The Son of God

We have just started 2 days of psychiatry, its been crazy so far (Hah! get the slightly inappropriate yet still mildly funny pun?). I have been thrown into the deep end, 5J the closed ward in Margret Tobin Centre, literally the maximum security, ultimate psychotic ward. I met the Son of God today, and he's been preaching to others on the ward. It's only a matter of time before I'm converted, and then I can finally use the excuse, 'it's against my religion to work/study'. I may have to help him write the bible to his new religion, because among his early followers my hand writing may be the only one legible. I cant wait to meet Moses and Joan of Arc, although I don't speak French, I'm sure I can understand her just fine.

There are of course no Joan on the ward atm, but there is a nasty mean lady that shouts, "go back to your country!" everytime I walk pass. It's apparently not professional to play into patient's delusions, so I will have to wait till my last day to tell her that actually, my country has bought the majority of Australia and she will soon be deported to Uzbekistan.

So as I walk around in my shirt w/o a tie, a duress/rape alarm clipped to my belt, and escorted by a macho man-nurse and 2 fat donut-filled security guards, I cant help but feel slightly sorry for the patients. Most of them have a theory and lives in an alternate universe of their own. They are labelled as delusional and psychotic because their realities are different to the one we are used to. Their perceptions of the world deviated from our perceptions, but who is to know that our perception fits perfectly to the actual real world? It's like looking for something with a small torchlight in pitch dark, what we see is limited to the little cone of light. I am sure our torches doesn't illuminate the whole room either. One day, when the absolute Truth is revealed, we will learn that actually, 42 is not the answer.

I will have to find something else to tatoo on my bum.

I exhausted my booze money on a ticket to Slash concert in August in Melbourne :p cant wait. I'm now living on my drugs money. Oh and the first day on Psych ward, I learned how to make hash brownies from the consultant :) Who knew I'd learn something useful on the wards?