Your “Bad Old Days” reminds me of my pop. In the mid-late 50’s, the VA hit him with electro-shock. I remember him being on a gurney, being wheeled into “the room”. He had, what I seem to recall, what looked like an old leather football helemt on his head.
He was being treated for alcoholism - idiots.
My pop eventually had traumatic dementia, but was never prescribed any of the drugs that might have helped. Maybe the trauma precluded them.
There’s no easy treatment for alcoholism (don’t ask how I know).
Is traumatic dementia another term for “punch-drunk”?
TBD is the phrase of the day for troops in Iraq getting their gongs rung from IED’s.
It’s also being found out how say, even two or three concussions suffered in high school football can permanently blight a young life.
Sorry to hear of your father’s experience in the realm of psychiatric “treatment.” Those were the dark days the author eluded to and just shameful and a poor excuse for medicine. I suppose they meant well, but you what they say about good intentions.