Many times since I started working at the hospital, I’ve seen a sign on the inpatient door that says “elopement risk”. It asks employees to please buzz to be let in, rather than using their key fob. The sign has been up all week, and yesterday I was obsessing over it. I waited and waited to run into the on-call therapist in the hall, and finally near the end of the day I was racing past the cafeteria when I caught sight of her at the vending machine. I jumped back and exclaimed, “Jan! I have a question!” I asked, “What does a person have to do to be considered an elopement risk?” She slowly said, “Try…to…elope?”
I said, “So only trying, not just talking about it?” and she replied, “No, talking about it would probably count, too.” I told her I was reminiscing about the time I was in inpatient and the people installing the new flooring left the door standing wide open all day. I said that I would have run for it if not for the fact that I was wearing slipper socks. As Jan walked away to return to work she said, “Don’t be getting any ideas.”
Too late, I already have ideas. Fortunately, I can’t get in trouble with them unless I ever get locked up again, and I’m doing everything I can to avoid having that happen.