men entered from a side room, one
of them carrying an inflatable dummy, the kind you might knee in his plastic groin
in a self-defense class. Kelly and the third orderly were lugging what looked like
a wrestling team’s worth of blue gym mats. Then Kelly’s eyes met mine for the briefest
second and I snapped my attention back to Audra.
“We’ll start out gentle,” she was saying. “Let’s break into groups of four, three
new recruits and one instructor apiece.”
I wound up in a group with two RNs, a perky young one and middle-aged maternal one.
Audra was with another group, but shouted to the instructors to show us some “arm
breaks.” Naturally, I imagined someone breaking my arm.
My team’s instructor—a far warmer and more reasonably sized orderly than Kelly—had
us take turns grasping his arms, then showed us in slow motion how he could swoop
his hands up between our elbows to get free. We did it ten times apiece, quicker each
time, then he made us put him in headlocks. It was almost fun. Though I sort of wished
I got to put Kelly in a headlock. Probably be my only chance to feel like I had the
better of him.
After twenty minutes of drills, Audra gave a lecture about the importance of proper
technique, horrifying us with statistics about how many patients wound up with dislocations
and fractures and sprains from panicky staffers not restraining them properly.
“Let’s switch up those groups,” she said with a clap, “and I’ll take you through the
basics of a prone restraint.”
Two junior nurses and I ended up in Kelly’s group. He gave me a reassuring little
nod that said,
You’ll be fine
, a taste of the more personal side of him from the night before. It was the last
thing I needed, that wriggly feeling upsetting my middle when I was trying to learn
skills for avoiding maiming people and getting maimed myself.
“The goal for a restraint is always to have three staffers on hand. One for each arm
and one for the legs.”
Audra and Kelly and the two other instructors walked us through a demo—Audra pretended
to attack one of the orderlies, and he broke free of her grasp. Then Kelly and the
other guy rushed over and eased her to the ground on her belly, one man pinning each
arm and another her ankles.
“As you can see,” Audra said from the floor, speaking mainly to the gym mat, “I’m
completely immobilized, and no longer a danger to myself or others.” Her feet wiggled
and her hands flapped, and I had to bite back a giggle. Then I glanced at Kelly’s
flexed and forceful arm and my body swapped in a few other inappropriate reactions.
The southerly migration of my blood gave me a head rush and I quickly shoved the thought
aside, lest I pass out and look even more incompetent than I felt.
They ran through a few other demos: a restraint mid-attack, a two-man restraint, a
restraint with Audra flailing like a windmill.
For such a large man, Kelly had a certain grace about him. Most men his size would’ve
lumbered, but his movements were measured and controlled, yet fluid. A ballet dancer
he was not, but dexterous and quick. I imagined him fucking, and the grunting, frantic
caveman I might’ve previously conjured was replaced by a picture of elegant, filthy
labor.
Oops.
Thankfully I didn’t get any more time to fantasize, as it was the new recruits’ turn
to try the moves. The first few were easy, slow motion. But after a half hour, Audra
had rotated to our group, and we struggled to “gently but assertively” wrestle her
to the ground while avoiding her kicks and thrashes. The woman didn’t fuck around.
By that time she’d worked up quite a sweat, and she stood from our latest successful
attempt, red-faced. “Okay! Let’s try a few two-staff scenarios. One on arms, one on
legs. Rotate!”
She bounded off to assist the next group, and Kelly strode to mine. I swallowed.
“You and you,” he said,
of them carrying an inflatable dummy, the kind you might knee in his plastic groin
in a self-defense class. Kelly and the third orderly were lugging what looked like
a wrestling team’s worth of blue gym mats. Then Kelly’s eyes met mine for the briefest
second and I snapped my attention back to Audra.
“We’ll start out gentle,” she was saying. “Let’s break into groups of four, three
new recruits and one instructor apiece.”
I wound up in a group with two RNs, a perky young one and middle-aged maternal one.
Audra was with another group, but shouted to the instructors to show us some “arm
breaks.” Naturally, I imagined someone breaking my arm.
My team’s instructor—a far warmer and more reasonably sized orderly than Kelly—had
us take turns grasping his arms, then showed us in slow motion how he could swoop
his hands up between our elbows to get free. We did it ten times apiece, quicker each
time, then he made us put him in headlocks. It was almost fun. Though I sort of wished
I got to put Kelly in a headlock. Probably be my only chance to feel like I had the
better of him.
After twenty minutes of drills, Audra gave a lecture about the importance of proper
technique, horrifying us with statistics about how many patients wound up with dislocations
and fractures and sprains from panicky staffers not restraining them properly.
“Let’s switch up those groups,” she said with a clap, “and I’ll take you through the
basics of a prone restraint.”
Two junior nurses and I ended up in Kelly’s group. He gave me a reassuring little
nod that said,
You’ll be fine
, a taste of the more personal side of him from the night before. It was the last
thing I needed, that wriggly feeling upsetting my middle when I was trying to learn
skills for avoiding maiming people and getting maimed myself.
“The goal for a restraint is always to have three staffers on hand. One for each arm
and one for the legs.”
Audra and Kelly and the two other instructors walked us through a demo—Audra pretended
to attack one of the orderlies, and he broke free of her grasp. Then Kelly and the
other guy rushed over and eased her to the ground on her belly, one man pinning each
arm and another her ankles.
“As you can see,” Audra said from the floor, speaking mainly to the gym mat, “I’m
completely immobilized, and no longer a danger to myself or others.” Her feet wiggled
and her hands flapped, and I had to bite back a giggle. Then I glanced at Kelly’s
flexed and forceful arm and my body swapped in a few other inappropriate reactions.
The southerly migration of my blood gave me a head rush and I quickly shoved the thought
aside, lest I pass out and look even more incompetent than I felt.
They ran through a few other demos: a restraint mid-attack, a two-man restraint, a
restraint with Audra flailing like a windmill.
For such a large man, Kelly had a certain grace about him. Most men his size would’ve
lumbered, but his movements were measured and controlled, yet fluid. A ballet dancer
he was not, but dexterous and quick. I imagined him fucking, and the grunting, frantic
caveman I might’ve previously conjured was replaced by a picture of elegant, filthy
labor.
Oops.
Thankfully I didn’t get any more time to fantasize, as it was the new recruits’ turn
to try the moves. The first few were easy, slow motion. But after a half hour, Audra
had rotated to our group, and we struggled to “gently but assertively” wrestle her
to the ground while avoiding her kicks and thrashes. The woman didn’t fuck around.
By that time she’d worked up quite a sweat, and she stood from our latest successful
attempt, red-faced. “Okay! Let’s try a few two-staff scenarios. One on arms, one on
legs. Rotate!”
She bounded off to assist the next group, and Kelly strode to mine. I swallowed.
“You and you,” he said,
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