For example, take car-racing friend. For the first time in her life this week, she played hockey. Helmet, gloves, stick and runners - she is part of our new ball hockey team this summer. Following the 4-0 loss, there were glum faces in the dressing room. Car-racing friend threw her helmet off in frustration and began going on about how much she "sucked" at this sport.
For us as a team, it was our second ever game. The score did not reflect the effort and energy we had invested, but there were a lot of great things that happened. Defense learned about keeping the other team out of our goalie's way and forwards learned how to line up for an offense face-off. There were wonderful passes being made, great team spirit and 15 exhausted ladies who have invested an hour of exercise back into their life that they wouldn't have otherwise done.
15 pairs of eyes and I bet every pair saw that game in a different light.
Funny how that works, isn't it?
This week was my limit. Our program requires that we take 15 credits in 5 weeks and this translates to literally, 8-5 days packed with lectures, labs, seminars, and study hours into the wee morning when we get home.
One of our seminar topics this week was discussing a "patient" by the name of Katherine, a middle aged woman who is in our care after suffering her second heart attack. She has all the "risk factors" that make her high risk for suffering another one: morbidly obese, a smoker, suffers from Type II diabetes... you name it. If she doesn't change her ways, she will die of a heart attack. Our seminar group was discussing what we should do with her. She is not being compliant with the cardiac rehabilitation program and our choices include discharging her on account of non-compliance or "reading her the riot act" (essentially laying it out for her that she will die in short succession if she keeps her life on this track).
Out of 11 of us... 10 voted to discharge her. 1 fought to keep her in the program a little longer and try to elicit a change in her behaviour/lifestyle.
I was overruled and we discharged her. I was devastated.
When speaking with our prof the next day, I was told that "in the real world", she would have to be discharged. It comes down to funding, to making priorities and to realizing that our patients problems should never become "our" problem as her caregiver. And, because I couldn't rationalize this decision in my heart, my prof and I ended up talking at length about Ms. Katherine.
Wise-professor took off her reading glasses and set them on the table without breaking eye contact and after a lengthy silence asked if she could give me a piece of advice that has worked for her in her practice as a primary caregiver. She began to tell me about how important it was for her, to establish those boundaries. She preceded her metaphor by claiming that it was a bit "out there", but it would be good to try. She then told me that every morning before going to work, she would put on her armor. It was not "real", but a mere image that helped her immensely. "I put on a helmet, a body armor, a belt, and carry my shield..."
As far as she let on, for her... it was just an expression of imagery. A mere coincidence that this imagery can be found in various places within a thick, ancient manuscript of how to live one's life.
But for me, it was more than just a survival mechanism in clinical... for me, it was a gentle whisper that wherever I go, there God will go too. Long gone, but not forgotten.
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