Are you my social worker?

In the three-plus months I have been at my new job, I have not heard any phrase more than, "Are you my social worker?" Most days, I can't help but feel like the poor dog on the cover of Are you my mother? by P.D. Eastman - tired, worn out, and possibly exasperated by the over anxious, energetic little bird. And, my patients, like that little bird, are just scared, confused, and wanting someone to help them. (Unlike the bird, though, they are also psychotic, paranoid, and delusional which makes it even worse.)

Most days in my job, I struggle to manage a caseload of 15, 20, or more patients who desperately want 100% of my time, energy, and attention. However, by the time I schedule morning report, treatment team, discharge arrangements, psychosocial assessments, groups, and family planning into my day, I usually don't have time to spend more than a few minutes of one on one time with each of my patients.

This past week, though, we were able to go on diversion for several days, and my caseload dropped below ten at the end of the week! It was so rewarding to actually have time to speak to all of my patients for more time than usual but not have to brush of the patients who weren't mine as well. I was able to speak to a woman who was very upset for just a few minutes, reassure her that she was able to find words in the crossword puzzle she was trying to do, and that yes, she was safe in the hospital.

While it may be chaotic on Monday when I return to work, at least I can feel a little bit renewed as to why I became a social worker. The next time someone asks me, "Are you my social worker?" I hope I can pause for just a moment longer to not just inform each person who their social worker actually is but to also share a smile and a bit of reassurance before I hurry quickly to my next task in my overly busy day.