Jekyll and Hyde

Have you ever walked into work and the air electric and then there was something mischievous that made you feel a bit nervous? Let's just say that the day this happened, that was most certainly the case for me.

I was getting report that morning from a well-seasoned nurse. Her humdrum speech always made me sleepy and calm. Loved every minute of it.

The report was on an older individual with an uncomplicated urinary tract infection (please understand how hard it was for me to not abbreviate that). My report seemed quite simple to be frank. My entire patient load actually seemed to be that way.

I was entirely wrong.

 

The morning was fairly routine for me. Checking the telemetry monitors, watching the colorful heart rhythms dance across the screen, checking my blood pressures and blood sugars, passing meds and giving everyone insulin. (You RNs all know how that goes, the BEETUS is EVERYWHERE)!

 

How to describe what happened next, I have no clue how to begin. The only phrase that I can muster, of which is all-encompassing, is Kicking off. I believe I actually used that in more than one sentence when begging doctors for Haldol on this incredible day. (If you don't know what this lovely drug is, google it NOW so you can appreciate the resolution to this twisted tale).

 

It began with a deafening ring. My phone and the call bell system simultaneously graced me with their presence. My next thought was here we go. (Oh Jacquie, my dear, you have NO IDEA)

 

I had forgotten about the mega-moon that was shining beautifully outside the past couple of nights. (If you are not superstitious, just ask ANY healthcare worker, fireman, police man/woman, or really anyone who deals with extreme situations and "answering the call"-- they will tell you)

The first room I entered had a confused patient, who was, luckily, laughing hysterically. I walked in with a smile, bringing out the big guns (so to speak)-- kill em' with kindness! My patient turned to me, almost oblivious to my presence, but they knew I was there. I am so clueless as to how to explain this. It's like... You are being looked at, without someone actually looking at you. Almost through you.

 

My grin was met with a grin, and the patient asked me about where her coat and hat were and that it was time to go. My eyebrows shot up, "Honey, you can't leave, I actually need to take care of you because your heart is sick. The doctor called and said for you to take your medicine." I held my breath, this usually works. My patient nodded, their head floating in a place of snowflakes and rainbows (No, seriously, they actually asked why it was snowing from the ceiling). 'I think I can do that, yes, that won't be a problem.. Have you seen the snow?' My eyebrows remained reaching toward the ceiling, speechless. "I haven't seen the snow, but I have seen your pills, do you think you will take them?" 'Why yes, I guess I can do that... Have you seen my dog? I think there is a zoo. I'd rather put my coat on, but I think I will just wait. Thank you.'

 

I just grinned my grin and nodded. I then checked their mouth 987345978245987245982734509827345 times before I left the room to make sure those pills DID go DOWN. I set that bed alarm so hard the floor rumbled with the promise of ill will to anyone who removed it, and then hurried out to answer the next phone call request.

 

I walked into a dimly lit room with a very petite patient with hair all over town. I mean crazy curls and sleepy time head at its best. This individual was looking up at me with a smirk and facial expressions that changed every 0.000000827345 seconds. This little thing was a ticking time bomb and I could feel it. "Good morning to you!" I said as cheery as I could. This resulted in a massive smile from my patient who seemed to be pleased as pie that I had walked into the room. Whew!

 

Dear ones. Dear dear ones. Please. Don't be fooled.

Outward appearances can be entirely deceiving.

 

And this marks the last time that cordiality was maintained..

 

I tried my best to describe what the plan was for the day then give this patient their morning meds (entirely necessary if you must know--that blood pressure was pushing stroke probability)! After the pills had been swallowed down, I was beginning to feel comfortable. Whew, starting off on a good foot. WIN!

 

Mind you.

 

I had report that morning describing the confusion levels of this patient as well. Two patients, doors away from one another, that were living on planet Z where snow falls from the ceiling and people randomly appear (who are always up to no good).

 

There was an uncomfortably long pause and a very hard stare from my patient that made me pause for far longer than I was planning to. I actually waited for them to speak first.. Mistake numero UNO.

 

'It's okay dear, I can keep your secret.' The last word uttered with disgust and malice.

 

I turned to face my accuser, totally stunned. "What secret might that be? I don't remember sharing any secrets with you earlier. Well anything for that matter actually... We've only just met."

 

There was another uncomfortably long pause, as my patient thought about their next words. 'I.. I... I just can't talk about it right now, it's just too stressful, and awful. I will never speak of it! NEVER! You can trust me to keep your secret.' At that, they raised a finger to their lips, and shushed me softly.

 

I drew a blank. I've worked with many patients who've had hallucinations, vivid and not, delusions, and just flat out mental breakdowns-- but I've never had someone be downright determined to keep a dirty little secret of mine, that didn't actually exist, and be contingent upon keeping it hushed up and take it to the grave. It was terribly odd, and just unsettling (to be completely honest). The immature side of me really wanted to know that kind of secret that could be. (Fast forward a few hours, I found out what it was!) be prepared to have your mind blown.

 

Whatever time in the day it was, I can't remember exactly. All I know is that it was time for blood pressures-- which my unit did every four hours due to the critical nature of our patient load. Instead of a call bell (of which I was expecting) my phone rang... And then I heard screaming.

So I started running.

I found patient #2 (the one who was keeping the secret, not the one playing in snow), with a death grip on my CNA's wrists, shaking uncontrollably, horrifyingly screaming the most unsettling obscenities I've heard come from an 87 year old person's mouth. My CNA looked at me completely terrified, stunned and unable to release her wrists from the patient's hands.

**A quick aside, patients with dementia have the MOST INCREDIBLE GRIP! I have been punched, kicked, pinched, slapped, spat on, grabbed, bruised and almost bitten by numerous individuals with this debilitating disease. It's horrible because you want to protect yourself and get mad at a blow that catches you in the jaw-- but then, this person has NO CLUE what they are doing. It's a terrible and  awkward predicament.

I was at a loss of words, between the sounds of screaming, accusations, depictions of scenes I had no exposure to-- I was LOST.

I tried to talk my patient down, "please let go of my friend. They are here trying to help you, can you please release her hands, you are hurting her." Bruises were actually beginning to form on her wrists. My chest got tight as I started to panic (just a little). My patient looked at me with a slow turn of their head and a dark glare. 'You helped her didn't you? You are an accomplice! She listens to your orders doesn't she?! HOW DARE YOU! MY HUSBAND IS DEAD AND YOU ALL KILLED HIM!' With that she put her head into her hands, thus releasing my CNA.

Without a word I excused my poor friend as she was rubbing her wrists. If there was a moment where someone had their tail between their legs, she most certainly did.

I stood on that cold, hard, tile floor and stared at my demented patient (no pun intended here, just referring to their illness). They were entirely broken, in complete despair and I knew that whatever I wanted to do to help  -- I couldn't. I just couldn't.

Out of luck doesn't even touch the hem of these circumstances. The entire interlude really, entirely, plainly, just downright SUCKED.

The room fell still, the crying stopped, and my patient looked up at me as they eerily sneered. The hair on my neck stood up and my arms became riddled with goose bumps. 'You killed him!'

My jaw fell open. Here is the secret you big dummy. Mistake numero.. I've lost count.

I took a step toward my patient.

Big.

MASSIVE.

Mistake.

This sent my patient into a frenzy of which I've never seen the like before. They wanted to stand up, sit down, punch at me, kick at me, and they began screaming a piercing blood curdling scream.

I would have been increasingly worried that they were going to upset the other patients on this 32-bed unit.. But unfortunately, they ENTIRE unit was suffering from people who were being encouraged by the full moon and the far reaches of their dementia. I have never heard so much screaming on a unit at any one time. Ever.

Overstimulation you may think? You have NO IDEA.

As this individual of extremely high fall risk began to hurriedly and shakily stand, I rushed to their side to assist them back to bed.

Another big mistake.

 

I got kicked square in the shin AND they began to scream even more loudly. How that was possible, it eludes me to this day.

But, one thing did go right. The bed alarm rang, and rang loudly. An almost frenzy. It was as if God reached down and said 'Sister, I see you need a hand, let me get you 6!'

Sure enough, my charge nurse, a CNA and another nurse ran in. I am sure it was mostly the 'HELP! HELP! SHE IS GOING TO KILL ME! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! SHE IS GOING TO MURDER ME IN COLD BLOOD!' screaming that was emanating from the door (that send everyone feeling in). Regardless of what brought my comrades in, I am forever grateful.

When my team arrived I was being kicked, punched, bitten at and taking a serious verbal beating (of which I refuse to recount for anyone, no matter how close of friends and non-judgmental you are). The words that were chosen to slander me were striking, it actually made me warm and a bit nauseated.

My wrists were in the death grip that hold true for most dementia patients that are having an episode. Thumb marks began to show up across my forearms, wrists and hands. My charge nurse held her hands out in front of her in disbelief: What is going on?!  She asked with a flabbergasted exhalation. (I can only think that she just ran from another room in the same predicament as my own).

As I opened my mouth to explain the situation, my patient quieted down to throw me to the wolves. Imaginary wolves that is.

'This b!%$@ killed my husband in cold blood. This spawn of SATAN shot him point blank in the head. I watched the blood collect under him. I watched my husband BLEED to DEATH because of this horrible woman! She works for the mafia you see. I wanted to keep her secret, oh but she wouldn't allow it. NOW SHE IS GOING TO KILL ME!'

I turned to my charge nurse, exhausted, spent and clueless as to what was the next move. How this confusing turn of events transpired in this person's brain, I will never understand (unless one day I end up in the same boat, I'm sure). But in all truth, this individual was convinced that I was the one who had instigated every ounce of horrible occurrences the World over. How I portrayed the person from her nightmares, I don't know, but I was struck speechless, saddened and a bit peeved at the four-letter words I didn't think this person could know.

Somehow (I believe I may have blocked out how I left that room)-- I ended up at the nurse's station with my hospital phone in hand and STAT dialed the physician. My doc answered in a flippant tone, protesting to bringing Haldol on board for this person's immediate crisis treatment. As I do, and often find myself doing, I didn't give the physician a choice and got the order for the medication, ASAP.

It took the ultimate distraction of three other people in the room for me to be able to give this medication IV. But, WE DID IT!!!

My patient was asleep in minutes. They slept the rest of the shift as a matter of fact. Stunning, I know.

I hoped and I prayed that the psychosis would pass and night shift would make it through unscathed.

As I walked away from the room, wiping sweat from my brow, I headed into the "room of snow." My patient was sitting up in their bed smiling. Just grinning the World's biggest grin from ear to ear. "Why hello my darling, where have you been? It's so noisy here." She said with a chuckle.

I smiled. "I'm sorry, I've been a little busy with a situation. But everything is okay now. How are you? Is there anything I can get for you?"

My patient looked at me with eyes agleam, "Oh my dear, just sit here with me and watch the snow. It's just beautiful."

...And so I did. I sat there for a few minutes and imagined what that perfect, fluffy snow would look like. How it would crunch under foot. How it would taste when caught on my tongue.

We sat there in silence, she in her world of snow, me in my World of imagination-- as the unit outside her door churned in utter chaos.

I did go back into the fray with my team.

I just needed five minutes of bliss,

snow,

and uninterrupted,

uncorrupted

happiness..

 

Even if it all was pretend.

 

 

 

Believe in Me-- A plea from the heavy-hearted nurse

From all that I have seen.

I am reaching out to you.

You are hurting, you're in pain.

  Know that I am with you.

Dear one.
Sweet soul.

Hear my plea.

I want to help take away the suffering that this World conjures.
But please.
Give me a chance.

I've chosen to help carry these burdens.
       I see you
And deep in my chest emotions spring forth, all unbeknownst to me until the cup runs over.

Please. Lower your voice. Place those angry words aside.

In that bed I see my mother, father, brother, sister, grandmother, grandfather.

Most importantly, I see you.

  I see those who've gone before you, those that were saved and those I've lost.

It's okay to cry, it's okay to be upset.

But when you tear down on my strength, on my hopes in you, I grow weary.

I don't have enough power for this and so I reach above.

  We are in this together..

But you must give me a chance.

You are family, you are friends, you are patients.

Hear my pleading cry.

I worked hard for this, I worked hard for you. I've spent years waiting to be here for you at your lowest moment. This is a choice I knowingly made.                                 I've been called to your side.

Sweet love, sweet angels.

Please see me standing here

wanting,

hurting,

desiring to do nothing more

than to help you heal.

To have a better life.

To be free.

To grow.

To give light.

To touch another soul, to lift them from a dark and unruly place.

Please see me and my intention.

      I am a messenger and a mediator in this scary place.

I reach above for strength and yet I waver when the onslaught is strong.

I am humanity.

I am the embodiment of all that is imperfect.

But I will always try.

I always will try for you.

Sweet love.

Please understand I want to be here with you. All of you.

I am all in.

I will strive.

I will fight.

I will fight through all obstacles in order that you may feel strength again.

When at first note mistrust and anger spring forth in waves from you, my dear ones, all comes crashing down on the goals that have been intricately woven for you on this journey.

Release and relinquish that control.

I am a messenger.

I am here for you. I was sent here to be with you.

I have these hands, this spirit, this heart-- it is willingly given.

All you have to do is allow it my love.

 

 

All you have to do is just listen.

Do No Harm

Do. No. Harm. We hear this phrase through school, on medical TV shows, more than likely on the news. I know that myself, and really anyone else in the medical (or really public sector/service) field know that this is the center of our universe. But, dear ones, there lies a complete and total conundrum in this statement. I am held to a higher standard, I do no harm, I practice what I preach. For lack of a better phrase, the buck stops here. I want to show you a glimpse of what it's like working in this field, yet again. But this time, I want to relay to you the dangers we face, with absolutely no pun intended. These were situations of little to no comic relief.

I've been wanting to write a piece like this for some time. After going to a Critical Care Symposium and spending a decent amount of time in talks about disaster preparedness, and the like, I realized that many things we face are NOT OKAY. This point was driven home that much further whilst visiting a friend and meeting their acquaintance who happens to be participating in a National study on violence in the workplace. Did you know that nursing actually is one of the MOST dangerous professions? My first thought was policemen, firefighters, FBI agents, you know-- the real stuff! Little did I know that statistically speaking, my profession is actually one of the most dangerous in rankings for the United States (obviously there are other jobs that may or may not have been included in this study). I digress.

When I think back on these next few stories that I am going to share, maybe you will agree. Maybe you won't. My biggest plea that I wish could ring from the rooftops, mountaintops, cliff sides, what have you-- is DO NO HARM. But please, realize that this standard does not ONLY apply to people in professions like my own. It also applies to YOU. Yes, patients sign a paper upon being admitted to the hospital, saying that they will conduct themselves in appropriate ways... I hate to break it to you. This more often than not, does not happen. I myself have been in dangerous situations where I questioned humankind and asked myself-- If I am being held to a higher standard, why aren't you?

Here we go..

Clickety-Clack

It was a pretty typical day on my medical unit, ages ago, and I was hustling and bustling my tail like you wouldn't believe. Nurse to patient ratios out of the wazoo and all I wanted to do was have a drink of water and maybe go to the bathroom, once, heaven forbid twice! Obviously, as life goes, when you get caught up and you seem to have a wee grasp on things, something has got to arrive to shake up your world. Am I right? Or am I right? My charge nurse headed up the hall to let me know something wonderful was happening-- JUST KIDDING! In fact, I was getting an admission from the emergency department,. Blah blah blah, something about foot pain, blah blah blah. As we all do (do not lie if you're a nurse!) I waiiiiiiiiiiited for the ER nurse to call ME with report. (Sideline: report is what we use in the medical field to quickly discuss a patient's status, allergies, etc. when they are being sent to a different level of care).

As sure as the sun rises, my phone rang with a deafening call. "This is Jacquie." I announced, quite nonplussed. My disinterest made the nurse on the other end of the line huff a bit. My bad. I can't help it some times, I should, but when you're drowning in 20 feet of water and you have cement blocks tied to your feet, it's a bit difficult to be thrilled with yet another cement block. Tied to your bum. Or something of that sort. Either way! "This is (so and so) and I have (so and so) patient for you, here for foot pain, uncontrolled, level of 10 on the verbal number scale. Xray and MRI are pending, is the room ready?" All other details aside, the most important question-- is the room ready? "Yes the room is ready, but you are more than free to take your time." This makes my comrade laugh, the phone hangs up, and I am aware that regardless of my busy situation, I've got more responsibility coming.

When I round into my new patient's room, I literally walk into a big stink. No, this individual was not passing awful gas, his aura was pulsing with something that made me want to throw up. I could not pinpoint what it was that he was feeling, but I knew that something was wrong and it wasn't good. He was quite cordial, extremely tall, and a tad impatient. Fair enough, he came in for active pain and he wanted more pain meds. This being a common theme in the hospital-ing world, I informed this man that the doctor was putting in orders at the moment and I was unable to pull any meds from our dispensing machine (especially narcotics).. Duh.

He was okay with this report of mine. So I let him know that I would return in few moments with personal belongings for him to make his hospital stay more comfortable. I stepped out of the room and rounded back in, in less than five minutes-- I kid you not. This very large, intimidating man was pacing the room. His foot IV was clacking across the floor, a sound I still cannot forget. The air had changed and his pacing grew insistent. His motions were larger. Louder. Each action was laced with anger. I heart began to beat faster, because that gut feeling was back. It shouted for me to get out of the room as quickly as possible.

Scary air or not, I wasn't going to leave. Something wasn't right. I knew it wasn't. But I also don't just walk out on people, no matter how difficult, conniving and angry you may be. So I stood my ground. "Is everything okay?" I asked, obviously a loaded question. 'What in the world is taking so long! I am IN PAIN, that is why I CAME HERE. WHY AREN'T YOU DOING ANYTHING ABOUT IT?' I took a very deep breath, set this man's things down that I had collected, and put my big girl panties on (so to speak). "Sir, I understand you are in pain, if there was a way I could override that medication, I would. But unfortunately, that is not in my jurisdiction. I would be happy to call the doctor to see if the pain medication would be the first thing on his to-do list." This seemed to suffice, somewhat. He sat back down and said okay.

Oddly enough, he was shaking. Breathing fast. Face was red. I knew, as per report from the ER nurse, that this man had a very large dose of pain med before coming to see me. I left the room to call the doctor, knowing that this situation was a ticking time bomb. I didn't know when it was going to explode, but it wasn't going to take long.

I don't really know what happened next, or how much time had passed since our last conversation, but loud crashes, screaming and cursing echoed down the hall. I half ran, half walked, knowing that the time bomb was officially breached and letting out puffs of steam, little by little. Oh no. No, no, no, no. When I walked into the room, my new admission was throwing things, hitting the wall, screaming and cursing. As soon as my presence was known, he turned to me, and I knew I was in trouble. Oh God. A plea, a prayer. Here we go.

'Why haven't you done anything to help me? Isn't that your job. All I want is Dilaudid. [Aside: this is one of our BIGGEST issues in healthcare right now, this pain med is tearing apart people's lives]. It's your job to fix this and you are doing nothing!' It was at this point I knew I had to make a choice, talk or run. So I talked. "First off, I understand that you want pain medication, but I cannot just give it to you that easily. The medicine you want has to be titrated. It may take away your pain, but it also has the power to kill you. I can understand the doctor taking his time to figure out what dose is safest for you, seeing as we'd rather prefer to help you than hurt you. So if you could please be patient with us as we try to remedy this, I will do whatever I can to help you in the mean time." Well friends, this wasn't enough. This man puffed up to the size of a bear. He got up and walked towards me and began to step closer and closer. Naturally, one backs up so as not to be run into. This is what I did, this was the problem. I didn't have my hospital phone in my pocket, I did not have a cell phone.

This realization hit as soon as my back hit the wall and I realized that I was stuck, literally stuck, in a corner. This man was between me, and safety. Oh God. Became my plea.

What he said next was slurred, almost incomprehensible, save numerous four letter words. His shouting and screaming must have rung out down the hall because it was then that I heard feet. Loud persistent feet running down the hall. As I was looking up into an angry face, veins pulsing and bulging out of his neck, I was wondering who was coming to help. As my patient put his hands high up in the air, all I could think was oh no, he's going to hit me. My breath caught and I braced myself. My brain didn't want to make sense of the situation, but rather brace for what was going to come. I'd never braced myself for someone to hit me before. It was not pleasant feeling as if I had no choice.

As sure as the sun rises, someone shouted NO! And came bursting through the door. If I could explain the sight to you, you wouldn't believe me. But I'll try. My very pregnant boss, all of 5 feet ran in, placed herself in between my enraged patient and me screaming DO NOT TOUCH HER!

This reality check caused my patient to take a few steps back and momentarily pause. I couldn't breathe. So my boss continued to save my tail, my face, my life. You will NOT talk to us in this manner, you will not harm our staff, you are welcome to leave right now. Do you understand what you signed downstairs, you will NOT HARM my staff!

My patient decided that we weren't worth his time, he sat down on his bed, screaming and cursing, attempting to rip out his IV threatening all sorts of things that I cannot even remember. I carefully walked over, feeling like the mouse that helped the lion, and pleasantly asked if I could take out his IV in order that he didn't hurt himself. He agreed and I hurriedly, carefully, did my job with my hands shaking. Adrenaline was pumping loudly through me, my ears hearing nothing but ringing and the sound of my own blood rushing about.

As soon as I had his blood tainted IV in my gloved hand, this man grabbed his coat and literally ran off the unit. It was then my mojo came back and I called security. "There is a man in the hospital who needs to be escorted out. He just left the medical unit and is angry. Make sure he doesn't hang around."

About a half hour later, security came up to the floor and requested to speak to me personally. They reported that they found my patient wandering around the hospital, yelling and cursing, basically standing out like a sore thumb. They had to handcuff him and escort him out. They added that he should not come back again. If he came back in today, he would be arrested. I breathed a sigh of relief, walked straight to my boss' office, and hugged her with every inch of love I could muster. She put her life and her unborn child's life in jeopardy to make sure I wasn't hurt. A woman can never forget an act of valor like that. Never.

Here's your next gem.

The Man in the Cowboy Hat

I had heard through the grapevine that there was an exceptionally difficult patient down the hall who was just wrecking havoc on the staff. Another gem requesting pain medication by screaming, shouting or cursing and expecting it as soon as possible-- that is, before it was actually safe to give another dose. Sure enough, the nurses banded together and would take turns administering his medication. His assigned RN was so burnt out from his disrespect and character that she would have a near panic attack before going in the room. I took it upon myself to administer the next dose and hopefully relieve some of her distress. We share the load. We help each other. That's just what we do.

Let me tell you friends, I did not know what I was getting myself into.

I walked into this patient's room, smiled, and offered him his medication as per his request. He briskly nodded and then flicked his head toward where his IV was-- as if to tell me this is what you are going to do, without actually saying anything. So I went about my business and set up his med. As I was prepping everything, his voice took on a different tone, discussing with his family and friends at the bedside how horrible we were, how terribly incompetent we were as a hospital, and that we were totally worthless human beings and the bane of his existence (to put it nicely). Obviously, I bit my tongue, held my breath, and let him know right before I administered his medication what I was about to do.

After he got his rush from the medicine going straight to his head, he turned to me, looked me dead in the eye and said a very awkward, even angry, thank you.

I smiled, said not a word, nodded and left the room in a hurry. I got that sick feeling in my stomach that I had felt only months before, and unfortunately knew too well. This one is going to be trouble.

Like clockwork, a commotion started down the hall. Now, I knew that this person had some background that made them emotionally labile, but I wasn't expecting the next few moments. I saw this patient walking (with a vengeance) down the hall. When he got to the nurses' desk he slammed his fist down with a resonating BANG! I looked up calmly as my heart began to race, feeling blessed that people cannot see this internal mechanism.

Calmly, slowly, I addressed him, as if I were talking to a child about the throw a temper tantrum of epic proportions. "I want to leave, now, you guys aren't helping me any more than I get when I leave here. At least when I leave I can have as much pain med as I want. Come down the hall now, take out this !@#*$&% IV because I'm leaving." Obbbbbbviousssslyyyyyy, there are a few more steps that need to happen before he could leave--safely. So I happily, almost chirpy, stated 'I would be happy to let your nurse know that you are ready to leave, so if you wouldn't mind, please go back to your room so I can have them meet you there to take out your IV safely so you can go. I will also need to call the doctor to let him know.' Crazily enough, this seemed to suffice. This man gave me that same odd nod, turned on his heel, and briskly walked down the hall.

Having learned the way things go in the unsettled patient department, I immediately called the doctor, nurse and security. Here we go again. I thought with an exhale that was far from relieving.

I don't know what transpired between this man, the doctor and the nurse, but I heard screaming coming from down the hall about 15 minutes later. It was the patient practically running down the hall. "I AM GOING TO LEAVE NOW, TAKE OUT THIS (*&#^$% IV OR I AM GOING TO RIP IT OUT!" I turned to his nurse who was trying to get his papers together, silently asking her what I should do. She sighed, totally exasperated, 'Just take it out Jacquie.' So I did. I walked up to this man who was radiating anger, slowly slipped on my gloves, and took out his IV. I smiled a halfhearted smile. At this, he slammed his hands down on the counter at the station and screamed. "I WONDER WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF I JUST WALKED UP IN THIS PLACE ONE DAY WITH MY SHOTGUN AND TOOK OUT ALL OF YOU!" He paused and turned to me, "except you," he said, "you've been nice to me, and I like you." I froze. I can handle belligerent, but threats concerning fire arms. This woman doesn't play. At that, the patient left to go back to his room to get his things. My boss called the cops and they showed up almost immediately.

With the blue uniforms form the cops, the black uniforms from security, I could just stare. It was almost childish, but I was frozen to the spot. I didn't know what was going to happen next.

As if on cue, the patient came hurrying down the hall, as if he was outrunning something. "I hope you know I would LOVE to shoot this place up, it would be amazing! BAM! BAM! BAM!" The cops were following to make sure he left.

Of course he paused at the nurse station to drive home his point. He raised his arm, pointed it straight at me. "Get that look off your face, I don't mean you. I wouldn't shoot you." Because, that made the whole situation better.. Not.

With this last exchange, the cops gave him a very insistent push toward the door. This sent the patient into a fit of laughter, "SEE YOU SOON!" He screamed.

I turned to the cop and I asked 'So?! What are you going to do about that?!' His reply... Nothing mam, he doesn't have a firearm. And it wasn't a direct threat. We can't really do anything.

It was my turn to get serious. 'Then you better pray he doesn't come back in here in the future. Because then we are ALL going to be sorry.'

I let my words sink in. The cop made a face, turned on his heel, and left to follow the screaming.

--

You tell me friends.

Do. No. Harm.

I understand the standard.
But sometimes..
I truly wonder..

About everyone else.