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“Virtually my whole life has been seriously affected by the ECT treatment. This has caused me to lose years off my life because my heart is so weak now, from the heartache and sadness from the loss of who I was, what I was and how I was beforehand.”

In her own words, this is an account of Jane London’s experience with ECT.

“Please forgive me if some is a little disjointed from a long time ago or bits missed as I can’t remember very well because what happened later affected my memory badly and much of it has never come back. I also have never talked like this to anyone else before about it.

I was married, aged 21, living in England when this story first starts. My first husband was a particularly violent, aggressive man. He was beating me up at the drop of a hat or belittling,  demeaning me at home and out. A lawyer later warned me I could be killed. We divorced in 1968.

I had, until that time, been a strong, exceedingly intelligent, healthy, talented young woman with an extraordinarily good memory. I still have an IQ in the 140’s. It was higher before, about 180. I was until that time a full-time ballet dancer upon leaving school, then worked in TV, many years in legal offices. I was very stable and a very hard worker. A career specialist told me I was so suited to many things I had the capabilities to anything I wanted to do in this world, law, medicine anything I chose. ECT ended that.

In early 1966, I began to get stomach aches. I went to my GP called Dr. Tattersall in Worthing, Sussex, but he wouldn’t believe I had anything wrong. I kept going back begging for help. I was otherwise very healthy and working full time. My difficulties were put down to depression.

I am not a depressive type of person, I am actually, especially now I’m older a very determined, highly motivated, strong person who had been through a very tough life, never breaking down except somewhat after that marriage.

One Saturday in Mid 1966, when my husband was working, I was taken to a large remodelled house in Worthing but no one told me anything. I believe it was connected with the Acre, a psychiatric hospital.

The house was large with a large hallway and stairs leading up from the centre. I was told to sit down and wait. I knew a little about ECT as my mother had always bragged about the ECT treatment she had received, and I picked up on things that were said between two people who were talking close by. I realised they intended forcing me into this place that very afternoon to give me ECT.

I waited a while longer but I was so scared. In the end as no one had come back, I decided to run for it.

I ran like the wind down the road, turned the corner to be out of sight, then knocking on a lady’s door begging to use her phone. She was glad to let me in as she could see I was very upset and let me stay there until help arrived.

I rang my husband who left work, dashed down to where I was, got me right away and then he set about really telling off all the doctors about their behaviour and not to dare touch me. I was not given shock treatment at that time, although it had definitely been their intention.

I went back to Dr. Tattersall, and when he told me time was up the consultation I refused to leave the chair and insisted on being given a letter to a private surgeon as there had been a whisper before it may be my appendix causing me the difficulties. He very, very reluctantly, after almost a fight, gave me a letter. I went to the surgeon one week later. He said he thought it was my appendix. Ten days later he put me into Southlands Hospital on the NHS. When they opened me up the doctors found it was my appendix that was causing the trouble and that it had a carcinoid tumour in it. It was treated and all my stomach aches went away. I was then fine.

In 1968, I moved back to Australia to where we had emigrated when I was 12 years old. I went to see a psychiatrist in Australia, Dr. T, because I was having difficulties recovering from the serious abuse from my then ex-husband. We divorced in 1969.  Dr. T. believed in psychoanalysis to help this type of thing. My mother, who had mental health issues, didn’t like him as she he had worked her out for what she was like. She was very abusive and had a histrionic personality disorder.

She took me to our GP and insisted I be sent to a doctor who would do ECT and I was, in my distressed state, forced to go to him. I was put into a private hospital whereupon I was administered around 14 treatments of ECT.

Eventually I snapped, running away from the hospital, went to a telephone box and told my parents in no uncertain terms that I was leaving. I then went back to see Dr. T.  I had put my foot down refusing to see anyone else.

He helped me through the whole thing. By then however my memory was severely affected. He said very strongly indeed how disgusted he was that I had had treatment as I was never a candidate for it. All it needed was a bit of time, talking it out, and then getting with life. To this day he is disgusted at what happened then and what happened earlier in England.

I found my memory severely affected and some of it is still blocked to the point where memories from what I know was a lovely time before my marriage were simply gone or hazy. There are serious blanks which I just can’t retrieve. It took me months to get over it and only have memories at that stage of walking around our garden trying to take everything as it all seemed unreal, hazy, as though I wasn’t there anymore looking at life through a very dirty window.

It took months and months to get to the point where I could work again and live some sort of normal life due to the treatment.

I was recently talking to someone from my old home town, Worthing, England and he mentioned many places which somehow I knew I used to go to but I couldn’t remember them, I simply knew I should but it wouldn’t come. They had been blanked out of my memory bank even though I know had a wonderful time. I know I should remember the places but they’re gone, still after all this time and help to retrieve my memories. I’ve had intensive hypnotherapy which has helped some of it but nowhere near all of it.

The ECT I had changed the course of my life damaging my previous exceedingly good memory.

The doctors had played into my mother’s hands giving me treatment which I consider to be barbaric, evil, cruel and unnecessary. It seems this treatment is still used. I find it unreal to think such a wicked thing can be done to people causing them lifelong problems.

Many years later, in 2014, I went back to live in England, I had always wanted to return. I kept getting sick with virulent germs. Then in May 2015, or thereabouts, I had a “silent” heart attack. I began to get extremely bad chest pains and breathlessness after any exertion. My doctors in England and paramedics however would not believe me, some labelling me neurotic putting me right down.

It was clearly on my medical records (which I now have) that they referred back to 1966 to a letter written by a Dr. Lloyd George about my “depression” which gave them the totally wrong idea about me. Therefore, I went without any medical treatment for the heart attack for a total of two months simply because I was not believed.

In desperation, I flew back to Australia in July 2015, only to be rushed from the plane to a major hospital for heart problems and then told shortly afterwards I had been “ready to drop dead from a massive heart attack at any moment”, that I had had a heart attack approximately two months before and they seriously couldn’t believe I had survived the flight as people usually die from what I had. Yet the doctor in England said only days before that there was nothing wrong with me as such and that I was fine to fly. In fact, he knew of far sicker people than me who were fit to fly. Although he did write out a note to say I ought to see a cardiologist when I got back just as a precaution and gave me heart tablets.

I have since been in contact with my main GP in the practice there who was mortified it was missed and felt so awful he said I could fly as I was actually at great risk on the plane. He is a lovely man and actually apologised profusely for missing it and is doing all he can to help others to be more aware. That is a good doctor. However other doctors in the practice and paramedics refused to believe me. One actually said in writing I “was hyperventilating due to her cat getting out”. Not that I will be in England anymore as I can’t fly due to my heart.  My main GP in England has also changed my records to say my stomach aches in 1966 were not depression. I’m so thankful but sadly it’s a little late for some things.

As soon as tests were done here I had a stent put in my right coronary artery. Within 2 or 3 days they found that the back lower half of my heart is not working and my mitral valve severely damaged. I was put into intensive care for a week to stabilise for open heart surgery the following week which was done in late July 2015.

I am still suffering from that wrong diagnosis to this day and from the later ECT. I have had to come to a grudging acceptance of what happened to me but can never forgive the people in England and Australia for what they’ve done except the one who apologised so profusely. I admire him for acknowledging he is human and how it happened. Not the others though.

Virtually my whole life has been seriously affected by the ECT, a treatment I never needed. This has caused me to lose probably years off my life because my heart is so weak now, from the heartache and sadness from the loss of who I was, what I was and how I was beforehand.

It never leaves you completely and is heartbreaking in itself. I grieve tor the other Jane, for the person I was, for the person I should be now and always should have been. I grieve over all the ramifications of it all.

It’s even painful writing about this, it’s hard to see through the tears. It’s not a treatment, It’s a barbaric form of torture, evil and treacherous, used when they don’t know what else to do because they truly don’t know what they are doing.

It breaks you forever and nothing is ever quite the same again.”