Like you, Mr. "Suicidal Thoughts". Maybe on a different day I would have believed you when you told me your mother had just died. Maybe I wouldn't have jumped for joy at feeling so vilified when the psych evaluation lady tells me that I was right to be suspicious because your mother has "died" now four times this year. Maybe on a different day I would have brought you the footies you requested, or the 2nd and 3rd sandwich tray and juice that you needed in order to give us a urine sample. Maybe I wouldn't have had quite such a crazed look in my eyes whenever I threatened you with a catheter when you still wouldn't provide a urine sample. Maybe I wouldn't have sternal rubbed you quite so hard when you refused to wake up for your urine sample or psych eval.
But today is not your day. Because the woman next door to you-the one who refused her pain medicine because she didn't want to get high? The one who hasn't asked for anything but has thanked everyone who has come into her room profusely? She's just found out she has an giant malignant mass in her abdomen. Every last drop of my compassion is with her. She carried it with her when she was taken to her bed upstairs, when she and her family all hugged me and thanked me for everything I had done-which isn't much, you see, because I've been tied up with your ass and the games you've been trying to run.
And with that in mind, it's really not so bad that I don't want to listen to your problems. Because thinking about the fact that you and your bullshit took a nanosecond away from this awesome woman who is legitimately sick- I'm doing you an enormous favor by not giving you the Ativan you requested IM via blunt fill needle to your face.