In BPDD, the author gives us twelve pages on his sister, including spending an entire page reproducing a poem that she wrote that includes stanzas like:
The author spends two full pages specifically on his sister's death, which does sound truly awful, but you would think if there was a long account of a death in a book like this, it would be a death that was somehow closely connected to the person's having Borderline Personality Disorder. Instead: the sister was having dinner with her husband and children on her 43rd birthday, choked on a piece of food, excused herself quickly to the restroom, where minutes later she was found unconscious; she had suffered massive brain damage from the loss of oxygen, and spent twenty months in a coma before, after a court battle, her family was allowed to discontinue life support. Horrible, obvously. But it doesn't exactly provide much insight into the disorder.
Because of the times--I'm me.
Because of the clime--I'm me.
Because of the pall, wrapped over the ball,
In spite of the pall, I am me.
Because there is caring--I'm me.
Because there is sharing--I'm me.
Because there is fate, indifference, and hate,
In spite of my fate, I am me.