Judson Leino is a nurse working on a locked adult psychiatric ward. Laboring in an often dangerous environment, every day is an experience with the unexpected and unusual. After losing his job because of an unexpected layoff and the death of a close friend, Judson spirals into deep depression and despair. Reaching rock bottom, he finds help from a most unlikely person. A mysterious message leads him on a magical journey that may heal his soul, but will severely test all that he had previously believed in. Author Ryan Glenn worked as a nurse on a locked adult psychiatric ward for many years and draws upon his unique insight to tell this wonderful story.
Judson Leino is a nurse working on a locked adult psychiatric ward. Laboring in an often dangerous environment, every day is an experience with the unexpected and unusual. After losing his job because of an unexpected layoff and the death of a close friend, Judson spirals into deep depression and despair. Reaching rock bottom, he finds help from a most unlikely person. A mysterious message leads him on a magical journey that may heal his soul, but will severely test all that he had previously believed in. Author Ryan Glenn worked as a nurse on a locked adult psychiatric ward for many years and draws upon his unique insight to tell this wonderful story.
“OK people, time to get to work.”
The taped report just finished and Martin, the charge nurse for the evening shift, is done updating us with last minute news from the unit; 203 bed 1 wants to “get the fuck outta here, NOW!” 212 bed 2, aged 72, wants yet another pregnancy test, he is positive he is carrying twins because of an illegal CIA experiment performed on him when he was abducted several years ago. The CNA called in sick, so everyone is doing their own vitals tonight. One of the patient bathrooms is out of order; a male patient tried to launder his scrubs and towels in the toilet. And be sure to check your emails because there are some new policy changes posted. Nothing we don’t hear pretty much every day.
Besides the usual bitching and moaning in the locker room about having to be at work yet again, report is the first thing that I hear at work every day. I’m a nurse, an LPN, or licensed practical nurse to be precise, and I work on the adult mental health ward in a fairly large hospital. My name is Judson Leino, just Jud to my friends, and I’ve been working on this floor for almost fourteen years now. I love what I do.
My day, like everyone’s, begins with report. We have two units on my floor; the North Side, which has about 30 beds, and the South Side, which has 10.
The North Side is our less acute unit, where the patients more-or-less behave appropriately. Of course, that is all in perspective of what is considered appropriate behaviors on a locked adult mental health ward. The South Side is the more acute area, and it can be a place some people just can’t handle working in. But I’ll get there later. I’m on the North today, splitting 30 patients with the other evening LPN, Tammy.
We listen intently to the report, writing notes on our shift sheets. 206 bed 1 is discharging after dinner. 206 bed 2 has new insulin orders. Staff found pills under the mattress of 208 bed 2, probably his new order for Haldol, make sure you watch him swallow. The new guy in 210 is really paranoid and needs to see every pill opened-up in front of him or he will not take them. There are new wound care instructions for 214 bed 1, he has a gunshot wound to the face (self-inflicted), please check the doctor’s note on that. And so on.
Tonight, I have the first fifteen beds, which are all males. Tammy, a great nurse who has been here for what seems forever, has the last fifteen who are mostly women tonight. We need to know what’s going on with every patient, though. A mental health floor isn’t like a typical medical floor where you have your five or so patients and that’s it, other than answering call lights for other rooms when able. No, on a psych ward, you need to know at least a little bit about every single patient. Who has been attacking peers and staff. Which females are prone to yelling “Rape!” when a male staff enters their room. Who’s been caught giving their pills to who. Who is really, really manic and drinking twenty glasses of water a shift. Who is throwing a tantrum at every meal when the kitchen cart shows up, screaming that they didn’t get what they ordered. Who is calling 911 on the patients’ phone at every opportunity telling the operator that they’ve been kidnapped. Who is on strict I&O and has a urinal in their room, but keeps drinking their own pee before staff can measure it. Which two patients were caught having sex in the bathroom yesterday. Which patient can no longer have visitors because the last ones brought him three joints and a lighter.
My assignment tonight looks pretty normal, a couple of diabetics, a couple of dressing changes, and lots of medication changes. Most of my patients tonight I already know. We get lots of frequent flyers here, some we like to see, and some we cringe and begin to silently weep when we first see their names on the report sheet. She’s baaack! Is she going to swallow the batteries from the TV remote again? Is she going to piss on the floor and smear her shit on the walls again? Deep things to contemplate.
Tammy nudges me with her elbow. “Same shit different day, huh?” She smiles while she says it. Nothing fazes her anymore. Not after nearly thirty years on this floor. I mean, there is always something new here to see, experience, smell, recoil from, laugh at, cry because of, run from, or try not to step in. But really, all of that is just normal, everyday stuff that is considered almost mundane on this floor and Tammy just shakes her head and draws up IM shots when needed. And they can be needed pretty often.
I notice a cat hair on my scrub top, smile, and pick it off. Report is over. Time to relieve the day staff, most of whom are more than ready to flee and go and soak their livers in the quiet solitude of their homes. Time for our somewhat fresh faces to hit the floor. Time to expect the unexpected.
Judson is a psychiatric nurse. He takes his chaotic work environment in stride and provides compassionate care for members of society others fear and would prefer to ignore. When his skills are casually disregarded in a hospital reorganization, it is the first in a series of sad and demoralizing events, leading him to a crisis of depression and despair. It is painful to see this good-natured, genuine, salt-of-the-earth guy turn bitter and angry, and come to a moment where all hope is lost.
In the humiliating aftermath of that moment, a cryptic message leads to the offer of a free trip to Europe. He thinks the whole idea is bizarre, but after verifying that all the arrangements are legitimate he accepts, figuring he has nothing more to lose.
Somewhat bewildered, he follows the prescribed itinerary to a city in the northernmost province of Finland on the Arctic Circle. As he flies in on the eve of the Winter Solstice, his seatmate tells him that that part of the Arctic Circle is incredible to see at that time of year, calling it “almost magical.”
Judson arrives firm in his conviction that he doesn’t believe in magic, but will this experience change his mind?
I liked the character of Judson. He is someone I would like to know. I could picture his easy-going nature, the ability some people have to handle crazy situations matter-of-factly. The reader genuinely hurts for him when he loses the job that he loves. I felt the pain of how terrible it would be to have your profession and skills dismissed and treated as expendable.
As a nurse who worked on an adult in-patient psychiatric unit for many years, author Ryan Glenn clearly knows his topic well – from the unpredictable daily reality of working with patients to being at the whim of a medical and mental health care system that values money and appearances over quality patient care and undervalues the people working on the front lines.
When hospital administrators with frozen smiles announce the “wonderful changes” that will involve the elimination of Judson and his coworkers’ nursing positions but will provide them with “exciting new opportunities” the reader feels a punch-to-the gut at the injustice and hypocrisy of it all.
The reader aches along with Judson he is hit with a run of let-downs, disappointments, and losses. His descent into depression is real and vivid.
This book contains magical realism. More accurately, it tells a story of cold, hard realism with the magical part brought in just when you need it most.
Glenn tells the story with a straightforward writing style reminiscent of Mitch Albom’s heart-warming books.
Judson’s experience brings hope. We will not all get invited to have such an amazing, surreal experience. But as his hope is renewed, it feels good to identify with the overall experience – that just when you are at the end of your rope something unexpected can come along and make all the difference.
Definitely worth reading. And if you love cats and are fascinated by the beauty of the Northern Lights, I recommend putting it at the top of you TBR list.