Can’t Trust Nobody: The Story of a Loving Sister

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Happy Sunday Post Everyone!

It would be too cliche to say that “the world isn’t perfect” or “we’re all mad here.” Sometimes the ones that you love most, are also the ones causing the most damage.

Every night, from 1800 to 1930, we have visiting hours on the milieu. All the family and friends come through…hugs and kisses all around. Loved ones want to get involved, show that they care for their special someone, etc. Visitors come to the nurses station, “Hello I’m here to see…”

Staff: “Hello, welcome. Please sign in for us. Any electronics, keys, personal belongings on your person right now?”

At a psych facility, security measures are always in place. It’s like a jail house. You truly never know what outsiders might be bringing in. We always ask if the visitors have belongings they want to give to the patient. Next the nursing assistants on the floor check those belongings for any contraband or paraphernalia; anything that may be harmful to anyone on the unit.

Then, here comes closing time. All the visitors were making their way off my unit. The last visitors to leave were a patient’s sister and boyfriend. In appearance, the sister was sure as hell an attractive lady. A typical Barbie doll. It was truly a masochistic fraternity, in there when she walked in. But, by all heaven all mighty, she was a stuck up biddy. She had the attitude in which she felt she had the whole world wrapped around her fingers. And, to be honest, I don’t care how much of a good looking Barbie doll you are. Act like you have some brains. Smarts trump looks any day. “Viva La Nerds!” Lol.

On her way out, the Barbie doll proceeded to take off her sweater for us to give to her sister. She had a snappy attitude with me about only God knows what. She wanted to make sure I gave the sweater to her sister, etc. Nevertheless, I told her I would.

I then proceeded to do a security check on the sweater. Maneuvering my way through all the nooks and crannies of this article of clothing, a note suddenly falls onto the countertop. The note read, “Just like you were there for me, I’m here.” Signed…”xoxo.” Unfortunately, there appeared to be some type of unidentified substance carefully superimposed on top of the note.

To many of us, the unidentified substance appeared to be a suboxone film. A narcotic to say the least. We proceeded to to the usually measures; notify the MD, get a Denial of Rights for the visitation of her sister, write a occurrence report, have the pharmacy department identify the substance, etc.

The moral of the story…”You can’t trust these hoes out here.” Lol. You can’t trust no one. Don’t let anyone fool you with their garbage. This biddy had the audacity to test me. I died a little inside. This Barbie doll my feelings. She trying to say I’m stupid. Lol. I mean come on now woman. Get that ish out of here.

Oh how good it was to serve the patient the “Denial of Rights.” The patient went off bickering and crying to her room. Again, I mean come on now woman. Get that ish out of here.



Author: nursesarereal

My nursing professor once said that keeping a journal, over time, will allow me to see growth. In myself? I’m not sure yet. I’m hoping. I like to believe that nursing school saved my life. Maybe I’ll have some fun doing this. Cheers.

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