On call

Beep, beep, beep, beep. That was the sound I heard at 2:30 this morning. I returned the page and spoke with the doctor in the emergency room at the hospital I am on call with. She had an intoxicated man who was talking about wanting to commit suicide. In the state of Indiana, the legal limit for alcohol is .08. This man was at a .5. Most of us would be dead. The doc then decided that I could wait to come in until 5 or 6 in the morning since he was so drunk I probably wouldn't be able to assess him properly. Too bad the doc didn't decide that until AFTER she paged me. I did my best to shut my brain down and fall back asleep.

I dragged my sorry butt in the hospital at 5:45, still very tired after not sleeping well after getting the page. I determined the man was no longer suicidal, also not as intoxicated which is not uncommon and which the doc should have considered. I spoke with the patient's 77 year old father who was infuriated with me because I wouldn't have his son sent to a psych unit against his will. I tried to explain the whole, "People have civil rights thing" but it didn't go over too well. Neither did the whole, "I can't tell you what your son said due to patient confidentiality." I think it was then he got into my personal space and said something about his son killing a family member of mine while driving drunk. I knew it was time to go home.

I crawled back into bed and slept for about an hour before I woke up to beep, beep, beep, beep. I returned the page and was informed there was a mother at the hospital with her daughter and the mother wanted to go home, check on her son and do some things around the house before returning to the hospital. Oh, and she wanted the hospital to pay for the cab fare both ways. I was the mean old social worker who said no, was informed by the mom it had been done for her all week, and told her I would call the full time social worker and get back with her. Thankfully the full time social worker is a friend of mine who said her story was accurate and that I needed to inform her this would be the last time prior to discharge that we would do this.

I gave up on trying to sleep so Chris and I walked down to the Farmer's Market. On the way back, beep, beep, beep, beep. This time it was the hospital chaplin who explained that a guy who was engaged to a patient at the hospital was having his utilities shut off due to not paying the bills. He wanted our help with the utilities but didn't want his fiance to find out. I told the chaplain he was out of luck on a Saturday and to try back on Monday.

I hate this job. I actually quit this job but decided to keep this last weekend to help out. Knowing I will never have to do this again is keeping me sane. I'm off to a wedding reception and a goodbye party. We'll see how long I can attend before I hear the beep, beep, beep, beep.