Dang…i swear the emergency room has become a mental hospital lately. The amount of people acting down right crazy has been overwhelming. The guy who I wrote about last- throwing a tuna sandwich- ended up getting thrown himself-by me. I’m sorry, when you’re screaming obsceneitites at me with your hands poised to strike- I’m going to raise my hands to protect myself. When you slap my hands and lunge at me, I’m going to help you find your bed- judo style.
Today we had a patient who had multiple personas. First she channeled “Ramtha.” Not sure if Jay Z Knight know’s, but Ramtha is apparently possessing anyone he can get into these days. Fast forward a few, our patient emerges from the bathroom looking like a character from the Lion King! Mangled, tangled, badly colored hair sprouting out in every direction- her mane gyrating as she bounced up and down singing Nelly Furtado.
Another patient- rule out cva/poss. psych? First she cusses me, then she loves me. I smell alcohol. I mention alcohol and a fuss arises- clearly alcohol is not to blame for this disaster that is steadily unfolding. Bloodwork comes back… blood alcohol level of .48…yeah, I’m thinking alcohol is completely to blame.
It doesn’t help when the waiting room is overflowing and you’ve got patients with genuine complaints in the next room over from someone yelling R rated slurrs at the top of their voice. I really do love my job. Sometimes I just have to remind myself.