a day nurse: progress notes on intakes

Conducting intake paperwork today, a familiar answer appeared while taking a doll's personal history for the file. Indeed another reminder that psychopathology is, in its three-part etymological root, the story of the suffering of the soul.

The question was, in so many words: what happened to you?

The answer was, exactly: "i don't know."

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a night nurse: on wounds

It seems that some dolls are hurt here before they are healed. At first this concerned me. Some of our patients arrive with obvious ailments, but dolls being robust in their loyalty to living as our stickler little mirrors, their wounds are largely unseen. The untrained eye might think these dolls were simply worse for wear, like anybody who has lived to be a certain age. (The other nurses and I often joke that we well understand that concept; seems we're less (and less) spry with each new sunrise.)

I fear that my painting of contusions, reddened sclera, and other so-called gore might seem on the surface contradictory, or even potentially a sadistic justification for our hospital's existence shrouded in transparent theatrics. Embarrassing. But on the contrary! (I think.) It is a method of treatment here. We hear stories and take the pulse of the pain. And so on. We birth the healing forward for them.

As disturbing as it is for me to manipulate the unfolding visual manifestation of their tales, for the patients themselves I am finding there is an expressed (or tacit) feeling of relief. Other emotions too, but indeed a palpable relief.

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a night nurse: on sooth and soothe

Lucy is sleeping soundly after her cataract surgery and soothing bath. Since she arrived, she has never looked so relaxed.

We are coming to realize here at the hospital how much of our care involves actions one might categorize under the heading of mere 'grooming.' Not so! Nurture, nurture. Simple dignities.

All the pants-less are now pantsed.

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a day nurse: paperwork

summary notes for the files:

1 - facilitated the ever-growing amputee support group. provided education on why this hospital does not supply nor promote prosthesis.

2 - anastazja swallowed her national pride when her colorful frock needed to be sliced in the emergency room for easier access. we let her keep her kerchief in surgery. currently sedated.

3 - completed and charted treatment plans for all our new patients.

4 - it was a hard call on whether or not to save ms. bright's orange hair. decided no.

5 - wendy asked the others for a signing of her leg cast. silence.

6 - it seems penelope belden is too stiff for traction.

7 - heavy bleaching during the laundering of several stained gowns. success!

8 - caught up with paperwork for the archive of bruises.

9 - one of the miniature girls, in an apparent fit of mania perhaps brought on by her meds (note: take her off the good and plenty), started her own version of the archives. perhaps it will help her make some friends on the ward.

a night nurse: just another night on the ward

the ward is all quiet now. eyes long closed for some, but even the little open eyes have dimmed themselves in that way that they dim, a nightly conservation of energy while they continue to watch the world around them breathing. aware of subtle movements, the hum of the night light; nothing isn't worthy.

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waiting room

While our hospital undergoes construction, our patients wait...patiently. Right now, barely a peep.

Earlier a nurse noticed our big floppy girl patient named Angel, the one with the smudged "hug me" written on her apron, was frightened, lingering alone on the table, looking away from the others. She expressed worry that she carried jumpers in that plush head of hair. Examination proved negative.

Upon gentle inquiry, she then asked politely for more contact. Several others piled on (along with our resident therapy cat) and the pressure/weight helped her immediately. We have noted this response of the limbic system several times with our patients and believe it is linked to somatic memory regarding toyboxes and closets.

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