When You Gotta Go, You Gotta Go

I'm taking care of a gentleman last night who was having some seizure activity- nice, normal seeming (by hood hospital standards, anyway) dude. We get him back to a therapeutic level on his meds and I'm just watching him for a while to make sure he's not having any problems before the doctor will discharge him.

It's a decently paced night, so I'm hanging outside his room charting and talking- his door is open so I can see and hear if he starts seizing again. Dude is sleeping peacefully for hours. I hear nothing but the TV and his snoring, until all of a sudden I hear a lot of rustling and moving around on the stretcher. I immediately jump up and run into the room to turn him over, thinking he's having another seizure, but when I get in the room, I find him wide awake and lucid, urinating into his belonging bag with his clothing still in it. I grab a urinal and try to give it to him real quick, but he just kind of shrugs and finishes peeing in the belonging bag.

I feel terrible because I immediately assume he couldn't see his call light where I put it in the bed- I apologize and tell him not to be afraid to yell out if he needs something. Except he's just like, "Nah, it's cool. I knew where it was, I just had to go, yah know? When you gotta go, it's just like, time. " Well, okay! Whatever works for you, I won't make you wear that shirt home. Have a free gown on us, man. Merry Christmas!