Mental stealth act

I am not sure what to do. The man is standing, shoulders hunched and eyeing me with an expression that can only be described as “baleful” – one of those terms you read in books as a kid and of which you develop a visceral understanding but could never explain in words to someone else. Abruptly he hits out at me – I jump back but not before his fist has closed over the pen with which I was about to write up his anti-psychotic.

When he arrived with his wife a couple of hours ago he was quiet and settled. He was describing three weeks of delusions and hallucinations, particularly severe at night. He was hearing drums and his ancestors were apparently speaking to him. I have come back from theatre to find him aggressive and agitated.

We are now at something of an impasse. 4 security guards stand behind him – but they are not trained for this sort of situation. I am loathe to approach him with my needle until he is restrained. He hits out at me whenever I approach. Nomfundo walks past and eyes it up. “Have you got a death wish?” she says, giggles and walks away. Thanks.

Sipho, one of our younger go-getting OPD nurses walks past. He eyes up the situation. “Need some help?” he says, and without a break in his pace walks into the cubicle, throws his arm around the man’s neck and in a flash has him pinned to the floor. We all stand, momentarily dumbfounded. “Well come on then!” he calls from the ground. I jab my syringe into the guys butt. Sipho stands up and then helps up the man who appears as stunned as we are by his abrupt change in circumstance.

“Boy, I am glad you chose to use your powers for good.” I tell Sipho. He looks rather pleased with himself.

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