The Hospital

I am amazed by the author of this astounding memoir. My childhood was very similar to hers: neglect, trauma, and abuse, which led to emotional problems during my adolescence, which gave my abusive parents the chance to get rid of me by putting me in a mental institution when I was fourteen years old. I was incarcerated in that horrible human warehouse for almost two years.I have been trying to write my own memoir since 1975. So far, I haven't been able to get past the first few chapters, because the pain of remembering is just too overwhelming.But Barbara O'Hare has done it! And she has told her story so well, with such depth and clarity, that it's almost as if you are right there with her, living in her shoes.State Hospital No. 3, Nevada, Missouri, was the name of the institution where I spent the longest two years of my life. Built in the late 1800s, it was the largest building in the state at the time of its construction, more than a mile in circumference. While I was there, it was packed to overflowing with unwanted children and society's rejects. This institution was closed and torn down in the 1990s. Three years ago, my husband and I took a drive there. Standing on the empty, park-like grounds where the massive, imposing institution used to be, felt very surreal!Shortly after I was put in the mental hospital in early 1968, I asked the ward psychiatrist how soon I would be able to go home. He coldly informed me that according to the statistics, 97% of the people admitted to that institution were never released. "If you're here past one year, the odds of you ever getting out of this place alive will go down to less than 1%," he added. "So if you want to have a life, you need to hurry up and make yourself well. WE can't make you well, only YOU can do that."He must have seen a look of shocked disbelief on my face, because he told me to ask the other patients on the ward how long they had been there, if I doubted what he said. I did ask, and the shortest answer I remember hearing was eight years, the average, more than twenty years. I wasn't yet old enough to drive a car, and my life was effectively over.I did not know how to “make myself well,” so I did the only thing I could do – I ran away. I was quickly caught, brought back, and punished with solitary confinement. In solitary, I was strapped down to a metal cot with padlocked belts that went around my waist, looped over my wrists, and encircled my ankles. They did not use strait jackets while I was there, they used these leather-wrapped steel belts, instead. I have no idea which would be worse.I ran away several more times, whenever I saw a chance to run. The last time I ran, I was gone overnight and my escape was reported on the news. When I was found and brought back that time, the administrator of the hospital came and cursed me out. Then he ordered me to be put on the maximum security ward, where they kept the criminally insane. This was where I spent the majority of my time in that “hospital.”The doctor who was the head of maximum security, was also fond of using the “truth serum” drug that Barbara O'Hare writes about in her memoir. This psychiatrist was a rapist. He was caught and arrested, the last time he abused me, because I almost died that time, possibly because he had given me too much of the drug, or maybe because I had developed an allergy to it. (I am deathly allergic to several drugs.) One of the nurses heard me “screaming bloody murder,” as she later told me, but she could not get into the doctor's locked office, where he was in the act of molesting me. As she tried to unlock the door, he called to her through the door and told her that I was under hypnosis, reliving a terrible trauma. (I have no memory of screaming and no memory of the nurse trying to get in. I only remember bits and pieces of what that evil man did to me, but what I remember is enough.)After the doctor was finished with me, he woke me and told me to go back to the ward. He tried to get me to kiss him before I left, and I refused to do it. Then he told me that I would “never be well” until I stopped denying what I “really wanted.” This was the last thing he ever said to me. (I was fifteen! I was his patient! He was almost fifty, married, with grown children! I DID NOT WANT IT!!)I remember feeling like I was floating up out of my body, as I walked back to the ward. Suddenly, I collapsed on the floor. Two nurses found me without a pulse. They somehow got me breathing again, and then they walked me back and forth between them, up and down the long hallway, for what seemed like an hour or more, until the drug was out of my system enough that I could ask to go to the restroom. One of the nurses accompanied me to the toilet, because I was still very wobbly. When I pulled down my underwear, she could see by the condition of my underpants that I had been raped. She went out into the hall and called the other nurse to come and look. Then these two angels of mercy reported everything to the police.Two plain clothes detectives came by to question me the next day. They also questioned others who had previously accused this psychiatrist of raping or molesting them. Many patients had tried to report these things, but no one had believed us, until the nurses saw the aftermath of what had been done to me. (I had also previously reported to a nurse that the doctor was sexually molesting me, but I was not believed. When the abusive doctor was told about it, he wrote in my chart that I was a “pathological liar.”)One of the nurses told me that when the police searched the psychiatrist's office they found, locked in his desk, tape recordings that he had made of his multiple rapes, of both female and male patients. The psychiatrist was arrested. A few years after this, I learned that the evil psychiatrist had committed suicide.It's hard to believe these things, isn't it? Hard to believe that a medical doctor, who is supposed to HELP people, would drug and rape his patients. People don't like to believe the “mentally ill” when we try to tell how we were abused. That's what makes us the perfect victims.Almost half a century has passed since I was set free from the asylum. Back when I was a patient there, a lot of people believed in creating a better race of people through eugenics. It was widely believed that the “mentally ill” should never have children, because we presumably have defective genes. I have had three children. My oldest son manages two motels in California. My daughter is currently attending a university, working toward a masters and then a doctorate in psychology. Her own daughter, my eldest granddaughter, will graduate this fall from the anthropology program at Harvard. And my youngest son earns enough money selling jewelry that he recently bought a beautiful home with an in-ground pool.As for me, about twenty years ago, after all my children were grown, I went to nursing school and was elected class president. A year and a half after graduating as an LPN, I published a novel. In May 2000 I was on the Oprah Winfrey Show, featured in one of her inspirational “Remembering Your Spirit” segments.I have done all of these things and more, but I still have not finished my memoir. Yet Barbara O'Hare has done it. I highly recommend her book, THE HOSPITAL. And NOW, Lord willing, I am going to follow in her inspirational footsteps and finish my memoir at long last!Thank you, Barbara O'Hare! You are an AWESOME SURVIVOR!!!!PS: I know this lengthy review does not say a lot about the book I'm reviewing. The reason is because I don't want to give any of the story away. I am telling here about some similar things that I've lived through, to validate Barbara's story. My experiences were different, but similar enough, that I absolutely believe THE HOSPITAL is completely true.Also, I have attached two pictures. One is a scan of a 100 year old postcard that I bought on eBay several years ago, of the mental institution where I was incarcerated in the late 1960s. (The words stamped on the front of that picture were original to the postcard.) The other picture is me, with our sweet old Cattle Dog, Lady, standing where the asylum used to be. That picture was taken in May 2014. I am standing, as near as I could figure it, to the spot where the maximum security ward was located, where I was incarcerated almost half a century ago.

I'm not sure where to begin with this review as I want to be fair to Barbara and all that she went through.I have so much heartache for this woman and all that she had to endure. Her life has been anything bur fair; to put it frankly, her life has been severely lacking in luck. She bounced from one terrible situation to the next where no one would help her and everyone treated her like dirt.This book is amazingly heartbreaking, and I give Barbara huge props for writing her story and opening our minds and hearts to things most of us choose not to think about.There are a few things I'd like to note on the book itself. I'm aware that Barbara O'Hare isn't an author by trade, so the writing style isn't the best. She jumps around from taking multiple chapters to talk about one instance in her young life, to taking one chapter to get through a few years in her life. It's a very abrupt change of pace and it makes it a little difficult to read.I found myself wanting to yell at this book and throw it across the room because of the large amount of evil people Barbara had to encounter along her journey. It's astounding to me that not until the end of her story did she have anyone she could talk to or to help her. Which leads me to my next section of confusing storyline. In the end of the book Barbara recounts how after she left the first place to give her a good home to find her mom, only to end up living on the streets (not thinking to go back to the girl's home) trying to make ends meet. She then contacts her family (where have they been all these years!?) and asks for their help in believing her story and getting the truth out there so others like her can obtain justice.I have trouble with this story because this poor little girl suffered immensely at the hands of those who were supposed to protect her and give her a home, but Barbara was never taught how to function as a human being. She didn't understood how to think things through and not just run when she had the chance. The only person who was a "consistent" person in her life was her father (I'll spare you my opinions on him) and he's the one that continued to treat her like crap and put her in those places to begind with! I dropped my book at the 'Acknowledgments and Thank You's section at the end because she actually thanked him for saving her....um no.... he didn't, his current lady friend made him stop trying to send her back so Barbara could get her story out. He was nothing but horrible to Barbara and yet she still thanked him sor saving her... I can't get over that part.I wish Barbara all the best in her life and am so thankful to have had the opportunity to read this book. This woman is the epitome of bravery, and strength. Her life story makes me sad, and angry, and a little happy. I hope she continues to fight for justice and help others who suffered just like her.

Barbara OHare was let down by everyone. Her mother, her father in many ways, the system and those entrusted with her care. She was physically, emotionally and sexually abused by many. Her story is crafted like a well versed writer, and I only found one editing error, which did make reading this horrific tale easier to immersed myself in. It flowed, and her writing style was captivating.What we tell our children, they believe. Until one day, with strength and perseverance, they begin to spread those old memories and replace them with joy. Her dad was not prepared to be a father, but gets a gold star by the end of the book, for he saved her from the horrid place. I just wish Dr Milner had been brought to justice. May he rot in hell for what he did to these children.Thank you for sharing your story. It is a must read. Highly recommended with 5 stars, which I usually reserve for classics. ,

Thank you for writing this book Barbara. You are so brave and such a warrior. I balled my eyes out for all the pain you’ve had to endure. Im so sorry that those nurses and doctors were so cruel to you. My heart broke into a million pieces reading your story. How dare they do such evil things. I hope you get the justice you deserve. They should pay for your therapy and all your living expenses. I hope you found your friend.

Amazing and powerful, I read straight through. You are resilient in so many ways. Your determination and ability to obtain justice provides comfort to others who have experienced the same trauma. Tx u for sharing your story♡.

This is an incredible read about this woman's life. I hope they get the justice they deserve and I can't wait to read the asylum by another Aston hall survivor

Brilliant read could not put the book down recommend this so much great buy great quality 👍🏻🌟⭐️🌟⭐️🌟⭐️🌟⭐️🌟

One of the best true stories. I had to read this book in every free second. Everyone who likes true stories will love this book.

What a cruel life. An inspiration to us all. Will definitely look for an update on this incredible, shocking story.

By the end of reading this book, I felt so angry with the whole situation.