Thorazine is a nasty drug designed to do nothing more than keep its victims in a mental straight jacket.

I was not sure where I was going, but I did understand there was not a choice. We arrived at a building where buzzers and bells went off and commanded every door. Two men in uniform directed me to sit in a chair, stuffed papers through a whole cut in the door, and left.
A voice asking questions over a speaker I could not see. A chair that was bolted to the floor. A door I could not open. A smell that came from the blood that soaked my clothes. My blood. I tried to remember why I had been beaten, but the distorted voice interrupted with orders to walk through the door when it was buzzed open.
She is looking at the blood, I guess she wonders about it too.
A man with a twisted smile began asking questions and writing on paper. Every once in a while his smile would melt into the rest of his face leaving him looking perplexed.
Cubicles with curtains dividing them held sleeping strangers. I too must go to sleep they said, but first I needed a shot to help me. My protest fell on deaf ears. It will help me calm down, they said.
Wait! I am calm!
No your not.
Well, maybe not now, because I don't need or want a shot!
Is there a problem? Two men who resembled giants came near.
No. The needle came closer.
What is it?
Something to help you relax.
A veil of darkness enveloped me, taking me to the bottom of a pit and piling heavy mounds of dirt on top of me.

In the morning when they woke me I could not understand why it was so foggy. When I tried to walk I found my legs had been replaced with lead stumps while I slept. One of the sleeping strangers saw my plight and laughed. Then she chanted, "You have the Thorazine shuffle, you have the Thorazine shuffle".
I wanted to run but couldn't. I wanted to scream but feared another shot. I wanted to die then thought, maybe I already had.