Listerine.

I AM HERE. 40 hrs a week + 2 classes + attempted social life = no time. Sorry guys. Can't even promise I'll be BACK back, but here's a little something. This post will be about work. The next, about research.

We got a new admit about a month back. She's a recovering addict (heroin, crack, the whole nine yards) plus a borderline personality. She even got herself addicted to the PRNs (calming shots aka antipsychotics). One day she called me a bitch and said she hated me, the next I was "Big Sis" again. She was a manipulative and moody... a character, to say the least. So one night, I'm not sure why, she decides to drink half a bottle of Listerine. Now, I didn't know this, but Listerine has 20% alcohol by volume. She was a short little petite thing. She got piss-ass drunk. Alternating fighting and calling everyone "niggers" (despite being white) with crying on shoulders and needing hugs. Started staggering everywhere. I tried to lead her back to her room, but instead she leans over and "BLAAGH". She had peas for dinner. It was minty fresh. And it was on my shoes.

Fast forward. She's addicted to the PRNs. Once a week she decides she needs one real bad and wants to go to the hospital. On Saturday, however, in order to speed the process along, she slit her wrists. It disgusts me, because she did it for attention. They weren't even deep, from what I heard (I was off). She was not suicidal - she was an addict, and she wanted her drugs. Please don't get me wrong; addicts, especially recovering addicts, can most definitely become depressed and suicidal. She just wasn't, and one should never, ever use the threat of suicide to get what they want. It's way too serious of an issue. And my sister's ex-boyfriend did that, so she stayed with him for another year. He was a pig. But that's for another time.

This week

I wrote this at work, on paper. I was at the front desk and bored and needed to do something other than read and write “Discharge is not recommended as resident benefits from a structured environment.” Has not been the best week, maybe it’s because it was too hot… I don’t know.

Wednesday, REBO (new guy) ran out. Unlike the woman in the long fur coat and loafers, this was not amusing. This guy has no idea what’s going on… I think he’s so doped up on meds, all he can think about is going outside. We brought him back in after catching up with him across the parking lot and got him to lay in bed. He kept getting up though, kept saying he wanted to go outside, he wanted to go for a walk. We tried to explain that he couldn’t (not for the first 30 days after admittance, facility policy – discuss stupidity of rule and benefits of fresh air and sun), but he doesn’t understand. So he would lay down in bed, and get up two minutes later. We would talk and cajole him back, and there’d he be, up again soon after. Again. And again. He kept getting more and more frustrated (of course – I would), until he tried to push me away. He hit Bonny (5’2” asian, remember?) and punched me… no worries, he’s a little thing, not to mention so out of it the only reason that I didn’t catch that one (like the others) is because I wasn’t looking. But I felt horrible. I was a jailer.

So no, not all fun and games. On Thursday, JORO had a manic episode. Had it bad. I had heard about these incidents, but I’ve never seen it first hand. He calls it a seizure, which it technically isn’t, but for god’s sake, it sure looks like one. Stiff, yet shaking, and yelling in Spanish. Yelling so fast I couldn’t understand even if it was in English. Biting, ripping his pillow, clapping his hands so hard I know it must’ve hurt. And through all this, staring at me with those humungous eyes. Yesterday I talked with another counselor, and we agreed – JORO is pleading with his eyes. With no other faculties available to him, he’s asking what’s going on, he’s asking for help. And I can’t do one fucking little thing.

He eventually calmed down, but when I say calmed down I mean he went from manic to hypomanic. He jumped and punched the ceiling, he took a couple of swings at random people, he jumped over the counter into the medicine cabinet. Finally, he came off the high. The next day I was talking to him, and he was normal… well, normal as I’ve seen him.

Here’s a light one, to end if off with. DAMC keeps swearing he has the mumps (or measles, depends on the day). He was at kindergarten today (what 50 yr old man doesn’t go to kindergarten?) and learned what 2+3 was. Friday I watched him play basketball with some ganstas – by himself, without a ball. He’s a sweetie, and always has a ready hand to shake.

I’ll tell you about the new addition to my caseload at some later point in time… that’ll take a bit of energy to let ya’ll have the full dose.

Black Eyes and Puppy Love

Yeah, absolutely no posting, I apologize. Again. Just finished a test, one of those you come out thinking "well, at least it's over." That was the cumulative Lab Exam, tomorrow is the Lecture Exam over just Unit 3, then next Wednesday is the cumulative Lecture Exam. Yes, caps and everything.

Stories:

We had a 6'6" hefty war veteran come in the other day and leave the following morning for the hospital. I walked in at 7 am and outside the counselor's room is this guy yelling that he wants a cigarette, looking to punch someone out. Poor little Bonny (counselor) got a packet snatched out of her hands... she's a little 5'2" skinny asian girl. She was an edge for a little bit after. Not that I blame her.

Yesterday one resident punch out another. By mistake. RITH is about 21 yo, really sweet to everyone... except his hallucinations. He's always challenging them to fights, running across the dining room to jump on them, wrestling them to the ground. Well, this time JEHA got in the way. Ya'll remember him, the shoe guy - the one you don't wear boots around unless you want your feet to be felt up. Anyways, everyone knows RITH didn't mean to give JEHA a black eye - he apologized profusely and actually gave himself a time out, put himself away in his room. No one even wanted to give him a shot of Haldol (the usual punishment for bad behavior, your basic anti-psychotic, aka tranquilizer). He didn't mean to. But poor JEHA... "Why are you all on his side?? I'm the one who got punched!!" Felt bad for him, but there is some amusement to be found in this story, I think.

Also, we had a new guy come in a week or two ago. WISK was trouble at first and went to the hospital right away, too anxious, not even the Haldol called him down. (He's the one who ate the apple core while telling me about law enforcement.) But he came back, and he's been a lot better - even to the point of sweetness, you might say. Especially for one, so named JO. Oh yes, lots of hugging in the hallways. And making out. And yes, it did happen - one of the counselors walked in on them humping like rabbits. ow OW!!!! It's really kind of cute to see them all lovey dovey in the halls... although everyone will say they are not an attractive couple.

Oh, speaking of cute couples... there's an older set on the second floor. They've been at this place for a LOOOONG time. They've been with each other for 10 years, having met at the nursing home. They are the sweetest older couple you'll ever meet. If for some reason they're apart, the one you're talking to is talking about the other who's away.

Moral of the story: Love can be found anywhere, any time.