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Let's just put it this way ... last night I was asked "Would you believe me if I told you I didn't want to hurt you?" by a woman who started her interview by announcing, "I'm not wearing any underwear." I, of course, responded "Yes, I believe you" before asking "Do you want to hurt me?" "Yes, I want to bop you on the head." Tonight I had to deal with a man whose aliens are stuck in poop. His own poop appeared to be stuck on the tail of his polo shirt. A different patient who had slashed his wrists and neck was sent to the ER just to get a tetanus shot. He walked away. Hasn't been seen since. Hopefully the Schuylkill is running high and he won't be found until spring and we won't be held responsible by his family. Two nights this week I had to ride herd on "doc-in-a-box" (a part time shrink whose medicine is really bad, so I have to review labs before I hand them off for medical clearance to make sure he doesn't accept someone who is about to die).
To top it all off, I wrote three sets of commitment papers myself, qualifying for a hat-trick (so far two of the three signed themselves in, so mine are only to be used in case they try to sign out ... I typically have to do this three times a year, if that).
Oh, and I intimidated a man with my mere presence.
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