I have mentioned before that I grew up in a quiet town about twenty miles from nowhere. The only way I ever even met a lot of the 700 people in this little town was that I delivered them the county newspaper. There were a lot of stories hidden in this quiet little town. There was a nice lady, probably in her 40s, who was on my paper route. She lived there with her husband.
My father was on the volunteer fire department. One night he went out on a call. When he came back home, my father told us about going to the nice lady's house because her husband was having an episode. Apparently the man was manic depressive. That's what they called it in those days. Back then they treated it with lithium.
Well, something went wrong and the man was having a bad mental health day. His wife called the fire department to come help her get him to a hospital. I understand it took about five firemen to wrestle the guy down and get him in the ambulance. Apparently, in that state, he had superhuman strength.
I always admired the way the firemen handled that. Nobody ever talked about the man either and any other time, when I saw him, the guy was the nicest, calmest guy you could ever meet.