Like many businesses, the employees are constantly asked to innovate, to develop new strategies, to save the company time and money, basically. The rewards for doing so tend to be few, but folks keep trying anyway, right?

So, we're trying.

We can have no patients in the lobby one minute, and ten the next (it's happened).

Sometimes it gets a little difficult to keep track of who is out there, who is being seen, who has been seen, who is waiting to be medically cleared, and who is chasing their loved ones around the coffee table with a butcher knife at home.

We've been using a whiteboard, but it's too small, and you can't see it from any desk in the office. If you put it somewhere that people can see it, you can't reach it (two of my coworkers are under five feet tall), and you violate HIPPA.

So, I came up with this idea. Spreadsheet with conditions and comments along the x axis, patient names on the y. Or is it the other way around ... anyway, it works. It's brilliant. It's on GoogleDocuments, so only people who have been invited to view the document can see it ... we set it up so the crisis workers have read/write and the ambulance can only read it.

It's sweet. Works like a charm. Of course, we're still in the testing stages.

Then, the staff member who belongs half to us and half to first shift forgets that we're Vegas. You know, like in the commercials ... What happens in, etc.

Now we're shut down, "because it might not be secure enough."

We aren't allowed to use, test, or apparently even think about this priceless little gem.

It may be possible to get it moved over to the internal network as an Excel spreadsheet, but too many cooks are already spoiling the soup ... HR thinks it would be nice if nursing had access to it. We specifically don't want that because it would just make them damn cranky to know how many patients are out there. Our own department supervisors may see it as a tracking tool to see how long we're taking from door to unit, or to monitor who is taking how many cases (yes, they've done shit like that before, without taking into consideration that some things are more complex than others).

Who, ultimately, will give the go/no-go on our ability to use our "electronic whiteboard?" CEO's Administrative Assistant aka My Former Supervisor from when I was a Secretary/Receptionist aka The Woman Who Hates My Guts. So, it's effectively dead.

We've come up with a fair number of other good "improvements" that also haven't been implemented. This is just the latest symptom.

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*Geeks do it with spreadsheets*. Cicero original...
If it's not secure, copy and save it to a flash drive only and only certain people will have access to it. Maybe only you if you want- who in the hell is going to know or care if you organize yourself a certain way?

Apropos of absolutely nothing, Wolf, I was at your workplace Wednesday night--in a dream. I forget why I was visiting (it did not appear to be as a patient), but I was with another (unknown/forgotten) person, and as we walked in the entryway there was a rather gruesome suicide in the lobby. As we approached your desk, you were telling somebody else that, in addition to the obvious issues, that it could also be a triggering event for some of the patients if they saw it.

So far it has been one of those weeks. Months. Quarters. Whatever.

It has been so crazy-busy that I've barely had time at work to play with my Webkinz (yes, you read that right. I'll try to find time to explain elsewhere).

So, last night this guy gets brought in by police. We only let him go four days ago, but for some people, four days without medication is like a lifetime.

He was ranting about hillbilly motherfuckers, screaming "Pussy" at random, and made up a little song that went "Boom da da boom da da boom, motherfucker."

He had also threatened people at an outpatient center, and banged on the glass of their reception window.

"That wasn't me. That was some other dude. I was in a sandwich shop across the street. YOU HEAR WHAT THEY ARE DOING TO ME RONALD, MY BROTHER, YOU HEAR?"

So, he ended up restrained to a litter, and got a load of medications that would have tranquilized an elephant shot into his ass.

He never stopped talking.

Not for a second.

At one point he managed (and I still don't know how, I assume someone who assisted in the restraint didn't put the strap through the lock properly) to get the strap totally out of the cuff and he grabbed my wrist, which could have gone very badly ... luckily between commanding him to let go in my best I'm not taking your crap voice and twisting out of his hold, I escaped without injury.

That wasn't the worst of it, though.

Since he was in leathers, I had to sit in the room with him and monitor his safety.

Usually this isn't so bad. It's annoying because you can't do anything else but watch a crazy restrained guy (or chick) breathe and occasionally demand a cigarette while paperwork and other stuff piles up in the office. I have a Master's Degree. Surely I should be able to assign someone with lesser education to do this, right?

So anyway, there's the dude, laying there. I get him rerestrained but there's still enough play in them for him to grab onto the edge of his rather large and baggy jeans ... and yes, he pulls the pants down and his shirt up ... "Bitch, you know what that is?"

Now, I had a lot of opportunity here. I could have said a lot of things. You know, like "Well, it looks like a man's penis, only smaller" that kind of thing. But as crazy as he may be, a man remembers some things. And I know that I'll be seeing this particular man at least once every six months, or more frequently than that.

So I couldn't do it.

"Bitch, you know what that is?"

"Sir, that is inappropriate."

Oh, and you know what ... that thing about black men? It's a myth.

ah...takes me back...good times, good times...

I knew it!

No! No! I meant as a nurse!

Wait, wolf, I think I dated that guy!

:lol2: I was referring to the black package comment, and didn't realize you'd posted before me. Sensitive about the issue are we?;)

It must be awful to be so crazy.

Wolf, you are the soul of restraint!

I think he was referring to the myth. :rolleyes:

I kind of prefer "Saint of Restraint," because of the rhyminess.

And because I have the power to bestow the miracle of restraint(s) wherever it may be needed.

*guffaw* Oh, I do amuse myself. I do indeed.

I should know by now that if I'm heading to work, and I see two cop cars and an ambulance ahead of me on the driveway, it's probably not a good thing.

I should know by now that if I'm parking at work and I see the cop cars pull in to an area they usually wouldn't and notice that the officers have their hands on their guns, it's probably not a good thing.

I should know by now that if I see the Commitment and Crisis Supervisors standing outside near the smoking post, and both of them quit smoking a couple of years ago, it's probably not a good thing.

I should know a lot of things by now.

So, there I am, innocently pulling in to work. I hear a bit of a ruckus. Someone in an old piece of shit Nissan Sentra is blowing their horn like a madman. Literally.

This is the vehicle that everyone's attention is focused on. Cops, supervisors, ambulance guys, criminal justice director and about a half-dozen guys from nursing. They're trying to talk to this guy in the car. It's not going well. I couldn't see using my car mirrors, and I figured out and able to run beats stuck in the car, right? So I got out of my car for a better view.

Dude wasn't much for talking, kept screaming, but not really saying much other than he wasn't going to get out of the car. All of the interior doors were locked. He hadn't driven himself, an acquaintance had (that'll show her about being a good Samaritan!). She had her five year old son with her, so this could have been a lot scarier situation had the fellow wigged out before she and the kid got out of the car.

At one point they were trying to get the car door open. Dude didn't like that and all I could see was a flash of fluorescent green diving from the frontseat to the backseat of the car and a flash of gray as one of our ambulance guys ran away like the devil was after him. He then started burrowing through the back seat to get into the trunk. Late 1980s Sentras didn't have fancy fold down rear seats. He pulled the upholstery off to get into the trunk.

That's the point at which I decided that while I was watching I should be standing in a place so my engine block was between me and the trunk of that car ... there still wasn't any reliable information about whether he was armed. I was especially glad of my decision when I noticed that one of the officers had her Taser out, and the other his pistol.

Eventually they got a door unlocked (no idea why breaking a window wasn't their first option) and tried to drag the guy back through the seat ... not only was he uncooperative about that, but he was a big guy and really didn't fit through the seat frame. Maybe it was one of those one-way only deals? You know, like putting a pool ball in your mouth?

The owner of the car had said that there wasn't a trunk key or a trunk release, but turned out that the ignition key did open the trunk ... dude got pulled out of the trunk and restrained to a litter right there in the parking lot, all the while screaming "They're on the roof, there's going to shoot me!"

We sent to him the medical hospital, just in case he was on PCP or something ... turned out he wasn't.

He just freaks out every now and again.

Five or so hours later he was still crazy, but less so, and at least was relatively quiet and cooperative, with no memory of what had happened in our parking lot.

I think I'll remember it for a while, though. Even I don't usually have to wonder if I'm going to get shot as I'm walking into work.

Oh, that ambulance that came in ahead of the police? Totally unrelated. Just some drunk being brought in for detox.