On Friday I pass the east corridor on my way to the staff bathrooms and it's open. Two guards at the far end, no pipe issue, no tape, no sign that anything's been wrong with it all week.
I realize I haven't walked an empty hallway alone in over a week.
Around the same time, Casey Robin starts showing up more often.
He's on the bench outside Ward A when I pass through in the afternoon, a Sprite from the vending machine in his hand, easy and relaxed.
"Hey, Ms. Turner."
"Hey, Casey. How are you doing?"
"Good. Real good." He shifts over on the bench. "Want to sit for a minute?"
"Can't. I've got two more rooms in Ward B."
"You're here late today."
"Busy morning."
"Yeah, I figured." He cracks the can. "You're usually through here by eleven."
I nod and keep walking. His eyes follow me down the hall. When I glance back his face is friendly and open.
The next day he's in the same spot. Asks if I want a Sprite. I tell him I'm fine. He doesn't push. Some patients grab for your time because they're lonely, because you're new, because you look at them when they talk. Casey doesn't grab. He puts himself where I'll pass and waits to see if I stop.
"You work a lot," he says.
"It's a big facility."
"Yeah." He looks toward the checkpoint, then back at me. "You should take a break sometime. You look tired."
I laugh. "You sound like my brother."
He grins at that, wide and warm.
A couple of days later he catches me at the Ward A checkpoint.
"Hey, Ms. Turner. You like blueberry muffins, right? From that place on Fifth?"
I stop. "How'd you know that?"
"You mentioned it last week. To one of the staff." He shrugs. "I was sitting right over there."
I think back. Lane at the checkpoint, asking where I got the muffin I had with my coffee. I told him. I didn't realize anyone else was listening.
"Good memory," I say.
"Yeah." He smiles. "I pay attention."
By the end of the week he's moved beyond the bench. Near the Ward B checkpoint one morning, reading a magazine against the wall. Near the vending machine at the turn toward admin the next. Always in common areas. Always where people are. Engaging with his environment instead of sitting alone in his room, which is textbook improvement. When a patient startsseeking out social contact, even passive contact, it means the medication is doing what it's supposed to.
In my notes: Casey Robin, Ward A. Consistent presence in common areas and transitional corridors during monitoring hours. Engagement with environment improving. Affect bright and appropriate.Demonstrates attentiveness to social cues and peer/staff conversations.Positive indicator re: medication compliance.
Nice kid. Whatever they've got him on, it seems to be working.
I finish my last round in Ward B and head for the parking lot.
The sun is dropping behind the ridge and the air hits me the second I push through the main doors, sharp enough that my breath fogs.
