The post-holiday blues have arrived in full swing. Our pysch unit is booked through June, the hallways are packed, and of course there's not a pool sitter to be found. Some of the cases are absolutely tragic, like the father who lost his only daughter the day after Christmas and no longer has the will to live without her. Some, of the "I took three Xanax and now I want to die" variety, are frustrating. Others, like the little old lady who sits alone with a pleading look and politely explains that can't stop thinking about hurting herself, are just plain sad. They're the kinds of cases I have the most trouble dealing with, and it's made all the worse knowing that the chaos of the ER is probably the worst environment for these patients to be stuck in. In a couple weeks it'll all die down, but in the meantime it's rough for everyone.