Beware of Trained Elephants!

I have an old college friend who turns 51 today so I thought I would celebrate his birthday by telling a funny story about how we first met. I was a lifeguard at a church camp when I was 17 years old, back in the late 70’s. Steve was a camp counselor for the youth. Now Steve was a strapping young jock type and the young girls were just fawning all over him, hanging on his every word. Now, of course I was a little jealous, I mean they were supposed to be fawning over the nicely tanned lifeguard for pete’s sake. But who was really angry with him as I found out were the 3 other lifeguards I was working with. They were all his age and all female. They were making comments and grumbling all week.

So as the week progressed, we were invited to a talent show and showed to watch the festivities. We were enjoying the show when someone came up and asked us to do something. One of my fellow lifeguards suggested a prank skit. It involved a “trained elephant”. Two of us would place a sheet over us and a pretend to be an elephant while a trainer would have us step over three volunteers from the audience. They were sure that Steve would volunteer himself and they were exactly right. I was the first one to raise his hand.

 The laid the three victims down and my partner and I stepped over the first two. Steve had been purposefully placed last in line. The sheet that we were wearing was concealing a bucket of ice cold water. As we stepped over him I “hiked” my leg and “peed” the cold water onto to Steve. I liked to say that Steve took it like a man…….well, we are still friends. But now for the rest of the story……….

Three years later I find myself at college. I am looking to pledge a fraternity. My first choice was the one with most of the athletes in it. I was lounging around the pool at the Holiday Inn in Jacksonville at the pledge party for the Sigmas. I had just about met everyone when I was introduced to Steve who was an officer in the frat. At first I thought he didn’t remember me because he didn’t say anything. He did kinda of give me “that look” like I know you from somewhere. But since he didn’t say anything I thought I was in the clear. As I was about to sign the pledge book to become an official pledge, Steve came up and said that he was glad that I had decided to pledge Sigmas, that he was going to enjoy hazing me. (It seems he did remember…….ruh rooohh) I ended up checking into the other frat but we did become good friends during college and he never got me back for my dousing him with that bucket of water.

Thanks for being my friend Steve and oh by the way Happy Birthday buddy!

A Mad Cast of Characters

My wife and I just finished working our booth at the 35th annual Rockport SeaFare. It’s wonderful festival celebrating the sea. We have been involved with it for the past 6 years. There are many things that I love about going to SeaFare, one of them is the good it does for the community, another is that it’s usually has great food, great music and we sale a ton of Jenn’s crosses.
I remember the first time I went to SeaFare. It was during my first marriage. I entered my girls in the “Kids Fishing Tournament.” Neither of them were big fishermen….er…girls, but they thought it would be fun. Beth my oldest was paired with me (as bait person) and Britt, my youngest was with my brother. It started off pretty normal until I noticed a pattern. The moment the bait went into the water the fish (piggy perch) would be on the bait in seconds. I had them put the bait in and count 5 seconds and pull up. Almost every time a fish would be on or the bait would be gone. We worked the pattern for the allotted hour. At the end, Beth had won with the most caught, and Britt had won with the largest fish. I was hooked (pun intended) ever since. The girls both went back to defend their trophies and Britt did win the most caught that year.
Back to my original story, if I had to be honest about it the thing I love the most about it is the “mad cast of characters” that are there. I am a people watcher, and SeaFare is people watcher’s wet dream. I have been a people watcher from a very early age. My family used to sale Bromeliads back in the 70’s at several fairs and trade shows. I always watched how people dressed and the way they carried themselves. Over the years I have seen lots of crazy people in these fairs, but Rockport seems to attract more than its fair share of “interesting people”. Here is just a short list of who I met this weekend in no particular order.

Guy from Stockdale

There was this guy who had been drinking some. He introduced himself as the President of the Chamber of Commerce from Stockdale Texas. He said that he wanted us to come up and be a vender at his show because we looked like good people. He was going to get some great live music and that would bring in the people to buy our wares. He said that his girlfriend is indirectly related to Willie Nelson and he planned to have Willie over with all his “friends” to provide a weekend worth of good live music. I was thinking this guy is nuts or gosh it would be great to see Willie again.

Floral Shrimper Boots

You see all kinds of people at these events. Clothing is always an interesting thing to watch for. I have seen some scantily clad females with little on because of unbearable heat of Texas. I have seen some scantily clad males. I should stop and tell this story. My dad and I were working the Westeimer Art Festival back in the 80’s. It’s a pretty well known show and located in the gay and lesbian area of town. Anyway, we watched this guy dressed only in very skimpy underwear cruise up and down the sidewalk on roller skates while his friends shot at him with water guns the result of which was my first official wet t-shirt contest (I was not impressed). So this brings me to this past weekend, there was this lady, whom I’m assuming thought that she was making a fashion statement. She (40-something) was wearing a floral dress that was very short (very 30-something) and hand painted (floral) shrimper boats (mid-calf rubber boots). Now don’t get me wrong, rubber boots would have been a very good idea with the all the rain we had, but with a floral dress it seemed a bit odd, definitely not “Prada”. But the hand painted floral design on them did little to distract you.

Crazy cross lady.

There was this lady that came up to talk to Jennifer. Jenn only said “hi” but this lady just started in on a rant about how her neighbors had knocked down the cross she put up in her yard (made with sticks and twine). She went on for what seemed like hours, saying that they were devil worshipers because they have an upside down pentagram. She thought that if she bought one of Jenn’s crosses maybe they wouldn’t pull it down. After repeating this mantra numerous times, she just turned and left without buying anything. I was thinking maybe the voices told her to move on. I know my voices were saying that it was time for her to leave.

Photographer/serial killer

During the show a guy came up with a very large camera. He was snapping pictures of everything. He was taking pictures of our booth, of people in the crowd. He came up to talk to Jenn and he announced that he was the photographer for the local art center (no card or identification). He continued to snap shots of Jenn with her crosses and then just turned and left. She looks over at me and just shrugged my shoulders and told her that he was probably just a serial killer and not to worry.

Friendly fry cook

There was this lady who was working at one of the food booths. She must have come over to our booth about 20 times over the three day event. She did buy a couple of crosses but she spent most of her free time talking with us. She gave Jenn about 15 hugs while I lay cowering in the corner afraid of the Big Bertha Boglionne.

Half-shirt girl

Another clothing issue this weekend was a very young female, probably 16-17 you know how hard it is to tell these days, she was wearing a very thin silk type blouse that was backless and tied in the back. The temperature was in the upper 60’s and rainy. Now, I was in 2 layers of clothes and wishing I had brought my jacket with me, and here she was carrying a jacket (that she probably wore to sneak out of the house dressed like that) and prancing around half-clothed.

Karma crosses

This lady came up to our booth in the middle of a torrential downpour. I made a wisecrack that we sold “Karma crosses” and if she purchased one the rain would stop. She was looking around and picked one up. The rain slowed and I pointed out that just by picking one up her “Karma” had kicked in. She eventually bought one and of course the rain had all but stopped. She spent the next several minutes talking and the whole time was straightening my wife’s collar, arranging her necklace, and picking things off of her jacket. I kept thinking that her “Karma” was going to run out by the time she finally left, it didn’t.  

3% red hair in 10 years

A lady came up to our booth with a cute little boy with light red hair. Jenn made a comment that she loved his hair color. This lady started quoting some report that she had heard about that said that currently only about 6% of people in the world have red hair and that this was going to go down to about 3% in 5 years and in 10 years there would be no red haired children born. I was contemplating this when I overheard her say that her husband had bright red hair like a clown. I was almost laughing out loud when I heard this. I was thinking to myself that its no wonder that there are going to be no more red haired children, I mean who would want to have sex with a clown. That’s just too weird.

So all and all it was a very entertaining weekend. I think that the economy, as well as, the wet and cold weather contributed to the clumping of this “mad cast of characters.” Most people with any kind of sense at all were at home watching a good movie and sipping hot chocolate with their family. But it made for great people watching so I’m not really going to complain too much. Hell, I can hardly wait for next year!

Yet Another Biblical Character

Alright, so I met the Virgin Mary the other day. She was an amazing woman, although the priest that she was assaulting might not think so. I’m sure that he forgave her, because that’s what priest do. But someone called the police because even the Virgin Mary doesn’t get a pass when she assaults someone. I’m not sure what the argument was over but it ended with Mary being brought to the Psych triage for assessment. Some might be intimidated by assessing the Virgin Mary, but I’ve grown accustomed to assessing important high level people. I’ve assessed several FBI agents, countless CIA operatives, several from outer space, dozens of musicians, and endless so called celebrities, one Pope and the antichrist.

I received a guy who thought that he was popular Tejano singer. He came in with 3 pagers, 4 cell phones, telling me that he could not stay over night because he had a gig the next day and that he needed to get to. He promised if I could get him discharged he would come back the next weekend and do a performance in the ER parking lot for all of us for free. I told him that could not happen. He said that his gig was for then Governor Bush who was running for president. He wanted to make a call to the Secret Service so that maybe they could get him out. I encouraged him not to from my history with that agency, they tend to overplay anything to do with the people they are in charge of protecting. Of course he called them and they called me asking if he presented a danger to the Governor. I admitted that he seemed harmless to me, just delusional that he was set to perform for Governor Bush. They let him off with just a warning not to call them again.

Such is the life in psych. You meet all kinds of wonderful people. I’m not complaining it’s what makes my job interesting. Of course I’d much rather meet these people for real instead of some psychotic delusion. Although, I would probably be more intimidated by them in real life, I mean who would not be nervous in front of the Pope or Jesus’s Mom. These “celebrities” are pretty infrequent; we get mainly your normal everyday “Joes”

Let me give a rundown of some of the “regular Joes” we get. There are the ones that arrive before the rain or cold fronts come in. They have been suicidal for months but have picked this very advantageous day to come in seeking shelter….er……safety from themselves. We have the distraught loved one, who has been left by his or her boyfriend or girlfriend, for someone else. They have consumed alcoholic beverages and taken 5 Tylenol tablets (I took almost that much just to feel like coming to work) because they don’t want to live anymore. Now the moment that their ex does not appear concerned, and they begin to feel nauseous, they call 911 for help. Do you remember when your Mother told you not to “cross your eyes” because they can stick like that? It’s a good that “rolling your eyes” is not in that same category because mine would have been spinning for years by now.

Now don’t get me wrong, we do occasionally get a “real” patient, someone who is really mentally ill. But they are not the norm, but the exception, which is what makes my job hard, weeding out the poor drabble that are seeking shelter from the storms of life or the truly ill patient that needs help. More and more these days you find Doctors that think along the lines that you do and refer these hapless patients out, while still admitting the helpless ones. I had a Doctor that I worked with once before that would not admit Borderline Personality Disorder patients. He contention was that they are better treated in the out-patient setting and seem to just get worse while in-patient. I remember a Borderline patient that knew that the Doctor would be arriving soon through the double doors and placed herself prostrate in front of the doors having what I would call a pseudo-seizure. When the Doctor arrived, he calmly stepped over the patient without saying a word. He went straight to her chart and wrote an order for discharge, without even talking to her once. I had another Doctor when they found out that this patient was seeking shelter by stating that they were having thoughts of jumping off a bridge, ordered the patient discharge and make a comment to provide them with a Mapquest to the bridge. Now we are not so heartless to encourage a patient to jump off a bridge but with the lack of beds these days, there is a mindset that we keep beds open for those that need them. There are shelters where these homeless “want to be” patients can go for shelter.

We get several families that want to admit their loved one for drug and alcohol treatment against their will. Of course this is not allowed in Texas, except in cases where the patient has caused bodily harm as in a drunken driving accident, but this is by a judges ruling only. When we try to explain this to the families they become angry and say that we just don’t want to help them. Sometimes they get mental health warrants by lying to the judge and telling them that their loved one is suicidal when they are not, and are just seeking help for their addiction. They are places for them to go to seek treatment, not in a psychiatric facility.

So here I sit, guarding the doorway to the psych units. One hand on my pen, the other on the Mapquest button, unfortunately both require time and effort on my part. It’s a never dull, unending post that I sit at, with the fate of everyone that enters in the balance. But if done right, and we always do the right thing, we leave with no one hurt, and I can sleep nights knowing that we’ve helped the ones that need it and sent the ones out that don’t.

From Dreams to Lullaby

I started today off perusing the internet for a topic to discuss. It’s a slow day at work. I had originally wanted to discuss dreams as I had a reoccurring dream last night. Somehow I ended up reading about the origin of lullabies. Let me take you on that journey.

Several nights ago I was dreaming. In that dream I was driving down a road, I think it was to the beach. I came to a fork in the road and of course I took “the road less traveled”. I got several miles down the road and realized I had taken the wrong road. I reversed course and finding myself back at the fork I took the correct road. I ended up at the right spot on the beach and set up a camp. Why I was going to the beach is not known, but I am content to be there. While I am there I start thinking that I have been here before. It looks familiar and I realize that I have dreamed this before. This is all while I am dreaming. The very next night I am having the same dream. Again, I come to the same fork in the road, and take the less traveled one. I don’t get as far this time before I return to the right road. This time while I am resting at the beach I remember that I was dreaming this before and that I had made the exact same error again. While I was contemplating this in my dream, I made a mental note to blog about this the next day.

So here I am this morning on internet researching dreams and their origins when I run across “Dream Content” and find; Emotions, Sexual Themes, Recurring Dreams, Common Themes, and Color vs. Black and White. Now my focus should have been “recurring dreams” but I somehow couldn’t stay focused. (Must be because my wife has been away at work for a few days) While I found out that “negative emotions are more common than positive ones, “65% of males have recurring dreams”, and common themes are; falling, being chased, losing something, and embarrassing moments like finding yourself naked, going to the toilet, or losing your car. Did you know that recent research indicates that more people are dreaming in color since the advent of color TV and media, as opposed to black and white?

Anyway, so I can’t find anything that explains why I keep having the same dream. I am looking in the references section and found “Lilith” a 6000 year old Sumerian dream demon (succubus). That peeked my interest so I looked that up. There are many legends of Lilith, one turns out to be, that Adam, of Adam and Eve fame, may have had a first wife by the name of Lilith. It seems that Lilith was “formed of clay” like Adam but refused to be subservient to him, so she “flew away”. The angels found her and told her that if she didn’t return to Adam that “one hundred of her babies a day will die” and she still refused. There is actually some debate over whether Lilith was an actual wife or just a legend. (500 BC. urban legend) Another variation has Adam and Eve squabbling about Eve’s behavior in the Garden of Eden. While they are “on a break”, a demon called a Lilith, seduces Adam and becomes pregnant.

It seems as though the legend may could come from an Assyrian folklore. The Assyrians had three categories of female demons, Lilit, Lilu,and Ardat Lilit. Hundreds of years later there are writings that reference Lilith by name instead of a category. These writings describe her as irresistibly seductive she-demon who seduces unwary men, then savagely kills the babies that she bears for them. In ancient times superstitious Jews would hang amulets on the walls of rooms with newborn babies with the inscription “Lilith – abi” (Lilith begone!) to protect them from Lilith. Many believe this is where we get the lullaby

So there we have it, from a dream about driving to the beach, you get a meandering internet version of “Six degrees of Separation from Lilith”.

Erin Andrew’s “Perphole Paparazzi” Arrested Friday

Michael David Barrett, 47, of Westmont, Ill., was arrested Friday in Chicago for allegedly attempting to sell nude videos of Erin Andrews. Mr. Barrett shot the videos with his cell phone while staying at the Marriott Nashville at Vanderbilt University in an adjacent room, a room that he apparently requested and got from the hotel management.  According to an AP report, the peephole had been altered by a hacksaw so that a cell phone camera could be used.

According to Rick Beuke, Mr. Peephole’s lawyer, several friends (30) have asked if there is anything they can do to help, citing that they have never seen this side of him.

“He’s as regular a guy as you’ll ever meet — a great friend,” Beuke added.

According to an article from the Chicago Tribune, Mr. Peephole lived in a quiet gated community with another woman. They had put the house up for sale recently. No one could be found for further comment. His neighbors seemed surprised, describing him as a “quiet man”; does that mean he’s a serial killer too? Because we all know that quiet men who live in gated communities are all serial killers.

So I’m sitting here reading this article and I’m thinking, “regular guy”, I’m a regular guy and I have never stalked a famous person, acquired an adjacent hotel room, hack sawed their door peephole so that I can illegally video tape them naked in order to sale said video to countless magazines and news agencies. OK, maybe I have thought about it, but to actually do it is another thing. (I actually have never thought about it, for the record, looking around for the FBI)

Is this the economy coming back to bite us yet again? Can we somehow blame this on President Obama or al Qaeda? Surely you don’t think that this is just a random guy who decided one Friday afternoon that while he was in town selling insurance that he would also video tape a sports reporter and augment his income a little with it. Well, maybe on a Saturday evening after a few “brewskies” at Hooters, but not a Friday afternoon.

Now Ms. Andrews has been making the “talk show” rounds talking about her story. (Can’t wait for her show with David Letterman) On “The Oprah Winfrey Show” last month (her alleged first and last interview on the topic), she said that she thought her career was over after the nude videos were released. (I think not, of course I haven’t seen them, maybe she’s horribly disfigured or sporting a “dingus” under all those clothes we see her wearing on ESPN) I don’t know, but I think all of this “negative” publicity she’s getting has increased the hits to her website. I don’t think that Playboy is going to make her turn in her crown for “America’s Sexiest Sportscaster” of 2007 and 2008. I tried in vain to find “a less than beautiful photo of her on the internet. (A difficult feat I might add)

Now I’m not trying to make light of Erin’s situation. I can only imagine the world disorder that would happen if my naked video would happen to come out. But seriously, I think she’ll be fine. I would assume that this can only heighten her chance of “three-peating” for Sexiest Sportscaster in 2009. This would, of course, potentially put her in line to become the “dynasty” for the first century of the new millennium.

The guy, whose name by the way is Michael David Barrett, will get his day in court. I’m sure in prison, after “high fiving” the majority of his fellow “orange clad buddies”, he will no doubt get a nice “book deal” and be able to retire peacefully on the coast of somewhere hot.

Kelsey Briggs – Do You Know Someone Like Her, or Are You Just Indifferent?

First and foremost, I have to apologize for not posting in the past few days. I have been under the weather. We have the Swine Flu going around. Oh, don’t worry, I don’t have it but it did feel like a “Pig Cold” for the first few days. Enough fun, back to my topic.

“Love me or hate me, but spare me your indifference” Libbie Fudim

For those of you that don’t know Kelsey Briggs I want you to take the time to watch this video first. I’ll wait while you check this out; it’s worth your time.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uWow42TCwzg

Now we live in a world where information is “King.” Anything that you want to know or learn about is all but at your fingertips. If you want to know the capital of New Zealand (Wellington) you just hit your favorite search engine and ride it to the answer. So riddle me this Batman, how can we not know that this child, this angel amongst us was being abused? Without knowing much of the case, just following the timeline of abuse would point to the boyfriend and Mother. I’m not a detective, but I play one on TV.

“There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice, but there must never be a time when we fail to protest.” Elie Wiesel

Who do we blame? Do we blame the ones that are in prison? The Mother got 27 years for allowing the abuse to happen. The Step-Father got 30 years for his crime. But I guess my point is could this, or should this have been prevented somewhere down the line so that this child could still be here with her Father. (Who, by the way, was off fighting for our country) Does the court system or Department of Human Services have any blood on their hands? I don’t want to blame anybody; I simply want this to stop with her death. I know that this is a small blog and I only have a few readers, but I don’t think it’s too much to ask for. OK, so here’s what I think. I happen to know a few people who work for the Department of Human Services; one of them is my daughter. I know for a fact that they are over-worked and over burdened by the lack of funds and lack of caseworkers and no apparent lack of cases. We know of hundreds of cases where this lack of workers have led to missed abuses and later resulted in the deaths of innocent children. So if we know there are shortages there, let’s increase those budgets. We can cut back on a few crates of guns or another plane of wheat going to some country that we want to “stabilize”, and spend it here at home. Let’s take things to their simplest form. Let’s quit trying to over think things. There are thousands of these types of tributes on YouTube. This is not a small problem, but it can be solved.

“I swore never to be silent whenever and wherever human beings endure suffering and humiliation. We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.” Elie Wiesel

Obviously, in this case the legal system did not protect the welfare of this child. They, in a sense, sentenced her to death. I know that sounds harsh, but I can’t think of another way to put it. There had been abuse when Kelsey was in the custody of her Mother and Step-Father and now the court in all their wisdom is placing the child back with them. They cited that the abuser was yet unknown. Yet unknown? This is where the legal system in all it’s glory lets us down, let that Father down, and let that child down. It’s is designed to protect us. I understand the “innocent until proven guilty” part. I can see where there needs to be proof that the Mother and Step-Father are the abuser, but then again, we are talking about child that could not tell us her story. That is until her death. Now her story is told and it is up to us to make it stop.

“The superior man is the providence of the inferior. He is eyes for the blind, strength for the weak, and a shield for the defenseless. He stands erect by bending above the fallen. He rises by lifting others.” Robert Green Ingersoll.

As much as we would like to think that “this doesn’t happen to you.” It does. Your neighbor could be an abuser. Your boss or co-worker at work could be an abuser. You could be an abuser. I could be an abuser. The important person in this picture is the one who notices the abuse. It’s you! If you know or suspect abuse it’s up to you to report it. Even if your not sure, even if you may embarrass the party in question. That minor embarrassment is nothing compared to the guilt of not doing anything. This problem has been overlooked too long. The time is right now. If you know anybody who may have someone abusing them, contact the authorities. Then contact your congressman and let him know how you feel about child abuse. It will take no longer than the time you took watching the video. And for those of you that didn’t watch the video, I lost you at the first paragraph and if you can’t take the time to watch that, then you won’t help anyway.

“The opposite of love is not hate, its indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, its indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, its indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, its indifference.” Elie Wiesel

One Month Anniversary of My Blog

Just a look back.

I just wanted to take a minute and look back at my first month as a blogger. I re-read my posts and of course was pretty critical of some of the stuff that I had written. It’s not that I didn’t have something to say, just that I didn’t convey the right message always. I noticed that my grammar wasn’t always the best and some spelling errors were noticed. OK, so I made a few boo boos. I’m not going to kick myself too much, just make notice and a mental note to try and improve. I want to remain informative but mainly entertaining.

Topical – not just what’s on the surface.

I have been hearing and reading that some bloggers are out raged by the California Angels, who after clinching the division celebrated by dousing themselves in beer and champagne. In honor of their fallen teammate, Nick Adenhart who was killed by an alleged drunk driver had his team jersey also doused with champagne as well in a tribute to show that he is still a part of this team and its celebration. Here’s my point, now in my look back at my past month of blogging I had a few days that I wasn’t inspired to write and maybe just mailed one in or had a less than meaningful topic. I think that maybe these bloggers, in their search for bloggable topics, are making stink out of what most would feel is an honorable tribute to a fallen comrade.

Don’t make your blog an advertisement for something.

If you’re selling something, buy a space in a newspaper, or rent a billboard, please don’t disguise your advertisement as a blog. You make it harder for us real bloggers to get readership. Be entertaining, informative, not a salesman. It’s wrong, it’s impolite, and it’s just whack!

Thank you.

I just want to thank those that have been following my blog this past month. I have already made it over the 3000 hit mark for the first 30 days. That’s incredible 100 hits a day average, no mater which math you use. I have no idea if that’s a big number or whether I’m standing here holding the smallest readership in the world of blogging, but I do thank you for the patronage and support. I will always attempt to keep you entertained and laughing.

That Guy Needs a Shot? More Ramblings of a Psych Nurse

Why is it always the big ones?

If you’ve ever worked in a psych unit, from time to time there is a patient that becomes unmanageable and requires some medication to calm down. In my long career there have been many. Most are forgettable, but some you never forget.

I was working a day shift at a state facility and my shift was over, but I had admitted one of the biggest guys I’ve ever come across. He was around 6’8” and somewhere in the neighborhood of 300lbs. His father had been a professional football player and I’m sure this guy had played some college somewhere. He was psychotic as hell, but manageable during the admission. The fear in the oncoming shift was palpable.

Come as you are.

I had just gotten home and was eating dinner when I get a call from the hospital. The “Big Guy” was going off and needed some medication. They were asking me to come back and assist in giving him something to calm him. I told them I would be there in 10 minutes because I needed to change. They told me to come as I was because it couldn’t wait. When I arrived I was met in the lobby with the other instructor of PMAB (Prevention and Management of Aggressive Behavior). We took inventory of who we had to help in the take-down if it came to that. There were 4 guys and a janitor. Two of us were pretty big guys, but the other two were older and the janitor was about 100lbs soaking wet and was already shaking in his boots.

We entered the unit to find the “Big Guy” pacing the hallway. He was wearing only a pair of boxers, (as a do-rag on his head). He had a cigarette in his mouth and was screaming to have a smoke break. It was around 2300 (11pm) and the next smoke break was not until 7am. The staff was all locked tight in the nursing station and the patients were all in their rooms with their doors shut tight too, occasionally one would peek their heads out. We headed to the nursing station to re-group and finalize our plan. They were talking to the Doctor and I mentioned that this guy might need a larger dose than most. The Doctor ordered Haldol 10mg and Ativan 4mg. (twice the normal dose) This guy was so big that normal take procedures were out the door. We assigned one person per limb. Each of us knew that we would have to hold on for dear life because if one of the limbs got loose someone was going to get hurt.

First in battle, first to the ER.

We stepped into the hallway, because I had admitted him, I would be the “front man”. I asked why he was upset. He told me that he wanted to go smoke. I told him that as much as I would like to let him, the next smoke break was not until morning. I promised that he would be the first one out but that he would have to go to his room now. He went off screaming and paced down the hallway. We decided to take him down on his next lap. The two of us that had some size were to take the arms and the older guys would work on getting the legs pinned together. The janitor, if he hadn’t wet his pants by now would help out if anything got loose. The moment came and I gave the signal. We quickly got his arms and pushed him against the wall, his legs were together and we went to the ground hard. The older guy was stuck under him but had his legs pinned and we had his arms. It took everything we had to hold him there. He was faced up with the older guy underneath, and the two of us holding arms that were as big as most guys legs. The nurse approached and gave him a shot. We figured that we would stay here for about 20 minutes to let the medication take effect and then move him to his room or the seclusion room. Our 20 came and went and this guy would not let up. We waited about 15 more minutes without any relief and the Doctor was called again. He said to give the double dose again and he was on his way to the Hospital. The second dose was given and we waited. In about 20 minutes the guy was calmer and I asked if he would go to his room. He agreed and off we went.

Father knows best.

He sat down on his bed, still sporting only the “do-rag” boxers. I talked with him and promised that if he could maintain that I would personally take him for his smoke break in the morning. He agreed and we eventually left. The next morning I arrived on the unit. When it was time to go smoke I went to his room and he was still sitting on his bed as I had left him. Now, that amount of medication should have knocked him out for a day, but he didn’t appear too phased by it. We went to smoke and then were off to breakfast. On the way there, we met his father, who had been called during the night as a protocol. He was even bigger than his son and asked to have a private talk with his son. We ushered them into a conference room and he immediately went to a tirade. He told his son that he beat the crap out of him if he gave us any trouble again. (There were a few more cuss words than I care to write, so I am paraphrasing) When they came out the father thanked me and left. The patient never said a word.

On the job training.

We had that patient for about 3 weeks and from that morning on he was calm, in control, and would say, “Yes sir, no sir, please and thank you”. He never gave us any trouble. Actually, he was a big help. We had a transfer of an aggressive patient to our unit. One day that guy was going off and tearing up the place. He was a pretty big dude too. When he got into the day room with everyone watching TV, he picked up a chair and threw it at the window. As he moved towards the TV to do the same thing, “Big Guy” grabbed him by the shirt and pinned him against the wall. We went up to get the guy from him and he told us he had him so we could get everyone else out of the room. “Big Guy” was already learning our protocols. He held him there until we could get meds and clear the room. I told him if he needed a job or a reference I would be glad to help him out.

While we always try everything to keep from taking someone down or forcing them to have take meds, there are times when you have to make that call. I never take it lightly. I’d rather talk for an hour if it’s going to keep someone from hurting themselves or someone else, but then there are times when talking is out the door and force becomes your only option. I have thought many times about that night. “Big Guy” could have easily flicked up off like ragdolls, but he didn’t. No one was hurt and he got the meds that he surely needed. Another crisis averted!

19 lb Baby Born – Are You Freakin’ Kidding Me?

Yes, it’s true; I didn’t read this while I was checking out at the grocery store. A lady in Indonesia gave birth to a 19 lb. baby boy. The child is named “Great” which is probably what his mother said when her doctor told her she would be having a cesarean. The mother says that she is not able to keep up with the feeding because the “Great” is nursing almost constantly. Maybe they should call Sheyla Hershey, with her world record 38KKK breasts; she could provide a little “special K” or “KKK”.

Also this week, a pregnant woman in Arkansas was told by her doctor that 2 ½ weeks after finding out they were pregnant, that she has conceived again. Both babies have different due dates. Now I’m not sure if fertility drugs were involved, but if not, she’s like a coke machine, (you put your money in and your getting a coke) unless something gets wedged in there or something. That might be what happen with “Great”. He might have been hangin’ out in there snacking until something jarred him loose.

Is there something in the water? Is this the sign of the “end of days?” There were the twins, one with black hair and brown eyes while the other is blonde and blue eyes. What about the 70 yo woman that gave birth to twins? The big one is the lady that had fraternal twins who are actually half brothers because each was conceived by different fathers.

What ever happened to one mother, one father, and one baby? Is that too much to ask for these days? I had both of my girls the conventional way. They are what some people call “Irish twins” because they were born 11 months apart, but they don’t have brothers their age. Nor were they a freshman in high school when they were born. I can honestly say there were no surprises, just two wonderful babies.

So how ‘bout we step away from the fertility drugs. Let’s not have anymore elderly getting the Aricept mixed up with the granddaughter’s fertility meds. We live in a world where we have more children than we can care for now. The money that they are spending to get pregnant could feed a large community in Somalia or Ethiopia.

Dixieland – And Why You Don’t Want to be a Tuba Player

The Dirty Half-Dozen.

When I was in college, I had the wonderful opportunity to play in a Dixieland band. It was used as a recruitment tool for the college and we played many gigs throughout the school term in hopes of enticing graduating seniors to our wonderful school. We were a ragtag group of students and professors brought together to form this pretty tight knit group. I originally played trumpet in High School band but I had been called on to play other instruments from time to time. Since the Dixieland band already had a wonderful cornet player, I was handed drum sticks. Now I had played percussion before, mainly timpani and tom toms, but I quickly learned the basics of the “trap set”, and besides, chicks love drummers!

With “Mike” the EMS guy on drums.

We hit all the high schools, and churches, occasionally we would play neighborhood parties. We had a set uniform that we would wear for the recruitment gigs, but on the occasions of neighborhood gigs we were told we could wear anything. Now Chuck, my nickname for the band director (a term of endearment), should have known that some of us would take that as a challenge. One of the band members, Mark and I, went on a search at the local Salvation Army stores for our desired attire. I don’t exactly remember what he wore but my choice was an EMS shirt with the name “Mike” and a blue sparkly tie. I also occasionally wore a Hawaiian shirt, go figure. Our attire went over fairly well, and provided many laughs and smirks.

Ghost story pranks.

With the long and grueling schedule we had, sometimes playing three gigs a day, we sometimes needed to relieve some stress. This stress relief usually came at the expense of the tuba player. Now I can’t tell you why it was always the tuba player except the two we had the years that I played, were just too easy of a mark to turn down. The first one was named “Wayne”. Wayne was a very nervous, chain smoking guy, but an excellent tuba player. He would scar easily so we used to tell him ghost stories. He loved them, but he couldn’t sleep at nights after hearing a few. This, of course, would make him more nervous and jumpy the next day. One night, after telling him a story about a woman whose child had been taken by Indians leaving her to constantly search for the missing child, we got a few coffee cans with two holes them. We rigged flashlights in them for “glowing eyes”, and went to his window. We scratch and scratched until he open the curtain and all we could hear (over our laughter) as we ran away was the “girlish” screams of Wayne. The ride to our next gig the following morning was, shall I say, very quiet.

HEB – Not just for groceries anymore.

The other tuba player (whose name escapes me, but I will call him HEB, because he told us about 10,000 times that HEB, of the grocery store chain fame, stood for Herbert Eugene Butts) fell prank to our “heated pool” trick. After a long hard tour, we were treated to a fun filled week of rest and relaxation at the band director’s 40,000 acre family ranch in west Texas. It was along the Frio River. Now, for those of you that don’t speak Spanish, Frio means “cold”, and I mean COLD! The main house had a swimming pool, which was fine and dandy, but it used the sparkling cold water of the Rio Frio as its source. We all knew that from previous trips but HEB didn’t. We set this guy up with the “traditional” first morning swim before breakfast. We all got up that first morning there and put on our bathing suits and headed for the pool. We honored HEB with letting him have the first jump off the diving board. (The poor guy was honored alright) Of course we had no intentions of going swimming that early, we were going to wait at least until afternoon when it was warmed a little by the hot Texas sun. But he fell for it and jumped off into the frigid cold water. Now, most of you have seen cartoons where the character finds out the water’s cold and ends up tiptoeing across to get out. HEB did a pretty good imitation of that amongst the whooping and screaming he did with the little air that the cold water would allow into his lungs. I certainly miss those carefree days before we all went off to find careers, but it’s nice to go back and remember them and laugh.