Health – Medicinal Conversations

Excerpt II

To speak of Personal Power. Choice. Self Responsibility — Is not to be overly Idealistic sans an awareness to those in dire circumstances and Beings that actually lack alternatives. It is not to point fingers or claim one Country’s Health System is better than the other. I think Globally, we can learn alot from one another. One system cannot be had with the other. It’s like our own internal system. A whole system in which we tend to fragment and leave others to fix, adjust, brainwash – us, back to a supposed state of balance. Balance. Something we are clearly fooling ourselves into being/having, once one part is “fixed.” Do you ever notice how when you fix something, something else falls apart? Especially when it’s done quickly, in fear, or with a bandaid; with virtue signaling, adverts, drugs, drink, sex, etc? What happens when you run a marathon post knee surgery, before your body, brain spirit has fully recovered?

Health, I’ve realized, is not so much in saving/fixing – It is in listening. It is in something as disorienting, as a Pandemic, that affected the WHOLE- visibly, to make us question our ways of living. Listening. Being. It has affected us on every level imaginable. And knowable. We have just been asleep. My thoughts and feelings are not to discount the death; the pain, the PTSD nor the Virus. It is actually to lean into it… more. Because I’m afraid we are going to bypass what is essential for recovery – The actual articulation of the experience both personal and from within the hospital corridors. Those that faced something unimaginable/not in the science books. The unbearable pain of witnessing others die alone. The inability to FIX. Cure. Ease the suffering. The desperation. The bureaucracy, to boot.

One vaccine is not the FIX/Perhaps it’s an adjunct. The question now is – How are we going to be Healthy – individually and as a WHOLE. How are we going to stand up for things we believe in? What will we eat? Who will we convene with? Where will we live — Now and ten years from now? Where do we put our money? Time? Energy? Will we understand that relationship to our neighbors/village/community is essential for our Balance? Will we understand that everyone has a story, a set of values, history? That people will think and feel differently than we do – And that the beauty is in difference and our sameness. When we cut a human open in the OR, we all have a bleeding beating heart.

My hope is, we don’t lose the heart.

Peace

The Health

It’s funny, for as long as I’ve been in medicine, the health to me is not the beep beep, buzz buzz, stick, poke, prod, cut, coagulate, stitch, staple, fix, chart, review, time-out, count 1-10 4×4’s. Not to burst a bubble or 20. But most anyone can learn to do the skills of the trade. Ohh I know, now many have a PhD beside their other letters – To me medicine is not about the schooling either. I mean, it is. (Don’t take it so literally 😷) Maybe I trust the mess more – the vulnerable, gutsy, big hearted, kind and tender, nerdy (yes) too, artsy, weird, human to human, hand to skin, funny people, that never think they know everything – nor are they above anyone.

To me the Health is in the Relationships – with our colleagues. (no matter the letters or lack of) There can be no lack actually – just an H a U an M an A an N. It is all hands on deck. It is respect for different ideas, thoughts and points of view. Health is in Recognizing – that sometimes others need more of our weight, our love, our skill, some days. This is not a fight – A competition. Sometimes the Health is Surrender. Surrender to greater powers that be. To things unfamiliar. Health is Connection – always. To our patients. To their eyes, their Spirit, fears, joy, grief, community, culture. It is one hell of a journey. Health is to Listen. A full body listen. It is trusting once again in our instincts. Because when all systems fail – what is left? Usually a story.

Notes from a Traveling Nurse

Last week, while on call, I cared for my first NICU babies.(in my Career) Honesty, when I arrived on the unit with my colleague,(Scrub Tech) as many babies are too sick to be transported to the OR, I thought I might lose it. Like faint — at first. It was hotter than the NM desert in July compared to the arctic air of the OR rooms. After arriving back into my body — sometimes when I get anxious, I can leave it, I felt I would lose it again — as in tears. And then, as a Health care provider does so well, we shift from emotion to focus; tending to the now, to the baby and everyone caring for this tiny 3 day old human attached to nonhuman things. Things that drip and beep and breathe — yes, do the breathing via a tube, for a child less fortunate to wail and breathe big breaths of life after exiting her young mother’s womb, too soon.

I have to be honest, I was overwhelmed by the size of the NICU here in this small city of Louisiana. 40 beds, to be precise and all but maybe 2, were occupied. It made me think about the dynamics of the community I currently reside in. Dynamics as in the demographics here — including education, wealth inequality, and crime. There are quite interesting familial patterns, I’ve come to learn about, through discussions with both Police Force and Health Care workers. Crime is very high — Domestic Violence being in the top 5(in the U.S.) here in Northern LA. Many kids have turned to the streets, and well, we know where this goes from here. Very young Mothers, being just one effect — a small outcome that turns into much larger and cyclical social outcomes.

We are all well aware that violence in our society is at an all time high, though many prefer to avert their eyes, cast judgement whether to the left or to the right. I mean this year(2021 is just a continuum, my friends) has been like one big dodge ball game, shit spinning in a fan — have been my two analogies — where everyone is either extremely reactive or have their heads in their asses. The latter don’t want shit hitting them in the face…but in reality they don’t recognize, they too, can be shitty human beings — yes, this goes for the Woke as F***, Yay Science and Trumpists fans too. It is a community, whether young or old, rich or poor, black or white, red or blue that holds us together. Unfortunately we’re like those little babies right now, on life support, attached to nonhuman things — waiting to be loved. Unified. Again.

Knowledge

My best knowledge has come from being in the world. From my patients the past twenty years. From community, villages, cities other than the one I was born. Beyond the walls of North America and within. However, mostly from “outsiders.”

I’ve been educated by children. Yes, children. Ironically, I feel the West needs to grow up. I’ve been nourished by different colors, points of view; families full and rich with love. Ritual. My schooling came beyond states of emergency and from facing my own fears. Lessons mostly arrived from Mother Nature. I’ve learned from others’ dream, sorrows, and overwhelming generosity. Dancing, celebrating, eating together regardless of our complexities. And just because — We are Human. Humans with tremendous capacity for intimacy, respect and joy.

Yes, books are beautiful and bountiful and just plain orgasmic, sometimes. But not a thing has made me more FULL and knowing than direct communion with that, that I AM. And sometimes that is an old gas station for yours and my, viewing pleasure.

Resuscitation -Take I-

In these most unprecedented times, the public has been swarmed with a range of portraits/narratives into a medical system that has been quite frankly, working in the closet for years. I don’t think there’s ever been a moment where we’ve had more of a closeup, inside the walls of our hospitals. This closeup though, needs further attention. First and foremost, may we observe lightly as well as think deeply and more objectively into the lens we are viewing from outside the walls. Things are never as what they appear to be….we know this. We live in such a time of glossy and or fake news/entertainment, agenda driven squares and quite frankly, an ever evolving lack of self authority and responsibility.

In order for us to transcend — renew a sense of responsibility in our Care systems, I think we must begin to storytell. We need stories from deep within the hearts of medical providers. We need the tragic and the beautiful. The moments we have been touched by our patients, when we have learned something from them, and moments we’ve realized, mistakes were made. We need the stories of birth and of death and how we can accommodate both transitions better. We need to hear humans over machines; hearts over minds, at times and the stories that are impacting our environment as well as the health of the providers/patients within these walls.

Recently, I have listened to many perplexed and anxious medical minds and bodies on the forefront. And we perhaps, have an even more bewildered and scared mass of bodies waiting outside, to be seen by these insides. My hope is we resuscitate a culture that’s too often boot straps and boxing gloves. That we become alive and healthy again through truths, stories and broader perspectives of what it means to be a human in health care. The good, bad and the ugly. Hey, and if you want to do a dance at times, dance. I guess just looking into the intention, within that celebration. Because remember, the outside is always looking in, fortunately and unfortunately with a more scrutinous eye. At the end of the day may we all be Ambassadors for something larger than ourselves.

Nurse Me

Well here it goes. The Nurse me. If we want to speak of “battles” then I have a battle wound or two. These wounds are more akin to tears(holes, breaks) in my heart. It’s ironic, as my inner compass showed me Medicine for a reason. But it appeared to me,(through my body/my health)in almost my 20th year of service that the way of the West, the way of New York; powering through, the way of metrics, evaluation, speed, waste, and profits no longer met my inner standards/values of what Medicine means to me. In my heart.

I worked and pushed through a lot of disempowerment in my hospital days. The only thing bringing me back from these edges was not a boss that says “If people aren’t happy, they can leave.” It was the immense humility to connect and be present, make more comfortable, to see; to see another through a most vulnerable time. Through the gifts of what medicine, at its roots, also entails. Yet these gifts, and I will name them, are the Femine values and virtues/the intangible/the unmeasurable,unquantifiable parts to the whole, that often go unrecognized. It is the gift of selflessness; as a human being on their deathbed that says. “Give a piece of me to another, please,” and they donate an organ. It is the Nurse that shows up to work countless hours to send money home to their families. It is the Caretaker that comes to work sick, because there lies in these systems, lots of trickery, guilt and shame. It is a system that, in the current conditions, looks so unified on the outside. But the truth is, it’s broken.

This is not meant to drag the current resilience, bravery and light by which we view the Health Care system off the stage. I only write this to cast some shade…because there’s always a shadow. I admit, I felt betrayed as I walked out of the locker room after eight years of service to a place I brought heart, soul, light and wisdom to. But I am also so proud of who I’ve become in the process. I know that we each are our own Medicine following our own heart’s Lub,Dub. And I was definitely one, to march to the beat of my own drum, always. I guess I no longer felt part of the beat.

Are We Really at War?

With much respect for those on the health care lines, always, including the patients, I bow to you. I also want to take a moment and express my concern around the “war” language blooming in these deeply strange and ambivalent times. To go to “war” on something that “doesn’t want to fight with you,” is a narrative, after deep thought, that I’d like to see retire. – The Saving lives as a Battle – The War on Drugs – The War on Poverty- When we use terminology such as battle, fight, kill what are we communicating to the layperson? To the sick? To the vulnerable? To ourselves? Do we call it a “fight,” to perhaps soothe our very own fear of mortality, stroke our egos; ease our pains?

Our health isn’t an absence of illness whether acute or chronic. It’s neither an absence of virus, trauma, tumors, infection or mental affliction. These pieces, either one or/and the other that may visit us one day or already do, are parts of our WHOLE health. Just as poverty and drug addiction are pieces and reflections of a society and its health at large. We don’t need to battle it. We need to understand it from a holistic lens; to view the bigger canvas. We need to treat a human being undergoing surgery, as a whole being, not as parts to a car. Even treatment from a microscopic realm includes vast geography. These parts of me , you, society are not intentionally trying to battle us. So why wage a war?

I ask, “Is there an alternative expression for War?” I don’t know, but I think it’s time to grow out of hostile acts, upon the Other and most importantly, our Selves.

The Salve

Yesterday I felt a grief down in my bones. A feeling, like something is missing. Something that can’t be reached through a screen. Even beauty or God, for that matter. That feeling; it’s more of a salve than a prescription. It’s a connection. My skin resting in a hug. Hand holding hand. It’s checking vitals. Not with a cold device between your heart and mine. Rather vitals as, “what is vital to you dear human?”

It is warm sand again, between my toes. Sharing a gin in a small back room where all mouths are poets’ mouths. It is the company of a healer not just my own healing company. The company of little ones, old ones and even homeless ones. There was this one man in silver rings, wearing black, always. Summer and winter under the scaffolding on Howard Street, our eyes would meet. We would bow our heads in honor. I wonder how he’s doing presently…as he is God too. Also beauty.

That feeling; that salve I so viscerally want to taste. It is Humanness. The sweet and sacred collective. The community. The planet, yours and theirs. May we be brought home soon dear ones, minus the masks we once(and always) wore.

Earth Day

What if for a moment we untether together? See what happens. What arises from this shaky earth? Ashes to ashes. Will we all fall down? Either way it’s okay to stand; okay to fall. If we fall may we lie there for a moment and listen, ear pressed to a floor of dust.

If we stand, may we bow. Bow to the mystery of life and death itself. Bow to our body, the body of another. To the terror of beauty, of pleasure. Terror of our own pain; aloneness, love. Terror of LOVE. Bow to our own tethered mouths and untethered souls. Tethered hands that long to touch again. And again. May we now comb the earth with our fingers. Plant. Seeds that sow anything but back to normal.