Further proof that I work in a freak show

I was assigned to triage today, the tedious task of sorting through patients as they arrive to determine who needs attention right away and who can afford to sit their asses out in the waiting room. Another task I consider a priority at triage is to determine which patients are actively psychotic and which are basically normal. The sooner the psych patients are marked as such, the better...and the safer for the staff.

I assume all patients to be psych until proven otherwise and pride myself on my uncanny ability to spot psych patients from twenty feet away. Imagine my disappointment today when I almost missed one completely from two feet away.

I was assessing a girl about my own age with a chief complaint of “dizziness and funny vision.” This was either very serious (brain injury symptoms) or bullshit/attention-seeking. During my assessment, the triage registrar Dana nudged my shoulder each time she walked behind my chair. Then she poked the back of my head twice.

“Dana, am I in your way?!” I finally exploded. She merely cleared her throat. I continued my assessment.

Finally, I was finished, just needed to make a copy and walk the patient to a stretcher. As I made to stand up, I suddenly noticed the big-ass bottle of vodka sitting on the floor under the patient’s seat. The big-ass bottle that was nearly empty.

Well, that explained the nudges.

Hell, I’d be dizzy and having funny vision if I’d drunk a liter of vodka in under an hour, too. Irritated, I informed the patient that alcoholic beverages were not allowed in the hospital. She nodded, agreeing with me, and kindly volunteered to finish the rest of it off right then, you know, to get rid of it.

I smiled at her, then snatched the bottle up and poured the vodka down the sink. That drain probably needed to be cleaned anyway. I then clearly marked the presence of the alcohol on the chart and walked her to a stretcher, fuming.

To be honest, I wasn’t that upset that she broke the rules and smuggled in alcohol. I was angry with myself for nearly letting a psych patient slip through to the back with no warning to my colleagues. I was also sad for that vodka, which could have been put to better use after my shift was over.