Mad and Bad

Cecilia’s downfall didn’t cause much of a stir with the night nurses, because things of this sort were always happening, and there was a constant shuttle service of ambulances from our psychiatric hospital to the General, often running on a more regular basis than the local buses. After she’d gone, we sat around the biscuit tin and justified ourselves a bit. One nurse said:
“Well, something was bound to happen to Cecilia. She was getting more and more agitated and the drugs just didn’t do anything for her.”
“I’m afraid it was a bit of poetic justice really” I said.
“Yes, she got away with bloody murder” said Alec. “It would have been different if she was my daughter.”
“She’s got a basic personality problem, and the drugs don’t make a scrap of difference to that.”
“A bit more discipline earlier in life might have helped.”
“Or even now” I commented. “She’s already kicked a pregnant woman in the stomach and broken someone’s arm on this unit, but the police don’t want to know about it.”
“On the acute unit, one of their nurses got a broken nose, so they took the person to court. The judge threw the case out, even though the Consultant told him the patient knew exactly what they were doing at the time.”
“Yeah, being in a mental hospital gives you more immunity than a foreign diplomat with seventeen inoculations.”
“No wonder it’s becoming so popular.”
“One tearaway I know makes for the community team every time he assaults someone. By the time the police get to him, he’s always incoherently ‘hypo-manic’ in hospital – case dropped.”
“Yeah, it’s easy to forget that some people are mad and bad.”
“ And some people are just plain bad.”
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