relax when these people are going to zap your brains with electricity"? I was terrified and angry. I bit and kicked the staff before going into the ECT room. I am not a violent person; I was just reacting to what felt would be abuse and it was. I was scared out my mind as the staff took me into the "ECT room". Like in the movie "One Who Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" starring Jack Nicholson" that is exactly how the ECT was given to me, it was no different from the way it was portrayed in the movie.

I was given an eight hour memory test in 1995 at the Ottawa General Neuropsychology Ward. The outcome of the tests stated that I do have a limited short term memory. Prior to my ECT I had no problems with learning and I could memorize anything with ease and I had to do little studying in school and was second in my class in grade school for 8 years. In high school I was an average student. Now in my day to day tasks, I have to mark everything down and it is not uncommon for me to repeat myself or to forget appointments etc. I have a difficult time to learn anything new. I struggle from day to day living with the after effects of ECT.

ECT is making a big comeback as it is given to many elderly women. Approximately 100,000 people in the US get ECT and about 10,000 people in Canada get ECT yearly. 50,000 ECTs are given in the UK yearly. It is estimated that 1 to 2 million people get ECT yearly.

One of my friends in Ottawa named Gisele called me one day to inform me that her brother Jean was given his 5th ECT at the Royal Ottawa Hospital and was in his early forties and had had a heart condition. He was in his room after the ECT treatment and went into a coma and was then transferred to the neurology ward at the Ottawa Civic Hospital. He did not come out his coma and then was transferred to the Elizabeth Bruyere Centre in Ottawa which is a long term care facility.

Gisele invited me to go with her to visit her brother Jean at the Elizabeth Bruyere Centre in downtown Ottawa. My friend Harry a former lawyer in Ottawa for many years accompanied me. I am glad he did. I needed moral support. We went up the the elevator and walked down the hallway up to Jean's room. Jean was about 20 feet away from us sitting up in a wheelchair. I felt faint as I approached Jean in knowing that it could have been me in the wheelchair as I had had ECT as well. My heart stopped on my last ECT, my 5th ECT. I was revived. The man in front of me down the hallway in a wheelchair was in a coma. I felt like I was going to throw up as I was so shocked to see him like that and it made my legs shake and feel like they were made of jello. I slowly approached Gisele as she spoke softly to her brother Jean. His eyes were open but he did not respond to us and he did not know we were there. His eyes rolled up and down and all over the place. He kept coughing all the time. He had on a sweater and a pair of pants and he had his a pair of glasses.

Jean was in his early forties and was married and had a teenage son. Jean had suffered from depression in the past and that is why he had gone to the Royal Ottawa Hospital. Jean's wife did not want to take any legal action in regard to Jean's medical situation. The family feared he may have been treated poorly in the long term care facility if there as an impending lawsuit. We went up to a room where other patients were sitting all around in a circle, some of them singing. Most of the patients were elderly. Some patients, family and friends sang. Jean sat there with no response coming from his face. I did my best to sing but felt so sad and helpless as I looked at Jean. My heart sank to the floor. We stayed for an hour and then I left. I cried on the bus all the way home.

It was an experience that made me realize I would work very hard withother psychiatric survivors, their families and friends, supporters and other medial staff and mental health professionals who like me want ECT abolished. There is a worldwide movement that is working together to ban ECT. Jean was in a semi-private room. He was curled up like a ball in his bed on one side. His eyes were open but there was no response. Harry my friend who came with me and who was a former lawyer put in hand in front of Jean's face.
I was shocked that Harry did this. Jean's eye did not respond to Harry's gesture. His sister said he could not talk. There were some pictures of Jean before his coma and he was in pictures with his family. He was a good looking man and had a pretty wife. There was a book for visitors to sign and I did and so did Harry.

Gisele would take out her brother Jean in the wheelchair outside the hospital. People would ask what happened to him and Gisele would mention that he had a bad effect after his ECT treatments.

ban ECT ( also known as shock treatments, electroconvulsive therapy and
electroshock treatments, shock)  Go to the internet websites for more
info on ECT:




Dr. Peter R. Breggin, a psychiatrist in the USA wrote a book called
"Electroshock:  Its Brain-Disabling Effects".  Leonard Roy Frank edited a

Jean was in a semi-private room.  He was curled up like a ball.  His
eyes were open and but there was no response when his sister said hello.
He could not talk, he could not respond to his sister and did not

know we were there visiting him.  I was in shock and had to look away.
It was one of the most terrifying moments in my life looking at a peer
of mine who was so badly absued by the psychiatric industry.  It tooks

me years to get the courage to write this segment.  It stills pains me
as I recall the two visits to see Jean, the man in the coma from having
received ECT otherwise known as shock treatments.

One day, Harry a friend of mine who was a former lawyer in Ottawa for

30 years, walked up to the Elizabeth Bruyere Centre to see Jean.  I had
told Harry about Jean.  Harry went into Jean's semi private room.
Harry put his hand in front of Jean's eyes and there was no response from

him.  Why Harry did this I do not know?  It shocked me though.

To see a man in his prime curled up in bed like a ball and not knowing
or recongizing anyone who is visiting him is a scary situation if it is

your first time seeing this.  Even though it was my second visit to
see Jean, I could not stomach seeing him anymore in the future.  It made
me physically ill to my stomach to see this man in this condition.  It

broke my heart and my spirit to some degree for a few months.  Nothing
could break my spirit in the past but this was too much for me at the
time.

Jean died a few years later from having deteriorated so much

physically.  Gisele told me Jean died and I emotionally shutdown for a month.
Jean's condition could have happened to me when my heart stopped on my
last and fifth ECT treatment.  I had used Jean last name on my last website
and the Gisele's wife emailed me and her lawyer said they would bring
me to court if I did not remove his name from my website, so I did.
I had to comply.  I can't afford court costs. 

I am a strong person but this type of

thing ravished me inside with so much pain it was incredible.  My rage
towards the psychiatric industry and those mental health professionals who
know that ECT harms people but yet ECT is making a huge comeback.

Shame on any medical professional who turns a blind eye and says nothing
who knows ECT does harm people.

One famous person who received ECT was the author Ernest Hemingway.  He
was depressed and he was given ECT.  After having the ECT treatments,

Ernest had difficulty writing anything new.  Ernest committed suicide
by taking a gun and shooting himself in his head.

I want mental health professionals to speak out like someone I know in
Ottawa who was a nurse and a psychiatric survivor like myself.   She

spoke up about ECT and the harm it does and she got fired at the hospital
in Ottawa where she was working.  She had the integrity to stand up
and be counted and not turn a blind eye to the truth about ECT. I commend

her.  She is one of my heroes.  She showed true courage!

Whistleblowers can remain anonymous and email me in confidence.  I need
to know what is really going on out there at the hospitals where ECT
is given. Also how the staff treat psychiatric survivors and what

psychiatric abuses you see going on.   Watch and listen and keep notes of
what is going on in your hospitals.  Put the name of the hospital, city
and country and what happened.  Whistleblowers always welcome.  I do not

divulge my sources to no one.   My credibility and integrity are my
trademark.  Like during the last WWII, the motto that said "loose lips
sink ships"  I live by this motto.

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CHAPTER FIVE

I told the ward H psychiatrist Dr. Sipos that I was afraid of the ECTs

he told me I was going to have.  I told Dr. Sipos that I thought the
ECTs would be like frying an egg or my brains and that having the ECT
would not be a good thing for me.  Dr. Sipos assured me ECT was safe and

it would help alleviate my severe depression.  I protested and told him
I did not want it.  He told me I was going to have theECT treatments
and that was his final decision.

I felt helpless and knew I had no choice in the matter.  I had no one

to call to help me, as I was not told my rights, nor did not know I
could have called a lawyer and was not told their was a mental health
rights advisor anywhere. I doubt BPH had any mental rights advisor to come

to my ward in 1973.  I vowed to speak out one day about this barbaric
treatment called ECT and other psychiatric abuses I had suffered.

I was told I was going to have a series of ECT.  During the 5th ECT

treatment, my heart stopped and that ended my having anymore ECT
treatments.  One of my peers on Ward H, Joan had over 100 ECT treatments over  a
period of years.  She always seemed to be confused and in a stupor and

had very little patience for anything or anyone.   She said she did
not want those ECTs but the doctors seemed to think she needed them.
Joan was a slender woman who was always anxious.  Joan smoked one
cigarette after another and paced the floors and hallways on Ward H all day and

night.  Joan rarely smiled.

Around 7 a.m. the hospital staff would be talking loudly and all the
lights would go on.  The staff would come into your room and get you up.
Then you would line up for your "happy pills".  You would line up in

a row while the nurse had a big steel cart with all these white little
paper cups with your dose of medicine.   There was a plastic pitcher
full of water.  The nurse would watch as you took your pills and asked

you to stick out your tongue to make sure that you did not put the pills
under your tongue.

I felt like one of a group of cows on a farm with no where to go.  I
felt like a trapped animal.  To this day, I have to get out of the house,

even if I am sick.  I can't stand to stay in the house and look at the
white walls in my apartment because it reminds me of my days when I
was locked up on psychiatric wards.  I felt like I would climb the walls

at times on the locked wards.

I felt lonely and isolated on the ward.  I was never locked up or
confined as a child.   I needed to go and and take the long walks I was used
to.  I felt humiliated and abused by the staff.  I was only a number

to them and not a person.

I was treated like a crazy person who needed help.  I was brainwashed
over the years of being psychiatrized into thinking that I was mentally
ill and I needed all this help.  I believed there was something wrong

with me because all the psychiatrists (shrinks) said I was "mentally
ill" and I unfortunately got hooked into the vice grips of the psychiatric
industry.

My outpatient psychiatrist would see me for about a half hour once

every month and then he would tell me to take my pills and he would see you
next month.  I was impressionable as I was only l7 years old when I
was first admitted to the Royal Ottawa Hospital in 1972.


As I believed the psychiatrists' labels (diagnoses) that they so called
put on my forehead.  The psychiatrists' bible is the DSM - IV -  The
Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Health Disorders.  Go to

this website for more info:    I believe
this book should be banned.

I don't want to be labelled by anyone.  I just want to be me and have

people accept me as I am.   I talk quickly, I am verbose and I can do a
lot of things in one day.   Labels are destructive.  I started  to
identify myself by my label.  One day I walked into my gynecologist's

office and said "Hello, I am Sue Clark and I am a schizophrenic".  The
receptionist looked shocked by what I said.  My brother, my boyfriend, my
friends, and my family doctor and supporters accept me as I am and I am

grateful for that.  I could not have it any other way.

I complied and took the medications that the psychiatrists game me and
did not question the treatments I had until many years later. I was a
good patient for awhile until I got angry and then I started to rebel on

the wards, by yelling and shouting and telling the staff what I
thought of them and psychiatry.  I would yell out and say things like "Why
are you torturing me?"  "I am not nuts, my mother is and she should be

locked up here, not me", "Get me out of this hellhole now",  "I am gonna
write about his one day you know"  "I hate this place",  "Someone,
anyone "HELP ME GET OUT OF HERE NOW"  I would sob loudly for hours and

scream.

I call the pharmaceutical companies the whores of psychiatry and
psychiatrists are their pimps.  There is mega bucks going on with all the
smooth talking salesmen with the fancy briefcase talking to Dr. X. that

this such and such pill is good for this type of psychiatric diagnoses
because it does this and will alleviate depression and the psychbabble
and the lies go on and on.  It is disgusting to think that these rich

pharmaceutical companies have no conscience as long as their bank accounts
are well padded and their profits soar every year.  I call it the root
of evil for sure at whose expense!

I don't believe people need psychiatric drugs to numb their pain but

they need to have their experiences validated, they need to be treated
with respect.  People need to have proper housing, 3 good meals a day,
somewhere to go where someone knows their name, friends who care about

them, and community support systems that will treat them an an adult and
not like a child and include them in the designing of these programs.

People need a crisis line that does not have a busy signal, people need

a 24 hour drop in where they can have a cup of coffee, chat with an
understanding crisis worker who doe not judge them.   People need group
homes where they can feel safe and trust the staff and build a healthy

and nuturing life for themselves.

They need family doctors who do not dish out nerve pills every time
someone has a crisis or is in grief, but takes the time to talk to them
and know everyone has to go through grief at some time.


The family doctors needs to undersand  depresion is part of grief, and
that a crisis can happen from time to time and it does not mean the
person cannot cope, it means for that time the person needs more support.


Caring friends got me through some rough patches in my life.  My
brother has always been there for me.  I can call him and confide in him and
he always tells me what I need to hear, not what I want to hear.  He is

honest and he knows me well.  My brother and I are close.  He is a
good man and I am proud that he is my brother.  He has integrity.  He has
my love and respect.

My brother saved my life a few times when I was a teenager when my

mother tried to strangle me to death.  He jumped on my mother and pulled
her off me.  Thank god Chris was there at the time my mother abused me.

Every time I wanted to get off the psychiatric drugs, my psychiatrist

at the time would say to me "Suzanne, don't get off your medicine,
because you know in the past you get suicidal and if you do that we will
have to send you back to the Brockville Psychiatric Hospital.  I was

afraid of this real threat and complied with taking my medication.  For
years I was afraid to even think of getting off the medications.

This is a way some psychiatrists at the Royal Ottawa Hospital treated

many of their patients with the impending threat of being sent 60 miles
from Ottawa to the Brockville Psychiatric ''hellhole" hospital.  I knew
of friends who were threatened the same way I was.  This affected my

psyche.  This threat was real and I was terrified of going back to BPH.
My experience at BPH left me with nightmares for years.

About 10 years ago, a mother called me and wanted me to advocate for
her son who was at the Brockville Psychiatric Hospital (BPH) on Ward H

where I had been locked up so many years before.  I hesitated but I
agreed to go to BPH on the bus that Canadian Mental Health Association in
Ottawa (CMHA) had  going up to BPH a few times a month.

The mother told me her son who had co-ordination problems and

behavioural problems was locked up on BPH.  He was not a violent person.  The
son was slow at taking a shower and one day a Ward H orderly kicked him
as he was taking a shower. Other patients had bullied him on Ward H.


We arrived at BPH.  The bus rolled into the massive grounds of the
hospital.  It took one hour by bus from Ottawa to get to BPH.  The bus
rolled into the front entrance of the hospital and we were told by the bus

driver to be at the front entrance by 3 p.m. for the drive back to
Ottawa.

The woman and I walked around the main building and around to the
building housing Wards G, H, and K.  I walked up the stairs after many years

and I felt a lump in my throat as panic consumed me.  I was thinking
it was 1973 again and I was a patient again at BPH.  It was a though
time had stopped.  I hesitated going up the stairs and into the front

entrance door of the building.  The memories starting to pour into my mind
as to what happened to me.  Deja-vu.

The woman asked me if was ok, I guess my face had drained out of its
color and gone white for a few seconds.  I said I was alright and then we

proceeded up the elevator to Ward H.  I got off the elevator and
turned to the right and faced the locked door to Ward H.  My head starting
to feel like it was swaying and I felt buzzing in my ears.  I suddenly

felt very anxious.  I could not knock on the door right away.  It was
knowing that once you went into the ward, the door would lock behind you.
The feeling of having been locked up never goes away when you approach

another locked ward or door in the future.   I finally got up the
courage and I knocked on the ward H door and a nurse came to open the door
and asked us our names and who we were visiting.   We told the nurse

the nature of our business was to visit this woman's son.  I crossed that
line between freedom and being locked up, an imaginery line but a real
one for me as the door opened.

As I looked around the ward, I noticed that the rooms had full walls up

to the ceiling and doors to their rooms and the bathrooms had been
renovated.  I wonder if public showers were still the norm where you would
stand naked in front of the staff and your peers with shower stalls

with no curtains.  I did not ask. That memory was and is still too
painful when I think about it to this day.

The man in question we were visiting was in his late teens and had
problems with his co-ordination as he walked.   When we could sit alone

with him he told us the guard kicked him because he was taking too long to
take a shower.  He told us some of his peers made fun of his
disabilities.  His speech was somewhat slurred by the heavy doses of medication

the staff were giving him.   The mother wanted her son to be
transferred to the Royal Ottawa Hospital where her son could be closer to her.
I wanted to advocate for her son that day but she declined as she

feared what the staff would do to her son if the word got out he was being
abused by one male orderly.  She was scared and I had to respect her
right.  It was a hard choice for me not to say anything, but she was the

man's next of kin.  I felt helpless knowing we would be leaving the man
behind on the locked ward on Ward H. I felt this man's safety was in
jeopardy.

The staff were pleasant to us on the ward as we were visiting the young