One flew over the cuckoo's nest
Who: Roscoe, anyone who wants to visit
Where: The psych ward
When: A day or two after this
Well, that had been a mistake -- one of the newer nurses had lifted the blanket off Roscoe when she went in to deliver his meal, and he freaked out. It took five doctors and nurses to hold him down and give him another injection of haloperidol. Now he’s curled up in the corner of his room, finally calm and glaring balefully at anyone who dares intrude. And nursing a dislocated shoulder from the struggle, but at least he gave better than he got.
You’d be grumpy too if you had diarrhea, tremors, tiredness and were thirsty all the damn time. Lithium has some obnoxious side effects. Still, he’s theoretically on the road to getting better, not that he really cares. He wants Stella back and wants to go home, even though ‘home’ is just a small room under a bridge. That’s all he tells the psychiatrists when they try to talk with him, but they aren’t especially moved; it’s already been decided he’ll be staying at the facility for a long time.
“Do you want to call anyone, Mr. Dillon?” one of the doctors asks, and he sullenly shakes his head. He’s pretty sure nobody would give a shit about his predicament. So he settles into a dull routine of sleeping, looking hostile, moping about his love life, and staring at the wall. But on the plus side, at least someone’s feeding him regularly.
Where: The psych ward
When: A day or two after this
Well, that had been a mistake -- one of the newer nurses had lifted the blanket off Roscoe when she went in to deliver his meal, and he freaked out. It took five doctors and nurses to hold him down and give him another injection of haloperidol. Now he’s curled up in the corner of his room, finally calm and glaring balefully at anyone who dares intrude. And nursing a dislocated shoulder from the struggle, but at least he gave better than he got.
You’d be grumpy too if you had diarrhea, tremors, tiredness and were thirsty all the damn time. Lithium has some obnoxious side effects. Still, he’s theoretically on the road to getting better, not that he really cares. He wants Stella back and wants to go home, even though ‘home’ is just a small room under a bridge. That’s all he tells the psychiatrists when they try to talk with him, but they aren’t especially moved; it’s already been decided he’ll be staying at the facility for a long time.
“Do you want to call anyone, Mr. Dillon?” one of the doctors asks, and he sullenly shakes his head. He’s pretty sure nobody would give a shit about his predicament. So he settles into a dull routine of sleeping, looking hostile, moping about his love life, and staring at the wall. But on the plus side, at least someone’s feeding him regularly.