The Onset

Joanne It was a hectic day for Joanne Windsor and her fellow nurses. Their unit, the most intensive at Creedmoor Psychiatric, had received three new admits, including one who became extremely agitated. Since the morning he complained vociferously about everything from the lack of activities to the bland food they served at the hospital. After being sorely ignored for several hours he decided to strip completely nude as a form of protest. They pleaded with him to put his clothes back on. Yet, he refused until the staff had no choice but to put him in seclusion. Joanne was glad it wasn’t her job to grapple people into the isolation room; being spat at, bitten, and brushed against with private parts was something she always tried to avoid. That was the job of the attendants, which included an astonishingly brawny man whom Joanne noticed donned a smile and rubbed the palms of his thick, strong hands together in eager anticipation whenever this type of situation arose. Not long after they got him in the room, the patient started kicking furiously against the door. By doing this, he clearly posed a risk to himself, thus sedation was appropriate as the next and final level of restraint. To prevent it from getting to that point, Joanne spoke with him through the observation port in a firm but kind tone, hoping to get through to him. “What can we do for you, sir?” she asked him. “Let me out of here, w***e!” “Are you going to get dressed?” she asked calmly. “Go to hell! You don’t care about me!” “It doesn’t matter if I do or don’t. What does matter is if you stop banging on the door and agree to get dressed. Then we can let you out.” Joanne left it at that and made her way to the nurse’s station down the hallway as the patient continued thrashing every part of his body against that door, even his head. Once she got there, her long time co-worker and comrade Jackie was already drawing liquid from the vial into the syringe. Her coworker soon left the nurses station to join the group that had surrounded the seclusion room door while someone announced over the P. A system, “ALL PATIENTS PLEASE CLEAR THE MAIN HALLWAY, EITHER STAY IN YOUR ROOM OR IN THE DINING AREA”. Just as one of the attendants opened the door and the patient came running out, Joanne felt her flip-phone vibrate in her pocket. In any other circumstance she would have let it ring and return the call after work, as one of the possible consequences include being written-up by her superiors. However, she recognized the number was from the administration office of her children’s high school. She had received so many calls about Malia’s shenanigans that she could discern the voice of each assistant principal. This time it was Dean Sanchez. He was the one with the strongest New York accent in addition to a lisp. “What did Malia do this time?” she said with a flash of irritation. “Well, actually, it’s your son, Michael.” Mr. Sanchez said. Joanne became aghast at this. “Michael?” she said in disbelief. As she spoke with Mr. Sanchez, she observed the scene down the hallway. The patient was cursing and clamouring for his freedom as he wrestled vigorously with four attendants, who were all trying to get him against the wall. “Yes, uh, we are dealing with a little situation with him,” Mr. Sanchez began to explain, “and we need you to get to the school as soon as you can to pick him up. We don’t think it’s wise to let him go home by himself.” “What happened?” Joanne asked with concern. “I’m not able to discuss that over the phone.” he said. “Just come as soon as you can. When you get to the school you’ll see Dr. Akins, the school psychologist. She’ll explain everything to you.” “Alright, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” The patient was now fully restrained once Joanne got off the phone. His face in particular was pressed tightly against the wall by the beefy forearm of the brawny attendant, allowing him to utter no more than a few repressed squeals as Jackie stuck the needle in his buttocks.