with these two." She gestured at the
two remaining patients.
Alex
left the community room and walked into the central nursing station, behind a
door and glass windows, where she felt much safer. She was relieved to see
the patients playing board games and watching the soaps on TV. She wondered to
herself how therapeutic watching soap operas could be, but figured it was
better than beating up on each other and the staff. She decided to keep her mouth
shut about what she thought was therapeutic. She turned and saw Dr. Desmonde
in the medication room and followed her. She watched as Monique selected a 3
mL syringe from the locked cabinet, snapped the top off an ampule of Haldol and
deftly filled the syringe. Monique continued to draw up Ativan for
anti-anxiety and Cogentin to combat the side effects of the Haldol.
"Alex,
come go with me," Monique intoned as she nodded towards the hall.
Alex
and Monique walked deliberately down the hall to the quiet room, where they
found Donna and Jim talking quietly. Jim had been crying. As they entered the
quiet room, he was saying, "Donna, I don't know what gets into me. These
tempers just come. I don't know what to do. I need help. I'm scared. I
never know what I'll do next." Jim was so upset, he began to sob, his
voice coming out in great gulps.
Donna
patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Jim, we're gonna try to help you. We
care about you here in the Pavilion, don't we, Dr. Desmonde?" Donna's
acknowledgment of the physician's presence drew Jim's attention to Monique.
He
looked at Dr. Desmonde sadly and said, "Sorry, Doc. I just need more
help. I don't know what's happened to me. Is there something else you can do
to help me? A new pill or something?" Jim's voice was desperate.
"I
know, Jim. I know you don't understand your outbursts and, yes, we will
continue to help you." Dr. Desmonde looked sad as well. "We'll keep
working on it. We've made some headway. I've made you a shot that'll help you
rest. Where do you want it?"
"Can
I have it in my left arm? Last time it was in my right." Jim pointed
towards his left deltoid muscle.
"Well,"
Monique hesitated, "this needle's a little long. How much muscle do you
have in that arm?"
"Doc,
I got muscle. I just don't have no brains!" Jim smiled for the first
time. Alex was surprised at how handsome he was. He had a beautiful smile,
dark hair, and perfect, brilliant white teeth. She guessed he was in his
mid-thirties. He looked to be of Irish descent. The Black Irish , Alex
wondered to herself, acknowledging her knowledge of Jim's bad temper. How
very sad if he is really one of them.
Dr.
Desmonde returned his smile as she injected the needle and said, "You've
got plenty of brains, Jim. They're just a little scrambled right now. We'll
get them fixed!"
"Thanks,
Doc, Donna, and Alex. I'm pretty tired now. I guess I'll sleep awhile. See
you soon." Jim turned over in the bed of the quiet room.
Alex
was impressed that Jim had remembered her name and said so to Monique and Donna
on the way down the hall. Donna said, "Jim's very bright. I'm not
surprised at all. I like him. He wants to get better and I want to help
him." Donna's voice was concerned, her interest in helping the patient
obvious.
Dr.
Desmonde looked narrowly at Donna. "Don't let personal feelings get in
the way of professional judgment, Donna. Jim's very ill, psychotic. Don't
set Jim and yourself up for disappointment. Don't get too involved in this
case." Monique's voice was sharp and a little accusatory.
Donna's
face turned red and she replied hotly, "I'm hope you're not suggesting I
have feelings for Jim that are other than professional! There are no boundary
issues here for you to be concerned with." Her voice was cold and
defensive. "It's just that most of our patients are chronic and we never
really help them. Besides, most of 'em don't want
two remaining patients.
Alex
left the community room and walked into the central nursing station, behind a
door and glass windows, where she felt much safer. She was relieved to see
the patients playing board games and watching the soaps on TV. She wondered to
herself how therapeutic watching soap operas could be, but figured it was
better than beating up on each other and the staff. She decided to keep her mouth
shut about what she thought was therapeutic. She turned and saw Dr. Desmonde
in the medication room and followed her. She watched as Monique selected a 3
mL syringe from the locked cabinet, snapped the top off an ampule of Haldol and
deftly filled the syringe. Monique continued to draw up Ativan for
anti-anxiety and Cogentin to combat the side effects of the Haldol.
"Alex,
come go with me," Monique intoned as she nodded towards the hall.
Alex
and Monique walked deliberately down the hall to the quiet room, where they
found Donna and Jim talking quietly. Jim had been crying. As they entered the
quiet room, he was saying, "Donna, I don't know what gets into me. These
tempers just come. I don't know what to do. I need help. I'm scared. I
never know what I'll do next." Jim was so upset, he began to sob, his
voice coming out in great gulps.
Donna
patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Jim, we're gonna try to help you. We
care about you here in the Pavilion, don't we, Dr. Desmonde?" Donna's
acknowledgment of the physician's presence drew Jim's attention to Monique.
He
looked at Dr. Desmonde sadly and said, "Sorry, Doc. I just need more
help. I don't know what's happened to me. Is there something else you can do
to help me? A new pill or something?" Jim's voice was desperate.
"I
know, Jim. I know you don't understand your outbursts and, yes, we will
continue to help you." Dr. Desmonde looked sad as well. "We'll keep
working on it. We've made some headway. I've made you a shot that'll help you
rest. Where do you want it?"
"Can
I have it in my left arm? Last time it was in my right." Jim pointed
towards his left deltoid muscle.
"Well,"
Monique hesitated, "this needle's a little long. How much muscle do you
have in that arm?"
"Doc,
I got muscle. I just don't have no brains!" Jim smiled for the first
time. Alex was surprised at how handsome he was. He had a beautiful smile,
dark hair, and perfect, brilliant white teeth. She guessed he was in his
mid-thirties. He looked to be of Irish descent. The Black Irish , Alex
wondered to herself, acknowledging her knowledge of Jim's bad temper. How
very sad if he is really one of them.
Dr.
Desmonde returned his smile as she injected the needle and said, "You've
got plenty of brains, Jim. They're just a little scrambled right now. We'll
get them fixed!"
"Thanks,
Doc, Donna, and Alex. I'm pretty tired now. I guess I'll sleep awhile. See
you soon." Jim turned over in the bed of the quiet room.
Alex
was impressed that Jim had remembered her name and said so to Monique and Donna
on the way down the hall. Donna said, "Jim's very bright. I'm not
surprised at all. I like him. He wants to get better and I want to help
him." Donna's voice was concerned, her interest in helping the patient
obvious.
Dr.
Desmonde looked narrowly at Donna. "Don't let personal feelings get in
the way of professional judgment, Donna. Jim's very ill, psychotic. Don't
set Jim and yourself up for disappointment. Don't get too involved in this
case." Monique's voice was sharp and a little accusatory.
Donna's
face turned red and she replied hotly, "I'm hope you're not suggesting I
have feelings for Jim that are other than professional! There are no boundary
issues here for you to be concerned with." Her voice was cold and
defensive. "It's just that most of our patients are chronic and we never
really help them. Besides, most of 'em don't want
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