Undeniably Me

MID-LIFE CRISIS (human male) – A psychological phase of the aging process originally theorized by Daniel J. Levinson, which provides a socially accepted rationalization (excuse) for married males between the ages of 40 and 55 to engage in adultery with women younger than their wives. The theory postulates that men are not responsible for their own behavior during this period due to the overwhelming mental distress generated by growing old. Many men experience heart attacks during this period, brought on by vigorous sexual activity with younger women or the side effects of excessive Viagra use.

DELUSION –   Anything you believe that a mental health professional personally disagrees with. Psychiatrists and psychologists operate under the premise that they are always right about everything. When a patient/client disagrees with them on any point, that patient is labeled as delusional. When two mental health professionals disagree with each other, it is a case of double delusion.

And Storm Clouds Gather

posted Wednesday, 19 September 2007

 Clocked It

Joss Nevetonn was known at the bin for his favourite phrase.  Whenever something was amiss, a stern frown would precede tapping his forehead with his index finger and uttering the words "I've clocked it!"  A very proud and staunchly patriotic man, he had never been abroad and would not eat anything other than British food.  So when he heard that a riot had broken out over the increasingly unpalatable *cook & kill meals, he decided that his daily honey sandwiches were at risk.  Wedging himself in the door of the staff room, he clocked every movement and took aim.

*Cook & Kill - the term used by residents to describe the habit of being served meals that are cooked and fast chilled, resulting in excessive gas escaping from the rectum.

If only the local community knew what was happening in here.  None of them realise the plans for this once regal place.  Most of the world outside still think of it as the bin that cares for those who can afford that little bit extra with their daily dose of tranquilisers.  The type that prefer their medicines served on a silver platter by a nurse with a nice smile, who would never dream of using anything other than a formal address when speaking to a wealthy individual.  Of course time moves on but it moves toward darker times for those of us who walk its corridors of power.  And unbeknown to those that live close by, an oppressive shadow is descending.

How many of you that stumble into this place, see it as no more than the fantastical ramblings of an over imaginative mind?  Do you believe that an organisation can behave in this way?  Is Nurse Undeniable not just a bitter and paranoid employee?  Sorry to dissapoint you but although I may use some poetic licence, everything I report is true and I dream that one day, those that rule the bin will be brought to account.

The number of attacks on staff are increasing.  We take more and more seriously dangerous people.  The hospital policy of equality and diversity is laughable.  The bin has so many nurses by the short & curlies.  It becomes increasingly secure.  Locked wards with air vestibules where keys are changed and where nurses don the new piece of clothing.  A rigid leather belt containing various bits to securely house keys.  This new item is pretty dangerous.  Whereas if a patient grabs you by the clothes there is some give, the belt enables them to hold you tight from the back or the front for that matter, whilst they pummel you with their one free hand.  I've refused to wear it.  I'm a nurse, not a prison officer for gods sake!

The newest unit is staffed with many nurses looking for British citizenship.  The hospital provides them with work permits, and because of this they stay quiet.  Daily they take abuse and beatings and for what?  For an organisation that hides behind its once good and reputable status.  The unit hasn't been open 6 months and already it has seen a riot which needed the attendance of 17 staff and a number of police officers.  The latest casualty, a pretty young nursing assistant who has not yet seen 20.  A broken nose, a black eye, cracked ribs.  And five days after the incident her ward manager calls.  Not as you might imagine, to ask her how she is and whether she needs any kind of support, but to ask her when she is going to return to work and to let her know that when she returns she'll be on the same ward with the same patient who attacked her.  And this said patient was nursed behind a screen at her last place because she was is so dangerous. We'll just call her Annabelle Lector!

In my area, the bigwigs visited and expressed their concern that there were no tablecloths, napkins and neatly laid out cutlery in the dining room.  To appease them, we were ordered to provide said items to make the place look more homely, more condusive to enjoying a meal.  Within a week a patient had seized a knife and threatened staff, before heading out into the grounds with security in hot persuit.  What planet are these people on?

And expansion continues.  And we become even more secure.  It won't be long before there is a high perameter fence.  Yet staff are not paid in line with regional secure units because it isn't a regional secure unit.  They are and will continue to be as at much, if not more at risk than those who work in regional secure units.  It won't be long before something too awful to think about happens.  It could be your wife, your daughter, your mother, your father, your son.  Will you remember reading this when the unthinkable takes place?

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ECLECTIC APPROACH –   A random, odd and generally ineffective therapeutic procedure, method or testing process utilized by a mental health professional who has forgotten everything he or she ever learned in college.

I am! yet what I am who cares, or knows?

My friends forsake me like a memory lost.

I am the self-consumer of my woes;

They rise and vanish, an oblivious host,

Shadows of life, whose very soul is lost.

And yet I am -- I live -- though I am toss'd

 

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,

Into the living sea of waking dream,

Where there is neither sense of life, nor joys,

But the huge shipwreck of my own esteem

And all that's dear. Even those I loved the best

Are strange -- nay, they are stranger than the rest.

 

I long for scenes where man has never trod--

For scenes where woman never smiled or wept--

There to abide with my Creator, God,

And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,

Full of high thoughts, unborn. So let me lie,--

The grass below; above, the vaulted sky.

 

Poem by John Clare

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