Okay, here’s a video on depression and what I went through in the aftermath of the Captain Father Angus McRae Child Sexual Abuse Scandal on Canadian Forces Base Namao
Death is all around us. Each and everyone of us will die. Some of us will die sooner than the others. Some of us will die due to the actions of others. And some of us will even die at our own hands. None of us are getting out of here alive.
And as my chances of receiving any type of justice from the Canadian Forces military justice system start to drastically dwindle, my resolve to apply for Medical Assistance in Dying becomes more solid.
In the next year I’ll probably discuss the procedure in more detail as I learn more about it myself.
I’ll also get more into my depression and my anxiety and how they caused numerous problems for me in my life. I’ll also hopefully be able to explain to you just how fucking hard it is for a male to get sexual abuse counselling in our society and how it is literally impossible for a former military dependent to obtain counselling that takes into account the military environment that they grew up in.
As I’ve mentioned previously, suicide is actually common in our society no matter the desire of the media to hide suicide from public view.
I also have no doubt in my mind that there are numerous suicides that don’t get reported as suicides whether that’s done to spare the family “shame” or if its done because the person finally succumbs to their injuries weeks or months after the attempt.
The above table indicates that between the years 2008 and 2018 six thousand one hundred and two people committed suicide in the province of British Columbia alone. And would you look at the age group that commits suicide the most frequently ……
What is not listed in the table above are those who have attempted suicide or those who have had suicidal ideations.
Also what appears to not be incorporated into the table above is the number of Medically Assisted Deaths such as in the table below:
One of the most common things heard after someone successfully commits suicide is “I had no idea they were depressed” or “Why?”.
I have heard frequently that those who have attempted suicide are just seeking attention and those who have committed suicide are just selfish and thinking of no one else but themselves. It really irks me that society thinks that I owe it to society to live.
The son of one of my engineers at work committed suicide last year. This engineer was beyond distraught. So I had a talk with him. I told him that the only person who knows why his son killed himself is his son. If his son was determined to take his own life, there was absolutely nothing this engineer could have done to stop him. The engineer wanted to know if he had missed the signs that his son was depressed or sad. I asked him if he knew that I suffered from major depression and severe anxiety. He replied “no”. I mentioned to him my own struggles both in the past and currently. Knowing this seemed to put him at ease.
And I think that was always one of the fears that I had in the back of my mind. That when I decided to go that no one would understand why I went and that my father or the Canadian Armed Forces would be able to pass me off as just being insane or simply out to get attention. This blog details my justification for ending my life. I explain everything to the best of my ability. If and when I am able to undergo Medical Assistance in Dying there shouldn’t be any unanswered questions.
The fear of pain is another reason I have never been able to follow through on my attempts. Asphyxiation, bleeding out, jumping from heights, electrocution, pills, etc., none of these are without pain and prolonged suffering. I don’t like pain and I sure as hell don’t want to be hooked up to a ventilator for 2 weeks because someone “saved me”. That’s the nice thing about Medical Assistance in Dying. It’s done as humanely as possible. There will be no pain and there will be no suffering. And it will be very quick. One minute I’ll be alive. The next minute I’ll be completely unconscious. Then I’ll be in a coma. Then I’ll be dead. Supposed to take about 6 minutes from start to finish.
Again, I’m not afraid of death. I am afraid of dying. Death doesn’t bother me because I’ll be dead. It’s the process of going from living to dead that causes me concern. Most suicide attempts fail. With Medical Assistance in Dying I don’t have to worry. Everything will be looked after by professionals.
Being alone. As much as I want to die, dying alone would suck. Why do I have to scurry away to a hidey-hole to die like some sick or injured animal. That’s what I like the most about Medical Assistance in Dying. I don’t have to die alone. At the bare minimum the practitioner performing the procedure will be there. I don’t know who else I’d ask to be there. Don’t really have any friends and my family is more or less none existent. I’d like to keep my death a somewhat private affair.
And with Medical Assistance in Dying I know that my corpse will be looked after. Sure, I’m having some difficulty at the moment trying to figure out how to get my brain to go where I want my brain to go, but regardless my corpse won’t be found a week after I die due to the stench wafting out of my apartment.
But Bobbie, if your goal is to die, why do you care about your corpse after you die?
Do you realize how much it fucks with someone’s wellbeing to stumble across a dead body?
Especially if they weren’t expecting it?
And as much as I desire to get out of here, fucking with others isn’t high on my list of priorities.
And as I mentioned at the top of this blog entry, I had always from a young age hoped and dreamed that P.S. would somehow be held responsible for what he did. But he won’t. Nor for that matter will Earl Ray Stevens. And as there is no heaven, hell, or afterlife, so telling me that they’ll be looked after in the afterlife is meaningless to me.
By holding P.S. and Earl responsible for what they did I was hoping for Richard to be held responsible for the shit he put me through as a result of the CFB Namao matter. Well Richard died in 2017, so getting even the slightest acknowledgment from Richard would be impossible.
As I told Sgt. Winship during our meeting, the one aspect of this whole event that I resent the most is that P.S. is loved by is father. Retired Sgt. J.S. couldn’t stop fawning over his son, how his son was the victim in this whole tragic affair, how the military never helped his son and how the military is to blame for his son going on to molest many more children over the years. P.S.’s sister D.S. lied on P.S.’s behalf. P.S.’s younger brother P.S. also lied on behalf of P.S..
My father lied to the CFNIS in 2011. And it wasn’t just that he forgot to mention something. The fucker outright stabbed me in the back and threw me under the fucking train. I guess he never got over Captain Totzke diagnosing me as a homosexual at age 9 and blaming me for “allowing” P.S. to molest my younger brother. He obviously never forgave me for “fucking with his military career”.
This nugget showed up in the copy of my Foster Care records that had been obtained by my lawyer for a different matter. I hadn’t seen this in the records that I obtained in August of 2011. Before CFB Namao I don’t think there were any issues between myself and my brother. At least I don’t remember any. After Namao we are getting flagged in Alberta and Ontario for “extreme sibling rivalry”. What changed?
Well, as it says in the except, my father disciplined my brother and I very differently. Whatever my brother got, I usually got twice as hard. Why?
Richard had determined that my brother was acting up due to what I had “allowed” the babysitter to do to him. And, due to Richard’s piss poor parenting skills, Richard came to believe that I was responsible for raising my brother. And if my brother got into trouble then I obviously deserved twice as much punishment because I wasn’t being responsible and looking after my younger brother.
So yeah, as you can see, there is a lot of damage.
Why do I think that death is the only answer to my problems?
Why do you think that living is something that I need to do?
40 years ago was the time to deal with my issues. 40 years ago treatment would have done something. Not now. Now is far too late. And the older I get the more the toxins of depression build up. The more regret builds up. The more time passes the more that “what could have been” eats at me from the inside.
Yeah, sure, the Escitalopram is keeping my severe depressions at bay and it nips my anxiety in the bud, but being medically numbed for the rest of my life does absolutely nothing for the constant replaying memories and the constant regret.
As I’ve said, if the abuse had been limited to P.S. grabbing my nutsack on one occasion, fine. But this asshole was extremely sadistic in his abuse. The memories of what he did to not only myself but the other kids is forever etched into my mind. And throw into the mix Captain Totzke’s “treatments” and my father’s absolute disdain, and you’ve got some very heavy duty toxins.
My meeting with Sgt. David Winship and Captain Chelsea St-Amand on Thursday April 21st, was the first time that anyone from the Canadian Armed Forces ever came to the realization that I can’t get any type of beneficial counselling through “normal” civilian channels. I wasn’t just sexually abused for 1-1/2 years on Canadian Forces Base Namao by P.S. and potentially Captain Father Angus McRae. I was also mind fucked for 2-1/2 years by Canadian Armed Forces social worker Captain Terry Totzke. Captain Terry Totzke’s rank of Captain and his determination that I was a “homosexual” at age 9 no doubt had a significant amount of influence on my father’s opinion of me and contributed to how my father treated me at home. Sgt. Winship agreed that the Canadian Forces had a very dim view of “homosexuality” back then and that the CFSIU investigation of Captain McRae for committing “Acts of Homosexuality” didn’t really help the matter.
Sgt. Winship indicated that the crimes of “Gross Indecency”, “Indecent Assault”, and especially “Buggery” were crimes that both parties could in fact be charged with implying that back then both parties would have been deemed to be culpable.
Sgt. Winship agreed that I can’t just deal with the sexual assault aspect without dealing with the Captain Totzke issues and the issues caused by my father. Civilian counsellors however are completely at a loss as to how I would ever have been involved with military social workers or how living in a military family at the time would have impacted how I was dealt with and treated in the aftermath of the CFB Namao incident.
March 2023 is when I find out what my possibilities are. I can bide my time until then. But even then, I will probably have a year and a bit before I can undergo the procedure and go to sleep and never be troubled by CFB Namao ever again.
So, you’re all welcome to follow along. I won’t blame anyone for not following.
All that I ask is that you don’t cast judgement on my decision.
It’s mine and mine alone to make.
Recently I made acquaintances with a woman named Nacy who was married to Jean-Yves Dagenais. Jean-Yves is the younger brother of my mother. He was the uncle I don’t think I ever met.
I met my uncle Albert (Al) Dagenais various times while we lived on Canadian Forces Base Shearwater. But I honestly can’t remember meeting Jean-Yves.
One interesting thing that Nancy did mention is that Marie, Nancy, and Jean-Yves drove up from Regina because Marie was in a panic that her children were in danger. It turns out that Marie was still on Prince Edward Island and had been told where Richard had moved to. Marie called up Jean-Yves and borrowed some money to fly from PEI to Regina, and then the three of them drove up to Canadian Forces Base Namao.
Apparently when they arrived the found grandma feeing my brother and I at the kitchen table. We didn’t appear to be in any distress.
I remember this visit. Not too much detail. I sure didn’t remember Nancy or Jean-Yves. I know that I had been told about my mother coming for a visit as I went and waited by the entrance to the PMQs with a flashlight for them to come. I figured that with the flashlight she’d see me better and she wouldn’t drive past.
I remember Marie bitching about the house numbering. And yes, the houses were numbered weird. Or at least weird when compared to the civilian world. In the civilian world the houses tend to be numbered odds on one side and evens on the other. The house numbers also increase typically from the lower cross street to the higher cross street.
This was not how they were numbered on CFB Namao. The houses were numbered sequentially down one side of the street and then sequentially up the other side. This is how our PMQ #11 on 12th street was literally across the street from P.S.’s PMQ #26 on 12th street.
I’ll never figure out who it was that told Marie that we were living on Canadian Forces Base Namao. There were only two people who would have told her. And they’re both dead now. It was either my grandmother, or my uncle Doug. There is no way on Earth that Richard would have ever called Marie.
Grandma was always of the opinion that Marie and Richard should never have separated and that Richard should have swallowed his pride and asked Marie back in.
Doug never really liked Richard. When uncle Doug would come back from the oilfield every six weeks or so, Doug would buy my brother and I toys and other things to Richard’s chagrin.
Most of the xmas present that my brother and I received like our little B&W tvs and the little Coleco rifle games for those TVs were bought by Doug in Marie’s name.
If I was a gambling man I’d have to say that it was Doug and not grandma that called Marie to let her know where Richard had technically kidnapped her children to.
Grandma was too afraid of Richard to have gone behind his back to tell Marie where he had moved to with their kids and without a valid custody order.
Uncle Doug just didn’t seem to give a fuck. Yeah, he wouldn’t outright antagonize Richard, but he would do things that he knew would rub Richard the wrong way.
For example, when I moved back to Edmonton in June of 1990 with Richard “so we could try to be a family again”, it was Doug that introduced me to Marie. It was also Doug that tried to get me to go for my small “m” metis papers.
Small “m” metis papers really don’t amount to too much, other than you can rightfully say that you have First Nations DNA. I think Doug knew this would kill Richard as Richard had spent his entire life pretending that he wasn’t Half Cree and Half Irish.
Nancy said that when Marie, Nancy, and Jean-Yves arrived that my brother and I were sitting at the kitchen table happily eating our breakfast. So I don’t know if Nancy and Jean-Yves came at a later time, but I do know that when Marie arrived I had my father’s military issue flashlight because it was getting dark.
Maybe Marie came up by herself initially and then Nancy and Jean-Yves came up the next morning.
Nancy said that after seeing that my brother and I weren’t in any danger that things became testy between Jean-Yves and Marie.
Nancy would go on to say that because Marie had abandoned my brother and I on Prince Edward Island and left us in the house alone by ourselves Uncle Al was furious with Marie and she didn’t think those two ever spoke again. Probably explains why Marie was never mentioned in Uncle Al’s obituary. And this probably explains why Marie wouldn’t say anything about Al when I went to visit her in 2013 and 2014.
I don’t honestly remember too much about when Marie left. I know I was crying. I know my brother was crying. And I know that Marie was crying. She packed my brother and I a suitcase each of our clothes.
Marie took us over to another PMQ on base and left us with one of Richard’s airforce buddies. I can’t remember who this guy was other than he had two kids that were older than me. It was one of these older boys that gave me their bicycle when his father bought him a new bicycle. What I also remember about this guy is that he had a reel-to-reel tape deck that I was fascinated with.
So yeah, my brother and I weren’t abandoned.
Until the day I die I will never forgive Marie for leaving me with an alcoholic rage fuelled monster suffering from PTSD and intergenerational family trauma. But no, she didn’t abandon us like Richard and his melodramatic outbursts would make it sound like.
Richard would have been fucking pissed. Richard was at sea with the airforce when Marie left. Richard was fine with having children so long as he didn’t have to look after them. And now with Marie gone, he was going to have to look after his own kids. So he brought his alcoholic and psychologically damaged mother out from Edmonton, AB to raise my brother and I.
And as we know from my Alberta Foster Care records, Richard always had to play the victim. And I kid you not, Richard was excellent at bullshitting. There’s a reason why Alberta Social Services noted Richard as “frequently telling different stories from one meeting to another”. He lied, and he lied good.
And I also know for a fact that Marie didn’t abandon us like Richard said she did. Richard made an application to the PEI courts for child custody. The application never went anywhere in the court. The court made no determination as to child custody. If Marie had abandoned my brother and I like Richard claimed she did, it would have been a slam dunk. Richard would have been awarded custody and in fact the courts may have awarded Richard child support payments from Marie.
Yet, none of this happened. Richard wasn’t a kind old man who didn’t want free money from Marie because he had a kind heart and didn’t want to cause her further distress. Richard was a man who could carry a fucking grudge better than Allied Van Lines carries furniture.
At the time it wasn’t common knowledge, but it is now that service members back in the day often abused the National Defence Act and the Defence Establishment Trespass Regulations to their own advantage.
The Hillcrest housing development was built to DND spec by a private builder and was then leased to DND by this builder. Any property that is leased by DND becomes a “Defence Establishment”. Only members of the Canadian Armed Forces or civilian employees of the Department of National Defence have any legal right to be on a Defence Establishment.
Military dependents such as my brother and I and our mother have no legal right to be on a defence establishment. We’re only there at our serving parent’s pleasure.
There was a report commissioned by the Canadian Forces in 1996 to look at spousal abuse in the Canadian Forces. The report was finished in the spring of 2000 and released.
The report found that men would often use the Defence Establishment Trespass Regulations to eject their spouse out of the PMQ and off the base when the marriage was breaking down.
Once kicked out of the military housing and off the base the non-serving spouse often found it impossible to serve papers on the service member as they and their lawyers would be barred from the base or from approaching military housing which was located on a base.
The report would also discover that the serving member’s superiors would often lie to outside social service agencies about the child custody status of the children, implying that the service member had custody. This would deny the non-serving spouse of any civil benefits.
Now, the odd thing about Richard’s claim that Marie abandoned my brother and I is that he himself would readily abandon my brother and I when it fit his needs.
I have no idea of who the woman was that brought me to the hospital after my bicycle incident.
But I do know that Iceland is nowhere near Prince Edward. In fact it’s 3,341km from Prince Edward Island to Iceland. By way of comparison it’s 3,359km between Vancouver, BC and Toronto, ON.
Grandma had already returned to Edmonton to be with her husband Andy Anderson when I was admitted to the hospital.
Richard received a compassionate posting from Captain Lynda Tyrell in August of 1978 and we ended up moving to Canadian Forces Base Edmonton in August of 1978.
This isn’t the only time Richard would abandon my brother and I.
One of Richard’s favourite places to drop off my brother and I was Canada’s Wonderland north of Toronto. Richard would buy my brother and I the $29.99 season’s pass. He’d drop us off just about every weekend that the park was open during the spring and the fall. He’d drop us off just about every day of the week in the summer. He’d drop us off at 08:00 in the morning and he’d pick us up again at 22:00 after the park closed. That’s almost 14 hours in that fucking park.
He’d give my brother and I $10 each for the day. Even back then, $10 didn’t go very far in a park where hotdogs were about $4 ea. I don’t know about my brother, but I used to just go hide and try to sleep for the afternoon and evening. You can only ride the same rides so many times before they become outright boring.
As my brother would call it, this was “Richard’s Discount Babysitting Service”.
I used to pray that every time that Richard would drop me off there that I would be kidnapped and killed and then when the police found my body they’d arrest Richard for child endangerment.
That’s why when I read Richard’s statement to the CFNIS on June 9th, 2011 I nearly choked.
” – In T.O. he (Richard) refused to take him(Robert / Bobbie) to Canada’s Wonderland because of (sic) he was bad; the school found out and said it was child abuse.”
“- He (Robert / Bobbie) threatened to call the police”
You get the feeling that Richard loved good ol’ melodrama and playing the victim?
I have my records from the Children’s Aid Society of Toronto. There’s nothing at all mentioned in there about Canada’s Wonderland or abuse.
The Children’s Aid records make note of the intense sibling rivalry that existed between my brother and I. The records also noted that my father didn’t perceive any trouble between my brother and I, that he but it down to “boys will be boys”. He was also adamant that our family didn’t need to be involved with social services, that our involvement with social services in Alberta was unwarranted. But the Children’s Aid records also make note that due to budget constraints and staffing issues they couldn’t dedicate a lot of resources towards my family unless someone called them about witnessing physical abuse. And living on a military base meant that no one would rat-out another family.
And I highly doubt that the school or Children’s Aid would really give a sweet flying fuck if I went to Canada’s Wonderland or not. But I’ll bet you that Children’s Aid would have loved to have known about Richard’s discount babysitting service.
Yeah, I don’t care how much my murder would have hurt, the suffering and the agony I would have gone through would have been worth seeing the police and the courts destroy Richard.
Now, back to the part where Nancy and Jean-Yves were startled to see my brother and I sitting at the kitchen table happily eating our breakfast.
In our interviews with Alberta Social Services both my brother and I described our grandmother as a threat and very authoritarian.
In my initial assessments with the psychologist hired by Canadian Armed Forces officer Captain Terry Totzke this is what I had to say.
My desire to die is nothing new. It’s been with me for so long as I can remember. It’s just that the fear of pain has kept me alive. But yeah, I would have been 9 years old when I said this.
I guess that first impressions can be very, very deceptive and very misleading.
When Nancy, Jean-Yves, and Marie first showed up in September or October of 1978, Andy Anderson had yet to slip in the bathtub and crack his skull open. Grandma had yet to start drinking. And P.S. had yet to be our babysitter.
And almost two years to the date in 1980 I have major depression, severe anxiety, and I want to kill myself.
When I talked to my brother back in 2013, one of the things that I mentioned was that I remembered grandma having a “Block Parent” sign in her bedroom window.
My brother remarked that kids would have been better off getting into the “Free Candy Van” than coming to our house for help.
Anyways, until next time…….
I can’t go on with P.S., Captain McRae, Captain Totzke, my father, my social workers, other men who sexually abused me, and the never ending flashbacks of the abuse on Canadian Forces Base Namao bouncing around in my skull and popping up when least expected.
This will probably be a very polarizing blog post to write.
Feel free to read it, but please understand that it is I who have lived through this, and not you.
In October of 1980 I was found to be in between despair and depression with an unhealthy does of extreme anxiety.
By the summer of 1981 I was found to be so emotionally disturbed that I was supposed to have been institutionalized.
In the spring of 1982 my father signed the paperwork placing me into the Alberta foster care system. I don’t think that Richard really understood what he had signed. But this paperwork was the first step apparently required for me to be placed into the Westfield program for emotionally disturbed children.
My case workers with Alberta Social Services along with my child care workers in the Westfield program were beginning to realize that there were substantial problems with my father and that I needed to be removed from his care and placed into foster care or residential care if there was any hope of me recovering.
I still don’t know if my civilian social workers knew all of the details from 1978 to 1980.
It was apparent that Captain Terry Totzke had his own agenda, and that agenda didn’t gel with the agenda of my civilian social workers.
As I was a military dependent living on a Department of National Defence military base and as I was in the care of Canadian Forces military social worker Captain Terry Totzke, Alberta social services needed to inform Captain Totzke of my pending apprehension.
Within days of this notification my father received an out of the blue “Hail Mary” posting to Ontario.
It was indicated to my civilian case workers by either my father or Captain Totzke that I would be placed in the Sick Kids hospital in Toronto for psychiatric care. I never was. An ATI request with Sick Kids in Toronto showed that they had never heard of me and had absolutely no paperwork related to me.
My father placed my brother and I into the same public school. The school board ended up sending my brother to a different school due to intense sibling rivalry.
So, as of this writing it’s been 41 years since the abuse ended on Canadian Forces Base Namao that ended up driving me into the depths of mental illness.
To be clear the abuse I endured at the hands of P.S. wasn’t the only bad thing going on in my life at the time. But it was probably the most substantial. P.S. was a young teenager at the time. He obviously had no impulse control. Captain McRae was smart. Captain McRae gave us alcohol to drink to mask the sexual abuse he was inflicting upon us. P.S. wasn’t that smart or well thought out. P.S. thought that physical beatings were enough to get us to remain quiet. It obviously didn’t work as one of the kids that P.S. was abusing must have told their parents. As the Military Police Complaints Commission stated in the 2020 report, it was obvious that the base military police on CFB Namao were well aware of what P.S. was doing with younger children, and it’s these assaults that ultimately brought Captain McRae to the attention of the Canadian Forces Special Investigations Unit.
In addition to the abuse I endured at the hands of P.S. and Captain McRae, I had to frequently watch while P.S. abused my younger brother. P.S. was our babysitter. He had access to my brother and I at the same time. Uncle Doug’s sleeping cot in the basement was the usual place the abuse would occur. P.S. would also abuse kids over at the base swimming pool.
Sure, I could have told a responsible adult…… if there was one around.
My grandmother was an alcoholic with anger issues from her days spent in Indian residential school. She lived by the maxims of “Children only speak when spoken to” and “Children are better seen than heard”
My father had his own issues stemming from the HMCS Kootenay gear box explosion on October 23rd, 1969. His mother was not the best parent. So Richard had his own demons. Alcoholism and an uncontrollable rage. Richard was not home often, hence why grandma was living in the PMQ and raising my brother and I.
As indicated by the Alberta Social Service records, my father would not take responsibility for his own family. Therefore the abuse that my brother and I endured at the hands of P.S. was not Richard’s responsibility due to his frequent absences from the home, nope, the abuse was my fault. By assigning responsibility for the abuse to someone else, he was making it known that he wasn’t responsible, it was the fault of somebody else.
So yeah, 41 years of dealing with untreated depression and anxiety and a plethora of other issues foisted upon me by persons in the employ of the Canadian Armed Forces has caused me some pretty significant issues.
I was tested in 1980 and found to have an IQ of 136 +/6 on the Wechler Intelligence Scale for Children.
I don’t know what I would score on an actual IQ test these days, but I know that I have some remnants of that score with me to this day.
My problem solving abilities are obviously a benefit to any employer.
My frequent and unpredictable bouts of crushing depression obviously aren’t a benefit to any employer.
As a kid I was taught by both my father and by Captain Terry Totzke to not say anything to counsellors.
Both my father and Captain Terry Totzke were blaming me for what had occur on Canadian Forces Base Namao.
I was taught by my father that I was just making these things up in my head and that I was only acting out to get attention.
It wasn’t until 2011 when I received my hospital records and social service records from across Canada that I realized for the first time just how bad off I had been.
The unfortunate thing is that trying to receive counselling on the level that I would require is almost impossible. Most psychiatrists and psychologists are not covered by any provincial medical plan. Then there’s the fact that the unique environment that I grew up in is beyond the comprehension of most civilian counsellors, psychiatrists and psychologists .
And even as my current physician said, I may be far too jaded and will see right through anyone who tries to help me.
Untreated mental illness has a downside…………….
An unsavoury topic
Back in 2011 when I first started dealing with the Canadian Forces National Investigation Service in order to try to obtain justice for what had happened on CFB Namao from 1978 until 1980 I started a blog on the Google Blogger service.
That blog ended up becoming this blog.
One of the topics that I have steered well clear of is the topic of suicide.
I’ve had my ideations in the past.
I still get ideations to this day.
However, rest assured dear reader that I’m fairly certain that I will never act upon them.
it’s not that I value my life.
It’s just that I don’t relish the idea of more pain and suffering no matter how brief that might be.
If I’m trying to end my pain so why do I want more just before the end?
Shouldn’t my escape be peaceful?
And I’ve never relished the idea of foisting my corpse on the unsuspecting schmuck that finds the results of my suicide.
It’s honestly not pleasant leaving an unrefrigerated and unembalmed body out for others to discover.
That doesn’t mean that I still don’t want to die.
It’s just that a while ago I decided to go a different route.
Maid is not someone that comes and cleans your house.
M.A.i.D. in this sense is Medical Assistance in Dying.
A few Northern European countries have had some fairly liberal laws in regards to M.A.i.D. since the early 2000s.
The basic idea is that a person’s life belongs to that person alone and to no one else.
It’s not up to the state or the followers of some imaginary friends in the sky to determine when a person’s time has come.
Now, that’s not to say that anyone who wants to end their life will obtain M.A.i.D.. There are some fairly rigorous protocols in place to ensure that a person wishing to die, especially if they are not terminally ill with a life ending illness, is aware of what they are doing and that once initiated there is no coming back.
That said, countries such as Belgium and the Netherlands readily accept mental illness as a valid reason for M.A.i.D.
I’m an atheist..
With 7 billion people on the face of the Earth, life really isn’t that much of a miracle.
And the number of people killed in traffic collisions by impatient car drivers shows that individual life really isn’t valued all that much when you look at the rather paltry sentences and fines handed out to car drivers who kill innocent people.
The number of children that die every day from war, starvation, neglect, or from easily prevented diseases shows that human life really isn’t all that valued or unique.
And when you look at our place in the time line of the ever expanding universe, we’re nothing.
The Milky Way is 13.5 billion years old.
The Earth is about 4.5 billion years old.
The Sun will start becoming brighter over the next 1.3 billion years to the point that life will die on this planet.
In about 5 billion years the Sun will have expanded to the point of enveloping and vaporizing the Earth.
The universe will keep on expanding for billions of years after the Andromeda galaxy crashes into the Milky Way.
In the overall grand scheme of things, we don’t matter.
There is no afterlife.
There is no heaven and there is no hell.
There is no gold medal for living the longest.
And when a person struggles with mental illness and derives little pleasure out of life, maybe it’s time that they be allowed to go to sleep.
Yes, I understand that it probably is perplexing to a lot of people as to why I would like to die.
I can’t go on with P.S., Captain McRae, Captain Totzke, my father, my social workers, other men who sexually abused me, and the never ending flashbacks of the abuse on Canadian Forces Base Namao bouncing around in my skull and popping up when least expected.
These flashbacks got tiring quite some time ago.
Yes, death may seem like a high price to pay to make the depression, the anxiety, and the flashbacks stop.
But death is a bargain price to pay when compared to me spending the next twenty years of my life with all of that rubbish floating around in my head.
The time for treatment and therapy was just after the abuse on CFB Namao, not when I’m about to turn 50.
I used to cry frequently up until around the time I tried to deal with P.S. in 2011.
After having dealt with the defective military “justice system” I couldn’t cry anymore.
I’ve just become so numb on the inside that I can’t cry anymore.
M.A.i.D. in Canada
In 2021 the Government of Canada introduced legislation to make amendments to the Criminal Code of Canada to allow for persons experiencing pain, but who are not near the anticipated end of their lives, to request Medical Assistance in Dying.
You can read more here: https://www.justice.gc.ca/eng/cj-jp/ad-am/bk-di.html
You can download a brief guide here:
Up to this point in time you pretty well had to be knocking on death’s door before any physician would be allowed to provide a patient with the drugs required for death.
The Senate notified Parliament that to not allow persons suffering from mental illness to request M.A.i.D. would be discrimination and urged Parliament to pass the required legislation to allow for M.A.i.D. for mental illness. Parliament indicated to the Senate that it required more time to write these amendments.
The Senate requested that Parliament pass the required amendment within 18 months. Parliament indicated that it would have new legislation addressing M.A.i.D. for purely issues of mental illness within 24 months.
In 2023 it is expected that M.A.i.D. for mental illness will become legal in Canada.
What this will look like is anyone’s guess.
I have my fears that the legislation introduced will end up looking like a bastard child resulting from a Rube Goldberg machine mating with Jospeh Heller’s novel “Catch-22”.
What I would like to see for requirements for approval are just some basic checks.
Is the person requesting death lucid?
Is this person making this request on their own?
Is there the slightest evidence that this person is being goaded or coerced into requesting M.A.i.D. by others?
Has the person been diagnosed with a mental illness?
Does this mental illness interfere with the enjoyment of life?
Does this person understand that by ingesting the provided drugs that they will die?
And in the end M.A.i.D. for metal illness may be far too difficult to obtain in Canada.
Even though M.A.i.D. for mental illness hasn’t been approved in Canada I have already asked my physician to start the process to find out how I would go about requesting M.A.i.D. after the legislation is passed in 2023.
The nice thing is my physician didn’t question or second guess my request. He said that I did seem to be quite rational in my request and the reasoning for my request. So he agreed to start getting me in contact with the required people.
So, we’ll have to wait and see what my future awaits.
One thing that could complicate matters and make obtaining M.A.i.D. difficult is that M.A.i.D. legislation does not force doctors to participate in M.A.i.D.
This means that I could pass the tests, but so far as finding a physician willing to either mix the oral solution or insert the IV into my vein may prove difficult. I would imagine that there are doctors that will equate M.A.i.D. with murder and will refuse to participate. Then there’s also the fat that the physician would have to be present while my death occurs in order to pronounce me dead and to officially record the time and cause of my death.
The two different methods of M.A.i.D.
The oral method
Currently there is the oral method in which the patient drinks a lethal dosage of barbiturates which will put the patient into a coma after anywhere from 2 to 12 minutes after ingestion. Respiration can take up to 120 minutes to cease. There is the very rare chance that the patient will come out of the coma and will require an IV injection to complete the death.
I would much prefer the IV method.
The IV method
In the IV method an IV line is administered to the patient. This line is connected to a set of IV dosing pumps. Much like in the oral method, it is the patient, not the attending physician, that initiates the death process. Once the patient is ready, the patient starts the pumps with the push of a button.
There are two methods of IV euthanasia. One uses two drugs and one uses three drugs.
The dual drug method uses a drug that will induce an immediate coma. This drug is administered at far greater doses in euthanasia than it is in medical treatments. This drug surprises the level of consciousness to barely detectable. One this drug has been fully administered a second drug is introduced into the patient. This drug paralyzes the striated muscles. It stops your breathing and eventually it stop your heart.
The three drug method is the same as the dual drug method, except prior to the coma inducing drug, a sedative is administered. This apparently allows for a more peaceful and gradual decent into death as opposed to the abruptness of just the coma inducing drug on its own.
If given the choice I’d gladly take the IV method over the oral method.
At this point in time the only two jurisdictions in the world that allow for M.A.i.D. for mental issues are Belgium and the Netherlands. Both countries do allow for “tourists” to undergo a M.A.i.D. procedure.
I haven’t looked into what is required to travel to Belgium or the Netherlands as I know that this is cost prohibitive. However, with a recent civil action being initiated on my behalf, I have asked that if at a later date I am still requesting to die, the the DND and the CF pay for the travel expenses and accommodations.
The reason that I want DND and the CF to pay for the travel and accommodation expenses is why should I have to pay to die out of my own settlement?
I don’t know. That’s a good question.
So far it looks as if it will occur after 2023
I have two civil actions that are slowly proceeding through lawyers.
One matter is probably 25% to 30% completed.
The next matter has just recently commenced and is probably at the 1% to 2% mark.
I know it sounds silly, but I would like to have all of this wrapped up before I go.
If there are settlements in either case, I figure that it would be nice to somewhat enjoy them.
But I have to be truthful and rational, no matter what the settlements are, they’re not going to evict the tenants in my head.
I definitely don’t want to carry this rubbish into my 60s.
I’ll be 60 on 2031.
Not making any promises, but I would like to go closer to 2023 than 2031.
It’ll probably take a year or two after that to pass the required tests to show that I am competent to request my own death.
In 2026 I’ll be 55 and that’s the earliest that I can retire.
Guess we’ll just have to sit back and see.
But when a date is chosen, you’ll be posted.
I don’t intend to pass away silently.
The oddest thing.
I began making my plans for assisted dying back around 2016.
These plans involved heading over to Europe.
I didn’t really put much effort into it though as the cost was truly prohibitive.
However, my determination to seek assistance in dying became much stronger when the Military Police Complaints Commission released their final report in 2020 and indicated that the military police in 1980 knew the full extent of what Captain McRae had been doing on Canadian Forces Base Namao, and that it was the involvement of P.S. with younger children living on the base that led to the investigation of Captain McRae in the first place.
And to be clear, it wasn’t the report that increased my desire for M.A.i.D.
It was finally being able to see in black and white that I had been telling the truth.
No, P.S. hasn’t been officially implicated in abusing me and my brother.
And yes, I’m still technically on the hook for letting P.S. abuse my brother.
No, I don’t think that we’ll ever know what happened to me at the hands of Captain McRae in the rectory of the base chapel during the visits in which P.S. would take me over and give me alcohol.
But I’m one step closer to being absolved for the actions of P.S., Captain McRae, Captain Terry Totzke, MCpl Richard Wayne Gill.
Once I had the final report in my hand, my determination to seek M.A.i.D. increased significantly.
The thought of dying through M.A.i.D. has actually brought me a certain serenity.
I now know that there will come a day when I no longer have to listen to the voices of P.S., Captain Totzke, my father, and the myriad of others with secrets to keep.
I can plan to finally sleep in peace and not wake up grinding my teeth into nothing.