In the year I worked at the state hospital, I learned many valuable skills. I picked up the finer points of pool, canasta, poker, and foosball—all the while watching the moods and actions of the surrounding patients. I also helped with numerous puzzles, and taught crocheting, macramé, and other crafts, all in the name of work. I even used my background in music therapy to keep a close ear to the music coming over the speakers. I often changed the channel on the radio to more soothing background music when I saw it was needed. It was the most relaxing work I'd ever done as a nurse.

Unfortunately, it wasn't always like that. After the orientation period, I found out just how alert one must remain while playing games and trying to appear laid back.

One day my parents came to visit. My mother had majored in psychology before going into education, and she expressed an interest in seeing where I worked. I called the director of nursing for permission to take my parents on a brief tour before my shift. She agreed, as long as we remained in the common areas.

Mom was impressed with the neat grounds and absence of locked gates. Dad was uncharacteristicly quiet. We pulled up in front of my building and I took them downstairs first. That day must have been particularly hectic on the adolescent unit. The stairwell rang with clangs, bangs, and a few screams.

I smiled nervously at my parents and said, "It isn't usually like this."

Pulling the keys from my pocket, I opened the door to the ward. A naked giant streaked down the hall, huffing like a freight train. He carried an entire door-frame included—that he'd apparently just ripped right out of a wall.

My father's eyes popped open so wide I didn't know if he'd ever be able to close them again. I spun the two of them around, retreated back through the door, and locked it. Then I hurried them back up the stairs.

Outside, my dad said, "You can't work here! You'll be killed!"

"I'm fine, Dad," I assured him. "I really am." I put my arms around him and kissed his cheek. "That was Fred. He wouldn't hurt a fly. The noise was bothering him. We've learned that if we open the door on the other end of the hall and let him out into the fields, he'll run until he's exhausted. One of the attendants will follow him and throw a blanket over him when he lies down. When he's slept it off, the attendant will bring Fred back indoors."

My mother sighed. "You still need to be careful, Rachel," she said. She hugged me and gave me a kiss. As they waved good-bye, I could tell that neither of them felt very good about their daughter working at a mental hospital.