In the Girls Unit
A generally chatty unit is quiet today and I am thankful for that.
Some of the girls are watching a movie. The others are not well and lying in beds.
I notice I am so sleepy. I also notice I have missed a couple of entries in the unit log book.
There is to be an entry in the log book every fifteen minutes to document what is happening in the unit. It’s like I forgot to make an entry or lost track of time. That’s never happened before.
I am still having trouble holding my pen.
I walk around the unit and check on the sleeping juveniles.
My head is throbbing so I go to the tool box where they keep first aid supplies. I make a mental note to stop by the nurses’ station after my shift to have the nurse replenish the pain reliever.
I take the last pack and think how serious this thump is if I have to take a pain reliever. I don’t take medication unless I absolutely have to.
Signing the Official Report
The corporal arrives in my unit with the typed official report. She hands me a pen to sign it.
I try to read it, but I can’t.
She volunteers the fact that she took out the part about the loud click and ringing noise.
I am puzzled, yet I cannot ask for the reason she changed my report.
I literally cannot ask. My words seem to not be available for use right now.
I know I should ask something, but my thoughts are not in order.
With difficulty holding the pen I sign the paper.
End Of Shift
The end of my eight hour shift comes. I wait for the night shift officer to complete her contraband search.
She takes responsibility of a calm, clean and tidy unit.
I go to the nurse and tell her about taking the last pain reliever pack. She asks me about my head. She is the first person to actually ask me about my head. I tell her it still hurts and I feel ‘off’, like my head is in a fishbowl.
I have to concentrate on forming each word and I feel like I am not making sense.
The nurse insists I tell the lieutenant about the incident. I’m glad she insisted.
The lieutenant knows nothing about the altercation or the juveniles in lock up. It is the beginning of her shift.
The supervising corporal is present, so I let her do the talking. Workman’s comp paperwork is filled out, and I am free to drive myself to urgent care center. (No, I am not kidding).
In hindsight that was not the best plan. I am eternally grateful I did not kill anyone on that drive.
Continue reading the next installment of the Thumped series by Kathy Trill:
Did you know you don’t have to lose consciousness to have a concussion? Do you know someone who got thumped on the head and doesn’t seem quite like his or her usual self? Comment below.
You can also email me at firstname.lastname@example.org with any questions.