Night moves

So, here I am again. Floating.

It's 4:30am and I'm waiting for the ER to call me about some dimwit who cut herself because she got into a fight with her boyfriend. She's saying (according to the ER notes) that it was impulsive and silly and she's not suicidal, so I don't really need to see her but $20 says they call me anyway. Technically, they're supposed to consult us on potential admissions; stuff like this they're supposed to be able to handle. And who knows, maybe they will. But they stole all her clothes and dressed her out in those silly blue paper scrubs we give to potentially suicidal people, and that's a very strong indicator that there's going to be a psychiatrist sometime in her near future.

Meanwhile, I blog.

It amazes me sometimes how much people don't want me around. I think I went from the one profession people really don't want to go see to the only one they want to see less. When I was a gyn, I had a woman tell me she'd rather get a root canal than have to see a gynecologist. As the shrink, I think most people would rather have a gynecologic exam. Some, I think, would rather have a gynecologic exam in Times Square than have to talk to me. People get so resentful that their "real" doctor called a psychiatrist to see them. Because my presence clearly indicates the other doctor thinks either, a, they're crazy, or 2, they're making it up. Not so, folks, not so. You wouldn't believe the reasons we get consulted (earlier tonight, Fang fielded a consult on a burn patient because she was crying. What?! Someone who's burned badly enough to end up in the ICU is - gasp! - crying?! Holy cow! Fire up the ECT machine, STAT! Seriously, though, I think "crying patient" is probably #4 or so on the list of reasons we get called by other inpatient services). What always makes me a little nuts, though, is the people who do things like, you know, try to kill themselves, and then get all pissy when someone calls a psychiatrist. Because, you know, they're not crazy.

Please. Like crazy is such a bad thing.

Is it bedtime yet?

So I've actually spent the evening seeing patients (and writing up long-ass interviews with same) and haven't gotten any knitting done. Which is a shame, because all I have left on my one project is the duplicate stitching and then I can felt it, but, I would've SWORN I had yarn needles in my desk, and alas, I do not. So sad. That's about all I can tell you about the projects I'm working on right now, though, because they're super top secret. Because I'm knitting for the CIA. No, okay, because they're gifts. But I promise pictures just as soon as I can post them.

I'm trying to decide what to put on the needles next. More simple socks? A throw for the new intern work area? An afghan? A new scarf? I'd really like to knit a nice thick sweater coat thing, but that seems like a fairly big undertaking, and I might not finish it until it's warm out...

Aaaand there goes my pager. Because they want a full consult on the dimwit. I got news for you, kids, it's not a committable offense to be stupid....