Is it okay if I have homicidal thoughts about my patient who's having suicidal thoughts?
Because that would kind of solve both of our problems, right? If I kill him? He won't stop telling the nurses to page me. All day, every five minutes. I can't do anything for him. He's not physically ill, he's a psych patient. But there's no room on the psych floor, so he's my patient. And I don't want to be his doctor anymore.
Because I'm not a slave. Or a nurse's aide. I shouldn't be the one who has to stop examining someone with a real illness so I can go over to him and find out he only paged me because he needs more water. Or ice. Or he has an itch, and since they've used restraints to fasten him to the bed -- not my call -- he can't scratch it.
He wanted a fork, to eat his dinner, but I was told by the psych resident that he can't have a fork, because they're worried he's going to use it to hurt himself. Or others. Perhaps me. Maybe that would be a good thing. Maybe that would get him off my service.
Every five minutes. Fluff my pillows. Call my parents. Take away my meal tray. Give me back my meal tray. Do you have any magazines? Can you tell me what's on TV? My tooth hurts. I want to hang myself.
This is not a hotel, and I am neither a babysitter nor a psychiatrist. Yes, he needs help, I get it. It's not his fault. Still doesn't stop me from wanting to push him out the window.
And, somehow, he's able to convince the nurses that every time he needs something, they need to page me. He scares them much more than I do, apparently. Because they're fine ignoring me. Completely fine ignoring that I've told them twenty times that they should only page me regarding this patient if there is an actual medical emergency. I think he tells them he has actual medical emergencies. Can't breathe. Guess what? Can't breathe somehow turns into "feed me my Jello." One nurse said she thinks the patient has a crush on me. Great. That's just what I need.
Maybe I'll just give him that fork.