Population of choice

After a full year of little old ladies and dangerously cute children, my classmates may be a little worried (and not inappropriately) that I just don't like patients. I do. But like any drug addict knows, everyone gets their rocks off a bit differently and my patient population of choice is the one in my clinical this quarter. I have five patients, four of whom I'll probably have for the next month (the last will die before the week's out) and they're all lovely, smelly, wonderful people. They're using crack at the bus stop outside and cheeking their narcotics to sell later and are in and out of the building all day to smoke. They're each demented in their own special way (there's the guy who looks completely normal but tells crazy contradictory stories and has occasional word salad and the woman who's high as a kite all day and mad as hell that the nurses won't give her more narcotics for the pain she has because she fell two days ago when she was also high and snowed with narcotics). There's a woman on the floor who worked as a prostitute for years and years - today I saw an ex-john/pimp wheeling her out for a smoke. There's people who think they need a shower once every four months and people who think they need one every two hours. They're cranky and sweet and smart and dumb and irritating and lovable all at the same time. I can't quite imagine another group of people who would be more challenging to work with and I'm so glad that they'll be mine all summer.