Tag: hospital

Our lives and Medicine

I woke up missing the sense of community today, of the Operating room corridors I once ran up and down and from room to room in search of supplies. Though I never felt our medical system had their shit together,(Hey, — This is healthcare in America — and yet we are so privileged) I was at least getting some good exercise. I miss the soft(older the better) and smelly scrubs….yes, there’s something to the scent of a new med student or resident excited and nervous all at once to make their very first cut or suture fleshes of skin, back together again. I know. I know. Oh, and I can actually smell those bovie plumes now. Ya know, that instrument that dissects and controls bleeding in one magical wand. I miss the characters mostly. I don’t know if there’s another structure in the world, at least in an urban place like NYC, that houses the most dynamic, quirky, nerdy, fresh, caring, striving, hardworking, risk taking, humans all in one place. From across all walks of life — Politically, socially, economically — unified(and sometimes not) to take care of other human beings. It’s quite miraculous actually. Such a complex system, that each and everyone one of us walking this planet cannot, and will not escape being a participant of. Well, I digress. For some, the choice becomes this or that. My health or supper on the table. My health or the roof over my head. The health of my child or the health of my mother. 

There should never be an OR; only an AND — in Our Lives and Medicine.

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.  

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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