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Being human Medicine Reflections on Life, Being Human, and Medicine Updates on my health

On Becoming a Patient

My first overnight in the hospital as a patient!

Brenda had an acute appendicitis. She was suddenly very ill and had surgery and ended up in the hospital. I am sure it was no fun. But I envied her. 

I was a 3rdyear medical student and felt very tired and very stressed. It was before the concept of work hour restrictions. Call was truly overnight and all night. There were no medical student call rooms. The post call day was not easier or an early day. It was harder because you had to present and defend your care of the admissions from the prior night. I was learning a lot. But I was tired.

I envied Brenda. She was lying in a bed and reading or watching television. I dreamed of what it might be like to have people bring me food and drink and to just be able to click through the channels on the television.


Oddly this pattern has continued throughout my medical practice. Rounding on the day of the “big game” I wander in and out of patient rooms. The game will be on the television and I am tempted to look but I have just a few too many patients to see. I push on. I listen to the patient. I listen to their heart and lungs. And then I move on.

Sometimes it is the show, “Gunsmoke.” I loved that show as a child. I even wrote to James Arness for an autographed photo. I used to keep it in a certain drawer in my parent’s desk at home. One year I got a full outfit complete with a plastic gun with plastic bullets and holster. I haven’t watched that show for years but one day I saw it on television in a patient’s room. I envied him.

Gunsmoke - The Directors Collection
https://www.amazon.com/Gunsmoke-Directors-Collection-James-Arness/dp/B000H7JCHI

Once again however I pushed ahead. I asked my standard questions of them (enough to at least bill a level 2 rounding note). I looked at their neck veins, listened to their heart and lungs and felt their ankles. And on I went. 

Sometimes it is “Fixer-Upper.” I watch this show at home. For those of you who are fans, my wife, daughters, and I have been to Magnolia and to Magnolia Table in Waco! And no, we have not met Chip and Joanna. But when it is on while I am working, it oddly feels like it would be such a luxury to stop during the work day and just watch it.

Image result for Fixer upper magnolia
https://i.ytimg.com/vi/zbebsu3rCoc/maxresdefault.jpg

And then I got sick. And for the first time in my life a bunch of things flipped:

  • I became a patient rather than the physician.
  • I was suddenly taking a lot of pills
  • I was off work with a lot of time available to me.

And so today I write as a voice of someone who has “crossed over” to the other side of being a patient. I do not know that I will be particularly eloquent or poignant, but it is a different perspective. I am hoping to share just a few impressions here. Perhaps others who have experienced the other side will want to add some more in the comments later?

Phase 1: Post-op:

  • I was very sore. I couldn’t move around without clear intentional action. To get up and out of a chair was something that was planned and then executed. Walks (a lap around my living room) were planned and carefully performed.
  • I was able to read and watch a lot of television. I watched, “Gunsmoke”. I realized that it is kind of a depressing and sad show! There are a lot of sad things that happened to make the drama for the show. I watched some movies. I watched recommendations from friends and coworkers.
  • My body was not intended to sit or lay down a lot. My neck and back would get sore. I would get headaches as a result. I tested and used every chair and sofa in my house trying to find the best position to sit or lay. My daughter taught me the joy of a hot shower. (I now understand and have compassion for our LVAD patients who are not yet allowed to shower!)
  • I walked very slowly. My wife laughs when she tells about my first walk at the hospital. I kept asking her to slow down. I think she felt that if she slowed down any further, we would be walking backwards! 
  • Rolling over in bed was a job. I never imagined this with all the patients that I have managed through surgery. I had to think very intentionally about rolling over and whether that was good or bad.
  • Electrical jolts. These were a very unwelcome surprise. I have tried to look up the anatomy and realize that nerves are never quite as logical as I think they should be. If I tried to slide toward my left and roll a bit to hug my wife, I would feel a sudden and severe hot knife stab to the left groin. Wow! Ok. So, I guess I had better not do that. The good news is that those have now passed.
  • “You just wiggled your finger! That’s wonderful!” “I’ve always been a fast healer.” For those that don’t recognize those lines they are classics from the movie, “The Princess Bride.” As I recovered one day Sarah made this pronouncement.  We laughed a lot at that one and those lines have become a hallmark of my recovery process. 

Phase 2: Radiation and Chemo:

  • Fatigue more than drowsiness. I may post this as a full blog post later. But I have learned that sometimes sleep is needed more than desired.
  • Queasy and nausea: My thanks to Karen W for suggestions and advice on how to handle this. My profound thanks to the pharmaceutical industry and the combination of Zofran and Compazine! I think about all of the patients for whom I have prescribed mycophenolate who have then struggled to manage the nausea. Sorry! 
  • Obsession with bowels: Not going to get into much detail here save it to say that I feel like an old man especially when shopping down the bowel regimen aisle at Meijer. It is embarrassing to be jostling for position next to the 80-year olds who are also shopping there!
  • Oddly – too tired to read – but not too tired to write. I don’t understand this but maybe it is some glitch of my own creative mind being deprived of work? I am sure that it will pass but for an avid reader it is a bizarre part of this phase.
  • Home blood pressure checks: Seems that it would be easy to just do this regularly right? I bought a home BP cuff but frankly I am pretty bad at doing it. I seem to grab it when I am obsessing about my BP but then mostly ignore it! 
  • Learning to swallow a lot of pills: I had become a bit proud of my ability to swallow an occasional naproxen or Tylenol. Now I marvel at home many pills I take! When I lay them all out, I want to take a picture of them (I have done this!) It just amazes me all the things that I am putting into my body! But I also found that it became harder to swallow so many. Big tablets are the worst. I used applesauce and it started teaching me how to take bigger swallows. I have since been better able to do the same large swallows with water again.
  • Dry mouth: This was actually with both phases from the pain and nausea meds. It is a really odd thing to feel the need to swallow and to be unable to do so. It is a mild panicky sensation. If I wet my mouth, then I can swallow and then I feel better.
  • Thankfulness: I really value and appreciate my treatment team. Their kindness and interactions with me are important to me. I enjoy getting to know them and who they are. Their kindness and understanding make things a lot better. The arm that they offer me to help me off of the radiation table is oddly such a real comfort and support. I find myself wanting to give back to them. 

So what have I learned?

  1. I don’t envy Brenda anymore. The grass does indeed always seem greener, but it is not. I would prefer to be up and moving around rather than the one in the bed. Appreciate what you have. Be content with what you have and enjoy it in the moment rather than wishing for what others have.
  2. When you get the time to do all the things that you were wanting to do, you might not have the energy or desire to do them. Life can play cruel tricks on you sometimes! Enjoy the good in your day today rather than wishing it away on tomorrow.
  3. I better understand the struggles of my patients for whom I have prescribed a TON of medicines. I am even thinking about setting alarms for myself to remind me to take my pills. I am anxious that a pill box may be in my future! It is not easy coordinating and remembering to take every dose on time. I think I am capable of it but then yesterday morning I went out to breakfast with a friend and realized that I had forgotten to take my pills beforehand.  Oops.  (I took them an hour or so late instead!) Listen and problem solve with your patients. It is hard for even intelligent and motivated patients to be perfectly adherent. I now completely understand why we have a pharmacist in the advanced heart failure clinic!
  4. I really appreciate the role of direct caregivers. The nurses and aides are so valuable. Health systems – pay attention to this – if you want good patient satisfaction scores – be sure to take care of them and make sure that you have good staff in these roles! Appreciate and value those who directly touch the patients. They are SO important.
  5. A desire to give back: As a patient I want to contribute and show my thanks. Please let me do this. It is hard enough to be in the receiving role. It makes me feel good to ask how you are and to support you. Let your patients give as well as receive.
  6. We were designed to be creative and to work. I think that is part of what is driving my energy for this blog so much. Mimi E I hope you don’t mind me calling out to you from this blog, but you are a great instructor for all of us in this. You were a great teacher as a physician and now you continue to be as a patient. To be human we all feel a need to create something. Mimi does an amazing job with her painting and photography. We were all meant to work. Feel the joy of it. When you are stretched feel it as a good thing, as a growing thing, and as an essential part of being human.

And so, as a conclusion to this posting I will quickly repeat my primary lessons:

  1. Be content with what you have rather than envying others. It really is not that great being in the hospital bed or sitting at home watching, “Gunsmoke.”
  2. Seek out and really enjoy the good that you have in today. Do not squander it wishing for tomorrow.
  3. Partner and problem solve with your patients. This is the key to compliance / adherence.
  4. Value the staff that directly interact with the patients.
  5. Let your patients give back to you. 
  6. Enjoy the work that you have today. I know that there may be parts of it that are not fun but as humans we are meant to work. Like a good workout feel the stretch and pull and challenge and enjoy it.

Categories
Being human Reflections on Life, Being Human, and Medicine Updates on my health

Skydiving Through Life – Or Burnout Chapter 2

When Sarah went skydiving it was different than what I imagined it would be like.  

I always imagined the free fall as – well – “free”.  Wouldn’t it be first the amazing feeling of falling – like the initial drop on a roller coaster. Then would come the part where it would be like superman flying around in the sky.  Next would be after the parachute opened. You would be floating gracefully through the air. You would be looking around from way up in the sky with the amazing feeling of peace and freedom.  

This is Sarah and the instructor on their way to earth!

She tells me it wasn’t like that at all.  Not at all.

The Go-Pro video recording showed the reality.  

In reality she stepped off a plane flying at speed (150 mph). The free fall was instead the sensation of getting blasted in the face with wind at 150 mph.  At that speed – she said it wasn’t really that easy to appreciate the beautiful view. The video shows her cheeks violently flapping around in the wind in a not very graceful way.

Sarah is being brave but on the video you can see the 150 mph wind whipping her cheeks!

And then the shock and pull of the parachute against her arms and legs pulled into her skin.  The pressure and bruising and associated pain made the parachute ride also less idyllic then what I imagined. The trip down was a balance between trying to look around and wondering how long it would be before she would be free of the pain of the harness.

So also, with my life. 

Everything in my life seems to move at 150 mph. 

More often than not I get blasted in my face with the forceful wind of life.  I try to look out at the trees and grass and sunsets. But most of the time I am just feeling my cheeks pushed back and pretending to enjoy them and wondering why I can’t.  My iPhone is a constant temptation and a constant pull into the wind. Just when the wind slows, one email or text speeds it up again. One comment can be a reminder that triggers worries or thoughts of things that I have not done or that need to be done. 

There are good things in my work. But once again, the beautiful sunsets or the glint of the sun on the leaves get only a cursory appreciation as I pound through on dozens of things grabbing at me. A success on one patient but yet a long note to write in Epic and several patient calls and the enormous number of unread emails.

Someone told me once about eating a hot sauce that was so hot it just numbed up his tongue. In the end he couldn’t feel it – and he couldn’t even taste it. My life feels that way. I feel numb and long for times when I felt more human. Could I really have time to indulge emotion. Could I even know what I feel – and then be free to express it. Artists and poets and song writers get to do this. Can’t I get to do this also please?

Last night (10/3/18) I had the gift of driving alone with a sunset outside my window. Recent events made me not care about anything else. It could all wait. Putting on music and turning it up loud enough so that I could feel it was like the greatest indulgence. 

And for a moment it was there again: emotions. Appreciating what it means to be truly human. Unlike the real skydiving – it was better. I was floating and able to look around and see everything. Not blasted by the wind. But able to feel a gentle breeze and see colors and feel pain and beauty at the same time.


This is chapter two of my discussion of burnout.[1]  I wrote this three days after I was told that I had a “large retroperitoneal mass” that was likely cancer. 

I had been feeling the blast of life in my face for years. It was only with the threat of my own mortality that I could get angry enough to defy it all. It is odd that it took anger to overcome the stress of the world, but I think that was what the emotion was. I was finally determined and strong enough to fight against the pressures that would keep me from enjoying life. Sometimes you have to get angry at the circumstances that are destroying you.

It is now more than two months later. 

I am still only functioning with training wheels on. I am continuing to learn. My cancer diagnosis and the associated treatments are training wheels. They are keeping me from falling back into living a more certain life that pretends to let you feel and see and smell and love but mostly just keeps you numb. I am more human today than I was two months ago. I am working hard via prayer and study and writing this blog to learn. 

All of my family, friends and coworkers are making it easy. Their kindness to me has been overwhelming. Thursday night a large group of them from the transplant and VAD programs showed up outside my front door. They sang Christmas carols to me! They were all bundled up in the cold. They held candles. Their voices were sweet! Their faces were some of the greatest beauty I have ever seen!

The most beautiful faces in the world are my dear friends who love me!

 I tried to not cry. Their sweet children in the front were so adorable it made it easier. They made my heart happy. I had to steady myself on my wife because the emotions were so intense – so good – so real. I was fully human standing there. Thank you for making it easy. I didn’t need my training wheels that night because of you.

My beloved Sarah. She is always there to steady me.

I promise that I will continue to learn. My last week of radiation is next week. I hope that as I recover from that I might regain some energy and stamina. I am warned that the fatigue can persist for a while. I am also warned that the chemotherapy doses will be ramped up after this and they can and will cause fatigue and nausea. I guess the Lord thinks I still need training wheels for a while longer.

But I must learn because I feel a deep obligation to teach it to you. I want to somehow teach you to truly:

  • Feel
  • Taste
  • Smell
  • See
  • Hear
  • And love.

[1]I promise a chapter 3 with more insights and answers will come in a few weeks. I have written it based on the feedback from many of you but I want to spend some more time in reflection and study before posting it. So please bear with me. More will be coming.