Agnus 980

Last night, as I listened to the even breathing of at least 3 living beings, and the occasional snore or dream induced growl, I watched the movie, "Neverwas". I had zero expectations for this movie and had absolutely no idea what it was about. It was a randomly chosen 2:00 AM netflix "play now" flick that has surprisingly left me contemplative.

The movie, well, it was a curious mix of real versus fantasy. The plot included psychiatry, children books, suspense, love, and mystery. Just the mere fact that fantasy and children books were intertwined through the story line is enough to make me skip right over this movie, but it was 2:00, and things are different at 2:00.

A brief synopsis: A psychiatrist takes a job at the mental health hospital where his dad stayed many years ago. The psychiatrist's dad wrote a very famous children book prior to committing suicide when his psychiatrist son was only 11ish. Upon returning to the mental health hospital to work, the psychiatrist is quickly drawn into the delusional world of one of his patients. Ultimately, this very "sick" and delusional patient is granted happiness in the simplest of ways.

I almost cried during this movie. Instead, I lied in bed quietly, thinking. My heart was affected, I could feel it swell with warmth. This movie reminds me of a patient I once treated for a very rare illness, so rare that if I were to disclose the details here, I would risk breaking HIPPA. And God knows that would be the ULTIMATE sin! (haha)

My patient was a 980 (I think that is what the EMS run sheet said). I had no idea what a "980" was, so I nonchalantly began to ask around. "It's a crazy person!" Apparently, this is common knowledge? This patient, I will call her Agnus, was my patient for many weeks, in fact I was beginning to believe that she would never return to her accustomed way of life. Agnus was "crazy"! I don't use that word often, but Agnus was! Each day I would round on Agnus and each day I was met with the incensed staff, who were very good at staring at me with exacerbated expressions. "What did she do?" was my typical welcoming question. The list was long. I could hear Agnus from down the hall. She was screaming and shouting about unfathomable events that had taken place in her microcosm of thought. Often times she was naked, and managed to make grown men blush. It was evident, simply by looking at Agnus that she had lived a challenging life. I poured medications into Agnus in a desperate attempt to afford her some peace. Nothing worked! Of course, until something finally did.

Agnus began to change. She slowly evolved from "Crazy Agnus" to Agnus. Some may argue that she continues to be a 980, but I disagree. I saw Agnus in a way that the delusional man in "Neverwas" was ultimately seen. Agnus was simple. She was not influenced by consumerism or status. Her dreams were unadulterated and undeniably humble. Agnus would tell me, "I have schizophrenia, I have for 20 years." Then she would scream at me, "I want to go home".

Medicine remains a paternalistic profession. Much like The Fray's song, "How to Save a Life", I lose sight of what is most important, the uniqueness of each of the patients I treat.

"Let him know that you know best
Cause after all you do know best
Try to slip past his defense
Without granting innocence
Lay down a list of what is wrong
The things you've told him all along
And pray to God he hears you"

The remarkable thing is that with Agnus, we all wanted to decide what is best for her, but I have accepted that I don't know and neither does anyone else. Only Agnus knows what is best for her. Her dreams are simple; a trailer in a small town with a small dog. She wants nothing more, and the hardest thing to learn is that I cannot coerce her into wanting more.

I miss "980" Agnus.