Exposed to Composed: A Medical Professional's Story
So many people are having to live life differently during this crazy time - a pandemic, which will now be forever in our history.
Here is the story of one’s journey… Dayna, someone I’ve known since I was a child. She has always been like the sister I never had; here is her story:
“My cousin is an internal medicine hospitalist in the southwest; he says he feels like he’s “waiting in a bunker without a gun.”
This is an uncharted and unknown territory and people are starting to get desperate.
I'm not able to access my usual self regulation tools because my mind is on high alert.
I'm frustrated with my bosses because I feel like I am just a commodity of $$$.
I’m feeling that my value is really only about how many visits I can make, not the quality of the care I can provide,
Or how much money I make for the hospital or clinic.
Of course, I still practice my way,
connecting with families and children in this intimate dance of raising kids and keeping them healthy, that’s fraught with hills, valleys and some really deep pits.
I am an empath.
I feel others journey.
And usually,
my internal reward from childhood of " being a good girl, " mixed together with outside my real life, rebellion, adventure and’ hygge'“ at home, meant balance.
But right now,
it reminds me of when my fly fishing line is in such a mess, that I cut it.
Because I'm not on the water long enough.
My time… is precious.
And right now, there is no line, by the way, between work and home.
Patients are frantic about whether it's safe to see me, but still need to have me just "talk for a second,” “answer a quick question" or “please just meet me in the parking lot; the baby hasn't slept in 2 nights because of an ear infection”....
Reassurance for kids with special health care needs, families still working minimum wage jobs with older kids watching little kids and accidents (I’ve seen dog bites, and had to ship a 2-yr-old 7 hours away to have surgery.)
The mental health toll is interesting; some kids are actually thriving…
the ones that wanted to be outside and whose parents are suddenly home (like my kids, they are outside sun up to sun down fishing, hiking, ranching & riding horses)
vs. the others, who have been abused or neglected who got the self regulation tools from school and friends.
Worry.
It's all worry.
The unknown; the fear.
I started reading my grandmother's diary from when my grandfather was away in WWII.
He was a captain in the Marine Corps at Iwo Jima.
You know what she wrote about during that time?
What flowers were blooming,
what the wind felt like on a warm day riding her bike,
the way a braided bread smelled in her kitchen while baking,
the silky feel of her grandmother's hand.
This is what I am doing during this time. Focusing on now.
Turning off the noise.
Getting up early and reading or writing.
And eventually, getting back on my treadmill or doing yoga.But right now, I'm sitting listening for new bird songs instead.
