I am a correctional nurse. Two days ago I had two patients commit "copy-cat" acts of self-harm. Beforehand, they were bantering back and forth; one giving the other instructions from the neighboring cell--in how to hurt himself to get a trip to the hospital, so they could get better-tasting coffee, "goodies," and "prettier nurses." First one hurt himself, drawing blood. Then the other did the same thing. Two separate arrangements for a trip to the ER. Not even to mention, all the running back and forth to apply pressure dressings; back-to-back calls to doctors and mental health teams; and finally the assembly of correctional officers it took to manage these crises as quickly as they possibly could. I took a mental health day (off) to recover from the horror of it all. In my perfect world, there would be specialized institutions for the criminally insane. At least, if a nurse chooses that type of work, he or she could see something like coming and be psychologically prepared for such a ghastly occurrence. I'm sure the two of them are having a good laugh now; at my expense. Nursing. The skills that pay the bills. Have I really loved the profession I have spent over 25 years in? Frankly, not really.