If you find, out, let us know. I'm curious too, and don't even know the guy.

A couple of months ago I had made some comment about people who work in mental health go shit-crazy when they break under the stress.

hyperguy asked me, "What happens to us? What happens to people who work in rehab?"

"Relapse."

Were this a novel or movie, that would be called "foreshadowing."

One of the things about working in a rehab is that a lot of people working in rehabs are "graduates."

Just sayin.

There will be no official confirmation, because that is how such things work.

I totally busted up a shrink the other day by saying this. The dude never laughs, rarely reacts to anything ... but this really tickled him.

I'd been having some trouble connecting with him. I think the ice is broken. Especially because of this other thing that happened.

I was having a snack and as he came down the hallway, I held out the bag and said, "Doctor, care for a Jelly Baby?"

He stopped dead and said, "You've been watching too much old Doctor Who ..."

That is so.

Well, it turns out that we were both members of the Philadelphia Doctor Who Fan Club, the Unearthly Children.

Small world.

Well, looks like I'm not getting a desk.

I have also learned more about how the rumor mill functions. It is swift and deadly. The entire facility knows what happened. Even the pissboy knows (a gentleman from an outside contractor who comes every night to pick up the urine specimens. Of course I call him the pissboy). I have also learned that a nurse recently got shitcanned for sex with a patient, but that's pretty average stuff, well, except that it's total dude naughty nurse girl on girl action fantasy stuff. But anyway ...

So, on Thursday hyperguy starts texting me ... "I fixed it, I think I can come back." So, I got the story direct from him ... and then by the next morning, bossdude's assistant is just kind of casually saying, "yeah hyperguy is coming back, he came up with prescriptions." Okay, two days ago we were at "hyperguy does not work here anymore" and today you're telling me everything. Okey Dokey.

Hyperguy was supposed to work the weekend ... he didn't. And he didn't respond to any of the phone calls from HR, which, if he really wants his job is pretty stupid. How do I know this? It's all anybody is talking about.

So, as of Monday, he still hadn't contact anyone. He was supposed to work yesterday, which was RDO for me. I told the cow orkers to take notes, photos and videos so that I did not miss a thing.

More importantly, I want to find out where the giant vat of Teflon is stored, and how I get access to it.

Prescriptions...
I fixed it...
Hyper guy...


The Three Pillars of what?

So, I'm on the phone with an insurance company, and they are asking me about a patient's medical conditions.

wolf: He's got Hypospadias.

insurancelady: What's that?

Now, I figured I would be asked so I looked it up before making my phone call.

wolf: It is a malformation of the urethra in which it emerges from a different part of his wee-wee.

insurancelady: ew. Oh, my friend's son had that. he had to have surgery to correct it.

wolf: yeah, that's the one. This dude had surgery too.

insurancelady: What else does he have?

wolf: Nystagmus.

insurance lady: what's that one?

wolf: He's cross-eyed. Actually, I could have saved time and just told you he was cock-eyed, but in two different ways.

I remember why I hold you in such high esteem.
Haggis.

Well played! :)

WINNAR

OVERHEAD PAGE: Security, please call detox, security call detox. No emergency.

Now, since it's a weekend, this disturbed the security guard from his very important television watching in my empty back lobby. There was basketball on, you see. I only knew he was there because I had to get water from the lab's filtered water spigot for the Keurig bossdude bought us for Christmas.

Anyway, he came int the office and used my phone to call.

GUARD: Security ... you want what? ... that's housekeeping. I don't have no blankets ... oh, you tried them and they're gone for the day ... I see.

He hangs up and turns around and looks at me, making it clear that the entire weight of the world is on his shoulders, and he has to go looking for blankets. Apparently it was a pretty good basketball game.

WOLF: Clearly they don't want just any darn blanket, eh? Only a security blanket will do ...

I'll be here all week, folks. Don't forget to tip your waiters and waitresses.

:notworthy

I had a completely unsatisfying interaction with the old nuthouse last night. reallycrazychick comes in. She does this about once every month and a half. She has engaged in some minor drug use, usually weed, has been off her meds for at least a couple weeks, and lies about an assortment of things, mainly that she is suicidal. Her performance typically ends with an admission to our psych unit. Just one problem, really. No room at the inn last night.

So I had to put her somewhere. She needed a babysitter (the technical term is a one-on-one, but really it's a nut-sitter) because she had wandered off on me once and had to be returned by security.

I get everything cleared with her insurance, and called the old nuthouse. They were willing to take her but couldn't do the transport. Now, mind you, the ambulance was in station when I called, they hadn't left on their two runs yet ... and I was significantly closer than the other two runs. My deal would have taken about 20 minutes round trip, actually. Instead, I'm looking at a pick up time after midnight, knowing how the crews there do on turn-around. Not happening. I've got a staff member tied up here watching her. Not that the private transport crew ended up being much faster.

Kind of weird, though, talking to people I don't know. What I didn't know was if they knew who I was.

That would be surreal.

I think hyperguy is using drugs again. You know, the kind he came up with a prescription for and saved his job the last time. I have also heard that his mysterious disappearance right after I started was a trip to rehab. I do not know this from him. What I do know from him is that he has to piss for HR on a weekly basis.

Now, I accept that he has the ability to focus like a ... um ... telescope with a warped lens or something.

But lately, he is worse.

Also, he disappears.

There is a clear difference in his behavior before and after disappearances.

Before, jumpy. After, calm.

The other night he was on the phone with an insurance company, PUT THEM ON HOLD, mumbled something about having to get a computer from his friend in the parking lot, off he went ... came back ... empty handed.

And oh, he didn't just put it in his car or something, because he doesn't own a car.

He has been living with his dad for nearly a year, does not pay rent. Does not buy food. Has not bought a car ...

Okay, yeah. I'm making assumptions.

but they are well-thought out assumptions.

I would be perfectly happy to be wrong.

but calm is good, right?

Zen calm is good.

High calm is not.

And the storm before the calm, that's an issue, too.

I was off for two days and people were falling over themselves tonight to catch me up on the doin's of the last two days ... hyperguy has been worse than usual, super disorganized. Now he's got some stuff going on that certainly is stressful ... but when one has few coping skills, well, you go with what you know, I guess.

I think a couple of people have already gone to bossdude. I was going to do some therapist-fu and try to get hyperguy to fess up on his own. Not likely, of course, but I am a hopeful person. Okay, so more likely, at least nudge him towards realizing that he ain't foolin' nobody.

That's the sad and really amazing part about these sorts of things; people's ability to really, truly believe they are "passing."

Denial => 'doesn't even (k)now it's a lie'. (Spelling apologies, but otherwise it's sort of appropriate.) It is sad.

Denial ain't just a river in Egypt ... and it does not flow through my office.

Last night took suck to an extraordinary new level.

When I showed up, there was just me and one other cow orker. A trainee. A competent trainee, but a trainee, nonetheless.

Bossdude says, you'll be fine ...

(I have learned to define "fine" as Fucked up, Insane, Neurotic, and Emotional. I am an experienced mental health professional, after all.)

There were twelve scheduled patients. Or maybe eleven. Between walk-ins and return from hospitals that we hadn't known about, we ended up dealing with seventeen. Fuck, I said. Fuckity fuck fuck, I said. A lot.

The trainee says, "I never heard you say that word before."

I am always surprised when people say this to me.

But I guess, that unless I am under extreme stress, like last night, I have been keeping a lid on it at the rehab.

Fuck.

It was one of those nights where I didn't get to eat dinner. I had made a grievous error. I took something that I had to microwave. I think this was the second time since I've worked there that I've taken something other than a sandwich for dinner. By the time I realized I hadn't eaten it was around 2130, which was past my point of no return for eating dinner. I sustained myself on corn nuts and peanut butter crackers. And some fruit snacks.

Fuck.

It has been an eventful week at the rehab.

I come in on Monday, and one of the part-timers is working. She starts whispering ... "As soon as everybody is gone, we have to go out and smoke together. You will not believe this."

Apparently, on Saturday, hyperguy came in, and was doing his usual bullshitting around, and avoiding seeing and talking to the folks he was coming in to replace. This was described as "he hid in the bathroom until gothychick left."

And?

Well, there were a bunch of patients in the lobby, and the doctor comes out to find hyperguy unwell.

By unwell, I mean that he was kind of non-responsive, breathing shallowly, that kind of unwell.

The doctor called 911 on him.

Now, there was another coworker there ... she was all flustered, nearly crying, from the description ... one of the junkies in the lobby said to her, "Don't worry lady, it's only an overdose. They'll give him some narcan and he'll be fine."

Of course, the junkie was an old hand at this, and was completely right.

My cow orker was wrong. I totally believed it.

bossdude announced that hyperguy was no longer working for the rehab. He also said, "I really mean it this time," referencing that time last year that hyperguy was fired for a hot urine, but pulled some prescriptions out of his ass and returned to work a few days later.

The place is an adventure, I tell you.

However, given the current massive hole in the schedule, the screwup threshold has been raised so high, nobody is in danger of being fired for quite some time.

May and June are entirely too full. I have had three trainings (two 2-day and one 3-day that I was both taking and hosting), lots of overtime because of the hyperguy firing, and now ...

bossdude has hired a couple of people. One is a psych student who therefore thinks she knows everything, and the other ...

Well, this is weird, even in my vast experience.

The other night she as working and we were comminting on the inappropriateness of her minidress, which, incidentally, for June is totally wrong, winter colors and it was a heavy wool fabric. She is from a warmer part of the country, Pennsyltucky weather is confusing to her system I guess.

So over the weekend I was picking up an extra shift and worked with her. It was busy, but light enough in traffic that we had some time to talk. She starts telling doghoarder and I about her hobby.

She's into serial killers.

I mean REALLY into serial killers. Like in love with a particular one with a very high body count who has since been executed.

Freaky in love.

Gets an "O" face when she talks about him. I have been describing this is "rapturous."

Now, I know some things here and there about serial killers, followed a few, have read most of the books.

Why people do things fascinates me. Especially why they do particularly dark things. Like that.

But it's a passing interest.

So after the revelation about how much she loves this dead serial killer, even to the point where she wants to have her ashes sprinkled in the same location as his ... well ... then it hit me.

She dresses, does her hair, everything ... to match his victim profile.

When I say freaky, I mean freaky.

So, yesterday I get a text from doghoarder ...

"psychokillergirlfriend has a girl crush on you. She just told me."

Sounds like she should be on the nut side of the nuthouse.

the one good thing that came from the Ace Ventura movies

Alrighty then!

[a quote that encompasses shock, awe and non judgement, well maybe a little judgement]

I was just re-reading this:

And thinking, "yep, experience trumps qualifications every time", when I saw this:

Ohhh ddeeeaaarrr ......

Then I read about the other one.
Please keep us updated. This could be very interesting.

excellent assay!

Change the names to protect the innocent; then, turn your information about psychokillergirlfriend over to psychstudent as a case study. Ask psychstudent for her assessment and recommendations. Should be a humbling experience for her.

:lol: :lol2: :devil:

Perfect. Sexobon, you rock.

If a psychokillergirlfriend has a girl crush on you, you just might be a serial killer. - Jeff Foxworthy Dahmer

Psychstudent had her first weekend alone. To say it didn't go well would be an understatement. She apparently called the police twice, once because a patient spoke harshly to her. She was standing in front of the bed board (handwritten whiteboard of all the patients in the facility) and crying. She will henceforth be known as "fragilegirl."

Fragilegirl is fragile.

Fragilegirl quit with no notice. Who the hell leaves a full time prodessional job with no notice? Oh yeah. Crazy people.

Security guard asked about her yesterday. When told he said, "I didnt expect her to last. I seen her over in the gym with the rehabbers, and they're, like, good you know, and she was scared of them. She ain't like wolf, for sure."

An altercation over staff food in the "patient food" fridge nearly came to fisticuffs. Imagine, if you will, the ire of an African American man in his 50s when the old white lady receptionist throws his tub of watermelon onto the ground with enough force that it opens and spills.

He somehow managed not to hit her.

But the next day we got a memo about no staff food in the patient food fridge. 1. We rarely used it. 2. We only used the shelf that is too short to squeeze lunchbags into. This is totally a power and control game on the part of the receptionist.

so I solved the problem

Where's the body?

So, I walk into bossdude's office and he says, "Are you packing."

"Not today."

"I have a problem I need to solve."

"Let me know if you need it dealt with quietly and from a distance."

"I will."

I do not know why this happened. As far as the office knows, I all about Hello Kitty, Origami Christmas decorations, and a sometimes quirky approach to life.

I find that exchange disconcerting. As a rule of thumb, I don't tell anyone whether or not I'm carrying even when asked. You'll get more information about why they're asking with the reply "And if I am?"

The issue is that even friendlies who know you're carrying can compromise you by announcing it to intimidate someone; or, blurt it out in a panic situation like "Wolf, use your gun!" It can happen even when you know the timing isn't right due to the tactical situation, spectrum of force continuum criteria, or both.

Unless your boss has the lawful authority to order you to shoot someone, you're better off making him demonstrate a need to know by having him give a rationale for his question up front. It will give you some warning about potentially being put in a bad situation. That your boss would put you on the spot with his unqualified question in an indicator.

The real question is how did he know to ask.

Your consent to a routine pre-employment background check probably opened the door to the concealed carry permit registry (at least for inquiries submitted by healthcare facilities, schools, government offices ... etc.). You could check with whichever agency maintains that registry about releases. Your employer may conduct more comprehensive screening than most.

They check criminal history, child abuse, and drug screen. Nothing else.

Then either he knows someone who can provide that information about you, noticed that you're carrying; or, suckered you into revealing your status. Let's hope it's neither of the latter two.

It would be prudent to contact your personal and professional references to rule out those possible sources before asking him how he came into that knowledge.

That is genuinely disturbing in several ways. I'm sure you will be covering yourself in every sense of the word.

He probably knows people in the first responder community who know you... unless this information came from the previous nuthouse? Have you googled yourself lately?

The old nuthouse could have mentioned something, or it could have been an assumption on his part based on my end of the world readiness.

I did not, at any point, assume he was asking me to really solve his problem ... he's quite the joker.

Isn't this "registry" ALREADY publicly available?

I seem to remember quite the kerfuffle recently when an investigative journalist reported the names and addresses mashed up with googlemaps of all the registered gun owners in a particular geographic area.

No, a lot of states can't by law, or choose not to, divulge the names and addresses of concealed carry permit holders.

So, it wasn't about me. It was about psychokillergirlfriend. She was talking about carrying when going to her other job, which is in a notoriously dangerous area ... in another state that I usually refer to as a small communist country that borders Pennsylvania ... you know, the one that charges a ransom to leave? She also mentioned carrying a stun gun ... takes a breath and goes on to discuss flying back to her home state to see her shrink. bossdude was ear hustling the conversation. I had my back to him so I didn't see the look on his face, which was reportedly priceless.

So it's not about me for a change.

Rumor has it that he is doing something about the issue after he comes back from vacation. Don't know is it is going to involve anything more than a strongly worded memo.

The doctor quit last night. Pitched a fit while seeing his second patient. Chaos reigned more than usual.

!


Can't wait for the next episode!

Another one bites the dust ...

Psychokiller girlfriend worked one shift this week.

She had two patients and a psych referral (goes straight to the psych unit, we never see them). I left itemized instructions for dealing with the two referrals. An average night is 4 to 6 patients plus the psych referrals.

She resigned first thing Sunday morning, sent an email giving 2 week's notice. Sent bossdude an email. I'm supposed to act surprised when I find out tomorrow.

Wow you have more turnovers than Arby's!

There was also a nursing assistant fired for assisting nurses in a way not covered in his job description.

You gotta explain more about that one. :D

Apparently he was found en flagrante delicto by another of his paramours. It seems that many of the nurses are Nurse Jackie.

So he got fired for doing rather than assisting; but, wasn't practicing without a license. I'd like to hear him explain that at his next job interview.

The night weekend girl has a "prescription." It is only a matter of time until that becomes a full blown relapse. Her thing is coke and booze, but it's all kind of a slippery slope. Hyperguy's thing was coke too, I think.

Today, from a telephone interview ...

wolf: So, what are you drinking

DrunkOldLady: Ensure Mudslides.

I'm in the midst of an eight day stretch without a break including a double going into it, a 12+-hour shift to start it. I won't be coming up for air until this coming weekend.

But I may end up being able to cover my rent this month.

I question the appropriateness of the rehab receptionist greeting all the patients by saying "Happy Cinco de Mayo."

Absolutely! She should have said "Feliz Cinco de Mayo." It was in poor taste to greet the patients in Spanglish.

Great moment of the day

Patient: That place, it was crazy.
Me: It's a mental institution.
Patient: The police brought in this guy, he was in a towel.
Me: It's Friday.
Patient: What?
Me: Most days they don't have the towel.

Always know where your towel is!