More than forty years ago, during my brother Robert’s first long-term hospitalization for mental illness, my mother would often cry out, “Someday they’ll discover that it was all chemical! You’ll see. Some day they’ll discover that it was all chemical.”
The corollary was clear: if the illness was chemical, then the cure might be chemical too-magic bullets that would not only cure my brother’s illness, but assuage my mother’s guilt...
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