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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in Noir Stories from the Fringe's LiveJournal:

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Thursday, December 14th, 2006
8:56 pm
1. Schizophrenia --- Do You Hear What I Hear?

2. Multiple Personality Disorder --- We Three Kings Disoriented Are

3. Dementia --- I Think I'll be Home for Christmas

4. Narcissistic --- Hark the Herald Angels Sing About Me

5. Manic --- Deck the Halls and Walls and House and Lawn and Streets and
Stores and Office and Town and Cars and Buses and Trucks and Trees and.....

6. Paranoid --- Santa Claus is Coming to Town to Get Me

7. Borderline Personality Disorder --- Thoughts of Roasting on an Open Fire

8. Personality Disorder --- You Better Watch Out, I'm Gonna Cry, I'm
Gonna Pout, Maybe I'll Tell You Why

9. Attention Deficit Disorder --- Silent night, Holy oooh look at the
Froggy - can I have a chocolate, why is France so far away?

10. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder --- Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle
Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle
Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle
Bells, Jingle,Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle
Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle
Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle
Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle
Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells,

(this is an oldie but it's cute. )

Current Mood: dawg tired
Wednesday, September 6th, 2006
12:44 am

1. Engage any caller with religious delusions in a spirited debate on the nature of Christ, especially if they themselves are Christ
1a. If a caller states that they are, in fact Christ, and nobody believes them, ask them to cure your AIDS immediately.
2. If someone heavy breathes down the phone, reciprocate by faking a screaming orgasm until they hang up.
3. When speaking to paranoiacs, periodically stage-whisper into the phone. Deny this when the paranoiac asks.
4. If someone wants a distraction technique to stop them cutting, recomment they listen to a Manic Street Preachers album.
5. When the emergency on-call moblie rings, don't answer it. Dance to the ringtone.
6. When a call from an undesirable regular comes through, shout at them in French until they go away.
7. Alternatively, answer the phone pretending to be Pizza Hut.
8. If someone says they're thinking of ending it all as the only solution, say "Oh yeah, totally. In fact, let's do it together."
9. If someone asks why this is happening to them, suggest aliens.
10. If someone claims to have taken an overdose then hangs up, encourage all your colleagues to dance around the room singing "Another One Bites The Dust"
11. Make a compilation CD of hold music inculding such classics as "Suicide Is Painless", "The First Cut Is The Deepest" and "Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life"
12. If someone asks what the point of living is, reply that there isn't one but suicide angers the badgers.
Saturday, August 26th, 2006
4:01 pm
sometimes work is good
Ring ring

Hello, NamelessCharityHelpline?

"Hi...I've got a bit of a probelm, can I talk to someone about it?"

You can talk to me if you like...

"It's a bit embarrassing.."

Don't worry, just take your time and tell me.

"Well...I've been using my vibrator and I've started bleeding, I'm a bit concerned."

Oh...well, I'd love to help you but this is a mental health helpline. We don't really-

"Oh, no, it all happened because of my mental health problems."

Do explain

"Well, I've been feeling a little depressed you see, and I went to my doctor, and he told me I should try doing activities that made me feel more cheerful, so I bought a vibrator."

I see...well, I'm not really qualified to advise you, my recommendation would be that you speak to NHS Direct, they have trained nurses.

"Oh, but last time it happened I called them and they told my GP. I was ever so embarrassed..."

Current Mood: amused
Tuesday, August 22nd, 2006
10:57 pm
Ring ring.

Hello ,NamelessMentalHealthCharityHelpline?



"Me head's bad, why is it?"

Well...when you say your head's bad, are you depressed? Anxious? Hallucinating?

"None of them, me head's bad."

Can you describe the feeling?

"I said me fuckin' head's bad!"

Okayyyyy...have you spoken to your doctor?



"So..why's me head bad?"

Well, I couldn't say without the results of a psychiatric assessment in front of me. As I don't have that I'm relying on you to explain what the probelm is so I can try and help you.

"Me head's bad."

I need you to be more clear about what the problem is.

"If you can't tell me why me head's bad I'm going to pack some sandwiches and go and lay down on the railway line, because I'm sick of me head being bad."

Right, do you feel suicidal.


I don't know, I can only suggest you ask a doctor for a detailed mental health assesment.

"I don't want tablets."

Have you considered therapy?



"So...why is it?"

Why is what?

"Why is me head bad?"

I suspect you may have a mental health issue but really you need to speak to a doctor. Do you have the number for NHS Direct?

"What will they do?"

They might be able to tell you why your head's bad.

"Why is me head bad?"

I don't know, I can talk to you about the feelings you're experiencing but you seem to be asking me a diagnostic question I'm really not able to answer. Is that OK?


Do you want to talk about your feelings instead of asking why your head's bad?

"Why is me head bad?"

Well, have you thought...

"Fuck this, you're all fuckin' useless, I'm gonna have a cup of tea then fuckin' hang myself."

Click. Brrrr....
Friday, July 7th, 2006
9:01 pm
Sarah has many problems.
Her mental health is not among them.

She is 26, 30 stone, has two children and is obsessed with her ex-husband. So obsessed that she is using the money from her divorce settlement to have him followed by a priovate detetcive, she analyses every word he says to anyone including her children, aged five and three, andf she phones our service, a mental health helpline, to complain about him.


Sarah allegedly has schizophrenia but she displays no positive symptoms and her only negative symptom izs reported lack odf motivation, which could just as easily be caused by being a lazy fat slut who creams her living off my god damn taxes.


"My son says he has stomach ache, should I send him to school?"

"A psychic told me if I dont call my ex for three days he'll come back to me"

"I'm just killing five minutes waiting for my dad to get in with a KFC bucket"

A few weeks ago, Sarah decided to share with me her neo-Nazi opinions on why spastics make her feel sick and why she has no sympathy for people with mongoloid children because it's God's way of punishing the parents. What her father did to deserve her I do not know.

Anyway, as part of a throrugh handover I told my colleagues about this.

One of the stupid motherfuckers has gone back and told her I was offended by her rasmblings and she is now complaining that I have "made her look bad" and screaming down the phone at me that I am a "shit stirring bitch and I hope you get AIDS"

My bosses have responded to this amazing act of professionalism by not banning Sarah, not forcing her to tell them who passes on confidential information to clients, but introducing a script for when she talks too much about her husband.

Now tell me. How do I get this woman, who abuses our service anyway, banned, track down the collegaue who decided playing lets-be-bestest-chums-with-all-the-clients would be a lark and hunt them down, see that they suffer and KILL THEM?

Current Mood: homicidal
Saturday, April 29th, 2006
7:17 pm
A little levity
Jim and Edna were both patients in a mental hospital. One day while they were walking past the hospital swimming pool, Jim suddenly tripped and fell into the deep end. He sank to the bottom of the pool and stayed there.

Edna promptly jumped in to save him. She swam to the bottom and pulled Jim out.

When the Head Nurse Director became aware of Edna's heroic act she immediately ordered her to be discharged from the hospital, as she now considered her to be mentally stable.

When she went to tell Edna the news she said, "Edna, I have good news and bad news. The good news is you're being discharged because you were able to rationally respond to a crisis by jumping in and saving the life of another patient. I have concluded that your act displays sound mindedness."

"The bad news is that Jim, the patient you saved, hung himself in the bathroom with his bathrobe belt right after you saved him. I am so sorry, but he's dead."

Edna replied, "He didn't hang himself, I put him up there to dry. How soon can I go home?"

Current Mood: chipper
Tuesday, April 11th, 2006
12:23 am
Questions about MPD/DID
Last night, I got to sit down and talk with one of my patients. She shared a lot about her past and her treatment and OFFERED me the chance to ask her questions. She got tired and went to bed, but I had some unanswered questions.

I'm also reading a book called Laura (http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0889652074/sr=1-1/qid=1144731270/ref=sr_1_1/102-8565398-0886529?%5Fencoding=UTF8&s=books), a book by an anonymous author. It is a book about a girl who experiences sexual, emotional, physical, ritualistic, and cult abuse and has MPD/DID. It is a Christian book (gives the Christian perpsective on healing and treatment) and includes very graphic wording, for any of you who are interested. It most certainly can be triggering, but it is giving me more perspective.

She describes numbing episodes during abuse, where she "turns into a stone/statue." I've heard MORE THAN ONE patient state this to me, in the exact same words..."I was a statue." My question is whether this is related to "switching"/dissociating or is this just a coping tool learned during abuse? I have talked to quite a few patients that didn't start switching until long after the abuse ended, but some who actually switched during abuse cycles.

Also, is integration of personalities the main goal for treatment in most professional treatment programs? I ask this because I have read a lot of anti-psychiatry/anti-DID literature stating that professionals "continue to victimize patients" by continuing to encourage switching in daily life, just so the patient has to come back week after week for more treatment. I know that there is YEARS of therapy involved with patients who have been traumatized from just about the very beginning of their lives, but I was wondering if therapists/MDs are actually working up to integration?

Also, most (?) people who are dissociating, do not remember what they experience during the dissociative episodes, after they are grounded...at least from what I've seen/can tell. Some of the nurses have told me that if they do, that they are not experiencing a TRUE dissociative episode. Is this true in all cases? Does it change during therapy and during the integration process? Our patients "dialogue" with their alters/parts...but typically don't know what has happened if their alters/parts are out. Most of them DO know that they have probably just dissociated/switched. Some can even feel it coming on and some can even control it (especially if they are working on especially hard homework/therapy assignments). However, I haven't met anyone that KNOWS what their alter has done, until after the dissociative episode is over. What is your thoughts?

If anyone has answers/ideas to these questions, please feel free to respond. You can comment anonymously or find me on AIM.
Sunday, April 2nd, 2006
2:42 pm
Terminology question
Anyone know the term for the inappropriate laughter often seen in alcoholics? I know there is a term, because it was told to me some time ago. However, this nurse is an OLD old-school psych nurse and she said that she hasn't heard the term used in ages.

I always chart "inappropriate laughter" or if the patient is labile, I will chart that. However, I want to know that specific term because I want to use it in a sentence someday. Heh.
Tuesday, March 21st, 2006
10:42 pm
Multiple Madness!!!!
People wonder, often with much suspicion, how it is that only some clinicians see lots of D.I.D. clients while others see none. They think this means that the clinician with lots is making up the D.I.D. diagnosis.

Well, .... I am here to tell you first hand that there are other ways this can happen.

During my practicum I had one multiple client who I referred out of the clinic but then came back to me. She loved me so! And this is only because she alone recognized that I am supremely fabulous.

Somehow the word got out that I had a multiple.At this time all hell proceeded to break loose.

In the last six months I have received no less than seven direct referrals from various sources for clients who are dealing with D.I.D. and who are looking for a low fee clinician. Yes, I am the new dumping ground for the poor and the disturbed who are seeking long term relational treatment.

So far, I have accepted one new client in addition to my current one, but I may take a second because I really want another client to add to my load. That would make a total of three. The last four non-multiple referrals either did not show up to their first appointment or they went to jail for dealing after their second session. It's hard to make appointments from jail. At least my multiples show up for their sessions, even if they do attempt suicide once they get to my office simply to demonstrate how angry they are at me.

At any rate, it's checking off my little BBS boxes that really matters. Each client hour is seen as one ticket closer to freedom. One more hour closer to the time I get paid the cash monies!

And then I will be stylin' with my pimp ride and my penthouse. It's no secret that MFT therapists make BANK!

Alright, I am a masochist.

In more ways than one.

I think really should get extra client hours for this on my BBS log. I mean, ... or at least log it as family therapy. Something? Kid hours?
Friday, March 17th, 2006
4:44 pm
"I've got a new car" M exclaimed excitedly has he paced up and down in our loungeroom, stopping occasionally to perform particularly vigorous looking calisthenics exercises. "oh really, what type of car" I asked.
"It changes colour depending on what speed you're doing"
"wow that sounds like a really cool car" I replied, going along with his delusion.
"Yeah it's white but when you hit 60 ks an hour it turns black and once your doing a 100 it turns red"
"gee that must have cost you a lot of money, by the way M have you stopped taking your medication"
"Yeah last week I stopped, don't need them I'm cured a priest blessed me and I was cured, the car didn't cost me anything", he continued to rant "it was a present from the Mafia they've named me Godfather seeing as I'm the reincarnation of Jesus Christ and a Saint. The pope sainted me telepathically, everytime he does this, at this point he stops to mime some sort of gesture which I am to assume is some sort of secret "Pope Code", he is acknowledging me as his the chosen one. Of course some of the mafia are satanists and wish to assasinate me"
Suddenly he stopped, paused for a moment and then turned to look at me in all earnest and asked
"Do you think I'm going into a psychotic episode?"
I burst into a surprised laugh "Naaaaahhhh mate, waddya reckon"
"I reckon I should go to Hospital"
"I reckon that might me a good idea"
Saturday, March 11th, 2006
10:48 pm
D was a schizophreic with many loves when I knew him. He loved his marijuana, often demonstrating his boundless affection for the "green vegetable matter" by cornering some poor unsuspecting Uni student & screaming till he turned purple in the face and spittle flew from the corners of his mouth "please for the love of god just give me one toke, I'm begging you man please just one toke". He loved his LSD and a trip to the Dentist, for one, could not even be considered without a hit of at least 2 blotters of Acid preferably from the strongest batch available at any given time. Basically D loved drugs, but most of all D loved a nice syringe to fill up and then plunge haphazardly into his arm hoping that this time chance had turned in his favour and he may just have been lucky enough to get a vein, more often than not; however, chance was not in his favour and instead he ended up with an almost constant mess of unsightly lumps and bruises covering the lengths of his arms and hands. We bought him a dartboard one year for his Birthday, told him we thought he could use the practice. He laughed vaguely looking and looked confused, it was obvious he didn't get the joke and yet again we were forced to point out the obvious, "D we're laughing at you not with you". D didn't actually seem to get the concept of jokes or joking at all really, that is unless the jokes that were being told had all the subtlety of a 90 pound sledge hammer slamming you in the face. Anything below this sledghammer threshold D just did not seem able to process and the final outcome of a conversation between D, myself and another friend certainly shifted that hypothesis beyond theory into the realm of fact. 

Sitting out on the balcony of the Uni Bar D instigated the topic of conversation for the afternoon, Amphetamines and Injecting. He waxed lyrical about his love for the rush, how much he loved the sensation of the throat rush or the feeling of the bum rush and how he really only injected drugs for these brief rushes all the time wishing there was a cheaper and more widely available alternative. At this point, despite having my tongue firmly planted in cheek, I made the mistake of opening my mouth and saying
"well you know D the rush your feeling actually comes from the adulterants in the speed, stuff like Glucose and Epsom Salts why don't you inject them or better still Vegemite had Vitamin B in it you could inject that"
"really, are you serious" came the excited reply
"D of course I'm not being, I'm just joking around with you" I laughed and put my arm around him ruffling his hair and reiterating that what I said was only a joke and made him promise me he wouldn't do anything foolish. 

The next night we visited D in one of the old and filty caravans, in varying states of disrepair, that he lived in at the back of a private property along with 20 or so other Schizophrenics (some of whom were lucky enough to get a tin shed for accomadation instead of a Caravan). The first thing we noticed was his heavily bandaged hand and arm tied up in a sling. His hand was horribly discoloured with shades of purple, red and grey all mixed in together and so severely swollen it seemed to resemble a very shiny boxing glove about to burst at the seams.
"D what the hell happened to you" I exclaimed
"Well you know how you said you could inject vegemite" he replied sheepishly
"Oh no you didn't did you"
He opened up the cupboard, completely bare of anything even remotely edible except for one item. There taking pride of place on the middle shelf was a brand new jar of vegemite with a needle and spoon lined up neatly alongside. 

"we're happy little vegemites as bright as bright can be....."

Current Mood: blah
Tuesday, March 7th, 2006
1:03 am
Thought a few of you would be able to relate to this...

PTSD -- Psychotherapist Trainee Stress Disorder

Symptoms include, but are not limited to...

1. Overwhelming urge to strangle any person who glibly says, "You're having personal problems? YOU should know how to fix them, you're the psychologist, heh heh."
2. When someone accuses you of being "antisocial" because you have to study instead of socialize, you scream, "No, I'm being obsessive-compulsive! If I we're antisocial, I'd beat the crap out of you right now..."
3. Compulsion to diagnose and design treatment plans for TV characters
4. Getting excited about relaxing adventures such as grocery shopping.
5. Playing on the Internet all night to avoid any "productive" (as defined by your professors) activity.

This disorder is caused by...
1. Having to try to reason with people who are totally out of contact with reality -- e.g., professors
2. An average of 3 hours sleep per week
3. Working 2 part time jobs, in addition to classes and training, to pay for your tuition
4. A steady diet of bagels (munched while running from class to job to class) and chocolate covered espresso beans
5. Stat-ware packages that mutilate your project beyond recognition
6. Family, friends, and acquaintances who assume you'll always be their 24-hr free shrink, and never have any emotional needs of your own.

Saturday, March 4th, 2006
3:11 pm
Sometimes You Just Can't Tell The Staff From The Clients
When I go into my job I have to deal with all of these people with mental health issues, ... and then I go and do work with the clients.

Case in point:

My supervisor had plans to hire someone that I and several other people think is quite flaky. This is for a position that requires a steady person. It is a overnight crisis counselor position. If they call in sick, I am on pager duty and I must fill in at the drop of a hat. I don't want to fill in on the night shift. I did that for four years and now I want to work lovely day time hours. Hours that let me live a non-sleep deprived life. Hours that let me socialize with real live humans who go out into the sunshine and buy groceries at four pm. I announced with in earshot of the agency's director that this person does not have my support for this position because she is unreliable and that we need to find another person for the job. This was a manipulative move on my part to ensure that said person will not get hired. So, my supervisor says that she will call a different person and see if they are available. She disappears into another room while I am making copies and re-emerges a few minutes later. She then announces very loudly that she has called this new person whose name shall be X, they had a conversation, and he is very interested in the job. They have set up an interview date for the job. Fabulous! I'm thrilled.

Well... I do not know what she was doing in the other room for five minutes, but it was not making phone calls. maybe she was doing some exciting nasal excavating. I later found out that my supervisor had not called the person. The next day she asked my co-worker to make contact with the very same person she told me she had already called. My co-worker was to ask them if they would like the job, and then set up an interview date for the position.

In other words, she lied to me. I should not be floored by this, but I am. It is not she first time she has lied for very odd reasons. At one time she informed one of my co-workers that I was paranoid and felt that my co-worker was trying to sabotage me. My co-worker and I talk all the time, so she knew there was no truth to this. And, even if she really really wanted to, we could not figure out a way that she actually might be able to sabotage me. We both decided that it was a projection.

At any rate, an intervention is needed. What kinds of medications would be good to grind up and sprinkle over the the morning pastries that would help quell some of these behaviors? I was thinking Ativan because it is soothing and not easily detectable intermixed with powdered sugar. But, clearly more needs to be added to the mix. Could I inject Abilify into the jelly of the donut?
Sunday, February 12th, 2006
10:12 pm
Kelly is twenty three and possibly the most notorious of the people we work with.

The quickest summation of the complex psychosocial issues Kelly presents I can offer is simply this:

She takes an overdose every day, except when she is in hospital as a result of her last overdose.

Admittedly this has tailed off recently since we established a caller's contract saying that she cannot ring us fifty seven times a day threatening suicide. One of her favourite games is to go into a city centre (several different ones, she travels) and call us on her mobile saying she has overdosed and doesn't know where she is. This both clogs up another area's phone line and leads to us contravening policy which says we will not continue to support an individual who refuses to allow us to get them medical help after a suicidal action.

Recently, when refusing to speak to Kelly on the grounds she had overdosed in Chesterfield and refused an ambulance, it became clear that the reason she will not obtain medical help for herself when she has overdosed is she considers it attention seeking to take yourself into A&E.

She does not, however, consider it attention-seeking to phone two different helplines and have them both dispatch ambulances costing £350 a time driving round town looking for her because she moves away from her given location and then calls you back and says the ambulance has gone.

She claimed to have been raped last year and then never mentioned it again when we said we would have to phone the police. Recently, I have been unable to talk to her without the desire to slap her as she is talking about an obviously fake pregnancy when she feels she is not getting what she wants, accusing us of inducing a miscarriage, even though she is allegedly about 32 weeks by now, which we know for a fact she isn't, and none of her medicals after OD's or her GP who sees her once a week have noted a pregnancy, and such a pregnancy would require an ACPC as Kelly is a vulnerable adult and a care leaver, and the putative child's putative father is a 60 year old Schedule One offender.

She spent a good latter part of her childhood in care allegedly due to physical and sexual abuse which we have been unable to ascertain many details on, but she was seeing these godforsaken trauma counsellors who decided to tell her that she had multiple personality disorder, which they are not qualified to diagnose, and that us and the mental health teams do not care about her, which is outrageous considering the excess amount of time and stress that has been put into accomodating her needs.

Basically she seems to need 24 hour care and support but has absconded from various homes, hospitals and care facilities. She is never sectioned as a result of her overdoses-excpet occasionally on a 72 hour hold when she OD's in a town who don't know her that well-because she is never assessed as having genuine suicidal intent. She also frequently absconds from A&E while waiting for her assessments and has a habit of demanding attention from her mental health team and then refusing to let them into her house.

I feel that this girl was set on a bad path at a very young age and the care system did her no favours by sending her out alone to deal with an adult life she was totally uequipped for. I want to help this girl.

But what in the hell do you do?
Wednesday, February 8th, 2006
3:18 pm
I just thought I would introduce myself. This should be an interesting journey.

My name is Liz and I'm RN. I am a med/surg/oncology RN with almost 5 years experience.

I lost my gig in Hurricane Katrina (links to my story on my info page).

Tonight I start my new job at a local psych hospital. 3 nights of orientation.

We are an all-inclusive treatment facility, with treatment programs for ED, children, adolescent, adult, trauma (perpetrators and victims), dual-diagnosis (alcohol and drug rehab, with other acute stuff), and partial hospitalization program.

Anyhow, I did a psych rotation in nursing school (FIVE YEARS AGO). I don't have any other psych experience (other than the psych patients that we got on the floor). I just want to be as therapeutic as I was as a med/surg nurse.

I'm fairly cynical now. This should be interesting.

Someone take me under their wing, and say hi.
Friday, December 2nd, 2005
10:53 pm
Dangerous jobs
I work with a nut.
He's wants to bring a gun to work and blow his brains out while sitting in front of the boss and a fellow coworker. He wants them to see what they've done to him.
He has delusions of being the son of an Apache indian chief.
He has delusions of living through the civil war as a confederate soldier, he's even written memoirs about this.
He was amicable enough in the beginning, the suicidal tendancies were dormant. Now he's over the edge. He is also constantly thinking somebody is snooping in his computer. He's gotten EXTREMELY paranoid about people in his cubicle.

Why he decided I was the person he wants to latch on to and confide in, I don't know.

I'm flypaper for freaks.

Two days ago when he started talking about the suicidal things I took my boss in conference and spilled my guts to him. The boss is taking this higher up and possibly having this man removed from work on mandatory psych leave. I've decided to take several days off work. I'm scared to death this person is going to bring that gun to work and just begin to unload.

By the way, we are government workers. He's JUST the type to go postal.

There's so much more to this but I'm so damn weary of this mess. I can't stand even being in the same room as him. I live in constant fear of him right now.

Current Mood: blank
Saturday, December 3rd, 2005
2:22 am
Labour MP Bob Marshall-Andrews QC states that A Psychotic believes 2+2=5 and a Neurotic knows that 2+2=4 but hates that it does.
He also stated that there is a psychotic living at No. 10 (Downing Street) and neurotic at No. 11.

*have I got news for you 2.12.05*

Ooer! You don't say!
Saturday, November 12th, 2005
3:29 pm
Someone stole my bag.

More to the point, someone stole my bag containing the three things I NEED to survive a nightshift.

My iPod charger, £50 and my Chlorpromazine.

In a few days without the Chlorproms I figure I'll be unfit for consumption and thus no more nightshifts for a while.

But last night I had to go in. And one of the beauties of nightshifts on a helpline is the volume of people who call just to tell you they can't sleep. One of these people is Russell. Russell cannot sleep at night because he sleeps all day and he feels that a doctor pointing out this discrepancy constitutes an extreme violation of the Hippocratic Oath.

A lot of the people I work with-and I'm sure you too-have no desire to take responsibility for their lives or recovery and simply want someone to clcik their fingers to cure all their problems, which 99% are usually of their own fucking making anyway. Russell is one of these people. He thinks if he spends an hour at four every morning telling someone he doesn't know that he is miserable and can't sleep, someone will eventually chant a hymn containing the key to his sad fucked up life, which for reference is the fact that he is obese, lives with his mother and has no friends or hobbies.

But once more into the breach, Russell was telling me in his whiny fucking voice.

"The doooooooctoooor won't heeeeeelp with my deprrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeessssssssssssssssssssshyuuuuuuuuuuuuun."

What did the doctor say, Russell?

"He said it's only myyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyld depressssssssssssssssyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyhhhhhhhhhun, but I'm getting suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuicdal thoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooouuuuuuuuuuughts."

Did you tell the doctor about those?


Well, how is he expected to gauge the severity of a depression without that kind of information?

"I couldn't tell him, my mum always comes with me and I don't want to upset her"

Can you ask your mother to stay outside?

"But I'm too shyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.........................."

This goes round in a circle for a FUCKING HOUR.

I'm going to bed.
Thursday, November 10th, 2005
11:17 am
Night shift on the BHU.

One of the patients is an aggressive paranoid psychotic male with recent history of violence. The psychosis appears to be of organic origin secondary to long-term alcoholism. In recent days, he has been escalating, and appears to have a serious triggering problem with females.

The census of 25 is 80% female.

The night staff consists of two nurses (female), one mental health counsellor (female), and one nurse aide (male-to-female preop transsexual).

After a physical assault upon a female staff member, the following order, among many others, has been entered into his chart: chloral hydrate 500mg po prn uncontrolled aggressive behaviour.

Patient becomes threatening, uncontrolled. Receives "something to help you relax" (the above-mentioned chloral hydrate). Generally speaking, most people taking this would drop like head-shot wildebeest within a few minutes.

Half an hour passes. He begins to slow down slightly, to stagger some, to slur his speech. The content and coherence of that speech degrade. Grandiosity progresses to the level of literal claims of divinity and immortality. Conspiracy theories advance to involve global warfare, with multiple governments determined to kill him, because of his vitality to national defence, and agents of same infiltrated into the unit. (How he is still alive under these circumstances is not explained, nor why an immortal divine being should be the least bit concerned about poison or weapons. Naturally.) Violent ideation, and its expression, increase. it becomes clear that not only has the chloral hydrate not dropped him, it's disinhibited him.

Oh, now is a good time to mention that both of the seclusion rooms are already occupied, with nurse aides borrowed from other units maintaining one-on-one observation of those patients.
It's also worth mentioning that this particular patient has broken leather restraints in the past.

It's a beautiful day in the neighbourhood, a beautiful day in the neighbourhood ...
Thursday, October 6th, 2005
5:11 pm
forgive me
Mentally Unstable
In a mental institution a nurse walks into a room and sees a patient acting like he's driving a car.

The nurse asks him,"Charlie what are you doing?" And Charlie replies, "Driving to Chicago!" The nurse wishes him a good trip and leaves the room.

The next day the nurse enters Charlie's room just as he stops driving his imaginary car and asks, Well Charlie, how you doing?" Charlie says, "I just got into Chicago" Great," replied the nurse.

The nurse leaves Charlie's room and goes across the hall into Bob's room and finds Bob sitting on his bed masturbating vigorously.

With surprise she asks, "Bob what are you doing!" Bob says... "I'm screwing Charlie's wife while he's in Chicago!"

Current Mood: dorky
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