Captain's Log #31 - End of First Week - You are here and I am here, too

At the end of my second full-day at my desk I was given two reprimand letters from my supervisor. That must be some kind of record. The first was for wearing one of my hand-spun, hand-knit, keyhole scarves in the office because I was cold; apparently a patient had strangled someone and now there’s a facility-wide ban on wearing anything around your neck (so much for my collection of beautiful scarves.) The other letter was because I was away from my desk without permission. I was at the benefits office choosing my health insurance plan. While I had permission for a 1 o’clock meeting, I spaced that out and remembered it at 4, but no permission. Sheesh! This was one of those personal growth experiences. My first impulse was to say, ‘Hey, how about a verbal warning first?’ As in ‘this isn’t fair.’ The second impulse was to just let it go, know that she’s strict about the rules, and vow to keep my distance from her. There isn’t going to be any relationship other than me doing my job, playing by the rules and staying out of her way. That seems to be how the other people in the office play it.

My major responsibility seems to be entering the admission (and departure) information into 4 databases and accessing information from 2 or 3 others. There feels like there’s an infinite amount of complexity, and many opportunities to make mistakes. GIGO (garbage in, garbage out.) I do feel a strong obligation to preform to perfection, this is information about real - and vulnerable - human beings. In one part of the admissions process I have to double check the personal items that patients are relieved of when they check in. This is for their benefit so they won’t be stolen or damaged during their stay but it is heart wrenching to open the manila envelop and pour out onto the desk people’s personal effects: someone’s special buffalo nickel (minted 1913-1938); obviously someone’s grandmother’s wedding ring; a box of Cubic Zirconia earing collection; various thin, broken, golden necklaces and a pocketful of shiny golden objects; a heavy silver-metal chain-like necklace with multiple small metal-objects wired on like charms. These are people’s talismans that they give up when they check-in. It must be humiliating to hand over your identity and be powerless. Not only powerless but locked up with dangerous, not quite rational people.

I had the opportunity to go to a unit ‘behind the fence’ last week. As we approached I thought my heart would beat out of my chest. I removed the gold earrings I wear all the time (made by an artist friend, Edgar Haris) I didn’t want to stand out and wear something that they can’t have. The unit was dismal: dim lighting, washed out green walls and 8’ ceilings, very warm with a few patients standing around with somewhat vacant expressions (all the drugs they’re on.) This was a new admission unit and we were there to get signatures from 3 men on a form that would let the hospital tell Social Security that we’ll pay their Medicare premiums (so if they have some health problems the hospital won’t have to pay the full amount for their health care.) I didn’t do any talking but was introduced. We were in a 14’ square room with the patient and a psych tech who was there to make sure everything went ok (i.e. the patient wouldn’t freak out.) My thought was that this was a ‘sales’ opportunity, selling these guys to sign this paper. It meant they had to trust us to do right by them. I was reminded of the experience of explaining real estate contracts to my clients. One guy was clearly reluctant but signed anyway. Another was all for it and signed enthusiastically. The last one was adamant that the Medicare bill be sent to the county court as punishment for them having him sent here. I thought, ‘Boy, I know people just like you on the outside.’

You know how you just ‘be’ with people in the course of your day? You kind of look at them, talk about what’s on your mind then go about your business and chat with someone else? ‘Yeah, I saw so-and-so today, blah, blah, blah.’ What struck me about these men is that, when I was introduced, they really looked me in the eyes, soul-to-soul, like Bang! Zap! It was a good thing, ‘Yeah, I really see you. You are here and I am here, too.’

Many blessings,

Karla, mom & k.j.

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