A patient with a penchant for telling me what sexual acts to perform on myself and what kind of sexual acts my mother performs in a place that rhymes with “smell” was brought in for suicidal ideation associated with … of all things … alcohol intoxication. She got into it with the nurse.
“Ma’am, you can’t keep taking your clothes off and walking around naked. There are other patients in the department.
“[Perform a sexual act on yourself]!”
“OK. But you’ll still need to keep your gown on to avoid public indecency.”
“Oooh. Who are you? Mr. Big Shot? What’d you take a test and get an ‘A’?”
Then a patient gets brought in by ambulance after he was witnessed staggering out of a bar, into an alley, and, without provocation, walking directly into a telephone pole. The pole pushed back and the patient fell flat to his back unconscious.
Then another patient gets brought in for trying to ride a bike home from the bar, losing control, and doing a face plant in the asphalt. No family pictures for you for a while.
Then another drunk patient gets an ambulance ride to the hospital after trying to pull a Ringling Bros/Barnum and Bailey stunt by riding a tricycle down a slide. He did a face plant in the grass.
Did I mention how much easier my life becomes after the bars have closed and alcohol is tougher to obtain?