Tag: healthcare

Are We Human Or Are We Heroes?

The collaboration and solidarity I and we have been observing in these times, is a powerful testament to the impact Medicine and our Health Care system has on our communities and individuals. I do however question many responses, mainly from a humanistic perspective. I am curious about this very virus and what will soon be revealed, or not. More recently, I’m perplexed with the “hero” archetype. My concern with heroes, especially in medicine is, “Who are we when we don’t save the day?” Save a life.  Make a mistake. Die on the line or for that matter, commit suicide.  And the latter is not a new scenario as, “Doctors are far more likely than the general population to die by suicide.”  (NPR.org 2018)

Pursuing the art of medicine to be another’s hero never sat well with me. Have I been a participant in the betterment of one’s illness, acute or chronic?  Yes. A guide, so to speak, that has used her knowledge and skills to the best of her abilities, or so I can only hope?  Yes. Have I educated, hung treatments, lead codes, witnessed miracles such as birth and passages of death?  Yes. Have I felt a surge of energy and enthusiasm around a crisis?  Yes. Have I felt proud? Yes. More potently however, I have been humbled. Humbled by the bravery of my patients and their loved ones. To go to a hospital in need of help is a bold and vulnerable act. Likewise, to be in service to those in need requires courage and vulnerability. This relationship involves a great deal of trust.  And on occasion, the recipient of our best care doesn’t make it to see another day.  

I have been both witness to and in the patient role in my days.  I request no one be my Hero, only to use their scientific minds wisely and with flexibility. To listen. To hear and see not only with their heads.  To apply the principles of Hippocrates and to perhaps reflect on a new Health Care Ethos.  A humane ethos that has not only patient’s wellness at heart but providers as well.  A slowing down versus powering through.  A dismantling of Saintly Doctors and one of the most recent(disturbing) narratives, “Murderous” Nurses.  I end with the question.  Are we  Human or are we Heroes?  Perhaps we tend to our own personal Hero’s journey, as we unknot our capes and sit at the bedside; taking a glimpse at the insurmountable beauty and mystery before us. Another Human. Another You. 

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Nurses Week

What are my thoughts on this Nurses Week, 8 months after retiring(for now) my mask and OR Bouffant? Welp, I will first say how sad, exhausted, and yet exhilarated I felt, leaving the so called “prestigious” institution I worked with(in hindsight, FOR) for eight years of my journey. I kissed the OR floor on my last day//The amount of humility and grace I experienced in service (side note: I was never a hero and in my humble and honest reflection around heroism– something doesn’t fundamentally sit right about an aim to be another’s hero) to the brave/vulnerable souls that entered our hospital doors in need of medicine, of care and compassion, need of surgery, of recovery, of trust, to have their voices heard; unfortunately the later being Co-Opted with our diverted attention, the fast, faster faster and more, more more movement of Health Care. And what we are witnessing currently among all the bravado and accolades, is not only the stifling of patient voices(as many are too fearful to show up in the hospital now) but those voices of our very own Health Care providers. Yes, it is true, our humans of medicine, especially nurses; speaking up against injustices has its price. (And this is not new)

My second thought around this week is the gut feeling there is so much PTSD about to surface and many inside the sterile walls perhaps already displaying symptoms without realizing it. Our hospital systems, for the most part, are not and have not been designed to be in service to those in the arena of Care, ie counseling, education, mental health and grievance support and as we presently bare witness to–Protection and Safety. Providers, like patients have become another number/another body. And after tagging and bagging those so called bodies, it’s “Back to work.” Even if you’ve just been to you very own family funeral. With so much more to say, I end this piece with my expression of love for all the Medicine Women and Medicine Men I am fortunate to know. Those that show up to work not looking for freebies and thank you’s as much as they are looking to be recognized as HUMAN.

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.