Tales from the Nuthouse: Lest You Think I have a Really Cool Job
Tonight's adventure involved a now-sobered-up-enough-to-talk-to drunk. He had actually been hauled in a couple of days ago, but was too drunk to evaluate. He was even too drunk to really haul in ... got picked up at his house and taken to a medical hospital without us even seeing him to make sure he needed to go to medical. What he had been doing was not in any way interesting or spectacular. Threatening to shoot himself "if he had a gun."
Were it not for some ethical and legal issues, I'd be willing to help him out.
Anyway, this drunk has a long history of being a drunk.
During one of his drunken escapades many years ago he suffered injuries that left him a paraplegic. He gets around in a wheelchair, and has tempted several police departments into wanting to issue a DUI as he rolls his way up a four lane highway against the flow of traffic. Unfortunately, they don't ever follow through on this and tend to bring him to my hospital.
So, anyway, he comes in tonight after two days of sobering up in a nice medical bed. I end up dealing with him and listen to his story of distress and woe over some recent losses, including his "little buddy" (a neighbor's dog that died unexpectedly), the Pope, and an ex-girlfriend, his last girlfriend before his injury. He found it necessary to explain how he was "broken" below the waist, and was "no good to a woman any more."
I sincerely doubt that he was much good to a woman before that, frankly.
So, what's the real point of the story here, you might be wondering?
I didn't have any male staff available, and drunken asshole decides that he needs to urinate. This involves some mechanical assistance. He has a catheter which thankfully he is able to insert himself.
I was hoping to just leave him with his tubing and a plastic urinal, but no such luck. The damn thing kept falling over as he tried to get things set up.
So there I was, holding one of those elongated pee-pee bottles, and working very, very hard to maintain eye contact with him as he was shoving a small bore hose through the ureter of his flaccid, nonfunctional unit.
On the upside, I did not get any urine on me.
Ah, come on, wolf! Not so bad! I've done it thousands of times and with working units, to boot! Ya know what's really fun? Scrotal ultrasounds--ya gotta tape the big buddy up and out of the way so you can scan the twins! Fun!
I thought cleaning the "science projects" out of our office refrigerator was bad. You're a bigger woman than I, wolf. I really don't think I could have done that.
That's why wolf is the Woah-man!
Ah, come on, wolf! Not so bad! I've done it thousands of times and with working units, to boot! Ya know what's really fun? Scrotal ultrasounds--ya gotta tape the big buddy up and out of the way so you can scan the twins! Fun!
I went to school extra so I didn't have to do stuff like this.
I am not a nurse. I respect nurses. (most of them. the ones that aren't dirt stupid, the ones who don't prepare to do something very, very wrong in a medical sense of the word, and preface it with "I'm a nurse and I know." You get this more in older (over 50) psych nurses since they are so far removed from their nursing skills and training you really wouldn't trust them to do a bed bath.)
I had a scrotal ultrasound, and no nurse taped my unit in any way. I feel left out!
Hey wolf:
You mentioned drunk was eventually sufficiently sober to speak, but you did not mention if anywhere in this story he managed to say thank you.
So, on behalf of drunk, thank you.
On behalf of all those who can no longer do for themselves, and who depend on others to help them, thank you for your service, thank you for your compassion. It's a fucked up situation all around, and even though you're the one handling the bodily fluids and parts and endless call buttons and bullshit, the one on the receiving end would swap places with you in a heartbeat.
It sucks to not be able to help one's self anymore, and to have to depend on another this way sucks for everyone, in some way.
So, I want to say thank you.
I dunno. A job where you have to come in any sort of contact with the genitals of a drunken paraplegic warrants hazard pay. Particularly if it's the sort of place where you're likely to have poo thrown at you (or worse). wolf, how do you keep your spirits up around all the whack jobs? I'd be as suicidal as them after awhile.
I had a scrotal ultrasound, and no nurse taped my unit in any way. I feel left out!
SHhhhhhhh!
wolf, how do you keep your spirits up around all the whack jobs? I'd be as suicidal as them after awhile.
I don't really have an answer to this.
We question ourselves at work a lot ... why are we doing this.
One of the answers is that we have no marketable job skills.
The truth, of course, is that we do, we just don't have personalities that fit well in private industry. I say fuck all too often, don't know how a corporate power structure works, and would probably strangle myself with the bow on my peter pan collar if I ever had to wear a business suit, or even a skirt on a regular basis.
Part of my personal answer is that this seems to be what I was made to do. I had never laid eyes on a live mental patient until I walked into the hospital 13 years ago this June ... but I'm very comfortable with the population, I'm constantly in a position where I have to think creatively, improvise, and figure out how to make the impossible possible.
I don't usually see blood or body fluids, but yeah, when I do, it's a doozy.
There are a lot of people who come in hating me, thinking I'm a bitch, and making some significant death threats against me. Most of them get over it after the med levels rise high enough in their blood. I've had at least one guy try to kill me, but he only succeeded in breaking my hand.
The fact that I came back after that says a lot ... either I love what I'm doing, or I have some massive fucking bills to pay. Okay, both.
My coworkers and I always talk about getting out. Doing something else. One of them went to school for computer repair ... he has quit three times and come back after what he left for failed to work out. My other partner is getting his MBA and dreams of going to work for a real company. I went to graduate school with the intent of honing my expertise in
this field. I go to additional training on Suicide, Critical Incident Stress Management, Disaster Response, Weapons of Mass Destruction not because I have to, but because I want to. I don't have a license to maintain. I don't need continuning education credits, but I love this stuff.
Our current "exit plan" is that we'll all quit when the shrink quits ... he has decided that he will retire to Ghana, where he is building a very beautiful house (we've seen pictures) to raise snails and sell them for an obscene profit to the French. We will spend the mornings tending to the snails, making sure they are properly shaded, watered, happy and free of salt, then we will spend the afternoon on the veranda, smoking the finest Ghanian weed, drinking Palm Wine, and being refreshed by the cooling breezes. I will be the Director of Snail Security, and keep the snails safe from banditry.
Unforunately, he won't be retiring right away.
...Particularly if it's the sort of place where you're likely to have poo thrown at you...
Or one of my favorite variants...
Having to administer enemas to schizophrenics who either:
a) refuse to take a dump or,
b) really like having an enema... :eek:
Or one of my favorite variants...
Having to administer enemas to schizophrenics who either:
a) refuse to take a dump or,
b) really like having an enema... :eek:
isn't this just one guy??
I had a scrotal ultrasound, and no nurse taped my unit in any way. I feel left out!
I've got to think that's better. I mean, wouldn't the untaping hurt, regardless of who was doing it??
I've got to think that's better. I mean, wouldn't the untaping hurt, regardless of who was doing it??
depends...one way to get gum out of hair is to use some vegetable oil. you do the math.
Ya know what's really fun? Scrotal ultrasounds--ya gotta tape the big buddy up and out of the way so you can scan the twins! Fun!
Um. That might be bad for the tech or nurse, but it's REALLY bad for the subject. Well, the taping might not be so bad but removing it.... YEEOWWW.
I think the guy who did the actual scan just held it out of the way, or the nurse held it out of the way. I don't remember, all I remember is that the door to the hall was open and the radiology tech was cracking jokes.
I think the guy who did the actual scan just held it out of the way, or the nurse held it out of the way. I don't remember, all I remember is that the door to the hall was open and the radiology tech was cracking jokes.
Do you remember any of them? :D
Scrotal ultrasounds? I guess I should have expected that on a thread titled "Tales from the Nuthouse". :cool:
It turned out to be a cyst.
isn't this just one guy??
Depends on the day of the week and the celestial alignment.
We will spend the mornings tending to the snails, making sure they are properly shaded, watered, happy and free of salt, then we will spend the afternoon on the veranda, smoking the finest Ghanian weed, drinking Palm Wine, and being refreshed by the cooling breezes. I will be the Director of Snail Security, and keep the snails safe from banditry.
Unforunately, he won't be retiring right away.
You mean I'll have to move to Africa in order to get you to be my elder care provider? :mg:
A lot is going to depend on what happens the next time the Ghanian government destablizes ... they're about due. This could cause the plans to change.
I had a scrotal ultrasound, and no nurse taped my unit in any way. I feel left out!
I think I know where I can find some tape....
;)
I had a scrotal ultrasound, and no nurse taped my unit in any way. I feel left out!
Can you say "hydrocoelectomy"? Actually, it's easy to say, but hard to spell.
Um. That might be bad for the tech or nurse, but it's REALLY bad for the subject. Well, the taping might not be so bad but removing it.... YEEOWWW.
Sadly, there are people in the USA right now somewhere who pay a substantial sum of money to anyone willing to do this to them while calling them "babydoll" at the same time.
I wouldn't say I pay a substantial sum....oh wait...nevermind. :smack:
Carry on.
sick , sick puppys ALL !!!!!!!
when I was but a prevert, still a little young for total pervert, I had surgery. IT was a kidney related surgery and I had to check into hospital the first day of summer. My parents were having a pool installed at home that week and I would be unable to swim in it until some time in August. My best friend was flying in and I wouldnot be able to go see him for a while. On top of all this I was in the Naval hospital and since I was still under 18 I had to be in the pediatric ward. Most of my room mates were at least half my age.
My favorite aunt was an RN. For fun at her house I use to read her medical books. one of these was an intro to psych text. At the time I considered that direction for a career.
The reason for this long winded into, at the half way point of my first stay in hospital a doctor walked into my ward and asked to check my surgical batch. He asked if I was in pain. I said no. He asked if I minded the tube running out of my back. I said no. He asked if I was upset my summer was being ruined by this. About this time I became suspisious. Let me add here that my doctor learned quick that even at 14 I understood most of what he told me. I also demanded to be told what he was doing and what meds he gave me. The doctor actually liked it. He was use to adults and it made me easier to deal with. This doctor failed to properly introduce himself. I began to get very derpessed suddenly. I started picking at my blanket and answering in monotone. I refused to look at him. THings like that. My answers to his questions got steadily stranger till he noticed I had changed too quick and asked me in an odd voice "DO you knw why I am here?" I looked him dead in the eyes and said, "Arent you going to ask me how I feel about my mother?" I smiled. The shrink got pissed and walked out. The nurse said he told her he didnt have time to deal with smartass teenagers. He returned the next day and introduced himself as the Ward shrink and that he wanted to talk to me about my stay. I invited him to sit down and after that we had good visits.
No offense Wolf but I often wondered if some psych students dont take it more to help themselves then others. I know I got interested because my whole family is full of nuts.
There are a lot of people in psych who just ain't right ... I've had to deal with some of them too.
I don't take offense to it. I make fun of these people too. Daily. Sometimes to their faces.
And you know you've gotten it right when THEY don't get it.
Sadly, there are people in the USA right now somewhere who pay a substantial sum of money to anyone willing to do this to them while calling them "babydoll" at the same time.
And thats not counting the cost of the Secret Service's background checks. ;)
*now that could be a Clinton, Bush Sr., or Bush Jr. joke, so I don't need to hear any partisan whining.
Back when I was in high school and working at a nursing home, there was a patient who routinely shit in her dresser drawers. Like every day. There was another woman who liked to roam the hallway naked except for her slippers.
Much admiration goes out to all the people who do those sorts of jobs.
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.
Oh, and I intimidated a man with my mere presence.
Marichiko and I can do that too :D
[SIZE=1](Don't try to catch us)[/SIZE]
Oh, and I intimidated a man with my mere presence.
You do that to me all the time. That's what weak knees and palpitations mean, right? :angel:
Marichiko and I can do that too :D
[SIZE=1](Don't try to catch us)[/SIZE]
Heheheheheheheheh!
Just ask the ax murderer! I'd love to tag team him with you Tonchi! I have the man whimpering at this point! I confronted him with his sex offender conviction (a copy of which was obtained for me by a paralegal friend), and he has since been repaying me my money as meek as a lamb.
Then the final revenge!
He writes me the last check and I casually mention that I expect to become a Swiss heiress to the tune of 5 million euro's in the next 6 to 8 months. Now, this is an incredible long shot, and the amount wouldn't be that high even if it DOES come through, but the ax murderer doesn't need to know this.
"Think of me in Zurich when you are pulling weeds next summer" (did I mention that he ran off with a woman who owns her own gardening business?), I sez. "I won't be thinking of YOU!" His face goes white at the thought of the "prize" he let slip through his greedy little fingers.
"Wait! Can't we still be friends?" he hollers after me as I get in my car to drive away.
"Should of thought of that 6 months ago, pal. Sorry, you lose!" I yell out my car window and then drive away leaving him standing in my exhaust fumes.
Best laugh I've had in months! :lol:
Oh, and I intimidated a man with my mere presence.
Which one of your guns is named "mere presence", again?
He writes me the last check and I casually mention that I expect to become a Swiss heiress to the tune of 5 million euro's in the next 6 to 8 months. Now, this is an incredible long shot, and the amount wouldn't be that high even if it DOES come through, but the ax murderer doesn't need to know this.
Well, if you do, the next Cellar party's at your house.
Well, if you do, the next Cellar party's at your house.
You're on! In the unlikely event that I DO become an heiress, the drinks are on me and you're ALL invited - even LJ! ;)
..to raise snails and sell them for an obscene profit to the French. We will spend the mornings tending to the snails, making sure they are properly shaded, watered, happy and free of salt........
(in my best shrink voice)
Tell me about keeping snails free of salt. What comes up? What surfaces?
Let them work it out themselves. :D
Heheheheheheheheh!
I have the man whimpering at this point!
I missed this! Kick ass!
I think you should make the info known to everyone in sight once he's paid you off.
HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEH, Patrick!
The very best part is that I don't have to let ANYONE know, personally. I have been working through this entire sorry experience with my therapist when a couple of weeks back she stopped me cold.
"Wait!" she exclaims, "You mean you have a copy of the actual court paper work and conviction from the county? This is just not hear-say stuff?"
I was rather surprised. "Why, yes, I do," I said. "Its not hear-say. I have the paperwork stamped ______ County Court. Found guilty as charged in a trial by jury."
My therapist gets a concerned, official look on her face. "Then according to the professional code of ethics, I am required to warn anyone who might have a minor child below the age of 18 in the household in which he resides. Will you please bring in those papers when you come for your next session?"
No problemo! Am I going to withhold documents which are a matter of public record, anyhow, and possibly be indirectly responsible for some tiny child having God knows what experience at the ax murderer's hands?
Three guesses, and the first two don't count! That sleeze! Like I'd stay quiet to protect HIM over some innocent little kid. Nice try! :mad:
PS I might be needing that spell for protection you mentioned a while back...
We'll work it up asap...
Meanwhile, stick it to the SOB, and stick with the therapy. It can be wonderfully effective with a willilng subject
Phone call tonight:
Timid Woman: How do I check someone in who isn't me?
Male Voice In Background: [SIZE="6"][COLOR="Red"]BITCH, HANG UP THE PHONE![/COLOR][/SIZE]
wolf: You need to call 911.
What, no "Merry Christmas"?
This is a stressful time of year. At least, at my house it is.
Phone call tonight:
Timid Woman: How do I check someone in who isn't me?
Male Voice In Background: [SIZE="6"][COLOR="Red"]BITCH, HANG UP THE PHONE![/COLOR][/SIZE]
wolf: You need to call 911.
I am hoping that was a prank phone call because it's very funny in text.
If it's for real then you need a new phone number.
I seriously can't read about your job withough visions of Jack Nicholson dancing through my head, accompanied by Ken Kesey sketches.
Good 'Ol R.P. McMurphy...
I am hoping that was a prank phone call because it's very funny in text.
If it's for real then you need a new phone number.
An unlisted number for the nuthouse? :right:
I seriously can't read about your job withough visions of Jack Nicholson dancing through my head, accompanied by Ken Kesey sketches.
Good 'Ol R.P. McMurphy...
Don't let Hollywood fill in the blanks in your experience...things you can't relate to. They lie...everytime....they lie.;)
I seriously can't read about your job withough visions of Jack Nicholson dancing through my head, accompanied by Ken Kesey sketches.
Good 'Ol R.P. McMurphy...
"Medication time, gentlemen, medication time"
Phone call tonight:
Timid Woman: How do I check someone in who isn't me?
Male Voice In Background: [SIZE="6"][COLOR="Red"]BITCH, HANG UP THE PHONE![/COLOR][/SIZE]
wolf: You need to call 911.
Hopefully, she wasn't alone.
Maybe she'd been better off if she was . . .
I seriously can't read about your job withough visions of Jack Nicholson dancing through my head, accompanied by Ken Kesey sketches.
Good 'Ol R.P. McMurphy...
While we are well past the thorazine, shock treatment, and straightjacket days of inpatient psychiatry, there are a lot of grains of truth in
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, just not all in one place, or all in one (or a few) days. I think the descriptions of the Chief's internal experience of the external world is probably one of the best descriptions of the inside of schizophrenia looking out in fiction. There are control-freak nurses in psychiatry, although most of them figure out that they're not getting much success out of trying to boss around a bunch of crazy people, and move on to some other kind of nursing, like long term care (the PC term for nursing homes).
Ever have one of those days? Okay, I'll admit that my one of those days tend to be a little more over the top ...
My day started with finding out that I had no water. None, nary a drop, coming out of the faucets anyway. I have plenty of bottled water, and made a supplementary trip to the supermarket just in case. This, however, meant no coffee at Chez Wolf this morning. It also meant no shower. Apparently the hot water heater in my building went kaflooey, and there's no estimate as far as when it will be fixed.
Okay, I can deal. I have enough waterless handwash and wetnaps to clean an army, or at least a kindergarten field trip.
So, off to work I go, foolishly choosing not to buy coffee on the way in to work, since I'm running a wee bit late. I figured I'd brew up once I got into the office and got shift report.
Yeah right. It's a madhouse. Struggle through shift report by drinking leftover dayshift coffee. As near as I can figure, it was made at about 1300, so it's past the margin of drinkability. Add honey, I can use the sugar. It's visiting night and it's my turn to be at the window. First two visitors get turned away because they don't meet criteria for visitation. They took it surprisingly well. Okay, so far, so ... oh, no it's not. Police arrive with crazy guy who refuses to talk to crisis worker and doctor. That actually makes things easier because he's totally nuts, and we know him pretty well. Internet goes down. Annoying, but not a big deal but ... crap ... whole network is now down, can't print, can't get to medical records system, or to the prescribing software, computer guy trying to figure out what happened ... whoops, swapped out some cables and forgot to plug the critical one back in? great ... no, still doesn't solve the problem. System eventually begins working, I suspect he turned off the switch that's labelled "Do not turn off this switch." Phone rings ... another police department on the way in with some dumbass who failed in his attempt to shoplift at the mall, he tried ramming his head into the cell toilet at the station. Okay, pretty run of the mill ... they show up, doctor sees him, decides to keep him in the hospital, is back in the office doing the paperwork ... I'm coming into the office from the front porch and I hear a ruckus in the lobby, another patient (the dude with one leg who smuggles drugs and matches in his prosthesis) is yelling, "Hey, we need some help out here!!" Not good. Dash through office screaming, "there's something going on in the lobby," followed (luckily) by hefty male crisis worker, to find toilet boy hanging by his bright green shoelaces from the handle of the interview room door. Big guy grips him up both to take the pressure off his neck and to keep him from trying to grab my knife as I cut him down off the door handle. Good save, offered thanks several times to the one-legged drug smuggler.
Have to offer supportive counselling to the other patients waiting in the lobby to see the doctor.
Fill out extra paperwork related to incident and staple bag containing bright green shoelaces to the report. Worry about whether bright green shoelace incident will have negative impact on boss' promise that we would receive congratulatory pizza for 100% compliance on maintaining one-on-one supervision for all patients placed in seclusion and/or restraints for the last seven months. We are very concerned about the free pizza. We do not get much in the way of bonuses.
Banter with client who has been waiting 5 hours to see the doctor so that she doesn't get any ideas similar to that of bright green shoelace dude.
Get home to find out that I have water, but only of the cold variety. Fill coffee maker reservoir to avoid any possible caffeine emergency in the AM. Consider options ... need to shower outweighs possible discomfort, given that plumbers are supposed to be back tomorrow, uncertain if there will be even cold water. Take extraordinarily quick shower while chanting "Think Warm Thoughts," which doesn't really work. Nipples hard enough to cut diamonds (yeah, TMI, but Elspode needs a little thrill every now and again).
Why would anybody choose bright green shoelaces?
green is supposed to be a calming colour?
I think that would be more of a pastelish, lime-sherbet green for calming.
These were [COLOR="Lime"]majorly bright green.[/COLOR]
Well maybe he wanted to give you something to think about for a while? ;)
Why would anybody choose bright green shoelaces?
They're crazy?
They're crazy?
What are you basing that on? ;)
This thread already has enough material for a book wolf, time to get cracking.
I always thought those were the best kind of nipples.
/s/UG of the nice sensitive ones
Like many businesses, the employees are constantly asked to innovate, to develop new strategies, to save the company time and money, basically. The rewards for doing so tend to be few, but folks keep trying anyway, right?
So, we're trying.
We can have no patients in the lobby one minute, and ten the next (it's happened).
Sometimes it gets a little difficult to keep track of who is out there, who is being seen, who has been seen, who is waiting to be medically cleared, and who is chasing their loved ones around the coffee table with a butcher knife at home.
We've been using a whiteboard, but it's too small, and you can't see it from any desk in the office. If you put it somewhere that people can see it, you can't reach it (two of my coworkers are under five feet tall), and you violate HIPPA.
So, I came up with this idea. Spreadsheet with conditions and comments along the x axis, patient names on the y. Or is it the other way around ... anyway, it works. It's brilliant. It's on GoogleDocuments, so only people who have been invited to view the document can see it ... we set it up so the crisis workers have read/write and the ambulance can only read it.
It's sweet. Works like a charm. Of course, we're still in the testing stages.
Then, the staff member who belongs half to us and half to first shift forgets that we're Vegas. You know, like in the commercials ... What happens in, etc.
Now we're shut down, "because it might not be secure enough."
We aren't allowed to use, test, or apparently even think about this priceless little gem.
It may be possible to get it moved over to the internal network as an Excel spreadsheet, but too many cooks are already spoiling the soup ... HR thinks it would be nice if nursing had access to it. We specifically don't want that because it would just make them damn cranky to know how many patients are out there. Our own department supervisors may see it as a tracking tool to see how long we're taking from door to unit, or to monitor who is taking how many cases (yes, they've done shit like that before, without taking into consideration that some things are more complex than others).
Who, ultimately, will give the go/no-go on our ability to use our "electronic whiteboard?" CEO's Administrative Assistant aka My Former Supervisor from when I was a Secretary/Receptionist aka The Woman Who Hates My Guts. So, it's effectively dead.
We've come up with a fair number of other good "improvements" that also haven't been implemented. This is just the latest symptom.
*Geeks do it with spreadsheets*. Cicero original...
If it's not secure, copy and save it to a flash drive only and only certain people will have access to it. Maybe only you if you want- who in the hell is going to know or care if you organize yourself a certain way?
Apropos of absolutely nothing, Wolf, I was at your workplace Wednesday night--in a dream. I forget why I was visiting (it did not appear to be as a patient), but I was with another (unknown/forgotten) person, and as we walked in the entryway there was a rather gruesome suicide in the lobby. As we approached your desk, you were telling somebody else that, in addition to the obvious issues, that it could also be a triggering event for some of the patients if they saw it.
So far it has been one of those weeks. Months. Quarters. Whatever.
It has been so crazy-busy that I've barely had time at work to play with my Webkinz (yes, you read that right. I'll try to find time to explain elsewhere).
So, last night this guy gets brought in by police. We only let him go four days ago, but for some people, four days without medication is like a lifetime.
He was ranting about hillbilly motherfuckers, screaming "Pussy" at random, and made up a little song that went "Boom da da boom da da boom, motherfucker."
He had also threatened people at an outpatient center, and banged on the glass of their reception window.
"That wasn't me. That was some other dude. I was in a sandwich shop across the street. YOU HEAR WHAT THEY ARE DOING TO ME RONALD, MY BROTHER, YOU HEAR?"
So, he ended up restrained to a litter, and got a load of medications that would have tranquilized an elephant shot into his ass.
He never stopped talking.
Not for a second.
At one point he managed (and I still don't know how, I assume someone who assisted in the restraint didn't put the strap through the lock properly) to get the strap totally out of the cuff and he grabbed my wrist, which could have gone very badly ... luckily between commanding him to let go in my best I'm not taking your crap voice and twisting out of his hold, I escaped without injury.
That wasn't the worst of it, though.
Since he was in leathers, I had to sit in the room with him and monitor his safety.
Usually this isn't so bad. It's annoying because you can't do anything else but watch a crazy restrained guy (or chick) breathe and occasionally demand a cigarette while paperwork and other stuff piles up in the office. I have a Master's Degree. Surely I should be able to assign someone with lesser education to do this, right?
So anyway, there's the dude, laying there. I get him rerestrained but there's still enough play in them for him to grab onto the edge of his rather large and baggy jeans ... and yes, he pulls the pants down and his shirt up ... "Bitch, you know what that is?"
Now, I had a lot of opportunity here. I could have said a lot of things. You know, like "Well, it looks like a man's penis, only smaller" that kind of thing. But as crazy as he may be, a man remembers some things. And I know that I'll be seeing this particular man at least once every six months, or more frequently than that.
So I couldn't do it.
"Bitch, you know what that is?"
"Sir, that is inappropriate."
Oh, and you know what ... that thing about black men? It's a myth.
ah...takes me back...good times, good times...
I knew it!
No! No! I meant as a
nurse!Wait, wolf, I think I dated that guy!
:lol2: I was referring to the black package comment, and didn't realize you'd posted before me. Sensitive about the issue are we?;)
It must be awful to be so crazy.
Wolf, you are the soul of restraint!
I think he was referring to the myth. :rolleyes:
It must be awful to be so crazy.
Wolf, you are the soul of restraint!
I kind of prefer "Saint of Restraint," because of the rhyminess.
And because I have the power to bestow the miracle of restraint(s) wherever it may be needed.
*guffaw* Oh, I do amuse myself. I do indeed. [COLOR="DarkOrchid"]weasels! weasels! [/COLOR]
I should know by now that if I'm heading to work, and I see two cop cars and an ambulance ahead of me on the driveway, it's probably not a good thing.
I should know by now that if I'm parking at work and I see the cop cars pull in to an area they usually wouldn't and notice that the officers have their hands on their guns, it's probably not a good thing.
I should know by now that if I see the Commitment and Crisis Supervisors standing outside near the smoking post, and both of them quit smoking a couple of years ago, it's probably not a good thing.
I should know a lot of things by now.
So, there I am, innocently pulling in to work. I hear a bit of a ruckus. Someone in an old piece of shit Nissan Sentra is blowing their horn like a madman. Literally.
This is the vehicle that everyone's attention is focused on. Cops, supervisors, ambulance guys, criminal justice director and about a half-dozen guys from nursing. They're trying to talk to this guy in the car. It's not going well. I couldn't see using my car mirrors, and I figured out and able to run beats stuck in the car, right? So I got out of my car for a better view.
Dude wasn't much for talking, kept screaming, but not really saying much other than he wasn't going to get out of the car. All of the interior doors were locked. He hadn't driven himself, an acquaintance had (that'll show her about being a good Samaritan!). She had her five year old son with her, so this could have been a lot scarier situation had the fellow wigged out before she and the kid got out of the car.
At one point they were trying to get the car door open. Dude didn't like that and all I could see was a flash of fluorescent green diving from the frontseat to the backseat of the car and a flash of gray as one of our ambulance guys ran away like the devil was after him. He then started burrowing through the back seat to get into the trunk. Late 1980s Sentras didn't have fancy fold down rear seats. He pulled the upholstery off to get into the trunk.
That's the point at which I decided that while I was watching I should be standing in a place so my engine block was between me and the trunk of that car ... there still wasn't any reliable information about whether he was armed. I was especially glad of my decision when I noticed that one of the officers had her Taser out, and the other his pistol.
Eventually they got a door unlocked (no idea why breaking a window wasn't their first option) and tried to drag the guy back through the seat ... not only was he uncooperative about that, but he was a big guy and really didn't fit through the seat frame. Maybe it was one of those one-way only deals? You know, like putting a pool ball in your mouth?
The owner of the car had said that there wasn't a trunk key or a trunk release, but turned out that the ignition key did open the trunk ... dude got pulled out of the trunk and restrained to a litter right there in the parking lot, all the while screaming "They're on the roof, there's going to shoot me!"
We sent to him the medical hospital, just in case he was on PCP or something ... turned out he wasn't.
He just freaks out every now and again.
Five or so hours later he was still crazy, but less so, and at least was relatively quiet and cooperative, with no memory of what had happened in our parking lot.
I think I'll remember it for a while, though. Even I don't usually have to wonder if I'm going to get shot as I'm walking into work.
Oh, that ambulance that came in ahead of the police? Totally unrelated. Just some drunk being brought in for detox.
Five or so hours later he was still crazy, but less so, and at least was relatively quiet and cooperative, with no memory of what had happened in our parking lot.
I think I'll remember it for a while, though.
What's your intake rate for former and/or current staff?
It all sounds so glamorous, how can I get in the nut harvesting business?
Late 1980s Sentras didn't have fancy fold down rear seats. He pulled the upholstery off to get into the trunk.
Man, that would totally ruin your manicure, right there.
What's your intake rate for former and/or current staff?
Counting the psychiatrist who went catatonic in the chart room?
Lower than you might think. I know that several people have gotten quietly sent off to rehab a couple of times, and we had this really bad run of "Peer Specialists." A "Peer Specialist" is a recovered nut/druggie who works with patients. They are supposed to have a special kind of street cred with other nuts/druggies.
Unfortunately, not all of them are recovered enough to do this. We lost one or two of them shortly before they began working, and the other had been doing really well, but the stress got to him and he started using drugs again (after five or so years or so sobriety). The supervisors in our department (who spent the most time with him) were the last to figure it out, even after money started disappearing from the safe and dude would be really jumpy right before lunch and really calm afterwards. There was a tense couple of weeks with the "new clock radio" in our copier/safe room ... the cool part about the hidden camera was that it actually told time and had a decent radio tuner on it.
And then there was the fellow who replaced the druggie, who wasn't a peer specialist but might as well have been. He was the one who got caught by Perverted Justice (yes, the people from the Dateline episodes). He was using computers in our office to chat with someone he thought was a 13 year old girl.
And years ago there was a young lady who had worked as an intern in our medical records department that became psychotic. She has some good periods of stability, but lately she's been in and out.
Guess there were more than I thought. But given the number of employees we have, it's still a pretty low number.
Last night ended with our getting a crazy nurse from another facility. She was a treat. Think of the crankiest nurse you know, and then imagine her hearing voices.
Made Nurse Ratched seem like a real sweetheart.
A "Peer Specialist" is a recovered nut/druggie who works with patients. They are supposed to have a special kind of street cred with other nuts/druggies.
And a great way to get source leads. ;)
My wife was the admin manager for a Psych Department in a major Army medical center for 2 years. They were all crazier than their patients.
What a great thread and a good read.
I cant say I have had those sort of experiences in my job.
I do have contact with people suffering from delusions of parasitism tho.
I work with insects, I do identification and we have a free service for biosecurity reasons.
Every now and then we get some one (usually coming off drugs) that believes they are being eaten by insects.
Its a very difficult job to handle because there are quite a few cases where there are real insects involved (itch mites ,bed bugs etc)
The bloody doctors often know these people are delusional, yet they find it easier to sent them to me.
I have gotten pretty good at handling them, telling them early on that I can only do something for them if I find insects, planting the idea there could be some other cause.
If I find no insects I have to check to see what medications they are on (refer them back to a Dr to check for drug reactions)
I remember one old lady that was really in a bad way, no one had helped her and she was right off her tree.
I persuaded her that its common to get skin reactions from some drugs (heart drugs are bad) so she went to a Dr that re-checked her medication and found there was a problem.
It was great when she rang me back after about two months to thank me for taking the time to explain . She was as good as gold.
I still get skin samples , bedding samples, dust samples thankfully only one poo sample sent to me to check for imaginary insects.
Drugs are bad MKAY
Hi miketrees!
I finally met a person who I should see if I am being eaten by giant spiders. Cool.
You should start a few scary spider story threads. Like the one about the woman with the bee-hive hairdo with the red-back spiders, only real.
I did have people that returned from Africa with live screw fly lavae in sores on their arms
My wife was the admin manager for a Psych Department in a major Army medical center for 2 years. They were all crazier than their patients.
Mercenary. my wife is a nurse and they all say that Psych carers are just as nutty as the patients.
So the other night we get this guy who looks just like the GEICO Caveman. This would probably be a funnier story if he looked like the GEICO gecko, but even the nuthouse isn't that weird.
So, he needs to be restrained and I happened to be down near the feet. There were six people from nursing helping out with the restraint. Based on what happened, it was lucky that the dude was relatively cooperative.
I take off his shoes and get a look at his feet and ankles. I immediately looked up at him and said, "Hey buddy, are you itching a whole lot, like all the time?"
"Yep," he says.
"So, has anyone told you that you have scabies?"
"Yep."
Suddenly, the man was kryptonite. The other crisis worker and I ended up finishing the restraint ourselves after all the nursing staff jumped back like they had gotten electric shocks off the dude.
Scabies is really only mildly scary stuff. If you're wearing gloves, you're pretty much good. It requires skin-to-skin contact to transfer, and fairly extensive skin-to-skin contact at that. Rarely transfers off of surfaces.
Oh well, I guess it was their first scabies exposure.
Years ago, I wrote this for an order of nuns running a nursing home in which there was a scabies infestation that I was called upon to help eradicate:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
[CENTER][COLOR="White"][/COLOR][FONT="Franklin Gothic Medium"][SIZE="3"]ECTOPARASITIC EPIPHANY[/SIZE][/FONT]
[COLOR="White"][/COLOR]Attempts to eliminate scabies (Sarcoptes Scabiei, the itch mite) may be futile. Various religions hold that we were created in His image. It may be divine providence that we look like God all mitey.
[COLOR="white"][/COLOR]At first, it appears that Armageddon is at hand. Then it spreads to the axilla, abdomen, and buttocks. This ain't the seven year itch! Oh well, scratch the human race.
[COLOR="white"][/COLOR]Anyway, we've had a Kwell time together (that's because we haven't drawn any rash conclusions about each other); but, now it's time to bug out ... mite be gone by the time you read this.
[COLOR="white"][/COLOR][FONT="Franklin Gothic Medium"]Unknown Epidemiotheologian[/FONT][/CENTER]
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sometimes the nuts end up waiting in the lobby a lot longer than is really good for them.
Our goal is to get someone from the front door to the unit in two hours. Some nights it is very, very hard to meet that goal. Like nights where we start the shift with four patients in the lobby and another six or eight join them in the space of an hour.
A week or so ago I had this guy who was totally off his nut.
He was probably a pretty pleasant guy under regular circumstances, but he'd been off his medication for the last four months or so. When we got him he was pretty psychotic. Hearing voices, couldn't concentrate, hadn't slept in a while.
We got him because he had told his case manager he was willing to go to another hospital in the area.
She said fine, let's go, and was driving him there to be evaluated.
That's when things went downhill.
Shortly after leaving his house he announced to her that he wanted to chop her head off.
She kept driving.
Then he told her that he was going to cut her up into itty-bitty pieces.
For some reason this was more disturbing to her than "I'm going to chop your head off."
She stopped the car and got out.
Yes, leaving him in the car. Alone. Not sure if she left the keys in the ignition or the car running, but we've had that happen before.
Luckily, he didn't take off in her vehicle, or start tearing it to pieces. We've had that happen too.
No, he got out of the car and started chasing her around.
Somehow his brother shows up on the scene, gets him calmed down, and takes him back home.
The case manager came in, filed commitment papers, and then I end up with him.
He was extremely disorganized, but overall, not too bad to deal with. Spent some time in an exam room, then started pacing around the lobby. We have patients do that all the time, not a big deal. One of my female coworkers found him to be kind of spooky, and wanted him placed in seclusion, which is a polite way of saying "lock him in a small room because he's freaking me out."
We need more documentation than "being spooky" to be able to lock someone up.
Didn't take more than a few minutes to get it. Actually, he'd been doing well for the first hour and a half or so he was in the lobby. After that, his patience must have just totally run out.
We hear a ruckus, and run out to find him throwing magazines and fake flowers around the lobby, and several other patients and their family members cowering in a corner.
A few husky men from nursing come out and give us a hand in escorting him to an exam room with a lockable door.
Again, he does well for a good while. Doctor sees him (with an escort) and orders a shot. This is the kind of shot that puts down bull elephants. Usually takes about a half hour to really work and put even the most agitated patient to sleep.
Not him.
First he starts pacing back and forth for a while.
Then he realizes he has some stuff in his pockets ... pulls out a bandana.
Rips it to shreds.
Then another bandana.
Rips it to shreads.
Then he finds a savings passbook in his shirt pocket.
Rips it to shreds.
Notices a box of tissues on the windowsill.
Pulls each tissue out of the box and tosses them into the air.
You know that part of the magic act where the magician appears a whole batch of hankies, and they flutter to the stage like big white snowflakes? It looked just like that.
Then he takes off his flannel shirt.
Rips it to shreds.
Long sleeve teeshirt.
Rips it to shreds.
Now, this is not going on as fast as I'm describing it. There are gaps in his performance, sometimes up to a couple of minutes as he considers his next move.
Takes off his workboots. Pulls the laces out. Throws them into the air.
Takes off his pants.
Rips them to shreds.
Sits down for what we thought would be a rest, turns out he was just taking off his socks.
Rips them to shreds.
Stands up again, takes off his tidy whities.
Rips them to shreds.
At this point, a police department comes in with another patient. The officer is starting to explain why they are there and he looks up at the video monitors and just stops talking.
"Yes, officer, he is naked, and yes he is surrounded by what was his clothing before he ripped it to shreds."
The cops stare at the monitor, fascinated by the show.
And then, as such things do, it gets better.
This man is stark naked, sitting on our (luckily easy-to-clean) couch, and reaches for the last thing that he has access to.
Luckily, he didn't rip that to shreds, but he did play with it for a while, after which he picked his boots back up and tried to rip them to shreds, but work boots are surprising sturdy and failed to yield to his attempts to rend them.
So he went back to jerking off.
And never went to happy nap land, where the doctor was sure she had sent him with the load of medications that got pumped into his rather scrawny ass. I think I've mentioned before that attractive people never get naked in the nuthouse?
There is even frosting on this particular cake.
Close to two hours after they were given the admission orders, nursing finally sends two guys out to escort naked man onto the unit. They have been briefed on what has been going on in the exam room, and have come out with a pair of hospital gowns to provide him some decorum as he is walked to his room.
I turn towards the monitor as I'm explaining the situation to them and see ... that since he's run out of things to rip to shreds, he's pissing on the wall.
This happens from time to time. After he's gowned and taken out of the room, however, I had to wade into the ocean of piss because I had to recover all of the pieces of that savings passbook. And his boots.
The only opportunity I missed was to take a drug screen test kit in with me.
I have a cat in my in-tray. It doesn't really compare.
oh
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my
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gosh
When the day starts with a call from one of the department supervisors, it can't be good.
When the call goes like this, "Hey, MidnightGuy called out. How late do you think you can stay," it's not going to get any better.
So, here we are, it's now 2:30 am(ish) on Christmas Eve, and I'm at the nuthouse in the midst of an ice storm that has shut down three major roadways in the area.
I'll be here for about another hour and a half, and then I get to try to slide my way home.
Luckily, I don't need to use any of those major roadways to get there, and my route is essentially pretty flat.
On the upside, I am off on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.
My ambulance crew has just returned from the city and they have advised me that I am basically stuck here until it thaws.
Freezing rain continues to fall.
I just watched the ambulance guy throw salt on the wheelchair ramp.
The salt slid down the ramp.
All should be well soon, wolf. We had icy roads,rain, too and this morning it's warm and just regular rain. roads MUCH better.
good luck to you Wolf.
I hope someone will / did come along with refreshments.
I read up a few pages and just let me say.
Wow.
Yeah, :eek:
The ambulance crew braved the ice and sleet, and went to the WaWa and brought me back cigarettes.
Made the remainder of the shift bearable.
I went up to sleep in the crew quarters just after 0600. I set two alarms, slept through the watch, and failed to enable the cellphone despite having set the new wake time, so I woke up on my own at around 1045.
Ice had completely melted, am now home, had breakfast, and am preparing to nap.
A couple months ago there were consultants milling about the nuthouse.
They were talking to people, observing systems and processes, and generally being intrustive.
The nuthouse newsletter came out on Monday, and reports some of the recommended changes.
The CFO is going to become the Hospital Administrator. This is generally regarded as a good thing, as the current Administrator was never really Administrator material. He's staying with us and taking a more clinically oriented job.
The big shocker is that the Director of Nursing (DON) was apparently declared a useless appendage by the consultants. It's not that we didn't know that she was a useless appendage, but for someone from the outside to spend a week poking around and identify this with laser-like accuracy, that's impressive.
The surprising part is that the DON is no longer employed by the hospital ... I mean office packed up, escorted out of the building not employed. This is the current great mystery.
The woman has worked for the nuthouse for THIRTY YEARS.
One would have expected a dignified two week notice and a nice luncheon.
But she's just gone.
What's worse ... the nuthouse newsletter was out and available to employees several hours before the DON was outta there.
Her name may become a verb ... much in the same way that "went [name of commitment director that went crazy and stopped showing up to work]" is used.
Any complacency we had about having a stable job in a down economy is now GONE, and the stress levels are through the roof.
How many people work there?
What about pension? Did she get anything? How could they just make a long term employee just disappear like that? Are these new consultants actually magicians?
How many people work there?
Around 200 - 225, I think.
What about pension? Did she get anything? How could they just make a long term employee just disappear like that? Are these new consultants actually magicians?
We honestly don't know anything about her severance arrangement, if any. We just know she's gone and it appears to have been announced before it happened. For all we know she could have been given notice two weeks ago and she just went quietly, but word on the street is calling it a termination. We dont' have a pension plan, but we do have a 403(b). Depending on what happens in the next few weeks, the consultants could be either evil wizards or the good guys.
I would not suggest this approach:
[youtube]ISpsK5MwnXY&feature=related[/youtube]
Precisely why I avoided conversing with the consultants like the plague.
The DON probably spent hours yammering at them about how wonderful she is, which could have contributed to her demise. One of my cow orkers did talk to the consultants. We're watching his situation carefully.
The Office Space scene is applicable.
Consultants...heeheee
Those who can't do, teach. Those who can't teach, consult. ;)
There are good consultants out there, believe it or not.
The problem is, consultants, like anybody else, are beholden to whoever is paying them. The person who decided to bring in the consultant is paying them and decides what questions the consultant is supposed to answer. In the best case scenario, the consultant will hand back the "correct" answer to the question even if it's not an answer the client likes. But even in this case, if they've started off trying to answer the wrong questions, the whole exercise is pointless.
I know...I was just kidding, mostly thinking about consulting as it pertains to "head-choppers" or whatever they call the ones they call in to fire a bunch of people so management doesn't have to take responsibility for it.
In fact, I've considered the possibility of doing consulting for FA offices: my experience is well-rounded enough, having been trained in the trenches in my past job. Consulting as in "what could we be doing better?"
However, I cannot see me running a business.
Worse than pointless, misleading and disastrous.
Worse than pointless, misleading and disastrous.
Who, me?
Well duh, who didn't know that? :eek:
I was responding to Steve, you cut in line. :p
How many people work there?
About half?
Half a person? How'd they do that.
Real and True Phone Call.
wolf: Hi, this is wolf from The Nuthouse™. I need to speak to a nurse about Patient CrazyPersonWeWantOutofOurNiceMedicalHospital.
ward clerk: Do you need to speak to a nurse?
wolf: Yeah. [SIZE="2"](Honey, I really hope that you don't have any actual patient care responsibilties. You're blonde, aren't you?)[/SIZE]
Oh, the things that I want to say that I'm not allowed to say because I choose not to get in trouble with the boss right now. He ends up apologizing enough for things that I do absolutely right.
Healthcare and ancillary workers at many levels, especially those who deal with the mentally impaired, are taught to reflect patients' questions and comments back to them so that patients may pursue their own direction when verbalizing trains of thought. Unfortunately, this technique is often misused by poor/indifferent listeners and procrastinators in the healthcare industry who apply it to anyone saying anything that they are not particularly interested in ... like requests for them to do their jobs. It's somewhat analogous to supervisors who talk to subordinates the way they talk to their children at home. These traits aren't necessarily indicative of low intelligence; so, it's best to counter them with caution. It's often just a character flaw which demarcates those people as indifferent assholes.
I disagree. It's just stupidity.
I have the same problem with the large number of elementary-school teachers in my family.
You reflect their questions back at them? Kind of strange if you ask me.
So you're saying you think that's unusual?
Do you question it's unusualness?
How does that make you feel?
We were discussing you, not me.
Does that make me self-centered?
o- there is my center.
Now watch closely....
lo
lol
:)
Healthcare and ancillary workers at many levels, especially those who deal with the mentally impaired, are taught to reflect patients' questions and comments back to them
And how do you feel about that?:D
And how do you feel about that?:D
That expression was kinda, sorta, maybe already done by Pie:
How does that make you feel?
Seriously, the technique has worked well with my patients who have difficulty articulating their thoughts due to stroke (CVA - cerebral vascular accident), MS - multiple sclerosis, dementia ... etc. They are frustrated enough by their own inability to communicate easily without having others jump to conclusions about what they are trying to say and put words in their mouths. This is especially true of dementia patients who often have roundabout ways of formulating ideas, pathways which make perfect sense to them; but, would seem senseless to most others. Initially reflecting such patients' questions or comments back at them helps maintain their train of thought regardless of the pathway. Disrupting that pathway with one's own conjectures increases their level of difficulty by adding to their frustration ... anger with you.
We were discussing you, not me.
Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!...
Seriously, the technique has worked well with my patients who have difficulty articulating their thoughts due to stroke (CVA - cerebral vascular accident), MS - multiple sclerosis, dementia ... etc. They are frustrated enough by their own inability to communicate easily without having others jump to conclusions about what they are trying to say and put words in their mouths. This is especially true of dementia patients who often have roundabout ways of formulating ideas, pathways which make perfect sense to them; but, would seem senseless to most others. Initially reflecting such patients' questions or comments back at them helps maintain their train of thought regardless of the pathway. Disrupting that pathway with one's own conjectures increases their level of difficulty by adding to their frustration ... anger with you.
...
Thanks for this NoBoxes. At times I have difficulty following my mother's conversations and not getting us both frustrated in the process (prolly borderline dementia, maybe a little TIA). I'll try this technique to see if it helps us both.
How about an undate?
Wolf you need a blog with this title. It would be fun to read about the exploits at da house.
That's kind of how I use these paired (suck/cool) threads.
So, yesterday was Friday the 13th.
How'd that go for you?
I got called into work early.
Arrived and found out that one of our satellite programs was on fire and all of their patients would be delivered to my lobby in about ten minutes.
The fire, incidentally, started at 13:13 hours on Friday the 13th.
So, not only is there total chaos going on because of the number of patients that actually need to be seen, there's extra people in the lobby, and every third person who comes into the office thinks that we don't know what's going on and starts with, "Hey, did you hear what happened?"
"Yes, we're actually trying to work in here instead of gossip. Leave please."
The day continued to be horrifyingly awful, including the periphery of dealing with the person suspected of the fire, which I believe has been officially ruled "accidental."
Eventually the displaced folks got taken down to the gym to bed in for the night, mainly because there was a crazy woman that was too annoying for them and they were getting anxious.
That didn't end the series of things that were annoying me, however, including a police department bringing three not really crazy enough to be hospitalized people in at the same time. This has never happened before.
And there's a patient that I didn't get to see but was interested in, because the person has a disease that was featured on an episode of House, M.D. I really like House, and this was one of my more favorite episodes, because the disease presents with psychiatric symptoms, but is really medically based.
On the upside, I only got home about an hour late.
Wow... I'm glad I avoided too much excitement on Friday the 13th. Glad you survived, Wolf.
Nut in 4-Points: I wish to engage in onanism now.
wolf: I would prefer you didn't
Nut in 4-points: (waves, not with his hands.)
wolf: (calls office from cell phone) Mr. Nut in 4-Points needs a male one-to-one. And we're going to need to decontaminate the restraint straps.
Nut in 4-Points: I wish to engage in onanism now.
Look up the definition for onanism.Hmmm.....My vocabulary has been expanding ever since I joined the Cellar. :nuts: :D
I left out the part where I said to him, "You're lucky. I'm probably the only person in the hospital who knows what you're intending."
Actually, it turned out that there was one other person who knew without looking it up.
You get a better class of nut in Philly.
He was from out of state. And he was my first nut carrying a saxomophone. I've logged a lot of crazy property, but it was my first sax. The thing looks beat ... dusty, pitted finish and all? but the cork and pads are in perfect condition, and he's got a lot of good quality reeds in the box, and plenty of cork grease (I played tenor sax back in the day, know about these things).
So, he wished to engage in some saxual perversity?
That being aural sax.:neutral:
Some nights, things go well.
Other nights, things are busy as Hell.
Occasionally things are right smack in the middle.
That's where we are right now.
Would have maybe gotten out of here within an hour of my regular time to leave but for one thing ...
Midnight guy calls in at around 2330 ... "Yeah, this is MidnightGuy. I was on my way in and I puked in my car. I'm turning around, going home to clean myself up. I'll see how things go and call back."
Not surprisingly, when he called back (just before midnight) he said, "Yeah, I'm not making it in."
By the time he made the second call, I'd already made arrangements to reschedule my lunch date with Tester-San for tomorrow, and informed momwolf not to wait up.
So, here I am, in the nuthouse, taking one for the team, providing coverage for the shift.
I have had three-quarters of a pot of coffee. I have snacks leftover from dinner that I didn't eat.
That's about as good as it's going to get.
I just hope I don't run out of cigarettes.
That could get ugly.
Oh, and I have a new name, courtesy of a very agitated patient that was in last week.
I am "Commander Fatass."
My cow orkers and I were comparing names we have been given by patients. The big scary (white) guy's new name is "Nigger" and my rather demure female cow orker is "Cum-sucking Slut."
Cum-sucking Slut? Uh, er, could I get an introduction? :blush:
actually, "cum-sucking slut" is a series in a porn franchise...
eg: Kacey the cum sucking slut....Angie the cum sucking slut....and so on.
guess the guy is into film....:)
You have an amazing depth of knowledge.
Oh, and I have a new name, courtesy of a very agitated patient that was in last week.
I am "Commander Fatass."
My cow orkers and I were comparing names we have been given by patients. The big scary (white) guy's new name is "Nigger" and my rather demure female cow orker is "Cum-sucking Slut."
User title time!
I stand corrected. She's merely "Cum-Slut," not "Cum-Sucking Slut."
Sorry for any confusion this may have caused.
We would love to get tee-shirts, but particularly Nigger understands that others may not find this as amusing as we do.
I was very busy last night talking to JFK Airport police.
Seems they have one of my warrants, and promised to do their best to find my nut and get him to me.
I guess since 9/11 the airports are really sensitive about crazy guys wandering around their terminals and getting onto one of their flights.
Unless he/she is the pilot.
How did they get your warrant, was he suspected of going to NY, or are the just sent out APB?
The idea of being admitted to a mental hospital by three people whose T-shirts indicate they are Commander Fatass, Cum-Slut, and Nigger is making me laugh. In the office. This is going to be hard to explain.
The idea of being admitted to a mental hospital by three people whose T-shirts indicate they are Commander Fatass, Cum-Slut, and Nigger is making me laugh. In the office. This is going to be hard to explain.
You might even begin to crazy you are not as think as those think people seem to crazy you are.
Unless he/she is the pilot.
How did they get your warrant, was he suspected of going to NY, or are the just sent out APB?
It was faxed to JFK along with a photo of the intended patient by his home police jurisdiction who had entered him into NCIC as a missing emotionally disabled person. Family thought he was going to fly home (to a foreign country), and usually flew out of JFK, although PHL also has a direct flight there. Point of technical fact my warrant is not valid in that jurisdiction, but, hey, who am I to argue with a Sergeant who is all excited about grabbing up a nut and delivering to me. Even the boss thought it was pretty cool.
Turns out he never made it to the airport, although he was in NYC yesterday ... sounds like he was making a series of "goodbye" visits to significant places from his life. He had also driven to a good-sized city to the South of us, and said he was walking around the area where he and his wife met, that kind of thing. He showed up at home around 0400 hrs, and the local police took him into custody. My EMTs said he was nuts.
Hmmm.... OK, he's nuts. So instead of letting fly to the country of his choice we've got to take care of him? :confused:
Hell, we drove him nuts, isn't that enough?
"Nuts"...... I am tired of your use of professional jargon. You know you act like you are talking over my head, and you are not..;)
indeed one-way airfare is much cheaper then one of those fancy padded hotel rooms
Hmmm.... OK, he's nuts. So instead of letting fly to the country of his choice we've got to take care of him? :confused:
Hell, we drove him nuts, isn't that enough?
Eh, let him go home. Just don't let him come back.
Several years ago the case manager of a man who believed himself to be the Prince of Korea called me in a panic.
Case Manager: But, but, but ... he's flying to Korea tonight!! We have to stop him!! He will be in violation of his outpatient commitment!!
wolf: How much time does he have left on the commitment?
Case Manager: Maybe two, three weeks?
wolf: And up until now, how compliant with his outpatient commitment has he been?
Case Manager: I think he came to one appointment at the beginning.
wolf: And this was a 90-day commitment, right?
Case Manager: Right.
wolf: Well, since he hasn't complied with the outpatient commitment for the last 60 or 70 days, why are you suddenly so concerned about the last few?
Case Manager: uh.
wolf: Besides. He's going to be in another country. He's not your problem there, right? Unless your boss is sending you to Seoul with him?
Case Manager: oh.
wolf: Call me back if you actually need anything.
I sooooo want to know how that turned out. Did Prince Nutso Fly to Korea? Did he claim the Throne? Then what ....?
yes and yes... his name is Kim Jong-il. ;)
Bruce is probably right. We have a saying at work, "There is no crazy like Korean crazy."
Something about being from such a straight-laced and reserved culture, I guess. When they go nuts, they approach it with the same vigor and initiative that they do mathematics, the violin, and retail management.
Haven't see the Prince in a number of years, he may, in fact have gone back. Or he died and nobody bothered to tell us, which happens a lot. Crazy people don't usually get nice obituaries.
One of my patients did get a nice obituary. Although they'd had nothing to do with him while he was alive, this one guy's family made sure that he got a really nice send-off. The notice in the paper contained the usual list of glowing achievements, although, admittedly, his list was pretty short. I forget if it said he died of a heart attack or a long illness. Both are correct, if you count chronic alcoholism as a long illness.
Anyway, the notice mentioned that he loved "Hiking and camping." This is also absolutely true. He never owned a car and had to walk everywhere, and often slept under the bridge, or snuggled up to a bush in the park.
...When they go nuts, they approach it with the same vigor and initiative that they do mathematics, the violin, and retail management ...
:lol2:
Anyway, the notice mentioned that he loved "Hiking and camping." This is also absolutely true. He never owned a car and had to walk everywhere, and often slept under the bridge, or snuggled up to a bush in the park.
Were any of the relatives in marketing?
Sometimes, the evenings are pretty horrifying. Mostly by the mere density of the caseload.
Tonight we had that and an extra treat.
It was like Groundhog Day.
Really.
Not once, but twice, in the same interview room
TWO women urinated and smeared menstrual blood.
TWO.
Okay, to be fair, the first one was worse, because she also took a dump and used the resulting production as an additional art supply.
All over the room.
Walls, floor, door, windows.
She also made a little collage out of the contents of an entire box of tissues. Luckily it was one of those tiny hospital boxes. She made a peace sign, the word cry, and a bunch of other things we couldn't figure out. She was apparently writing a letter.
The first one I got to assist into the shower. She wasn't terribly cooperative. Go figure.
In retrospect, we realize that we should have taken a picture of the damage to the first room and submitted it for a photo contest that is underway. Unfortunately we didn't have this idea until after Environmental Services had done a very good job of deconning the area.
The lobby still smells like shit, though.
One of those shitty days, huh. :(
That would win a major art prize for sure. All you need is a completely unrelated title.
No, the photo would not do. You would need to recreate the room exactly as she made it, in the gallery. You'll need a grant, of course. Fill out this form... no, stop writing with shit.
"There is no crazy like Korean crazy."
Something about being from such a straight-laced and reserved culture, I guess. When they go nuts, they approach it with the same vigor and initiative that they do mathematics, the violin, and retail management.
Anyone seen pictures of any other nationality throwing chairs at each other in Parliament, not once, but twice, in the last few years!?
Koreans riot better than anyone else in the world.
And apparently one just kicked Tiger Woods' ass...
Yesterday was spectacularly stupid, even given my unusually high standards.
I had to wake up early to testify at a criminal hearing, but ended up waking up even earlier, because I was going to breakfast with my ambulance crew.
See, about a week ago I found some contraband in property. A lot of drugs. It was hidden in a big bottle of hand cream.
So, I get up at 0800, which is like three hours earlier than I usually get up. Go to the IHOP, which was absolutely wonderful, although they could use a smoking section. I bought breakfast for the crew because I was the one who found they drugs and enlisted them as witnesses when I probed the bottle of hand cream with the back of a spoon. I found a solid object in there, you see. So, either the hand cream had curdled, or something else was in there. Something else turned out to be a baggie containing a big ol' bag of weed (although I described it in court as a leafy, green substance, since I do not have the ability to test to see what it really is) and some rolling papers.
We had a very nice breakfast. The loaded hash browns (country style sausage) are insanely awesome, get them while they last.
So, then we go to court. We spend time joking around with the cops, do some testimony prep, and appear before the judge. Took about two hours.
I was also scheduled to go to mental health court at the same time, they held my hearings (I had two that day, which is really rare) until the end, turned out I didn't have to testify, was about to head home for a much-needed nap before work when I got texted by one of my bosses, saying that she had to leave early could I be in at 1400. Yeah, sure. I had just enough time to run home, poop in my own toilet, and turn right around and go back to work.
So THEN, I get to work and all Hell is breaking loose. There were a ton of patients to be seen, and a petitioner for an involuntary commitment, and the phones were ringing off the hook. Dealt with that stuff, but never got to talk to the boss-lady about what time I should be leaving before she left, originally I was going to scoot out to match the amount of time I spent in court because they're really trying to cut down on overtime, but that didn't work out at all, because then worse Hell broke out.
I was dealing with this sweet little old lady, see. She was adorable. Charming. During visiting hours she decided it was time to get naked, stuff her clothing in the toilet, flush the toilet causing a flood in the lobby and also into my office. I was on the phone with a police department at the time, and missed most of the fun. Old lady was placed in an exam room in "seclusion," which means we locked the door. She got completely naked, and this tiny little thing starts pushing around some 300 pound furniture to barricade the door. And she peed on the floor. Then she learned why our doors are double hung ... guys opened the door climbed over the furniture, and escorted her out of that exam room to be placed in restraints.
In the middle of that a new patient arrived saying he wanted to get off drugs and alcohol. He probably really wanted to hide from the police. I told a cow orker about him, then went to sit and watch the old lady in restraints for the next two hours. She got out of the restraints once, and needed a leg restraint loosened. You think I could get anybody to help with this? Then I go back into the office and find that nobody has seen the dude trying to hide out from the po-po, tried to suggest that someone else see him, nobody took the bait, and so I went out to interview him, leaving four cases worth of paperwork on my desk that I hadn't touched yet, because I was watching naked old lady snore for two hours.
Recommend dude to outpatient because he claimed to be drinking huge amounts, had a ZERO alcohol level despite drinking just before coming in, and really wasn't invested in treatment anyway. Well after the time I should have left ambulance comes in with an extremely combative guy, he gets restrained, and had to to look at him because a cow orker said he had caveman feet. He did. It was weird. He also smelled to high heaven because he hadn't bathed in about a month.
Then a police department drops a guy off, a cluster of three women walk in, and the ambulance brings in some chick I had to call an interpreter for. The call should have been made before our crew left to go get her,but I got to have a really nice conversation with the lady from the interpreter service. And with the lady from dude's insurance company.
Just before I left I finished the paperwork on naked old lady, which I'd been setting aside since I came back in from her one-to-one.
Monday sucked too.
Do action movies seem boring to you?
I can't think of any movie that would provide this kind of entertainment value. :D
:lol: I suspect that some that work there may require the services of their job after a few years
:lol: I suspect that some that work there may require the services of their job after a few years
Too late. Wolf has already told the tale of a former cow orker that went 'round the bend.
And the full moon isn't until Sunday. Good luck.
So many latent nudists; yet, so few Nuthouses in nudist colonies. An entrepreneur would do well in one with the savings in manhours used to keep patients clothed and the savings for customers on clothing. :D
We had a very nice breakfast. The loaded hash browns (country style sausage) are insanely awesome, get them while they last.
~snip~
I had just enough time to run home, poop in my own toilet, and turn right around and go back to work.
Coincidence? :haha:
Snow again, way less than expected, but still snow. 50% staffing because of call-outs that they chose not to replace, had 100% of the patient load, more probably, 6 in the 8 hours, plus all the usual phone call stuff.
And people were WAY crazy. One guy I know really well came in crazier than we'd EVER seen him ... paranoid, OCD stuff, dropped a wrapped fork on the floor and started screaming because it was dirty and didn't want me to pick it up.
And I had something surprise me. After nearly 18 years nothing surprises me. NOTHING. Except this ... man brings his wife in, about 1/2 hour into him being there with her announces, "I can't do this. I can't take this anymore. This is destroying our kids. I'm filing for divorce tomorrow."
This was the first time the wife heard him say this, but she was so nuts she didn't even notice.
Found this on Consumerist. Look, I know it's Texas, but please tell me he's a
retired judge, or that they at least waited to put him back on the bench. If not, then it's one more reason to give Texas back to Mexico.
Can you imagine going up before this guy after his second trip in. "Is that a Sam's Club bag next to your client? Contempt!"
It's a story that sounds too odd to be true, but a judge in Brownsville, Texas, has filed a lawsuit against his local Sam's Club, the store's manager and the store's parent company Walmart Stores Inc., alleging that a bad customer service experience led to his arrest and involuntary commitment to two mental health facilities.
According to the lawsuit, the 46-year-old plaintiff, a municipal judge with 8 years on the bench and 17 years in law, went to purchase some diamond earrings for his wife at Sam's Club. He claims that the Sam's employees questioned his purchase of the pricey earrings and a verbal dispute began, ultimately leading to his arrest and confinement in a mental health facility.
And he's at it again.
The judge was released after two weeks when a court deemed him harmless to himself and others. But only a few days later, after displaying worrisome behavior his friends and family had him hospitalized at a second facility, where he received court-ordered treatment and has since been released.
I'm actually not sure if this is a cool or a suck. It's kind of neutral, but weird.
So, my cow orker is getting in his car to leave, and as he flips on his headlights, what does he catch in them? Nope, not a deer, but our shrink, wang in hand, pissing on the lawn. He even did that dip, shake, and tuck move.
Is there any prohibition for Sikh's using a toilet that has been used by a non-Sikh, or non-Sikh female?
I tried to look it up on the internet, but there is remarkably little information on Sikh toileting customs out there.
hey, at least he wasn't jacking off!
A true tale from the nut house
Wow, you're a real one-trick pony, aren't you?
I'm actually not sure if this is a cool or a suck. It's kind of neutral, but weird.
So, my cow orker is getting in his car to leave, and as he flips on his headlights, what does he catch in them? Nope, not a deer, but our shrink, wang in hand, pissing on the lawn. He even did that dip, shake, and tuck move.
Is there any prohibition for Sikh's using a toilet that has been used by a non-Sikh, or non-Sikh female?
I tried to look it up on the internet, but there is remarkably little information on Sikh toileting customs out there.
Give me his phone number, I need a psychiatrist, the best chances I have of being mistaken for sane. ;)
Coincidence or not?
The next day a stockade fence was erected around the trash dumpsters, which are near Doc Pee-Pee's special place.
Oh, and to get this over with, yes, I did just say "erected." Nothing to see here, move along, go about your regular business, citizens.
Is there any prohibition for Sikh's using a toilet that has been used by a non-Sikh, or non-Sikh female?
I'm no expert, but when I went to the Geek Boarding School(tm) there were a couple Sikh students. I don't recall there being any particular arrangements in place for them in the dorms or otherwise.
I would say...not a coincidence. But really, why make that more convenient and private? Strange...
btw...Wolf- I need another key-chain reading. :) ha!
when I went to the Geek Boarding School(tm)
Yes. Yes, you did.
Police bring in a crazy Korean guy. Seemed to be a new patient, then he recognized the evaluating doctor which gave us a clue, two nursing staff members and we knew who he was ... yes, they do actually all look alike, but not identical. My department sees people for about two hours ... nursing had stared at and restrained him over the course of two months. So, anyway, we ended up secluding him. And he ended up getting naked, and masturbating. At which point I recognized him. See, I'd sat his one-to-one the last time he was admitted. This time, however, he let me know ... "I masturbate for you!"
This time, however, he let me know ... "I masturbate for you!"
It must be nice to know you're appreciated.:)
At least it wasn't ON you...
At least it wasn't ON you...
A side benefit of locked seclusion, atlhough we did feel sorry for the environmental services guy that had to clean up after him.
And did I mention that he peed on the floor? Had he asked, we would have let him out for that. "Why didn't you ask to go to the bathroom?" "I didn't have to."
I never found out if he didn't have to go, or didn't think he had to ask permission. Sometimes it's better not to know these things.
On Monday, I had a charming, Irish-American scoundrel cow orker.
On Tueday, he wasn't in.
There was much speculation, especially as someone had said that he had come in at his regular time and got called up to a meeting in HR.
On Thursday, my otherboss took me aside and said, "Charming Irish-American Scoundrel isn't with us anymore."
No further information available.
Multiple whispered comments among survivors ... Pinochet Regime, 1984, Stalinist Russia. He is an unperson.
Outside of regular curiosity, I would like to know precisely what he did so that I may avoid that behavior.
Outside of regular curiosity, I would like to know precisely what he did so that I may avoid that behavior.
The above would seem like an appropriate way to ask.
Just say...
"I have five questions:
"First - whatever happened to the medical health care plan you were paid to
develop during your husband's eight years in the office as President?
"Second - why would you run for President after your husband shamed the
office?
"Third - whatever happened to all those things you took when you left the
White House?
"Fourth - why did the recess bell go off 20 minutes early?
"Fifth - Where's Irish-American scoundrel?"
Wolf your stories are da bomb. You couldn't make this stuff up if you wanted to.
The air conditioner broke. Hottest fricken day of the fricken year so far and the air conditioner broke.
What does the bosslady say? "Oh, well, I'll send AmbulanceCrewChief (her husband) to the store tomorrow."
Tomorrow?? I don't need a fricken air conditioner TOMORROW. I need one NOW.
I am fanning myself with a hand fan. That's why I'm typing more slowly. One handed typing. [COLOR="White"](I will not say anything about where I might have learned that particular skill.)[/COLOR]
Every now and again people do things that surprise even me.
Strange, though, that I have to argue with police departments about whether it's crazy enough or not.
So, what did the guy do?
Homeless man goes into a shopping center parking lot in broad daylight and realizes he has some personal needs to attend to.
So he breaks into a car.
And takes a shit AND pisses in the car.
And THEN takes a nap.
Vandalism, yes.
Creating a public nuisance, yes.
Crazy enough to be in the hospital? Not entirely. Being insufferably annoying may carry some weight here, but not in terms of the Mental Health Procedures Act.
The officer and his sergeant both were not impressed by my suggestion that they just charge him and dump him back across the line into the city, where he belonged.
The officer and his sergeant both were not impressed by my suggestion that they just charge him and dump him back across the line into the city, where he belonged.
That's not fun. Dumping him in the local burb would be fun.
A neighboring jurisdiction on MY side of the line would not serve my purposes. You don't catch and release in your own patch, eh? (yes, the shopping center was in The Kingdom, where presumably the only suitable bushes are behind the walls of gated communities or palaces).
Next time he'll know better - if he wants a roof over his head, he should take that crap and write on the windshield with it.
We support the fecal decorative.
Amazing though. Take a dump on a picture of the Virgin Mary and you're an artist. Take a dump on a leather interior and you're a vandal.
Hi wolf--may I cut in please? Thanks.
I work in a weird office. A fella just walked in and said hey... (showing me a catalog) guess what this is? Me: ???? It was a rat guillotine. A tabletop guillotine for decapitating rats. Me: Well... learned something today. It was a serious piece of lab equipment.
/narrator voice "This is BigV, reporting from the twilight zone. Back to you wolf."
It makes it easier to grind their brains up and put them in a centrifuge.
I've been working dayshift while the boss is cruising around the Mediterranean.
Dayshift is more stressful, because I don't know many of their rules, other than "all of administration is here, you have to really suck up."
I also am usually not exposed to my own department's supervisory staff for more than a half-hour to an hour a day.
I now am sitting next to the Crisis Boss for 8 hours at a stretch. I wonder if this is anything like exposure to unstable radioactive isotopes.
Probably.
It does endanger my employment status.
Things that I say or do under ordinary circumstances might represent a firing offense to her. I have no way of knowing.
I should be back on my shift next Thursday.
Tiptoe through the nuthouse
By the Cri-boss, that is where I'll be
Come tiptoe through the mine field with me
Example.
Disagreed with the doc on the disposition of a patient. Stated my case, included statement that "he's slimy. Not a true word is coming out of his mouth. He's faking good."
Doc says, "but he says that the shotgun was just laying on the floor and that he was just picking it up, and it couldn't fire anyway it was so old and the barrel was welded shut."
"That's not what the family says."
Next thing I know the hospital CEO is calling me. "What's with you and the doctor?"
So I explain my side, say she disagrees with me. End of conversation. For me.
"Let me speak to the doctor."
Next thing I know doc tells me, "Well, I'm admitting him so we don't get sued."
Half hour later I take a call from the involved police department, wanting to make sure we're keeping the guy. I ask the Sgt. about the weapon. No, it wasn't some antique, and yes, it appeared to be in perfect, firing condition, and yes, it was recovered loaded.
I win.
But the doc will probably take a couple of days to get over her snit.
Strike one - disagreeing with doctor.
Strike two - being right.
:haha:
I typically hit with bases loaded, and two outs.
Example.
Disagreed with the doc on the disposition of a patient.
<snip>
I win.
But the doc will probably take a couple of days to get over her snit.
Job hierarchy problems don't just melt away unless some kind of salve is found to soothe the ego of the "My-first-name-is-Doctor" types.
The difference between God and a Doctor is that God doesn't think He's a Doctor.
Psychiatrists are in the basement of the medical dick-length pecking order. They don't get a lot of people to lord things over. Most of them are either too foreign to play American Business Power Games or if American, have done enough therapy themselves not to play.
The difference between God and a Doctor is that God doesn't think He's a Doctor.
Psychiatrists are in the basement of the medical dick-length pecking order. They don't get a lot of people to lord things over. Most of them are either too foreign to play American Business Power Games or if American, have done enough therapy themselves not to play.
I like this - very astute (as we'd expect from Wolf, of course!)
The difference between God and a Doctor is that God doesn't think He's a Doctor.
Psychiatrists are in the basement of the medical dick-length pecking order. They don't get a lot of people to lord things over. Most of them are either too foreign to play American Business Power Games or if American, have done enough therapy themselves not to play.
???
meaning they (psych) are more or less difficult to deal with?
They're the worst. They try to analyze you while berating you at the same time.
Oh, and we all know they are nuts on top of that. Heck, most of them went into that business to figure out whats wrong with themselves anyway....
[COLOR="Silver"]
Just kidding.[/COLOR]
Interestingly, stuff tends to clump up all on the same day.
I'm innocently sitting in my office, one of the ambulance guys is listening to police radio, and we learn that there is a woman with a gun at the campus entrance nearest to the nuthouse. Spend next hour waiting to hear if our bullet resistant glass and panels will be tested. Break into light sweat knowing my ability to defend myself is about zero. Plan escape routes.
Also get told that we are likely to have the arrival of an extremely irate crazy parent of an extremely irate crazy girl we admitted the night before. Girl was the first non-psychotic person in all my years at the nuthouse to shrilly (and I mean shrilly, like loud, dogs running in circles shrilly) order me out of my own interview room. She even tried to slam the door on me, but was thwarted by the rubber door stop from managing this. irate crazy dad had announced that he was coming to bust his daughter out. He later backed down on that statement and said he would bring police to get her out. That wouldn't work either, incidentally. Funny thing ... he went to the wrong police department to request their assistance (not difficult given the strange mish-mash of police jurisdictions we have), and ended up talking to one of my better cop-friends, who called us to as what was wrong with daddy-o. Told him. Cop then "politely requested" that daddy-o return to the state from which he came. No sign of daddy-o.
The nuthouse has apparently decided that there are places we should not go ... online, that is. I'm sure the list of restricted sites will grow and grow, all we have left is the medical assistance verification system.
I noticed a new software install about two weeks ago of some firewall and content limiter. I noticed it mainly because it fucked up performance on my computer rather severely.
Then this week, it happened.
One of the ambulance guys announced that he couldn't get on Facebook. I don't particularly care about facebook. I don't use facebook. I've gone on my paranoid rant about facebook many times.
But then I needed something, to quell an argument about something extremely important and thoroughly inconsequential, searched for a video on youtube that would provide an answer and ...
I get the same message from IE that you get when a site is down.
Ambulance boi is already using an anonymizer to get to facebook. I have decided that youtube is not important enough to do the same, especially since we don't know what the penalty for defeating the stop you from fucking around on company time software is going to be.
I knew this was coming when they specifically blocked webkinz two years ago.
I really miss webkinz.
You'll just have to Tee into the cable before them. :haha:
got one of those Hi teck Routers do ya ??
Almost like that, only the room that it's in is smaller, more cluttered, dusty, and does not have heating or air conditioning. And the server hub is balanced on a paperclip that's shoved into the top of a bulletin board.
You think I'm making this up, I suppose.
It isn't. I've had to get the master key to go hang the hub back up on the paper clip when it's fallen off.
I'm sure I've mentioned that the "computer guy" is a legacy hire with a degree in photojournalism who didn't own a home computer up until the nuthouse gave him a laptop less than two years ago?
Last night was kinda busy. Not bad busy, just frustrating busy. I had been dealing with a family that tried an "intervention" with a drunk-ass relative. They look good on TV, but in real life usually involve a lot of shouting and a 911 call. And nobody ends up sober.
But anyway, that's not what the problem for the night ended up being.
See, there's this chick that came in with her parents during the chaos ... enough chaos that several of us didn't even know there was a new arrival. One of my cow orkers is working with her, gets her evaluated, and the doc doesn't think she needs us, she needs rehab. He's working on making that happen.
Meanwhile ... I'm spending the night fielding phone calls and talking to the stupid intervention family ... after a while the dust seems to have settled, the other guys are all off the phone, and I decide it's time to step out onto the veranda to check the weather and have one of the two or three cigarettes that I have per night (I've tried quitting several times, but it seems that two-to-three helps me maintain my customer service friendliness better). I'm about three or four drags in, and I was starting a conversation with the environmental services fellow that was wheeling the trash to the dumpsters.
Then I heard it.
Yelling and shouting.
Yelling and shouting is never good, and was completely unexpected. We only had the one girl out in the lobby, and she was voluntary and calm. The guy who thinks aliens have landed on his roof was already tucked into his bed on the secure unit, and the Eagles football game wasn't really good enough for yelling and shouting of the type I was hearing.
I dash up the steps to find a dogpile in the doorway ... little junkie girl, two ambulance guys, a crisis worker, and the girl's mom shrieking, "What are they doing to my daughter?!"
Since there wasn't any room on top of the girl, I ended up taking charge of the mom, telling her that she had to return to the lobby and stay out of the way.
Mom mumbled about contacting an attorney and demanded the doctor's name.
On learning it, she spat out, "He's a Muslim!"
No ma'am, actually he isn't.
But apparently she decided in that instant that his failure to believe her beloved baby girl's bullshit story to try to get three hots and a cot was the result of his being Muslim.
Cops were called, the girl was hauled off to jail, and order was restored.
My cow orker (not the dude who was working with the girl) who seems to take the brunt of such things had his shirt ripped off him and was bit on the thumb.
Yet another affliction that might have been averted if it hadn't been for cigarettes.
I love your stories wolf. They are a highlight of The Cellar experience.
Thank you, Merc.
So tonight, I'm getting ready to leave. A police officer brings in a young lady, not to get help for herself, but to write a petition on behalf of her mother who is in police custody. This has little to do with the actual story. I'm just establishing why the cop is at the nuthouse. He was dropping a girl off.
I was leaving early, so I'd already gone back to the unit to swipe out at the timeclock. I had my coat on and was picking up my briefcase to go.
The cop was in the foyer.
A guy walks in.
Cow orker: Who's that?
wolf: I dunno. I'm outta here.
nut (to cop who is about to walk out the door): Wow, I'm really glad to see you!
cop: Well, okay ... why is that? (I should mention here that this is a rookie cop, and this was his first visit to the nuthouse)
nut: Because I need you to shoot me.
nut then pulls out a knife, lunges at cop
cop and my big, husky cow orker (yes, the one who had his shirt ripped off his body by the chick in the above post) jump on the guy, shoving him into the wall, slamming his hand against it to disarm him.
Since I needed to walk through the foyer to get out of the building, I figured that waiting another couple of minutes wouldn't hurt and I hit the panic alarm. Several times.
It's rather like watching a rugby scrum. Whole bunch of folks, writhing about, pushing up and down the hallway.
Nobody got stabbed.
That makes it a good night.
You really ought to be selling this stuff, Wolf. With a little padding you could sell collections of nuthouse stories until you retire - in the lap of luxury from all your book sales.
I've seriously thought of doing this with FA stories, too.
My ex sis-in-law, years ago on staff for a congressman, had a collection of nut letters. I told her she should publish but apparently that is a big giant no-no. I guess you could make the stories really anonymous, but said nuts would find themselves in every story and sue.
Last night was horrifyingly busy. I should have spent the night watching the snow fall and posting on The Cellar, but instead I was running from start to finish. The only way I got to eat dinner was that I had to do an insurance precertification call that kept me at my desk for a half-hour.
So, anyway, that guy came in ... you know, the Catcher in the Rye nut?
The homeless shelter director was in our office filing a commitment petition on a different guy ... she saw him, and gave some helpful information to our doctor ... "He's evil. I don't care that it's Code Blue. He's not allowed to set foot in our shelter."
His reputation is well known.
How do you take someone seriously that has beautiful penmanship, but writes that someone has "visiable abortions on her arms and wrests," "her momma is a crack," and "she wants to died."
Nut: Do I have to have sex for cigarettes? Should I call a hooker?
(not only does she realize that she should offer a trade for cigarettes, but she understands that she is not herself able to provide value for your money, and is willing to hire a subcontractor)
Nut: is the doctor there?
wolf: no, she isn't. She's gone for the day. Sorry to surprise you, but our doctors do go home on occasion.
Nut: Well, she discharged me a couple of weeks ago and she forgot to give me my medications.
wolf: What medications might those be? (I had a pretty good idea. our doctors do not typically prescribe medications that are considered "fun.")
Nut: My Benzos. (bingo. fun as fun can be.)
wolf: We don't write for benzos on discharge. You need to discuss that with your outpatient doctor. (probably already did, and outpatient shrink also has a policy of not prescribing anything fun)
Nut: But it's my birthday weekend coming up and I need my benzos! (great, now they're using us to cater their birthday parties)
And so, I thought the adventure was ended ... until the police showed up with her.
The police thought she wanted to see the doctor. I knew better.
wolf: So, do you think you need to be in the nuthouse?
Nut: oh, no. I don't need to be in, I just need my benzos. It's my birthday weekend coming up.
wolf: I'm the one you talked to on the phone. You're not getting any benzos.
Nut: oh. Well, I got a complaint. You're making milk come out my nipples. (the policemen were both choking in an attempt not to laugh)
wolf: That's a medical problem. You need to see your primary doctor.
Nut: Will my primary write me benzos?
wolf: You'll have to talk to him about that.
She then decided she was done with me, and asked the police to take her to her mother's residence.
Cop: You got two choices, you can stay here voluntarily and see the doctor, or you can go to jail.
Nut turned her back to the cops, crossed her arms behind her back and announced, "Jail."
and off they went into the night.
I have never seen anything quite like it.
Anything to say or would that not be cool?
I came across a few of these folks while doing patient transport, though I didn't have any issues with them.
Not sure why this thread has revived now, but folks like this are routine in my experience. What's the question?
ortho - we have figured you out. you probably prescribe maple syrup for everything.
Natch, maple syrup cures most things ...
I revived it because for the first time NPR has reported on someone defending his own and the lives of others with a gun. That person is a doctor who works in a nuthouse local to our resident wrangler.
I revived it because for the first time NPR has reported on someone defending his own and the lives of others with a gun. ...
It's unusual to see the news industry report on those occurrences. They generally practice the biases of their sources of revenue. Occasionally there's a spin they can use such as a doctor saving lives in an unconventional manner; or, a veteran continuing to do at home what he was trained to do in the military as in this story:
Veteran With Concealed Carry Permit Shoots Back At Chicago GunmanFrom UT's link.
"I believe it was his practice for his own self protection to carry a firearm," Whelan said. The prosecutor said that had the doctor not had a gun and fired back, "he would probably not be alive today," Whelan said.
The Doctor was stone lucky, he needs better training.
Natch, maple syrup cures most things ...
is that Canadian for Windex?
Only if you're Greek-Canadian. The rest of us use real maple syrup.
Greek-Canadian? Eewww, that sounds painful, I hope there's a cure. :speechls:
it sounds... sticky. very sticky.
They probably drink acerglyn instead of mead.
since Gravdigr's out ridin' his scooter, I'll learn things in his absence.
Acerglyn--maple syrup and honey wine.
Now I have a new taste to aim for. Thanks sexobon.
Eastern Canucks drink mead, wildflower honey mead. I can vouch for it. While mead laced with maple syrup would not go astray, it might be TOO sweet.
We Canucks don't venture there. We have our boundaries.
Maybe not too too sweet
They probably drink acerglyn instead of mead.
6 Gallon Batch
"4 Liters of Canadian Medium Maple Syrup (Bought it in Canada so it's Liters )
12 Pounds Clover Honey
2 Teaspoons Fermaid
Water to 6 gallons
Lalvin D254 - 24 Grams
linksince Gravdigr's out ridin' his scooter, I'll learn things in his absence.
I see what you did there.
Welcome back yer own self.
Did I miss the 'BigV Climbs The Matterhorn' thread, or what?
You have not.
I am busy editing, collating, editing, curating, writing, editing, sharing, collecting, and more editing of the thousands of pictures of the trip.
Here's a taste.Just think, if you had bought that GoPro, you'd also have all that video footage to deal with too. And do you start pulling out individual frames from the video to use as pictures?
You have not...Here's a taste.
I tasted that already. Tasted like salty suede.
Don't forget to edit those pics.;)
