Jetsom and flotsom

Four hours a week, I practice at a public mental health clinic. The place is always hopping, as one of the substance abuse counselors says. There is one psychiatrist who does mostly medication reviews, one clinical psychologist, being me, several counselors who do individual or group therapy, several substance abuse counselors and a couple nurses and office staff, a heirarchy of sorts with each of us having our little turf and responsibilities.

A lot of my time there is spent giving and evaluating psychological tests, usually court ordered procedures on first-time criminal offenders but a few others also. These tests will often help determine whether the offender goes to jail or gets some lesser punishment called 'diversionary' intervention. Some of these people realize the importance of cooperation, some don't and some don't care one way or another. This work is quite different from my private practice. The 'patients' are often poor, very mentally ill and very angry. Some of them are a lot of fun. I feel sort of bad saying that but, nonetheless, it is true.

Today, I met a man who got drunk and drove down the streets of a small town, shooting out street lights. He vaguely remembers having fun doing it. When the sheriff caught up with him, he tried to run him over with his pick up truck. Not a wise thing to do, drunk or sober. He's an alcoholic, but he's smart, and that can be an interesting combination. One of the tests has the culprit, I mean patient, give the meaning of words, a vocabulary test, sort of. One of the words is 'fortitude.' He answered ... 'fortitude, that's what I'm running out of doing this damn test.' lol

The psychiatrist says the clinic handles the 'jetsom and flotsom' of life. Perhaps so, but still, people needing help. In my mind, I take these people home with me and worry and ponder over their 'cases' a lot. People can get themselves into some messes. I cannot, as a 'public' servant get into religion with them at all, but I can still care and pray.