notokinthehead











{October 1, 2012}   Psych!… Emergencies

It’s incredibly sad and amazing how many psych calls we get in my town. Being on the rescue squad I have to go. I’d really rather not, especially when the patient is wielding a machete. These calls bother me especially and the only reason I can think of is something in each of my psych patients reminds me of me: thirteen year old boy, overdosed on anti-depressants and flipped out in anger. Fifty-nine year old man, lonely, tired of being disabled, overdosed on Oxycodone and pulled a machete when the cops showed up (that was this morning’s call). Forty-two year old female, “just tired”, overdosed on alcohol and Citalopram and turned the gas on in her residence so she could “take a nap and feel better”. Every one of these patients were reaching out for help, wanting someone to care, someone to be there for them. I’ve been there and I still revisit those old feelings from time to time. I understand them, and that scares me, for I know many people don’t and I have heard my own partners call them “crazy” at the end of the shift. They’re not crazy. They’re hurting, they feel defeated and they’re doing the only thing they can in their desperation to say “I need help”.

I console myself by knowing that I was the first one there when they needed the help, I held their hands and I listened to them. Just by being there and giving them my undivided attention I’ve showed them that they are not alone, that people do care about what happens to them. I’ve demonstrated to them that when they need someone, someone will be there for them. I wish I could get to them before they do something drastic and life-threatening, but that’s unrealistic in my profession. I just have to take comfort in knowing that I was there, I am here, and I will go running out the door every time they call, racing to their side to aide them, both physically and emotionally.



et cetera