Someone Took The Wrong Meds

Hoo boy, day shift had them a time. One of our old knuckleheads from the wobblehead house whom we hadn't seen in awhile came completely unhinged. They found him sitting in his cell with his pants and boxers around his knees yelling "Hey, look at this!!!" over and over again. He refused to respond to orders and refused to be restrained and it just turned into a donnybrook from there.

Apparently they sprayed him at least twice and put him on the ground at least twice after they got him out of the house because he started kicking and fighting the CO's that were escorting him. Someone up front told me they rinsed the gravel out of his face with pepper spray.

Ouch.

He fought them for a good distance and then at one point refused to walk at all. So they called for the medical cart and they put him on the back of that rather than drag him all the way across the camp.

He refused to be treated by medical, even though the nurses said he needed stitches. He was still bleeding and still fighting when they got to the Hive and he refused to cooperate at all so they had to cut his clothes off. Then he refused to give up his handcuffs.

This was around 7:30 in the morning. When I got there at 2:00 pm, he was still naked in the cell wearing the cuffs. Refused to give them up.

Now, before anybody gets the idea that they beat this guy up for fun, let me give you a little background and description. We'll call him "Gunny", since he claims he was a marine and a Vietnam vet.

I know for a fact that that part is bullsh*t because he is younger than I am and I was twelve when that one ended. So unless he was drafted at eight, his "three tours of vietnam" were all in his head. He may or may not have seen some military service somewhere, but I don't know for sure.

Anyway, Gunny is about five foot ten and maybe two hundred twenty pounds of pretty much solid muscle. And what isn't solid muscle leaks crazy like a sieve full of catterpillars. When he is in his right mind, he works out and keeps himself pretty fit. And he is strong like only those who are elementally crazy can be. A very dangerous and unstable individual. Very volatile and prone to sudden bouts of manic screaming lunacy. And he apparently has a real bad case of OCD and if you throw him off his routine or displace the things in his cell as he has them arranged or knock him off his square just a little bit, you have a fight on your hands.

He snapped smooth the frack out.

I suspect, since he was just fine the other day and had been fine for some months, that he took someone else's meds and they just didn't agree with him. That happens now and then. We try our best to make sure they take them, but short of dissolving and injecting them twice or three times a day, there's not much more we can do.

So when I got there at 2:00 I naturally went in to look. He was back in the corner of the cell pacing in little circles and looked lie someone in a tiki mask had just gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson. Not that he was the most attractive person to begin with, mind you. Normally he looked like a shaven bulldog with a curly toupee. Still covered in blood and pepper spray and still wouldn't give up the cuffs. I used to have a fairly good repoire with him and I tried to get him to come over and take the cuffs off but he wouldn't even acknowledge me.

A little while later ol' CC (Class Clown, remember him?) came down and got him to talk, but no dice on the cuffs. When that didn't work he bounced an idea off Sergeant Strings and came out to me and said "Come on Rev. Let's just go in and take them off. If he fights, we'll back out quick. But if he don't that's one problem solved."

So we went into the cell and he was still pacing in circles. I held him still (no mean feat) and CC tooks the cuffs off and we backed out and shut the door. We got the cuffs and nobody got hurt. Any worse, anyway. Gunny still looked like ten square blocks of abandoned Projects but at least his hands were free and he could get a drink of water or lie down if he wanted to.

One problem solved.

And this all happened before my crew even came down for the evening. When they did show up, I got a pleasant surprise. We were short people so they pulled our old slightly damaged pal Vinnie out of the control center and sent him to us. Chuck looked so happy and smug that he got his old running partner back I thought his smile was going to wrap around the back of his head. Even if it was just for one evening. Those two together for any length of time could wreck civilization as we know it. And the Gawds know they have tried.

After a rocky start, we had a fairly calm evening. If you discount Gunny screaming at the top of his lungs and The Preacher in the cell next door beseeching Gawd to alternately save and damn our souls.

Just another normal night in the Hive..