February 12, 2005

There's been some staff changes at the hospital; trivial information that would only be interesting to the desperate ear. The point of the fact is that we've been very short staffed and all very overworked. This would also account for my recent honeymoon from posting my logs. When I get home I've simply not the strength to recount the day's events.

I had been placed on the teenage girl's unit today. The girls watched movies, played with each other's hair and played pool in the rec area. We were understaffed and tired from running each girls' errands, but it was a pretty chill day.

It was after lights out, at 10pm, when I was told to go to the teenage boys unit because they needed staff. I entered the dimly lit hallway and could hear screams and the shuffled of feet. I could also hear people banging on doors and windows - loudly, constantly. Light was shining from each open Quiet Room door, but I could see no staff assessing the patients inside. I first walked to the right one, and could see a small boy in a stretcher restraint laying on the floor. His clothes were ripped and he had a large open wound on his head, bright read. He was screaming to be released from restraint. A boy across from the Quiet Room immediately asked me if I could let him into the restroom. I ignored him, naturally. There was more important things happening.

Many of the patients were standing in their doorways, trying to see a piece of the action. As I walked to the second Quiet Room, I told them all to stay in their rooms and close the doors. The second Quiet Room contained a larger male laying facedown on the four-point bed. He was thrashing wildly and grunting as he pulled on the cuffs around his arms and feet. On his right arm was a sheet tangled about his wrist, bloody. A nurse was at the foot of the bed, holding the boy's right calf down with his knee as he tried to buckle the strap around his ankle. I approached the front of the bed to see that his struggled was finally paying off and his sheeted hand was nearly free. I grasped it firmly and he stopped his squirming and looked up at me in surprise. "Hi." I said as I brought his wrist back into the cuff, "I'm Heather." The nurse had finally locked his ankles in and looked up at me saying "He tried to slit his wrist. I think the bleeding's stopped."

Seeing that the patient was securely in restraint, I exited the Quiet Room to assess the rest of the unit. There was one boy standing in his doorway whispering at me "Miss...please..I have to use the restroom." I informed him that he should have used the restroom before lights out and he explained that he needed to change his Depends. At this point, I remembered who this boy was. I'd never seen him before, or knew his name, but I'd heard of a boy who had been raped repeatedly, for years and years, by his father. The actions of this brought about an inability for the adolescent to have control over his bowels and he was forced to where a diaper, and probably would for the rest of his life. I allowed him to get a diaper and some wipes from the nurse's station and let him into the restroom.

Another boy was standing in his doorway saying that he also needed to use the restroom. The other staff told me that he was not allowed to go because he had just gone five minutes before. Apparenly he has a bladder infection and feels like he constantly needs to unleash his bowels. They explained to him that the feeling would be constant whether he truly had to go or not, but since he had just relieved himself it was impossible that he had to use the toilet again. After this was explained, a slew of insults - cunt, bitch, fucking bullshit, mother fuckers, stupid fucking shit, i hate this fucking place....yano..the usual - came sprewing from his lips. After awhile, I walked over to his door and simply closed it. He began screaing wildly and banged his fists against the window in the door in a fury. The boy in restraints in the stretcher restraint began screaming wildly "make it stop! make it stop! make it stop!" over and over.

Another boy who was on 1:1 precautions for 24 hrs a day, even asleep, was laying on his mattress in the day area. He had just been admitted that morning at 3am for trying to hang himself from his ceiling fan at home. He peaked his head out from under his covers, smiling. "Miss? Miss......Can I pop him?"

"Excuse me?"

He motioned to the boy banging his fists against the window. "C'mon, Miss. Can I just pop him one in the jaw? He's really annoying me."

I ignored him and walked back to the Quiet Room with the four point bed. A med nurse had arrived with a shot and some gauze. I watched as they removed the boy's wrist from restraint and dabbed the deep open cut with cotton. The slash was messy, jagged, and slanted. It was also running perpendicular to the vein. I fought off the urge to say the first thing that sprang to mind: "You did it wrong." When slitting one's wrist, you always cut with the vein for optimum bleedage.

Other staff were tending to the boy who had been banging his fists on his door window. I could hear banging from another room - the door was closed and the light was off. I entered the room to find two giggling boys on their beds. They had been tossing a large plastic clothes hamper back and forth as a game. I removed it from the room without a word and came back into the day area. Another boy was standing in his door whispering at me "Miss....Miss....I need to use the restroom too."

I recognized this lad as Samuel. He has narcolepsy and falls asleep just about anywhere if he's sitting down for long enough. There are very effective medications for this particular sickness, but Sammy doesn't take them. There's a large scar that surrounds the top of his forehead, running from ear to ear around his scalp line. He walks very slow with out-turned toes, speaks in a deep whisper, has a creamy white clear complexion - the kind that many mentally retarded children have - and his eyes are crossed. It freaks me out, really, because I never know if he's truly looking at me. I had asked my coworkers about the scar when he was first admitted and they'd told me that he'd had a piece of his brain removed because of cancer. Once while passing the med room, I saw a long blue wand shaped object and asked what it was. The med nurse had informed me that Sammy had been in an accident and had to have a part of his brain removed, including his pituitary gland. He had to take shots daily in order to stay alive because of this. His normal temperature is in the 94.0-95.0 range. Any higher is considered a fever.

Sammy whispered me over to his door saying that he needed to use the restroom and wanted a glass of water. He also said that the staff were measuring in take and out take of his fluids and that I'd have to do so if I were to grant his request. Meanwhile, the boy who'd been banging on his window was receiving a shot and not taking it too well.

The boy in the stretcher restraint was released and he was let into the restroom to assess his head wound. The boy in the fourpoint bed was released after his medication kicked in and he was too incorherent to speak, let alone hurt himself anymore. I allowed Sammy to use the restroom when another boy came out of his room, long black hair and a Cradle of Filth shirt. He was on precautions but wanted to close his door - which is against the rules. Now I'm a cunt and a bitch because I wont allow him to close his door.

All this happened within the last hour of work, and I'd never felt more numb to the entire situation.