Reality is less than Friendly.
Working in the hospital, you are taken so much more with how blessed we are to have health. I mean not just of sound body, but also of sound mind.
Having a mental disease would be one of the worst things that I think could ever happen to anyone- your body is generally perfectly healthy but you are so ill mentally that you are unable to form a complete thought, a complete emotion, a complete stream of logic that you are immediately ostracized, outcasted because you are 'scary'.
Could you imagine what it would be like to be someone like that? Could you imagine not to have control of your own mind? To have it so segregated and frayed that you are not your own any more?
I have a new-found high (very high indeed) respect for psych nurses-- yes, it most certainly is not my cup of tea, but seeing just how frightening it would be to work with patients in a hospital like the Children's Hospital?
We were given a tour around the unit today by my instructor who works casual on the children's psych ward at the Children's Hospital-- we weren't allowed to go into the actual ward (just the classrooms, the nursing station etc.) because there were two boys who had escalated (signs and symptoms went bananas- manic, vicious, crude... frightening) at the same time, more than likely due to each other.
Walking through the halls around the classrooms, we could hear the two children shrieking and pounding on the walls and glass and the doors, demanding to be let loose, yelling as if they were being tortured.
The guts that those men and women need to have in order to care for those kids? The patience, the love, the forgiveness, the self-control? It is so beyond my mind that I am frequently reduced to shudders at the horrors they are expected to see every day.
And in direct contrast, the Day Treatment program at RGH- seeing individuals who appear normal at first but after finding out stories about them; the frights, the terrors, the spooks and drearies that they are haunted by every day?
Just by looking at them, they could be another chap just walking along the street- but then you find out that they hear voices, or are suffering so severely from alcohol abuse that they reek of it when they walk past others, that they have witnessed their own children commit suicide?
It is shocking, mind-boggling and humbling.
Who am I to complain that I don't like Sunday clinical where there are others out there who do not complain once to others (save their psychiatrist or therapist) of the complications that they are faced with ever. Single. Day.
God, you have sure placed me here for a reason. Thank you that I am able to learn, for good grief, everything is in a new perspective.
Thanks. You really do have my back.
Having a mental disease would be one of the worst things that I think could ever happen to anyone- your body is generally perfectly healthy but you are so ill mentally that you are unable to form a complete thought, a complete emotion, a complete stream of logic that you are immediately ostracized, outcasted because you are 'scary'.
Could you imagine what it would be like to be someone like that? Could you imagine not to have control of your own mind? To have it so segregated and frayed that you are not your own any more?
I have a new-found high (very high indeed) respect for psych nurses-- yes, it most certainly is not my cup of tea, but seeing just how frightening it would be to work with patients in a hospital like the Children's Hospital?
We were given a tour around the unit today by my instructor who works casual on the children's psych ward at the Children's Hospital-- we weren't allowed to go into the actual ward (just the classrooms, the nursing station etc.) because there were two boys who had escalated (signs and symptoms went bananas- manic, vicious, crude... frightening) at the same time, more than likely due to each other.
Walking through the halls around the classrooms, we could hear the two children shrieking and pounding on the walls and glass and the doors, demanding to be let loose, yelling as if they were being tortured.
The guts that those men and women need to have in order to care for those kids? The patience, the love, the forgiveness, the self-control? It is so beyond my mind that I am frequently reduced to shudders at the horrors they are expected to see every day.
And in direct contrast, the Day Treatment program at RGH- seeing individuals who appear normal at first but after finding out stories about them; the frights, the terrors, the spooks and drearies that they are haunted by every day?
Just by looking at them, they could be another chap just walking along the street- but then you find out that they hear voices, or are suffering so severely from alcohol abuse that they reek of it when they walk past others, that they have witnessed their own children commit suicide?
It is shocking, mind-boggling and humbling.
Who am I to complain that I don't like Sunday clinical where there are others out there who do not complain once to others (save their psychiatrist or therapist) of the complications that they are faced with ever. Single. Day.
God, you have sure placed me here for a reason. Thank you that I am able to learn, for good grief, everything is in a new perspective.
Thanks. You really do have my back.
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