I brought a med student with me on an interview yesterday. It was his first time meeting a psychiatric patient.
She started out telling me how she was here because she threw away her roommate’s food because it was harmful to the environment. This progressed to a variety of concerns for our environment, like how the Bermuda Triangle is expanding. Because of problems like this, we need to move to Saturn. Mars just isn’t good enough. How does she know this? She is God in female form. She needs to make plastic by drinking saltwater through her nose, which will help her make it to Saturn.
Then she stops talking. She says to me, referring to the med student, “That guy doesn’t believe me.” I look over at him, and his mouth is hanging open, ever so slightly.
I forgot; he’s a psychosis virgin.
This is one of many reasons why my job is better than your job. I also heard today about Lady Gaga bringing a patient a centerpiece for their table. Another patient’s medication was turning their face into a porcupine. Another patient didn’t want to talk to me because I wouldn’t let her eat shampoo. Another stopped taking her medication because her psychiatrist told her telepathically that peppermint candy works better than medication. Another patient was telling me about how she sees faces floating in the air, only to have her husband tell me that his wife isn’t necessarily hallucinating because their house is haunted.
It’s great when patients get better. It’s sad when they don’t. But I rarely fall asleep at work, excluding those days I work for 30 hours straight.
What small talk did you have to make today?