09-04-2013, 03:36 PM
....in my defense, it's been a trying month.
The two big situations were a dude that fell off a cliff in the middle of the night (we surmise he went up there to get high as his pipe was broken beside him - I wasn't on that call) and a stolen golf cart that ran over two people (I was on that one, but I didn't do very much beyond crowd control). Below is extracted from my official report. I edited out the business/technical stuff that was more boring:
The new location of the Dub Lounge dome was much better for interaction with the rest of JAH med. It was also much cooler with the shade. The natural slope of the land allowed for a high ground and low level. The low level was deployed for messier patients. There was a lot of unwanted urination, so much so that psych began to think that the patients were trying to mark and claim the new Dub Lounge. For next year, psych requests its own supply of Chucks pads, as well as more mats that can be easily wiped down. The dog beds are comfy, but not good for anyone wet. The sound was excessively loud at the Dub Lounge, so many of the talk-downs were actually yell-downs.
The biggest restraint was a long skinny female who practiced yoga. Her initial attempt to flee began with a headstand and if she had been able to stick it, we might have left her on her own accord. This eventually escalated to a six-person physical restraint, and then to a chemical restraint. Her yoga practice gave her additional degrees of freedom with which to wriggle free. This just goes to show that it’s not always the super buff patients that are hard to physically restrain. After recovery, several post-IPR discussions felt that it was likely that she was dosed.
Addedum: Favorite IPR exchange – A discussion while assisting a male patient with a long period of urination in the porta-potty.
Gene (holding the flashlight at the door): “You still aiming, bro?”
IPR: “Yes! You’re making me anxious.”
Gene: “Sorry, just checking.”
IPR: “I have a penis in my hand! I have a penis in my hand!”
Gene: “Okaaaay. Finish up.”
IPR (upon finishing, zipping up and exiting, comes up to Edgar who was patiently waiting for the porta potty) “I have a penis in my hand. SHOW ME YOUR PENIS!”
Edgar is stunned for a moment, and then collapses with laughter.
***end of excerpt***
I got ill on Sunday. I threw up spontaneously on Sat nite, but then felt better. Then later that night I had the spurts. That really sucks at a campout festival. It went on through most of Sunday, so I spent a lot of it in the Dub Lounge, near the medical only portapotty, which was significantly cleaner. It was hot and staying hydrated was a major issue as anything I drank came shooting out.
The two big situations were a dude that fell off a cliff in the middle of the night (we surmise he went up there to get high as his pipe was broken beside him - I wasn't on that call) and a stolen golf cart that ran over two people (I was on that one, but I didn't do very much beyond crowd control). Below is extracted from my official report. I edited out the business/technical stuff that was more boring:
The new location of the Dub Lounge dome was much better for interaction with the rest of JAH med. It was also much cooler with the shade. The natural slope of the land allowed for a high ground and low level. The low level was deployed for messier patients. There was a lot of unwanted urination, so much so that psych began to think that the patients were trying to mark and claim the new Dub Lounge. For next year, psych requests its own supply of Chucks pads, as well as more mats that can be easily wiped down. The dog beds are comfy, but not good for anyone wet. The sound was excessively loud at the Dub Lounge, so many of the talk-downs were actually yell-downs.
The biggest restraint was a long skinny female who practiced yoga. Her initial attempt to flee began with a headstand and if she had been able to stick it, we might have left her on her own accord. This eventually escalated to a six-person physical restraint, and then to a chemical restraint. Her yoga practice gave her additional degrees of freedom with which to wriggle free. This just goes to show that it’s not always the super buff patients that are hard to physically restrain. After recovery, several post-IPR discussions felt that it was likely that she was dosed.
Addedum: Favorite IPR exchange – A discussion while assisting a male patient with a long period of urination in the porta-potty.
Gene (holding the flashlight at the door): “You still aiming, bro?”
IPR: “Yes! You’re making me anxious.”
Gene: “Sorry, just checking.”
IPR: “I have a penis in my hand! I have a penis in my hand!”
Gene: “Okaaaay. Finish up.”
IPR (upon finishing, zipping up and exiting, comes up to Edgar who was patiently waiting for the porta potty) “I have a penis in my hand. SHOW ME YOUR PENIS!”
Edgar is stunned for a moment, and then collapses with laughter.
***end of excerpt***
I got ill on Sunday. I threw up spontaneously on Sat nite, but then felt better. Then later that night I had the spurts. That really sucks at a campout festival. It went on through most of Sunday, so I spent a lot of it in the Dub Lounge, near the medical only portapotty, which was significantly cleaner. It was hot and staying hydrated was a major issue as anything I drank came shooting out.
Shadow boxing the apocalypse