Public overdoses and my friend is a lifesaving superhero at a all-day-breakfast restaurant.

Public overdoses and my friend is a lifesaving superhero at a all-day-breakfast restaurant.

What were you up to at 3AM? Oh, just looking for an article about the increase in public overdoses of opioids and what that says about the power of addiction, the danger of the fentanyl-laced drug, and the will of people to, despite their dire state, be saved.

I couldn’t find the specific article, but I promise it exists and this is not an academic publication so sue me. The NYT article below about availability of Narcan as a health and safety measure like CPR training and AEDs in public places is good, too. I’m for it because I’m for life saving.

I’m going to tell someone else’s story; I’ve asked permission. This happened recently. Of the six of you who read this five probably know her. To know her is to love her, get ready to love this too, especially if you’re nursey and can do that thing we do where we care about people to a degree that we dedicate our lives to them but at our core lies a daaaark and morbid sense of humor.

So our friend is a recent PhD in nursing. A person who commiserated with me in when I was walking in the valley of clinical care is scary gross by saying “I knew it wasn’t for me the first time I emptied a peritoneal dialysis bag.” She’s an empath to the nth degree. Terrifically gifted in the field of psychology. Destined to be great to innumerable patients and, if there is justice, the wider field of psych/nursing/medicine. She is however not into emergency or critical care.

She’s in a medium sized city in the south, enjoying her favorite breakfast-all-day chain restaurant with her man, just having given their orders to their waiter who looks exactly like you would expect a breakfast-all-day chain restaurant waiter to look. The youngish ones. In the kitchen there is a commotion being made. Staff is peeling away from the dining room, forming a crowd. SOMEBODY DO SOMETHING is hollered. Our friend, the gifted psych nurse, is getting a look from her man (also a doctor of not medicine).

IS ANYONE HERE A DOCTOR?

Shit.

She’s getting the go get ‘em tiger from her fella. She rises, whispers to the backs of the crowd “I’m a nurse.”

SHE’S A NURSE” Hollers her dude with the authoritative bass of a public lecturer. The sea of people parts.

It’s their waiter, passed out on the floor of the breakfast-all-day restaurant kitchen. She is hella smart, so clinical person or not she can handle an OD. She activates that emergency response system (call 911, damn it), asks for an AED (there is none–what?!), checks that carotid pulse for not more than ten seconds (absent), and starts high quality chest compressions times thirty at a rate of not less than one hundred per minute with two rescue breaths between cycles.

Woman saved a life, people. SHE SAVED A LIFE.

EMS comes in narcannons blazing and brings the victim back. Poof. Death-be-gone.

Sigh. So that is our girl. My girl. My nurse friend and mentor. It feels good to know someone this gangster.

In summation: the opioid crisis is real, everyone must learn CPR, Narcan should be in first aid kits, and let’s address institutional cycle of poverty creating helplessness and hopelessness in economically depressed areas such as the stripped-bare resource colonies of the southeast leading to physical manifestations of what might be at the root existential disability and the introduction of opioids.

St. Elizabeths Asylum, Washington, DC.

St. Elizabeths Asylum, Washington, DC.

Lo, I did write thee a splendid piece on my visit to the National Building Museum exhibit on Washington, DC’s great Asylum hospital, St. Elizabeths (no apostrophe). But ay I did it waiting for a surgery to close, needing something to do something with my nervous energy. The patient, when asked the standard pre-surgical question “Why are you here with us today?” (assesses orientation, assures that the patient is informed, confirms procedure), answered “I am dying.” Always believe the patient who says they are dying.

Crash cart at my side, fellow nurse and I finished planning our I-hope-this-doesn’t-turn-into-a-code, I typed out a gem. And upon finishing, ran off to do a thing and lost it.

Instead, here is an excerpt of a letter written by Dr. Charles Nichols, superintendent, to Dorthea Dix (nurse, hero) the greatest advocate for mental health that ever lived whose actions led to the establishment of the hospital, on the selection of a site.

The moral treatment of the insane, with reference to their cure, consists mainly in eliciting an exercise of the attention with things rational, agreeable, and foreign to the subject of delusion; and the more constant and absorbing is such exercise, the more rapid and effectual will be the recovery; but many unbroken hours must elapse each day, during which it is on every account impracticable to make any direct active effort to engage and occupy the patients’ minds. Now, nothing gratifies the taste, and spontaneously enlists the attention, of so large a class of persons, as combinations of beautiful natural scenery, varied and enriched by the hand of man; and it may be asserted with much confidence, that the expenditure of a thousand dollars each year, directed to the single object of promoting the healthy mental occupation of one hundred insane persons, with either amusements or labor, would not be so effectual in recalling reason to its throne, as will the grand panorama of nature and of art, which the peculiar position of the site chosen happily commands. The shifting incidents of the navigation of the Potomac, the flight of railroad cars to and from the city, the operations at the Navy Yard, &c., will continually renew and vary the interest of the scene.

It lifts my iron anchor of a heart to read about this period in time, the asylum movement. Started by Quakers and somehow collecting political support for the mission to create a place, tranquil and serene, to house and heal vulnerable, imprisoned, and cast away persons suffering from mental illness. Public funding! Our government and the people it represents setting aside money to better provide for its poorliest members. Acknowledgement that all people have dignity and value.

**I know you’re thinking asylum? You mean those places where people are locked up and tortured and experimented on? Yes, terrible. But I’ll refer you to the many, many atrocities committed against those walking free: people of colorindigent people seeking care at public hospitals. Medical ethics has an awful lot to answer for. It’s my speculation that we pin it all so easily on asylums, place all our unquiet ghosts there, because of the fear and stigma bound to mental illness. Chew on that. I digress.

Asylums were conceived in goodness. Every pure-hearted reformer may know exactly where the road paved with their good intentions will end up, but I’m glad that they’re trying. We keep trying. We should always be trying.

PS- As Dr. Nichols states, I’m in favor of doing anything that “recalls reason to it’s throne.” Especially in this nuthouse town.