We’ve had a run on suicidal patients engaging in self-destructive behavior, lately.
First there was the man whose consumption of alcohol had in turn consumed him. He came in a shell of his former self, upset that he had no home, no job, no money, and no wife – all a result of his relationship with the bottle. He had nothing to live for but his bottle and even the bottle was starting to fail him. He truly wanted to die.
Then, just as we had whisked one suicidal person off to the psychiatry floor, another one came to take his place. A young woman with two infant children and 7 months pregnant with a third was upset because her two current children had been taken away from her by the state. She drank some alcohol, then took a “bottle” of her friend’s Wellbutrin (which later ended up being “a few pills”) in a suicide attempt. She also had plenty of drug paraphernalia in her purse. The track marks on her right arm showed that she was a lefty and the insulin syringes in her pocket contained material much too dark and viscous to be used for diabetes.
She was in a rage yelling at everyone one minute and then sobbing uncontrollably the next.
When asked about the last time she used cocaine, she indignantly screamed that she did not use cocaine. I held up a crack pipe that came out of her jacket pocket.
“It’s a meth pipe, duh.”
She bawled as she told us how she had recently become addicted to crystal meth. I sat there with a blank stare on my face thinking for a second how her pretty white teeth probably won’t remain that way.
She refused to drink charcoal recommended by the poison control center, so we inserted an NG tube into her stomach to get the charcoal into her system.
Then she began bawling again, demanding to know whether the charcoal or the NG tube would hurt her unborn baby.
The irony in her question really made me sad. From her age, it probably wasn’t too long ago that she was getting dressed up for her high school prom and her parents were proudly fussing over her hair, taking pictures, and staying up worrying about whether she’d be safe that night. Now she too was a shell of her former self.
“Your baby’s going to be fine. Don’t worry about her. Get some rest, now” I calmly told her as the nurse gave her a sedative.
Treating all those “shells” has a way of getting you down sometimes.
My mother was an alcoholic, my sister was an acoholic….to this day I have part hate part sadness when I think of them and I have hard time taking of my alcoholic or drug addicted patients. so much collateral damage from these people.
Almost as bad as politicians.
The track marks on her right arm showed that she was a lefty and the insulin syringes in her pocket contained material much too dark and viscous to be used for diabetes.
You are getting cynical. It’s a good thing you did not suggest that she might have diabetes. That would probably bring on another meth rant.
Good for you, though. In spite of all that you are able to infer from your experience with end stage alcoholics and debutant meth addicts, and the resultant “collateral damage” that each brings, you treated them with respect. Do you find it hard to maintain your equilibrium when the “suicidal” patient has made more of a gesture than an attempt? A strange question, but medical bloggers seem to adopt something close to disdain for such folk — usually women.
What damage has the baby likely sustained?
{what damage do caregivers sustain… over time… from all the accumulated bitter irony?}
“Your baby’s going to be fine.”
LOLOLOLOLOL
Good one, doc.
My thought exactly…
Wow, sounds similar to the week I have had!
Working for a psychiatrist, 8 out of 10 calls I got this week were people in crisis “needing an appointment today”! Right! We, and every other psychiatrist in our area are booked well into April.
It’s really sad….it’s tempting to tell people to just quit watching the news and listening to the media! That might cure some of the depression taking over our nation!
Sooner or later, they become my patients. It’s job security. And one reason I’m one twisted mofo.
If by ‘fine’ you mean one more sad link in the never-ending chain of self-destructive, addled, hopped-up human misery that parades before me, then, sure.
They are lucky to have a compassionate doc like you.
These things are sad… even the annoying ones. I can appreciate how it would get to you sometimes. These things must all the more cause you to appreciate the patients that don’t feel so futile in helping.
The idea that anyone thinks about killing themselves when life is a gift… when so many people WISH they could stay alive… well it seems like such a waste… and just wrong.
Life can be hard sometimes..maybe too often for some people.