06/08/2026
My 2 precious furbabies died as a direct result of being involuntarily incarcerated at a psych ward, 4 1/2 years apart. Their names were Mazzy and Larry.
Jill Kesti
MAZZY GOOSE
Mazzy was disabled, with only 3 legs. I cared for her since she was a kitten, when my ex had found her in the road with an atrophied arm, possibly she had been hit. I had her useless leg removed for $600 at Laingsburg Animal Hospital in lower Michigan. She was precious in her disadvantaged state, and stole my heart, time and attention for many years.
In November of 2016 I was forced catheterized in the ER and then committed to a psych ward for 3 days. I was horrifically traumatized and in level 10 pain from them prying my legs apart, in front of two male policemen.
Upon release, I went to my doctor for pain relief and was given 2 drugs (Baclofen/Prednisone) that can cause “psychosis”. I spiraled into extreme distress for weeks. My live-in boyfriend was hearing me scream about being r***d in the ER, and about my friend Stacy Smith hanging herself in China. I didn’t sleep for weeks.
The town was having an infestation of fleas at this time. I was an emotional mess and was unable to help my cats and take out the carpeting or clean. I got natural flea repellent but they continued their infestation and it started to get bad. My boyfriend couldn’t take anymore of my screams and called the police. I was taken in a cop car to Sault St. Marie Behavioral Health Center 230 miles away.
My boyfriend had to bring me clothes and supplements (which they refused to let me have), driving 4 hours to do so, and was gone for 2 days from my home.
Upon his return, on my 3rd day in the Psych Ward, I recieved a call from him that my beautiful, 3 legged Mazzy Goose was dead; she had been unable to scratch the fleas away from her back and succumbed. He said he had given her stiffened body to my neighbors to get rid of. I still don’t know where her body lies. Or if she was actually fully dead when she was abandoned. It haunts me.
I was floored. This was like the death of a child to me. I didn’t know how I could face it. I was physically also in the worst pain of my life, using frosted windows to cool down my inflamed back (from the forced catheterization) nightly. I truly entered hell on Earth. I was there for 2 weeks.
Then I was court ordered to take brain disabling psychotropic neurotoxins for the next year, robbing me of my chance to properly heal and grieve. I still haven’t.
MR. LARRY LILY
My life was blessed when Larry came into it. I got him from my mom when he was about 6, because he shed too much, and he gave me love like no other. He had such a winning personality, with stunning blue eyes and white, soft fur with some gray. He knew when I was depressed, and was my personal weighted blanket on my feet, holding me safe and secure. I loved him more than Beega. More than Mazzy.
In June of 2021, my Psychiatrist lowered my dose of Depakote from 3000mg to 750mg overnite. This should NEVER be done to someone. I spiraled into “psychosis”, and I was out of my mind. The police were called and after 5 days in the ER a block from my house, I was dragged 500 miles in the Sherriff’s vehicle to Pine Rest Christian Mental Health Services in Grand Rapids, lower Michigan.
My dad went to my house that first or second day i was being held a block away before transport. He caught my cat Beega Choo Choo but Mr. Larry Lily evaded him and escaped out of my holy foundationless basement. I begged the staff to let me leave and go catch him, and to get my bills, which were due. They refused to let me go.
My dad lives 90 minutes away, but he came out several more times during my 26 day incarceration in the ER/psych ward to try and catch Larry. He left food and water each time, but Larry’s heart was breaking. He had just gone through 2 weeks of this when I had been involuntarily hospitalized (again, iatrogenically caused) in April, 2 months prior, again evading my dad. Now it was happening again, “Where’s my mommy? Where is my Beega? Why am I all alone?”
I got back to the UP and home 26 days later, and my neighbor had found Larry. I brought him to the Vet Hospital, rang up an $1800 bill, and lost him anyway. He had been a happy, healthy boy prior to my incarceration. I believe he was traumatized to death. I was and still am daily devestated at losing him. Slap the newDSM VI label “Prolonged Grief Disorder” on me now, too, I guess. Sigh.
Hope for BEEGA CHOO CHOO
Beega (Finnish for “Little”) remains of the 3 cats I cared for and deeply loved as my own children. She just turned 15 in April. She is my everything now. I am scared to death that Beega will become a casualty of the current mental health system’s callous, torturous ways.
If you have a chance to speak out for support animals and the system’s responsibility of their care in the event of a forced psychiatric hospitalization, please do. Please share this post. Please help protect animals while their human is incarcerated.
Thank you!
Much love,
Jillybein’
(Press on hashtag to see more photos of my kittens)
