My last night at the House...

[jazzminarino]

Over two years of being here, and the amassing bullshit that has accumulated, it's still odd for me to be leaving the House.

It was the last night I cleaned the coffee pot, or emptied the shredder, or finished shift assessments. I did notes, I called Magellan, I gave my medications. I've filed my notes.

I smoked my last cigarettes with my clients.

I went through my mailbox, and pulled out groups and medication trainings, and all sorts of incident reports from two years ago. I found drawings from my clients wishing me well. That I love my job. That I'm a good therapist.

I wrote in the log for the last time, trying to follow up on things left from shift notes. I updated the medication sheets. I scanned papers. I completed the discharge papers for the last time. My brain reiterated the items from memory. I've done this one too many times.

I pulled down my picture from the wall of staff. The one they cut Caterpillar out of.

I've packed all of my papers, found Caterpillar's books, and pulled apart all of my cat macros...

... I've scratched my name off of the call list.