THE PSYCHIATRIC TECHNICIAN Every small gain was a major triumph--a smile, a look of recognition. I remember reporting at change of shift one time that a certain child had actually held a spoon, and everyone cheered. We had been working months toward that end. Eventually, after several more months, he was able to feed himself--after a fashion. There were some tube feeders, also. Sometimes it was a temporary measure, but usually it was because the mouth or esophagus was deformed, or the swallow mechanism had never developed. I remember one girl who was a permanent tuber. She was so severely scoliotic that she was in a brace at all times except when she was being bathed. Her hands were in splints to prevent further deformity. She could not do anything for herself, yet she regularly mnaged to pull out her nasogastric feeding tube. My favorite was a girl 10 years old, the size of a malnourished four year-old. She had a beautiful face, lovely curly brown hair, and huge blue eyes with lashes way out to here. She was a very difficult child to care for at first. One had to gain her trust, and until a bond was formed, she wouldn't eat. I knew she wouldn't live much longer, and I prayed that she wouldn't die on my shift. She didn't--but when she did die it was within a few hours after I ended my shift. She just stopped breathing and couldn't be resuscitated. I cried when I heard about it a change of shift report. There was a reorganization of the staff because the State mandated that only RNs were qualified to work with children that disabled. My license allowed me to work as an LVN, but since my two years' experience on the ward didn't qualify me, I was transferred to another medical ward. But this was on the PM shift, so I had to make an adjustment to my wake/sleep hours. Anyway, I cared for a group of older girls who were not so severely handicapped. They were a challenge. Behaviors right out of the abnormal psychology textbook. A few months later I got a promotion and moved to anothr medical ward, again PM shift. I was ward charge, but still had a group of my own to care for in addition to charge duties. I would go home so tired I could hardly get undressed. It was also on this ward where I got my first serious back injury. I ended up on six weeks' paid medical leave with physical therapy (the State is good about that). Personal reasons brought me to Sacramento, originally temporarily. But I liked it so well here, I went back South, resigned, and moved permanently to Sacramento. I went to work in a private facility. Here the residents were mostly ambulatory, and some went out to public school. The facility had two wards: one for the borderline disabled (North Ward), and one for the more severely disabled (South Ward). They ranged in age from teens through 50's, although the older residents were transferred to other facilities, so that it became teens and young adults only. I was charge of the South wing, and I had six Certified Nurse Assistants (CNAs) to supervise. I gave medications per physician's orders, charted on each resident every day, checked CNAs' charting (and signed off on their charts), and did a minimum of three monthly reports every day. I wrote nursing and behavior modification programs as necessary. I also restrained and gave powerful tranquilizers to berserk residents. Fortuntely, this seldom happened, but it was during one of these episodes that I re-injured my back. After about a year I was asked to take the night shift, which included both wards. which I reluctantly did when I was assured it would be temporary. I still had 6 CNAs to supervise, but 3 were on the North and 3 were on the South. I wasn't happy being on nights any more. I couldn't adjust from days to nights again. I would occasionally have to work a double shift when I was on days (day/PM), which I could handle from time to time, but going permanently on nights was very difficult. After two years of walking into walls and falling asleep as I was walking down the hall, I quit. Besides, feeling so dopey all the time, I didn't feel that I could legally continue to be responsible for giving psychotropic medications, along with the usual vitamins and insulin shots. I just didn't feel competent. My license could be in jeopardy, and the facility could be in trouble if I made a serious mistake. I explained all this to the Director, but he said he needed me on that shift. So I gave my two-weeks. I worked on-call at various facilities for about another year. (Drug, alcohol rehab, senile dementia, you name it, I saw it). Then after being laid up for ten days after slipping on a wet floor, then hobbling on crutches while pushing a medication cart for another two weeks, I decided somebody was trying to tell me something! I took stock and decided that even though I loved the work, it was killing me by inches. I began doing temp office work, and eventually was employed full time by Progressive Insurance, and that was the end of my career as a psychiatric technician. It was an interesting and challenging work, but my body just wasn't up to the challenge. Besides, I figured if I worked in an office, a typewriter wouldn't try to throw me to the floor.
Before returning to office work, I was a psychiatric technician. My first job after licensure was in Fairview State Hospital in Costa Mesa, CA, working with developmentally disabled. This is where I absolutely did not want to work, at least I thought so when I was a student. However, I wasn't really happy there until I was able to transfer to a medical ward. There I cared for grossly handicapped, sick children. All had serious physical and medical proble, and all were profoundly mentally retarded. None could walk, a few could speak a word or two, some could feed themselves. Not a one was toilet trained. This was a night shift, and at that time working nights was OK.
Shalom