December 2
Another double clinical day, which means chock full-o-joy:
Good: Doing the Mock Med Pass, in which I act like a patient and give my students a hard time trying to get me to take fake meds, and cheek a lot of M&Ms and TicTacs.
Better: The fleeting image of the sky through the window at the end of the hall: Stranger (a patient) is lying on the floor, and the sky is a beautiful shade of orangey pink.
Great: Starman (patient) decided he wanted to talk with me today. The students, silly puppies, wandered off, while I spent half an hour proving to him that he's mistaken about Mary Magdalene being Jesus' mother. When he called another patient "crazy," I scolded him for being rude and added, "Plus, pot calling the kettle black, much?" And that evening I ran into him again with a different batch of students, and told him to go into the other room and "blow my students' minds." In case you can't tell, he's also in the top five of my favorite patients.
Super-duper: I have become the personal seamstress for The Prophet (patient). I saw last week in report that he was agitated over a torn coat pocket, so I asked the nurse if there were sewing supplies, and when there were, I promptly mended the coat and he was delighted. So today when I arrived, he came hurrying out to (politely, appropriately) ask if I could mend a shirt of his. I said of course, had the nurse show me where the sewing supplies live so I can find them whenever I need, and mended the shirt. This makes me happy in so many ways: it was pleasant to sit in the sun room, watching my students happily playing with the patients, listening to Little God next to me ("P-p-pow! Pow, Pow!"), and sewing. Mending is really very satisfying -- such a small bit of sewing, and you've accomplished something. Making the Prophet happy is a delight (I've known him as long as I've known Little God, and he's among my favorites). And being known to do so also makes the rest of the staff happy -- they are relieved to know that if something happens to his clothes, instad of becoming threatening and aggitated, he'll simply look forward to my next day on the unit.
Absolutely Wonderful: When I got home, late, everyone was asleep except for Jazz, who's been home sick all week and was up mildly queasy. So we sat in the hallway (near the bathroom, wating to see if he'd puke) and talked for about an hour. Just a rambling talk about important and unimportant issues and looking up funny-sounding words in the dictionary. It was a bit of a fractal conversation -- he was expressing anxiety about college, and I was describing what college is like, while having a conversation that felt so delightfully like the conversations from college.
Good: Doing the Mock Med Pass, in which I act like a patient and give my students a hard time trying to get me to take fake meds, and cheek a lot of M&Ms and TicTacs.
Better: The fleeting image of the sky through the window at the end of the hall: Stranger (a patient) is lying on the floor, and the sky is a beautiful shade of orangey pink.
Great: Starman (patient) decided he wanted to talk with me today. The students, silly puppies, wandered off, while I spent half an hour proving to him that he's mistaken about Mary Magdalene being Jesus' mother. When he called another patient "crazy," I scolded him for being rude and added, "Plus, pot calling the kettle black, much?" And that evening I ran into him again with a different batch of students, and told him to go into the other room and "blow my students' minds." In case you can't tell, he's also in the top five of my favorite patients.
Super-duper: I have become the personal seamstress for The Prophet (patient). I saw last week in report that he was agitated over a torn coat pocket, so I asked the nurse if there were sewing supplies, and when there were, I promptly mended the coat and he was delighted. So today when I arrived, he came hurrying out to (politely, appropriately) ask if I could mend a shirt of his. I said of course, had the nurse show me where the sewing supplies live so I can find them whenever I need, and mended the shirt. This makes me happy in so many ways: it was pleasant to sit in the sun room, watching my students happily playing with the patients, listening to Little God next to me ("P-p-pow! Pow, Pow!"), and sewing. Mending is really very satisfying -- such a small bit of sewing, and you've accomplished something. Making the Prophet happy is a delight (I've known him as long as I've known Little God, and he's among my favorites). And being known to do so also makes the rest of the staff happy -- they are relieved to know that if something happens to his clothes, instad of becoming threatening and aggitated, he'll simply look forward to my next day on the unit.
Absolutely Wonderful: When I got home, late, everyone was asleep except for Jazz, who's been home sick all week and was up mildly queasy. So we sat in the hallway (near the bathroom, wating to see if he'd puke) and talked for about an hour. Just a rambling talk about important and unimportant issues and looking up funny-sounding words in the dictionary. It was a bit of a fractal conversation -- he was expressing anxiety about college, and I was describing what college is like, while having a conversation that felt so delightfully like the conversations from college.