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Interestingly, stuff tends to clump up all on the same day.
I'm innocently sitting in my office, one of the ambulance guys is listening to police radio, and we learn that there is a woman with a gun at the campus entrance nearest to the nuthouse. Spend next hour waiting to hear if our bullet resistant glass and panels will be tested. Break into light sweat knowing my ability to defend myself is about zero. Plan escape routes.
Also get told that we are likely to have the arrival of an extremely irate crazy parent of an extremely irate crazy girl we admitted the night before. Girl was the first non-psychotic person in all my years at the nuthouse to shrilly (and I mean shrilly, like loud, dogs running in circles shrilly) order me out of my own interview room. She even tried to slam the door on me, but was thwarted by the rubber door stop from managing this. irate crazy dad had announced that he was coming to bust his daughter out. He later backed down on that statement and said he would bring police to get her out. That wouldn't work either, incidentally. Funny thing ... he went to the wrong police department to request their assistance (not difficult given the strange mish-mash of police jurisdictions we have), and ended up talking to one of my better cop-friends, who called us to as what was wrong with daddy-o. Told him. Cop then "politely requested" that daddy-o return to the state from which he came. No sign of daddy-o.
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