My mother was institutionalized in PSH in 1961 when I was 8 years old. My father would take me in the car with him to visit her on the weekends, but leave me in the car. Just the sight of this place have me the chills and I had nightmares about it for the longest time. She was released and came home later that year, with the advances of psychiatric medications got to the point where she never had to be returned to this place, thank God. My mother died in 1983, but was never really a whole person. Only in death was she finally released of the grips of her mental illness. Readers, pray for those who are ill and pray for their families. Those who are sick arte unaware of what is going on really, it is their families who really suffer.