Three Greek Letters

Note: This one goes out to my loyal Bucknell readers (aka S.B. - one of my favorite DG's) but I feel my other readers may still enjoy it (aka T.F.- one of my favorite GDI's).

As all Bucknellians know, you can know everything you need to know about someone in just 3 letters. Alright, this sounds fairly shallow (and probably rightly so) but it is a way of life. And for that matter, a way of life that I kinda like (maybe cause there is some sort of judging there, but who knows). Keep this all in mind.

So, as you may or may not know, the only "flare" I wear on my white coat is my Bucknell alumni pin. (Alright, that may have been a sharp turn from the previous paragraph but stay with me friends). A small golden oval with an touch of orange that hovers above my heart to remind me of a better time and happier place that helped me become the person I am today. (Mock all you want, but if you went to Bucknell and dont' find pride in that please refer to the "dead to me" list.) Beyond a tiny symbol of all that is good in this world, I also wear my Bucknell alumni pin for a second, more covert reason. As a signal to other Bucknellians.

In the same way I feel that Bucknell bumper stickers are designed to hunt down other Bucknellians (and don't say you haven't done the whole "OMG! I wonder who that is? Maybe I know them??"), I feel my flare is to do the same. I just sit there waiting for the day for that other Bucknellian to see it, realize what it is, and become my best friend. Thus, brings me to my current rotation, psychiatry. Yes, my friends psychiatry where the psychotic, the depressed, and the crazies rub elbows.

So about a week and a half ago, I was called down to the ER to admit a patient. As I turn the corner in this maze of bleeding extremities and screaming children, I see one man sitting quietly properly dressed in his Polo-Ralph Lauren collored shirt (unpopped, I should add). This patient quite unfortunately was diagnosed with schizophrenia having heard commanding voices for several years now.

Talking to this man, while very nice, you can tell something is not right there. His mind is clearly not a crystal vase (pronounced vazz) but rather that weird glass tile you sometimes see in hotel bathrooms that you can't quite see through but see the blur of the naked person on the other side. Despite all this, in the midst of questions about family history and voices in his head, the patient stops talking mid sentence and just stares at me. "Did you go to Bucknell?," I hear.

Yes, my alumni flare worked, and this time I hooked a crazy (said with affection). This schizophrenic patient was a Bucknellian. Instantenously his mind cleared like a downtown party when the cops show up. And, after answering "yes", what were the very first words out of his mouth? "What fraternity were you in?" I literally had to stop myself from laughing. Having been separated by about 20 years AND a deficit of mental health, this Bucknellian fell into the EXACT patterns I do even today. By the way, in case you were wondering, he was a Sig Chi (but by no means the stereotype we have all come to know).

However, my story does not end there. So about one week later, I'm sitting behind the nursing area on the psych floor studying. (The nursing area where the staff hangs out is separated from where the patients hang out by a waist-high, unlocked door. Obviously a safe, inpenetrable barrier reminisent of the Great Wall of China if a patient wanted to hurt someone). I hear someone walk up the station and clear their throat to get some attention, but I don't respond figuring one of the nurses will take care of it. After about 20 seconds without a response I hear "Hey Phi Psi!". Literally this hit me out of left field like K.K. hitting a bottle of tequilla.

Quite literally, this "shout out" made my week. The fact that after about a week of working with this Bison patient, he may not have remembered my name, but he remembered the ALL too important distinction of which fraternity to which I belonged. It just proves to me that the more I think my ways will change as I get older (by the way, total side bar, but I LOVE the title of P.P.'s facebook photo album "Some day we will grow up, thank god its not today"), the more they won't. So Bucknellians, embrace your three greek letters because sad but true, someday it may be all for which you are known.