I met Jesus

Our last clinical day at Rusk State Hospital is tomorrow... I am very sad *tear*....
Really, it has not been that bad. The first day we went to an all male unit. I talked to a w/m who had fried his brain on coke. I really couldn't understand a lot of what he said; a mumbling patient + partially deaf nurse = no therapeutic communication. I did hear the word "sharks" in a portion of what he said. I just sat there nodding my head and saying, "Uh-huh... Oh, ok." He sat in the corner alone, intermittently bobbing between hysterical laughter and catatonia. Hmmmm, I guess Whitney Houston is correct when she said, " CRACK IS WHACK!!"

So then we got to go to their monthly dance... now that was fun. This is where I met Jesus. He was a 60ish stout black man with a wiry white beard. The music from the dance was loud and, hellooo?, speak up please! I couldn't hear all of what he said, but I did hear him say that he was Jesus. And he had the scars on his hands and feet to prove it. I did not ask for a peek at the visual evidence. "I was whipped on my back, they spit in my eye. And wore a crown of thorns."

Me : "Oh, wow. Oh, ok. Hmm. Mmm-hmm"

What do you say? They tell us not to argue with the patients... what's the point, right? So that's what I did. And Jesus had the breath of a gila monster... for real. I. Wanted. To. Die. He also told me that it was a sin for women to wear pants, but that he was forgiving and his father was a forgving father so he could forgive me. Thanks, Jesus. Please forgive me for wearing pants. Maybe I will see him again tomorrow. I'll let you know who I meet tomorrow. Maybe the Queen of England or Tiger Woods.