OCD is Not For Me

Killer rants after first touching the light switch twelve times, and then shouting shit-balls.

I have known more than my fair share of people with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD). Maybe they are drawn to the health care professions. If you wash your hands here thirty times in twelve hours, you are the model employee, not just some nut job with really dry skin.

I was in school with a girl who would write down EVERYTHING the teacher said. Her notes were excellent, she had all the pertinent information, the semi pertinent information, and if the teacher made any jokes, or someone asked a question, that was included also. She would then come home and make lots of little note cards with that information. I never took notes in nursing school; I would always just go to her house the night before the test and read her note cards. If it were not for her super OCD powers, I would probably be a janitor in an elementary school somewhere.

She was certified OCD, she had medication that she often wouldn’t take, she made her husband vacuum their apartment in perfectly straight lines, and no one was allowed to enter her home with their shoes on. Whenever she balked on letting me use her note cards, I would drag my feet across her carpet and mess up the perfect vacuum lines. She would immediately have to re-vacuum the entire apartment. I would use that time to study.

This all came to mind recently when a co-worker went off the deep end one night and started cleaning everything mercilessly. She was located in one of the back corners. Often in the back corners they will store emergency equipment like carts filled with life-saving medicines, a defibrillator, EKG machines, etc. I looked down the hall and she had pushed all this equipment out the back door and onto the fire escape. She was wiping down the wall with bleach, as if she was about to perform surgery against that wall.

I eased down there and jokingly asked, “Did you forget to take your medicine this morning?” She froze and looked at me, “How did you know I didn’t take my medicine?” I really didn’t have a comeback. I specialize in funny comments, not truthful observations.

Later that night I found her in her patient’s room and she had scrubbed a layer of skin off, and was using a toothbrush to clean the toenails. I decided an intervention was in order. I entered the room, told her to quit trying to sterilize that little old lady.
She took a deep breath, put down the cleaning supplies and stepped outside to talk about it. She basically said she couldn’t seem to feel like anything was clean. As we were talking she actually rolled some tape around her hand and used it to clean the lint of my scrub top. I realized at that point she was hopeless, so I tried to think of way to get her to my place after work. It is a mess over there.

I don’t mind working around the OCD folk. I just wish I could run across a few more Tourettes syndrome people. Those are the ones that can’t control their urge to shout obscenities. That would be loads of fun. I actually have a hard time containing my own urge to fake Tourettes while in public places. I always have an intense desire, when in a packed elevator, to suddenly shout, “Shit, Assholes, Titty!” Everyone will move away from me, or at least as for as a packed elevator will allow. I will then calmly explain to everyone about Tourettes, they will feel sorry for me and then move back closer. When it gets nice and quiet, I will suddenly shout, “Scrotum, Damn, Elephant Vagina!” Everyone will probably get off on the next floor. Deep down they might want to be understanding, but that is a lot of bad words for a small location. Plus, I would probably have farted. That is another strong urge I fight in a crowded elevator.