Crazy!

Background: Perhaps we use the word, crazy, too generically. We are 'crazy' about your new outfit.  We are 'crazy' about chocolate, cream-filled doughnuts.  And, look at that 'crazy' homeless person over there; how dirty can a person get!  Or, did you see her 'crazy' daughter; she looks like she's from another planet.

I suggest that we find other terms, especially in reference to people.  I cannot convey to you the tremendous hurt that mentally handicapped people feel when others, usually from their own families, call them, 'crazy.'  They know they're different.  They want to be normal, just like everyone else, but they can't.

Situation:  Thelma was a new admit on our behavioral medicine unit.  I was a new nurse and it was Thanksgiving Day.  Thelma scared me.  She was big, fat, muscular, dirty, and had a menacing scowl at all times.  The staff had put her in a room by herself because, they said, she always bothered the other patients.  They also said that during one admission, Thelma jumped over the counter at the nurses' station to attack a nurse. Thelma had a brain disease called 'schizophrenia.'

In schizophrenia, a person's brain cells are actually arranged helter-skelter, not in the organized pattern of well persons.  Therefore, they actually do live in a different world, especially when they are without their medicine.  Persons with schizophrenia may see things that are not there, hear voices in their heads, have strange sensations on their skin.  Most of these hallucinations are terrifying to the patient.  The medicines usually greatly help the patients.  The problem lies in the reality that many of the patients don't take their medicines after leaving the hospital because they don't think they're sick.  Research shows that it takes an average of seven admissions to convince these patients that they may be sick.

Well, on that Thanksgiving Day, I was determined that I would try to see that Thelma had a pleasant day.  The hospital had prepared a special dinner for patients and we staff could eat with them in their dining room on that day.  Thelma was my patient so I went to her room and bravely invited her to dinner.  Thelma shyly said, "No, I don't have any clothes.  My family just dumped me here."  I responded, "OK, Thelma, I'll bring your dinner in here to you."

As I went to get plenty of food for Thelma, it occurred to me that Thelma shouldn't have to eat alone.  So I brought trays for both Thelma and myself to her room and sat opposite her.  She was neither pleased nor displeased that I had joined her.  She picked up the cloth napkin and asked, "What's this?"  I held up mine and told her, "That's a napkin.  You can put it on your lap like this and then when you're finished you can wipe your face and hands."  Thelma proceeded to hungrily shove every crumb in her mouth but wouldn't take seconds.

As a nurse, I was supposed to talk to Thelma to assess her condition, her thoughts and mood.  This was the perfect time.  I asked her about her living conditions.  Thelma reported, "My family made me a one-room cabin at the back of the farm.  A nice neighbor man brings me wood for the stove. My family doesn't want to see me."  My heart really went out to Thelma!  She might have come in mad but now she was very sad.

Lessons learned:  You know the saying, "Walk in mile in my shoes."  Perhaps we should try extra hard to be kind to those who are different, mentally handicapped or otherwise.

Outcome:  After several days, Thelma was well enough to return home.  I didn't see her leave but knew she would return in the future.