My new patient is practically a baby--not even old enough for kindergarten. He is adorable and sweet and playful and happy and says "otay" when you ask him how he's doing. He loves his toy truck and playing with bouncy balls. If you spent an hour with him you would probably think he was a completely normal child with a loving family. Until you ask him why he's in the hospital, at which point he'll tell you about how he told his mom that he wanted to kill himself (in a very brutal, detailed fashion) because a close family member has been touching him inappropriately.
Sometimes, child psych sucks.
On the other hand, I got to spend the vast majority of my morning playing with a toy truck, and a bouncy ball, and showing a happy child just what can happen when adults care for you and want what's best for you. We played "What Time Is It Mr. Fox?" in the hallway and colored and watched PBS videos with other little kids and had an all-around wonderful time, when we weren't talking about deep dark horrible secrets.
Sometimes, child psych is awesome.
1 comment:
oh wow.
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