21 lb lost to be precise. But today, I'm back across in the high 19s, but I did have barbecue for dinner: a French Dip sandwich. And that au jus is seriously a liquid salt lick.
I had a patient yell at me for most of my last shift. Reason: I existed.
They started in on me, in full-on oppositional form and at the top of their lungs. After a couple of attempts at reality orientation--which they were not receptive to--I told them, "OK, whatever you say" and went about my business with my poker face on. I learned early on in psych nursing not to argue with actively psychotic patients because it's an exercise in futility. They're going to believe what they want to believe, and no amount of discussion is going to convince them otherwise.
Said patient didn't really like that I was not standing there being a willing target, that they weren't getting a visible reaction, and that most of my responses were "whatever you say" or other blandness. They tried bating me by calling me a few choice names, but that didn't work either...after several years in psych, I've already been called every name in the book plus a few new ones. So if you want to offend me by calling me names, just be aware that the bar is set really really high.
Said patient kept ranting on until they found another person or object to briefly distract them, then returned their attention to me. They were also manic, so their energy didn't wear down. They kept it up until the moment I left. Something about me must have touched a nerve with them, I guess.
Funny thing was, they weren't even my patient. I just happened to be on the floor that shift.
Just a typical day at work.
