By Jerry A. Marzinsky, M.Ed. C.P.C.
The following story is one of many stories that will be included in the book Jerry Marzinsky is writing. This story is a stand-alone piece for a taste of Jerry’s work on the front lines as a licensed mental health practitioner, specializing in psychiatric care. The patient’s name in this story has been changed to Lilly.
There is something I do not know, the knowing of which could change everything.” — Werner Erhard.
Prelude: The story you are about to read is a true accounting that took place while working as a psychiatric crisis evaluator in the emergency room of the Tucson Medical Center in Tucson, Arizona. This story provides a rare insight into the psychotic mind and what drives schizophrenia as well as a unique perspective into the human condition and the unseen forces that affect us all.
As I entered the psych ward, its heavy steel door slammed shut behind me with a metallic bang. I headed for the psychiatric evaluators’ office to begin my shift. Within the cramped work space, surrounded by thick sheets of clear shatter proof Plexiglas, two of my colleagues stared at computers. To my right, a sudden movement in the annex snagged my attention. Any quick movement in this place signaled trouble. In the middle of the annex floor surrounded by other psych patients who watched from their beds, an attractive Caucasian female, like a drunken Kung Fu artist, flailed at the air. Was she burning off nervous energy or fighting some invisible demon? Sue, the psych nurse tapped my shoulder.
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