Scene One: Troublesome Patient has just purposely spilled oatmeal all over herself.
Tech: “What the heck are you DOING!?”
Troublesome Patient: “Making myself warm.”
Tech: “Come on, take off your sweater so we can wash it.”
Troublesome Patient: “Like this?” *starts to remove sweater in a seductive fashion*
Tech: “NO! No, no—NOT like that!”
—
Scene Two: I’m doing rounds; Troublesome Patient approaches.
Troublesome Patient: “Are you a recovered alcoholic?”
Me: “No.”
Troublesome Patient: *advances* “I’m going to kick your ass up and down this hallway!”
Dangerous Patient (on 1:1 arms for violence): *very angrily to Troublesome Patient* “HEY. DON’T YOU DARE TALK TO THE LADY LIKE THAT, BITCH.”
Me:“Oh look at the time… I think I’m needed at the nurse’s station.” *skitters away*
—
Scene Three: Troublesome Patient is causing a ruckus in the dayroom and touching other patients.
Me: “Hey, [patient’s name], please stop touching the other patients.”
Troublesome Patient: *loudly* “Huh? I’m sorry, no comprendo—I’m sort of Spanish-y. I don’t speak your weird white people language.”
Note: This blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman is as white as can be.
Me: *trying to suppress my laughter* “Oh. Okay.”
Troublesome Patient: “You’re strikingly beautiful in an odd way.”
Me: “Thanks.”
—
Scene Four: Troublesome Patient is screaming at the top of her lungs in the hallway. She is surrounded by several big, burly techs, and a nurse with a syringe.
Troublesome Patient: “THIS IS BULLSHIT! THIS IS BULLSHIT! THIS IS BULLSHIT!”
Staff: *hustles Troublesome Patient off to seclusion*
Patient on 1:1 arms with me: “Why am I on 1:1 arms and SHE’S not?”
Me: “Good question.”
—
Scene Five: Troublesome Patient passes another patient in the hallway and suddenly shoves a big wad of wet paper towels down the front of his gown. He freezes, perplexed.
Me: “Hey! What was that!? That is NOT appropriate!”
Troublesome Patient: *indignantly* “Excuse me, that is my son. He’s one of the neighborhood boys. This is none of your business.”
Me: “He’s older than you! How can he be your son?”
Troublesome Patient: “This doesn’t concern you. I don’t even like you. If it bothers you so much, I’ll fix it.” *pulls wad of paper towels out of perplexed patient’s gown* “I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal out of this when he’s my son.”
Me: “If he’s your son, why are you treating him like a garbage can???”
—
Scene Six: Troublesome Patient takes a sleeping patient’s sweatshirt off of him.
Me: “Hey, don’t touch his stuff. Please put that back.”
Troublesome Patient: “He’s my SON. He’s one of the neighborhood boys and I’m just covering him up with his blanket, the way he likes it.”
Me: “That’s very nice of you, but you are not allowed to touch other patients’ belongings, okay? Come into the dayroom with me.”
Troublesome Patient: “What? Fuck you, I don’t have to go anywhere with you. Stop staring at me; lower your eyes, you child. You’re a little punk-ass bitch.”
Me: *sternly* “Do NOT talk to me like that.”
Troublesome Patient: *cowering* “I’m sorry—I’m sorry—I’ll stop, okay? I’m stopping. I stopped.”
Nearby Chaplain: *to me* “You okay?”
Me: “I’ve never been more assertive in my entire life.”
Nearby Chaplain: “Good for you!”
