Tinkle Dinkle

I don't even know if I feel like writing, but I kind of know I should. Spending all day at the mental hospital and then coming home to dogs and no humans with whom to de-brief, I probably need a regular outlet like this. Work wasn't actually a big deal today. Discharged two folks and admitted one to brief observation who I'll likely discharge tomorrow - already have a discharge plan and placement, which is good. It was nice to be able to take time to talk to the patients and learn more about them than just "need to know." Those are the days I enjoy - actually making that connection. Who knows what happens when they leave, though. As I wrap up my social work stint, I wonder who I've helped. The only people I ever see are the ones that come back. Except for two: One I saw at the PX looking psychotic and skipping through the store (I thought I was safe on post - wrong). And the other I saw on the news after being arrested for stealing copper. Douche. Oh well. Haven't seen any in the local obits, and I check regularly, so that's a good thing.

Tomorrow is my last of six days in a row, and my day will start with a fast-paced doc, which is good. I don't have to hold his damn hand and tell him what to do. At some point, I will have to go up to the unit to work on an assessment for a male patient. That'd be fine, but having to go on the male side means subjecting myself to an infamous patient that just returned this past week. He really should not have come back because the last time he was there, he severely assaulted a nurse. Just out of the blue without provocation beat her in the face. She said she didn't know what happened, and the next minute she was on the ground and someone was pulling her to safety. Fucking scary. If that shit goes down with me, I'm pressing charges - termination be damned. And Joe. Joe.would.go.fucking.crazy. Although, it is a fantasy of mine to imagine Joe and some of his unit buddies storming my boss's office in ACUs (and maybe full kit?). Or maybe parachuting or fast-roping down on top of the buildings. Ahh, signs that you should quit your job...

Speaking of Joe, he can have a care package at the end of Mountains Phase, so I'm planning to mail one out on Monday. They're given one hour on their last day in the phase to eat everything in their care packages, and in addition to what he's already requested, I'm looking to put together a pretty rocking box of goodies. I plan to go by the grocery store after work tomorrow and then do some baking in the evening, which with a high of 96 degrees might not be the best idea. The house is still cooling down from today - heat index was 98 when I checked after getting home. The AC already can't keep up. Not good. So anyway. Joe already told me he'd build me a house of diamonds for bringing him goodies to his Darby pass. Maybe he'll be so delusional that he'll actually plan to take me on a honeymoon if my care package is off the chain. Bu dump CHING. Ah, Joey. He got switched companies at the start of Mountains, though I'm not sure why. I happened to respond to that letter after a few beers and the Flyers losing the Stanley cup. So, I may have sent my husband, starving and hallucinating in Ranger School, a letter that said I was going to put my foot in my ass. Oops. But if he screwed up and got kicked out of the old company by his own doing, then I'll stand by what I wrote. HOOAH THAT, Joe Bot.