One of the night nurses was very happy one morning.
"I was just reading in a chart, I am not sure why I was doing that, but I was. I see something with your name signed on it. It's like a story almost. About a patient. What they ate, what they were wearing, that they were quiet and then noisy. Very good stuff," she complimented me.
"It's a nursing progress note," I answered, wondering how she could be a nurse for so many decades without ever reading or writing a note on a patient. Then I remember where we are, and it does not seem so surprising anymore.
"Well, I was thinking, 'This girl is so good with the details. I have an interesting life. Maybe she could write my life story. I should ask her.' So what do you think?" she stood there, beaming.
Two thoughts flashed through my mind.
1- Yes, I could write pages of nurse's notes for your stay in the psych ward as a patient. You're crazier than most of the patients.
2- Ironically, I do write about your life, or at least one aspect of it.