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the stories To provide context, I’m a registered nurse
in a small to mid-sized rural emergency department. I’ve been doing this job for about 4 years
and one of the biggest problems we’ve had in my time
here has been the prevalence of drug abuse and mental illness. I don’t live in a tiny, rinky-dink
town nor do I live in a huge metropolitan area, but imagine more of a middle-ground
city in otherwise a highly rural area of farmlands
and aforementioned rinky-dink towns. Given the size
of my city, we deal with a lot of substance abuse and subsequent mental illness. The majority of
cases we see are meth induced. This is the PSA of my story where I say - please,
for the love of God, for your own sake and the people you
love, do not do meth under any circumstances. It will
absolutely and irreparably mess your life up in so many ways. One thing that many people don’t
realize is that hard drug use can lead to mental illness. A lot of times however it’s a chicken and
egg scenario regarding whether the person had mental illness prior to their drug use
or whether it was the cause. On this night, one of our local EMS crews
was called for a person having a drug-induced psychosis. He was brought into our psychiatric holding
area being escorted by both the EMS crew and our local police officers. One glance at this guy and I could tell he
was legitimately having a psychosis. He was in his mid-40s to mid-50s, had unkempt
gray hair, unshaven, tattered and dirty clothes... imagine a movie’s portrayal
of the crazy homeless man archetype and he fit
the profile well. In typical psychosis fashion, he was extremely
paranoid and was verbally hostile toward staff in fear of what he was perceiving
as a threat against his life. Everyone was patient
with him and we were trying to deescalate him without having to physically restrain
him for his and our safety, but it was becoming apparent
that we wouldn’t be able to simply calm him down
verbally. I talked to the doctor and we agreed to give
him a shot of an antipsychotic. I drew it up
into a syringe and headed back to the psych area. I entered the room and there were still a
lot of people in there with him. We had a couple of our
ER staff, at least one of our hospital security and at least 3-4 police officers just trying
to keep this guy together. Admittedly, he was doing slightly better than
when I had left a few minutes ago. The shouting was at a minimum now and it looked
like all he needed was the shot to help him relax. I approached him with the syringe and told
him I would be giving him a shot and obviously, he became paranoid because again,
he was perceiving us as trying to harm him. After
a little more calming him down, I prepare to give him the shot in his right shoulder. I lifted up his
t-shirt sleeve, cleaned the site and grabbed the muscle while he was talking to one of
the police officers. I told him that I was going to stick him and
gave the customary 1-2-3 countdown as I stuck the needle into his shoulder. A quick explanation of my shot-giving technique
is necessary before moving ahead. When I give
a shot, I hold the syringe by the barrel like you would hold a dart before throwing it:
between my thumb and index finger with the needle pointing
toward the patient (obviously). After the needle
is in, I make a split second move where I rotate my hand so that the barrel of the syringe
is between my index and middle fingers, much
like how you would hold a cigarette. From there my
thumb is free to push the plunger and administer the medication. Anyway, shortly after I stick the
needle in this guy he apparently forgot that I would be sticking him despite my warning
not seconds before. He proceeded to freak out at the worst possible
time. He turned to look at his arm, clearly alarmed by the syringe poking
out of him. At this point, I was getting ready to
switch my grip on the syringe from the dart grip to the cigarette grip, but his reaction
to getting stuck caused him to pull away from me just
as my grip was changing. He leaned to his left and
the syringe stayed in his arm as he moved away. From there, he pulled the syringe and still-
attached needle from his arm with his left hand, raised it and went after me with it
as a weapon. The officers reacted by this point and start
to go for the guy to stop him. I heard one of them
shout “NEEDLE!”which I assume was the police way of calling out the weapon present
in the room. As they are subduing him, his momentum continued
toward me. Still shocked, I tried my
best to get out of the way but still felt an impact as something hit my left thigh. The syringe and
needle fell to the floor and I saw that the needle was bent. By now, almost everyone in the room
was on the patient who was now screaming at the top of his lungs as staff worked to restrain
him to the bed. I reached for the needle and syringe simply
to get it out of the way for everyone else and to make sure that everyone had everything
they needed during the restraint. At this point I began to realize exactly what
had happened and that I had been attacked… Oh
god, please don’t tell me that needle hit me? I was terrified thinking of what diseases
and nasty shit this guy potentially had that I was exposed to. While contemplating my future life with HIV
and hepatitis, I stepped into the bathroom to inspect the
damage to my leg. I was so relieved when I found my
leg was unscathed. The only explanation I can think of is that
somehow the needle hit the pack of gum that was in my left pocket at the time. (Wrigley – if you ever need a spokesperson
please have your people get in contact with my people)
After the situation had resolved, one of the police officers approached me and asked if
I wanted to press charges against the guy. I initially said no because I felt sorry for
the guy. He had
psychiatric problems; he can’t control what he’s doing. As that shift progressed, however, my
feelings began to change. Why should I protect this guy because he was
methed out of his mind and attacked me? Why should I let this guy get away with giving
me anxiety and making me feel uneasy for the rest of my career with psych
patients? I later called the officer back and pressed
charges against the patient. As of about 2 years ago, nothing has come
of the charges because the patient wasn’t “in his right mind”. Again, please, for everyone sake, don’t
do meth. After a couple of years of career development,
I found myself in a leadership role in the ER. I
had been given title of night shift charge nurse over my department and my confidence
was high. I finally had the opportunity to show everyone
my leadership skills and how well I could run the
department. I truly thought I could make a difference. On this night, one of our ambulances got called
for a car vs. semi collision. The patient was the
driver of the car and was in his 30s or 40s. The medics in the ambulance mentioned that
the collision may have been intentional as a suicide
attempt. There were no obvious injuries that I
noted when he first arrived and he appeared to be calm. When I saw that the situation was under
control, I stepped back and looked over the rest of the department. I didn’t hear anything about
him for the rest of the time that he was there. I don’t remember why but he was going to
be admitted to the hospital, so the nurse called
report to the floor and we arranged for transport to
his room upstairs. Because he could have possibly attempted suicide,
he was placed in a 1:1 watch while he was in
the ER – so the tech that was doing the watch was going to take him upstairs. Additionally,
because he was a 1:1 watch, they needed to be escorted by a security guard. According to the
tech, he had been asleep for quite some time prior to his transport. The security guard arrived and
the tech woke the patient up for the transport. Once he woke up, all hell broke loose. He immediately got up from the bed and began
talking nonsense, eventually escalating to yelling
nonsense. With my workstation being right outside the
room, I got up and went straight into the room. When I entered through the curtain, I saw
the tech and the security guard standing opposite
of the guy trying to talk him down. At this point,
the guy was standing in the middle of the room bare-ass naked and had ripped out his
IV. His
posturing was threatening and things looked like it would get violent unless the situation
defused. The security guard immediately called for
backup and calmly tried to approach the patient. It was at that point that the guy attacked
the guard by punching him in the face. The
patient continued to go after the guard but the guard managed to get him pinned against
some cabinets in the room. I stepped up to try to hold the patient’s
arms back. I yelled for the secretary
at the nurse’s station to call the police. Not long afterward the other security guard
arrived and tried to help. To paint a better picture,
the patient is standing with his back against a counter and some cabinets, still yelling
nonsensically in his psychotic tangent. Security guard 1 is bear-hugging him around
his chest/abdomen, much like a football tackle. I’m standing by the patient’s side between
him and the door, doing my best to hold his arms back
from hitting anybody else. Enter the second guard,
who approached the patient from the front and was trying to see what he could do to
help. He
unfortunately got too close, and the patient saw an opportunity. He cocked his head back and in a
split second headbutted the second guard in the face with full force. The patient’s head struck the
guard right above his brow, which immediately split open and began dripping blood. That loud,
dull thud of bare skull-on-skull contact is a sickening sound that I will never forget. Immediately following that, we got the patient’s
feet out from under him and brought him down to the floor. The security guard with his head gashed open
was still trying to help us and was dripping blood all over the floor and the
patient. By this time other people had heard the
commotion and had come to help. The secretary had called 911 and we were just
waiting on the police to get there; all we had to do was
keep this guy held down. Granted this was about an average sized guy
but he still was quite the fighter. We simply were
unable to hold him down on the ground by his limbs, so I ended up kneeling with my entire
weight onto his back to keep him down. Again, my entire 250 lb. frame was kneeling
with my entire weight on this guy’s back and was
barely phasing him. He kept shouting for his “little
buddy” to come save him so that they could run away to Alaska (or something like that). When I
think back on the situation, it was honestly kind of sad. This guy was clearly having a psychotic
episode and didn’t intentionally try to harm us. But in the moment, all I felt was rage – white
hot boiling rage for what he did to my coworkers
and friends. If I knew there wouldn’t be any
repercussions for my actions, I can’t say that I wouldn’t have beaten the absolute
piss out of the guy in the moment. After the police arrived, we were able to
get the patient restrained to the bed and sedated him
without any issue. Once the situation was more under control,
we registered both of the security guards for treatment. The first guard had no injuries and the other
guard had his wound stitched up. Other than the wound on his head and being
slightly dazed he was fine. No one else was
injured during the event. Shortly after I walked out of the room, the
gravity of what just happened hit me hard. I quickly
made my way to an empty room and closed the door before I absolutely lost it. I sobbed as
silently as I could as I contemplated what had just happened. This guy had just gone full-blown
apeshit on us and there was absolutely nothing I could do. I was the leader of these people, and
they were put into a dangerous situation in what is supposed to be one of the safest places
in the community. One of my responsibilities was to keep things
under control and I had just messed that up in a major way. Maybe I wasn’t as capable of doing this
job as I thought. I took a few minutes to
let my emotions run their course and collected myself before heading back out to finish the
shift. Not long after that incident I stepped down
from being a charge nurse both for reasons related
and unrelated to these events. I’ve since gone back to being a regular
staff nurse in the ER and prefer it. I haven’t gone back to the charge nurse
role again and most likely never will. I still get
anxious before every shift I work, always worrying about what dangerous situation my
coworkers and I may face in the ensuing 12 hour shift. I am a night shift Nurse who has been working
at a Veterans hospital for the past 3 years. My Unit is located at the basement of the
hospital. I chose to do 12-hour night shifts because
it was quiet and relaxing for the most part, before the rush begins in the morning after
we leave. Last night I was sitting at the Nurse’s
station at 12:30am catching up on “The walking Dead (tv show)” and had the urge to use
the restroom. I go into the restroom, do my business and
everything seemed completely normal. This restroom is a Unisex restroom so the
entire staff uses it. As, I processed to head to the sink to wash
my hands and kind of stare at my face in the mirror to see If I look tired enough yet,
I hear a slow sliding sound coming from one of the ceiling tiles above. It moves open exposing the roofing, and just
sits there. I am not the bravest person in the world but
since my curiosity hasn’t killed me yet, I decided to hide behind the wall that divided
the main sink from the stalls and just wait quietly to see what was going on up there? In the midst of the silence, a man’s legs
began creeping out from the roof opening. This is when I knew I had to officially run,
I was practically shitting BRICKS at this point. He drops down into the restroom as I’m flinging
the door open and screaming bloody murder into the hallway of sleeping patients. He grabs the back of my scrubs and we both
fall to the floor. My co-workers, who most definitely got startled
as hell, ran to my rescue. They separated us, (Thank God) however I had
a nice faint scratch on my right cheek. He had a pair of wound care scissors in his
hand. Security was called as my male coworkers detained
him. I was in a state of hysteria & was ready to
go home in the middle of the shift. It turned out, the young man was a newly admitted
psych patient who was trying to escape from the upper hospital floors. Apparently, his family forcefully brought
him to the Emergency room and they were waiting for him to get cleared to go to Psych. No one is completely sure how he could get
away and end up in the restroom ceiling, the FREAKING restroom ceiling! Currently, my nursing supervisor and I have
decided to switch me to work morning shifts now….but on a different unit. Unfortunately after this event, now I know
what authentic fear feels like. I was a new CNA at the local hospital, and
I worked the night shift. I was excited to have the job I worked so
hard for, and I would volunteer for any task no one else wanted. I mainly did the crap jobs so that I would
get to do the more medical-related tasks, or assist the nurses with their skilled duties. I made friends fast, and because I was so
easy to work with and so eager to help, I was one of only a few CNAs that was allowed
to work in the ICU. This night I was in ICU and we only had a
few patients who were either heavily sedated, or were in a coma, so this made it a pretty
quiet night on the unit. A couple of hours into my shift an old man
passed away, we can call him Mr. Smith, and after the family left I went in ,cleaned,
dressed, bagged and escorted him to the morgue. The rest of the night was calm. However, we all made mention throughout the
night of a creepy or eerie feeling in the air. I had the feeling as if someone was watching
me, and I even had goosebumps. At around three-thirty in the morning, all
the call lights above the doors started to flash, but there was no sound. Then as fast as it started, it just stopped. The ICU staff was all sitting at the nurse’s
station and one nurse made a statement about the lights being creepy, and we all tried
to laugh it off. One nurse said it must have been Mr. Smith
saying goodbye, or maybe hello. As soon as those words left her lips the sound
of a singular call light filled the air. Most of us jumped and we all began to look
around at the rooms with patients in them to see who was calling. I guess it didn’t click in our minds at
that time that there is no way any of the patients could have used a call light, but
it being so late at night sometimes you don’t think about the details like patients being
in comas. That’s when I turned and looked in the opposite
direction from everyone else, I was looking at the empty room of Mr. Smith. At the top of the door was a blinking light,
inside the room, the light was also on. At that moment, the unit secretary called
out the room number that was flashing on her screen, and everyone else froze. Everyone slowly turned to face the empty room
that was earlier occupied by Mr. Smith. “Nooo, wayyyy,” one nurse said, and at
that moment the call light stopped and the light in the former patient’s room went
out. We all sat there for a few minutes waiting
for something more too happen, but thankfully it didn’t. We worked quietly for the rest of the night,
occasionally looking at the empty room relieved to see nothing. We didn’t really talk about what had happened,
and we also never did anything alone that night, we went everywhere in pairs. That night was just the beginning of the scariest
job I have ever had. This story
takes place while I was working on night shift in a mid-sized college town ambulance service. It was about 1AM on a decently slow night
when we get a call for an intoxicated person. This was no abnormality as intoxication calls
are decently common from the hours between midnight and about 3AM. The call was to a part of town that was common
for intoxications, overdoses, and street violence so the city police department also responded
with us. We arrived and announce ourselves by shouting,
“EMS!” and the police officers announced themselves too as we approached the door. The house itself was decently large and two
stories, probably 2,500 square feet or so. The front door was open with just a screen
door closed, presumably to keep bugs from filling the house. The police officers entered and then gave
us a wave to go in. Upon entering the house, something just felt
off. If you’ve been doing this job for any appreciable
amount of time, you get almost like a sixth sense for danger, but this didn’t feel the
same way. It was probably just because the tenants were
new or something, but the house was incredibly barren. We had gone into the living room and inside
there was just a singular, black, simple couch with a young woman sitting up, saying she
had been asleep. That was it. There were no chairs, no tables, no signs
of day-to-day living like books, a TV, rugs, dishes or anything. Just that couch and the woman. From where we stood, I could see the dining
room and part of the kitchen. The dining room was similar. It had a solitary dining table. No chairs, no plates, no decorations, anything. This wasn’t a cause for concern, but it
sure set a creepy mood to start out with. We assumed that the girl was the person we
had been called for but she was completely normal when we talked to her. Her brother came down the stairs when he heard
the commotion and was also completely normal. While neither of them were intoxicated, we
could tell that they weren’t telling us the whole truth. Again, one of those sixth sense things you
get after working on the job for a while. The police ask to take a look through the
house and the two residents give permission. We, as unarmed paramedics, have to wait until
the police clear a room for us to follow them in. We had gotten through the dining room and
the kitchen and were just getting ready to go upstairs when I hear a crash echo from
the kitchen. I was the one furthest back in our group,
and so I was closest to the kitchen. I shine my flashlight towards the sound and
I’m sure my face went white. I saw another young woman crouching down on
the floor on her hands and feet. Her skin was sweaty and her eyes were wide
open and looking around frantically. Her face bore an uncanny smile and she honestly
reminded me a lot of the creature Golem from The Lord of the Rings. My light had illuminated the surrounding area
and I saw an open cabinet above the countertop, probably five or so feet off the ground that
was large enough for the small girl to have hidden in. We stare at each other for what felt like
an hour but was probably only a couple seconds before I realize she is holding what appears
to be about a five-inch steak knife. Thankfully, I was the most junior member of
the crew so I had been carrying our “On Scene” Bag with me. The bag contained about 40 pounds or so of
medications and tools that I threw at full force towards the girl. The steak knife got caught in the thick fabric
of the bag and knocked the girl over enough for me to run past her. I’m a guy who weighs about 250 pounds but
I swear I could’ve outsprinted a bear I was so hyped up. I thought that the weirdness of that call
was finished after the police managed to detain her and we were allowed to treat her. But after she had gotten calmed down, she
alternated back and forth between a calm, apologetic woman who just seemed exhausted
and what seemed to be another entity entirely. For bouts of a few minutes at a time she would
get this huge shit-eating grin and laugh and mock us at our attempts to help her and what
she had planned to do to us. While we were riding to the hospital, I distinctly
remember her saying “I was gonna put it right there,” as she pointed to the right
side of my chest and cackled before falling back on the stretcher. I don’t think I was ever so happy to turn
over care to one of the nurses. I’ve seen a lot of people in very horrible
situations, but it’s these kind of calls that still give me nightmares years afterward.
