The Walls are Closing in…

This is actually my FIRST transfer to the behavioral hospital(next to the Heart hospital in sorta-big-deal-ville) while working at my itty bitty service. 

My patient is voluntarily committing himself so I didn’t expect to have many problems. He had some ETOH and maryjane on board, but nothing out of control. He is depressed and “this is working.” –well… no shit Sherlock! Depressants aren’t helping with yoru depression?!?!?! I’ll be damned…

Back to my patient… We loaded him up, and he was just kinda zonked. I had asked if Ativan or Haldol would be necessary–but I was assured it wasn’t needed. Beings that I hadn’t gotten much of a report I wanted to do atleast some sort of assessment(I’m not good at being a meat wagon). I was in the middle of asking the usual “how long have you felt this way, do you think about hurting yourself” line of questioning when my(much larger than I had realized) patient’s voice began to get much more aggressive.

Whipers turned to screaming, sweaty hands turned to fists. So… I did the only thing I could do… Hopped from the bench to the airway seat and stopped assessing(interogating) my patient. I let him cool down and then just asked him if he wanted to talk about anything…

The remainder of the trip we talked about why Pizza Hut is better than Papa Johns. For the record–it isn’t.

Expect some sort of post about things to come within the next 3 days. I haven’t decided if I’m going to spill the beans.