My entries have been rather bleak over the past week. I am carrying a new patient with a terminal illness and I felt pretty sad today because the patient is very polite, intelligent, friendly and funny. Somehow I'm not sad when I'm with the patient. Maybe it's because my strong inner support role comes through. I likely feel sad afterwards because I'm alone with my thoughts: it's similar to sitting across from someone in a dimly lit room in silence, figuring what to do or say, or even just how to go about gathering your thoughts.
I have one patient who isn't terminal, and I'm actually not sure if I've had one patient aside from that one who isn't. I think I've had two patients total so far who haven't been classified as terminal cases, but I honestly can't remember that one patient, if they even exist. I blame 4.5 hours of sleep 6 days a week and the fast pace.
My patient's pain is difficult to control, as I learned part way into the interview. And then I just happened to say "We'll do what we can to take the best care of you. We'll figure out the best way to control your pain." I sort of surprise myself I guess, in the sense that I just have this never-ending positive energy for these patients who have difficult diseases we can't cure. I hope it stays that way. And I think it will, because I love connecting with other people, making them smile, giving them strength and hope, doing little things for them like getting the light or getting them a cup of water they can't reach from their hospital bed.
I almost want to volunteer to take all the new terminal patients that we admit, partly because I feel like I'm becoming used to it and it's nothing out of the ordinary now. It used to be crushing, but now, you know, you have to be strong for these people and help them.
Writing has been helping me a whole lot, and I highly recommend it. It's very therapeutic.
No comments:
Post a Comment