To the spider...

I have made some new friends these last three weeks. Fortunately none of you will ever meet them, at least we hope you don't.

I just wanted to thank a certain little spider for making my time with these friends a most educational and enjoyable one.

One of my friends, whom we will call Raul, talks with God. I mean 24/7 verbal prayers, no scratch that, they are verbal arguments with the man upstairs.

Apparently their story goes back quite a ways. From what I could discern it would appear that Raul was the desperate loser in some cosmic chess match with God and he has not gotten over that ill fated game.

Out of spite the winner forced the loser to participate in the creation of the world. As such, Raul is responsible for all of the evil, sadness, and misery leveled upon humanity. He is so sorry and so angry at God for tricking and using him. I witnessed his endless cursing and blessing of God for two long days, and while I found it facinating, I also found in disturbing.

Therefore you can imagine my joy when yesterday I was met at the door by Raul who was holding an imaginary leash. I and "Luke" his pet spider, were immedietly taken on a tour of the joint. We learned all of Raul's favorite haunts such as, the opening to the "dungeon" where the creation took place, where he prefers to sit and eat lunch, his suite, and of course the medication counter where he works dispensing medications to the patients there (Raul isn't a patient at the USH, he is a doctor who lives with his patients, he finds it is more therapeutic for them if he is always on site).

By the time I left for the day, I must say I was amazed at Luke's stamina. He went many places that no one or no thing should ever be forced to go. And he did so quite cheerfully as he was always willing to go on to the next stop of his own little tour of hell. I petered out after the third or fourth stop and just contented myself with observing the goings on.

But here is the amazing thing: By the end of the day I caught Raul smiling as he would talk to, hold, and pet Luke!

So, , here is to Luke, the spider who could do what even God couldn't: make Raul smile!

P.S. some of this tale is true, some of it isn't. But since when is reality or truth really that important?

USH #2

As for an update. I truly don't know what to say. My clinicals at the Utah State Hospital are not over, I have one more week. But that isn't the main reason that I am without speech. I really don't know what to say about my experience. The individuals I have met are incarcerated for a number of reasons, some of which are among the most horrific imaginable. And yet I didn't see them as they were when they committed the acts. Some of which were done in rage, some in lust, others while under the influence of drugs or alcohol and all were done by those who suffer from some degree of mental illness.

The men I met were all calm, collected, well medicated and some were even very intelligent. Such as the individual who, while quizzing me about the members of the new first presidency pointed out that Presiden Monson is the 16th President of the church, and that the sixteenth letter of the alphabet is P, as in Prophet. Coincidence? I think not.

But seriously, the people in front of me, many of them, you wouldn't think they had any degree of mental illness. It is hard to describe that experience. You know what they did, you know how ill they are, and yet there is no evidence, nothing agrees with the information, nothing confirms what you have read, or what you have been told. I hate to admit it, but you do begin to trust and listen to the patients as they insist they aren't ill, that they didn't do what they had been convicted of, and that they really are going home later in the afternoon. It plays with your mind!!!

So when I say I don't know what to say about my time with them, I mean it. There were a few choice experiences that I will spare you the details, unless you are really interested in exploring your morbid curiosity, then feel free to ask me next time we meet. Otherwise, I am going to spend a few moments redefining my own personal reality, if you will excuse me.

To whom it may concern....

There is such a thing as Mental Illness. This is coming from one of the greatest skeptics of all time. I have always known there were legitimate cases of mental illness out there, but I felt that many have used the difficulty in diagnosing such disease as an opportunity for attention, or a way to get out of dealing with life. And unfortunately there are some who do just that.
This week I was assigned to do a few clinical rotations out at the State Hospital for the Mentally impaired. I was assigned the forensic unit, which houses patients that have commited crimes and are either not guilty by reason of insanity, guilty but not fit to be housed at the prison, or are awaiting competency hearings to determine their mental status in lieu of a trial.
In report I learned a little of each patients background, their diagnosis and treatments, and also what each had done to land themselves in such a fine establishment. I must say I had a fairly decent cross section of criminal society to observe for the remainder of the shift. Some of them have been battling mental illness from childhood, and others developed symptoms in adulthood. One only developed his mental illness after a traumatic brain injury suffered in a car accident which culminated in his committing murder.
I spent the entire day out in the common area watching the patients mill around, talking to each other or themselves. Occasionally one would come up and ask me who I was. Surprisingly many were very "with it" and were able to discuss what they had done to deserve such treatment, and even express their gratitude for the help they were recieving.
Their entire day is spent in a living area of about 2000 square feet. That includes the kitchen area, their bedrooms, the staff area, the common area, the bathrooms, and the hallways. In this particular wing of the hospital, approximately 24 patients lived in a kind of linked existance. All but one were free to come out of their rooms and walk around and interact with each other and the staff. Many of them never went out side, never went out of the unit as a matter of fact. Some of them had been in this unit for years and would never leave it. They just roamed around, bumping into each other and living for the next meal. On one wall, a piece of paper hung with a list detailing just how many laps up and down that hall equaled one mile, under the list was a challenge to see how many miles you could walk in a given day.
One patient told me that he had been living there for two strait years, but "was getting out soon". When I pressed him for more information, he grew quiet and stared off down another hall where two other patients had just finished lap number whatever. I told him I was glad to hear that there was an end in sight and he could soon be back with his family. I am not sure if he heard me or not because when I turned back to see if he was listening he had shuffled off to ask a staff member when lunch was coming. I guess that is how they keep time there.

Seven ways to color me a freak.

I recently got "tagged" and ordered to reveal seven strange things about myself. Sounds like an excuse to shoot yourself in the foot and then blame someone else... I am in.

First: I do not have a thyroid problem.

Second: Today I spent no less than twenty minutes creating six different mini sandwiches out of ritz crackers, smoked garlic beef sausage, different cheeses, and different mustards. In short, I like a little variety in me life, and organization, each sandwich was arranged according to which cheese and mustard was used.

Third: FACT: If I could choose a super power it would be the ability to be invisible, or fly, or be invincible, or run really fast, or...

Fourth: In my dreams I have fought the following: The German's, the Japanese, an infestation of insects, broken water pipes, several very bad men, several very bad women, a balloon with an attitude, and last night I got pick pocketed. You had better believe I got my wallet back, I always win. On Chuck Norris's wall he has a poster of me.

Fifth: I can spin a yarn. I mean, I can tell a story with the best of them. As a child I had the penchant of being a bit of a story teller, and in frustration my Mom tried to get me to come up with a way to notify everybody that I was telling a story, and not out and out lying. I came up with the term a "plastic story", because, well you know, plastic isn't real, it is made up.

Sixth: My favorite movies aren't my favorite movies because of the story, or the actors, but because of the memories associated with them.

Seventh: I think the greatest gift that God has given his children is our ablity to choose to be wrong. And I adore those who exercise the time and effort and courage it takes to be right all of the time in all things that really matter. Thank you GBH.