The breakfast of champions. Recognize the placemat?

I’m up early this morning because today is going to be a long one.  I probably won’t get back to the computer until maybe fifteen, sixteen hours from now, and I wanted to make sure that I completed Day 15’s post.

Today I have to sit through eight hours of a mandatory inservice training.  My colleagues who already attended the training told me that it will be painfully boring and to bring something to keep me awake.  You know I’ll be knitting.  The other thing about these trainings is that everyone always wants to sit in the back, and if you show up late, you end up having to sit in the very front under the instructor’s nose.  I learned my lesson the first time I arrived for a training at ten minutes to eight, and the whole room was already filled.  So these days, every time we’ve got a mandatory inservice, I make sure I’m there at least half an hour early.  (Even then, I’m usually not the first person there.)  Anyway, I don’t know about you, but I have to go to the bathroom about every two minutes, so I like to sit by the door every time I’m in a classroom.

The training should be done at 1600 hours (or 4 PM), but if we’re lucky (and most likely we won’t be), the trainers will let us out a few minutes early.  I’ll get into the car and start the 150-mile drive south to the Ventura homestead, because on Friday I have to report for jury duty.  That will be another eight hours of all-day sitting around, if I don’t get called into a courtroom for jury selection.  Some people think that just because I work in a prison, I’m automatically dismissed from jury duty.  Not true.  I’ve had to go through the selection process before, and it sucked.  I thought about skipping out this time, and I even looked up “What happens if you don’t go to jury duty?” on Google.  The short answer is that you can be fined and even sentenced to jail time for contempt of court.  No, thanks.  I been inside a jail cell and a prison cell, and they ain’t pretty.

I often tell my patients, “If you’re having an emergency, let custody know, and they’ll notify me.”  Once in a while, someone gets bad news or is feeling suicidal, and it’s important that they know they can ask for help and get it.

So today I was in between appointments, and one of the inmate clerks came by my office to tell me that a patient was requesting to see me.  The patient didn’t have an appointment for today.  His tier officer had written him a special pass to Psych Services.  I knew this particular inmate-patient; he’d come by my office for unscheduled appointments before, when he’d had some small crises.  I told the clerk to bring him in.

Mr. D arrived at my door, carrying a manila folder and a business-sized envelope.  He sat down and handed me the envelope.  “Here,” he said.  “I brought this to show you.”

The return address was an attorney’s office.  I pulled out a sheet of paper and quickly scanned the letterhead.  Oh crap, I thought.  Did this guy just get bad news?  Is this letter going to tell me that the court denied his appeal?  Am I about to deal with a shitstorm?  I braced myself and tried not to let my brain get too far ahead with planning the next intervention.

I read the letter.  In a nutshell, the attorney had checked a number of sources and was unable to find past legal documents that would have provided some important information that might be helpful to the inmate’s current appeal.

I handed the letter back to Mr. D.  “I don’t understand.  So what’s the emergency?”

“I have the documents that he needs right here.”  Mr. D held up the manila folder.  “I wanted to see if you would fax them over to his office for me.”

Since I work four ten-hour days, every Tuesday is my Monday morning.  I’d just turned on the computer when my colleague Dr. L walked into my office.  He said, “Dr. V, you didn’t tell me on Friday that I forgot to turn my keys in.”

“What are you talking about?”  I tried to remember Friday, but it seemed like such a long time ago.

“You and I walked out together after work, remember?  And I forgot to turn my keys in.  I got home and you know by the end of the week, I’m just wiped out.  I went to bed at 8:00.  I guess I just fell into a deep sleep.  Anyway, my cell phone started buzzing around 10:00, 10:30, but I was in such a deep sleep, I didn’t pick up right away.  By the time I was able to answer the phone, whoever was calling hung up.  And then my home phone started ringing.  But like I told you, I was so tired.  I thought I’d just let the machine pick up.  But whoever was calling didn’t leave a message; they hung up.  They must have called like five times, but they didn’t leave a message.  And then, around 12:30 that night, someone was knocking at my door.  They came to my house.”

“Who came to your house?”

“Two officers.”

“Holy shit,” I said.  “I guess they really needed to have those keys.”