Most of the times these days, another person's tragic stories just don't affect me all that much. I'm able to go in, listen with all the empathy in the world, come out of the room, do the job I'm expected to do, and go home and sleep with ease.
And sometimes I need a hug and a drink.
Last night I met with a man whose mother was schizophrenic.
And abused alcohol.
And regularly threatened to kill herself in the mornings before her kids went to school.
His father was bi-polar.
And abused prescription drugs.
And beat on his mother.
And his kids.
Not to mention sexually abused them.
And set the patient's motocycle on fire when the patient tried to keep his son from him.
And the patient's sister committed suicide.
And the patient has had so many mental health issues and so many hospitalizations that he's having to file bankruptcy even though he's gainfully employed. With insurance.
And there's more that I'm not telling you.
And now the patient is suicidal.
Duh.
I needed a passle of friends and a liter of tequila when I left that room last night. ->
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Posted
26 Mar 2009 12:59 PM
by
Trench Warfare
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