Monday, Monday. Can't Trust That Day

Well, I figured as much would happen, but I was a complete moron at work today. Being gone for a week at my place of business causes one's mind to be in denial about ever having to go back. Also, survival mode takes over and wipes the memory clear of anything ever learned on the job. Of course, when I got there five of the six brief observation beds were full of patients I needed to see, and there was a new patient waiting for her intake to be completed. Luckily, she shit herself and needed a shower, which bought me a little time. Just when I was going to begin seeing the brief obs. patients, I came upon an e-mail saying I needed to go to HR. Yep, I finally had my first random piss test. The irony was that amidst my trip to PA I mentioned wondering what taking Ativan would feel like, if anything other than sleepy and lethargic. Shit, my grandma started to get up and get me one, to which I politely declined. Ativan is a benzo, and if I'd accepted, I'd be SOL for my UDS. Ah, it's good to be a responsible adult with a brain.

So anyway. I sat in the lab office, drank a little water and read over a travel magazine before I was ready to go. (If you can't give enough when you go, they will make you sit for up to 3 hours until you can give enough all in one urination.) Damn right I gave enough the first try. I then headed back to my office, realized I had a VM on my cell. Sure enough my grandpa had died. Now, obviously I knew this was coming, so I wasn't wrecked or anything - Pop is in a better place and not suffering anymore. I just wasn't sure what to do. Was I supposed to leave work and go make calls to the family? Deciding there was no reason to tell my boss because he doesn't care anyway, I told the psychiatrist I was working with today...because I felt it would be weird to not say anything. You know, later down the road when someone's all like "Dude, you were really slow seeing patients that Monday." And I'm all "Yeah, my grandpa had died that morning." Followed by awkward silence... The psychiatrist, perhaps being what he is, showed more empathy in one exchange than my boss ever has on the matter. I felt better, realized there was nothing else really to do since I'm not going to go back up for the viewing and funeral, and proceeded to see patients, albeit perhaps not in the best frame of mind. Regarding not going to the funeral, I feel like I already said my goodbye and made peace with things. My grandmother, however, will probably perceive my absence as a slight against the family and write me a nasty letter. but receiving such letter from my grandmother is like a rite of passage, so no big deal. However, I think in lieu of that she did the whole not speaking to me for a year when I was twelve. It's possible I could get both in a lifetime. We'll see.

Most of my patients were chill today. Except one. Suicidal my ass. Suicidal people are not concerned with other patients coughing near them or the possibility of getting lice from a hospital. Damn personality disorders. Luckily, I was very flat today, picked her story apart - pointing out the discrepancies, and did not give her the attention she wanted. However, since she maintained that she was suicidal, she got a special trip to the stabilization unit. They're gonna be reeeeeeal concerned about germs and lice up there what with monitoring a few people who are actively psychotic and others who really do want to kill themselves. Oh yes. Cured!

I then came home to my puppies and had a decent evening. 'Night.