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Being human Reflections on Life, Being Human, and Medicine Reflections on the Christian Life

The Optimism of Youth, The Weight of Experience and The Absolute Importance of Choosing to Live in the Middle

Sometimes when I am working, I like to listen to music. I listen to a wide variety of different types of music. On a whim recently, I put on a 1991 Loreena McKennitt album that Sarah and I liked early in our marriage.

I was surprised how the music suddenly transported me and changed how I felt inside in that moment. The music continued playing into my Air Pods and as it did, I started feeling younger and to my surprise, optimistic. The feeling was nice. I didn’t want it to stop, so when the album ended, I played it over again, and then as I was driving home after work, once again.

As the music played, I began to wonder. Life can feel heavy.  Why does it feel so heavy sometimes? We all have our Facebook photos where everything looks perfectly wonderful and happy, but in between the moments captured in the photos, there can be a heaviness, or perhaps better described as a seriousness, to life.  This seems to have become more commonplace the older I have grown.

The music however pulled me in the other direction. As it did, I was reminded of a commonly used expression, “the optimism of youth.” 

I remember years ago when Sarah and I volunteered to do some teaching at our church. We took on hard and complicated subjects. An older, more experienced man in our church would laugh and remark how he was impressed that we were not afraid to take on big or hard things. But we were young, and in “the optimism of youth” we believed we could handle it and so did not fear taking on big projects. 

In youth, there is a tendency to believe we can take on the world, conquer it, and remake it all better. 

In the Navy I came into a job and noticed chaos in several practices in the medical department. I was young and I knew I could clean them all up and make them better. A few months later I had structured pathways and plans and even a 3-ring binder of an organizational plan in place. When I left the command to take on another job the binder was filed on a back shelf. It seems that despite all my hard work, I had not permanently fixed everything. [1]

There is a person popular on social media who picks random houses with overgrown yards and fixes them up. The transformation is marvelous and the time accelerated work that he captures on video is mesmerizing to watch.[2] But then, it is inevitable that without continued care, the weeds are going to grow back. Chaos is going to come again.

The contrast has become evident to me. “The optimism of youth” says that we can and should do marvelous things.  “The weight of experience” says that such efforts are in vain. Entropy is going to win. The work that is done is going to be lost. 

I got in the car to drive home as I continued to think about all these things.  As I drove, I realized that I tend to be a defensive driver, anticipating catastrophe at every turn. I remember the person who ran into the side of my car 25+ years ago and vow to not have that happen today. What could go wrong? What catastrophe is coming at me down the road? As I drive, it occurs to me that in my mind I am speculating and getting pulled down by a variety of potential worries and anxieties about current and future happenings in my life. 

Life can feel heavy.

I turned the music on again. Once again, the lightness and optimism returned. I like that person better.  What is so different? I searched inside of me to figure out what it was I was feeling. It was like an elixir that tasted so wonderful that I wanted to take sip after sip as I tried to place the taste. Perhaps, I thought, if I can figure it out, I can then somehow retain it.

There is a wisdom that we gain with life that is very valuable. Knowing what I know now, how would I live my life over if given the chance? 

There is nothing wrong with driving with an awareness of the risks and potential hazards to be a safer driver. There is nothing wrong with understanding that despite whatever wonderful work you do, time will tend to undo what you have done.  It is wise to be aware and cautious of the potential risks and problems in the world. But as I think about all of this, I can begin to feel heavy and old. “Oh dear. Oh dear. Oh dear…” my children used to laugh at their grandfather who would say that if something was going wrong and sometimes even if there was nothing going wrong. I am beginning to understand why he would react that way.

But there is power and wonder in the optimism of youth. 

The Lord God is on His throne and His purposes are being worked out. The wonderful things that He is working in this world and in my life may be complicated and beyond my understanding. These things might be realized over a much longer period of time than I may understand, but God is in control. At the same time, I must acknowledge that He has given me good gifts to enjoy. Life is not easy, and there are hard things to go through. But in the midst of everything, there are good and happy things to enjoy. He is the creator God who made a world of beauty and wonder with a desire that we could and would enjoy it. 

“Even when I am sad, I am still a little happy,” my daughter said to her grandmother when she was young. Within the midst of wisdom can there still be optimism? Can we somehow live in the middle? Can we choose to be a little happy even when we are sad? 

I think it is not only possible but essential. 

I realize that I must choose to embrace and retain the optimism of youth. I am going to choose to play and laugh and find joy and humor in things whenever I can. I know the seriousness of things and all that there is that I could worry about. I am hoping to actively choose to not let that overwhelm me or define me. I am going to take a sip of the elixir that says these things:

  • God is in control. You do not have to worry about everything. If you are a person of faith, you need to relax and trust Him.
  • There is joy in this world. Drink richly of it and enjoy it.
  • If you see something that is good to do, even if it looks like a big thing, go ahead. Go for it! There is joy and wonderful purpose and meaning and optimism in taking it all on.
  • Stop being so serious! Laugh. Play. Enjoy.

My granddaughter runs up and wants to play with the blocks on the floor. She is getting tired and becomes very busy to keep herself going. I too am tired after work. If we pull all the blocks out, we will have to pick them all up again in a few minutes when it is time for her to go home. It is getting late. We have to figure out dinner. There are other things that I should do.  “Oh dear. Oh dear!” I think and then I chuckle to myself inside.  “Of course! Let’s play with the blocks!” 

[1] https://manmedicineandmike.com/the-time-i-saved-the-world/

[2] https://www.youtube.com/c/SBMowing

Categories
Being human Reflections on Life, Being Human, and Medicine

The Siren’s Call

An ambulance rushes to the scene of an accident.

I heard a siren as I walked out of the hospital. 

I turned my head and looked and saw an ambulance drive by with strobes flashing and reflecting off the surrounding buildings. I listened to the siren as they drove by. Instantly I had emotions and thoughts welling up inside of me. In that moment the sound was a “siren’s” call to my past. 

I was brought back to being 19 years old and working in EMS. Life goes by fast. I have lived more of my life on this side of the lights and sirens than before or during them. Inside of me however it doesn’t seem so long ago. My emotions pulled me back. 

As I continued to walk outside the hospital to my car I was transported back in time. I paused to soak up the sensations again. I could still recall the feel of the seat in the front of the ambulance. I remember the heavy microphone attached to the Motorola police radio. I remember the adrenaline. The lights would flash off the windows of the buildings, the homes, and the cars that we passed. Our siren would blare out a warning – or perhaps it felt more like a “look at me!” To a somewhat shy and traditionally introverted young man, the ambulance was an alter ego, demanding attention from everyone as we boldly marched our way through town and down the roads to the place where we were called.

The microphone felt heavy and solid in my hand. “11 from 11-51, we are enroute,” I would say to the dispatcher. I would push down the adrenaline and try to suppress the beating of my heart. I was a professional I would remind myself. I would focus on what we needed to do and how to do it. I was young. Everything seemed so new. Nothing was routine for me. I had techniques and practices that I had been taught and learned but all of it seemed just a bit crisp and new, like the creases of the uniform that I was so proud to wear.

Pulling up I would force myself to look and survey the scene. It was important to not get “tunnel vision.” I needed to try to assess what was going on, taking it all in, before focusing on our patient or patients. 

“11, 11-51 is 10-23.” That was the call that we had arrived on the scene.

We would get out and walk to the side doors of the ambulance to get our equipment. One of us would grab our Plano fishing box that contained our medical equipment. At least at that time, the standard was this fishing box with multiple drawers and areas to neatly contain bandages and any equipment we might need. The other one of us would take the portable oxygen tank.

One of us would go directly to the patient and begin focusing on them. I would look directly in their eyes. Their eyes could tell so much information about how they were doing. From there was a rapid primary survey. ABCs: Airway Breathing and Circulation. Next there was a secondary survey to identify any obvious issues that might need to be addressed. Despite the adrenaline rush inside of me, I would talk calmly to them, hoping to emulate the examples of my mentors. I hoped that my calm demeaner would calm the patient and their family and help them through this crisis.

Other times I would take the secondary role. In that role I would seek to gather whatever helpful information I could get. That might mean talking to others on the scene as to what was going on or what the problem was. Sometimes it meant getting the prescription bottles together to bring to the Emergency Department. It would inevitably involve planning how we were going to move and transport our patient. Lessons learned from the past would play in my head as I looked at narrow doorways or staircases and tricks to navigate them. 

“Always lift with your palms down,” was an early lesson. It was not intuitive. Newbies would want to grab and lift the stretcher the other way – like you were doing an arm curl with a patient. With the palms down it is amazing how much two can lift into the back of the ambulance. Once the patient was inside, I would jump into the back and sit on the bench beside my patient. I would pull out the blood pressure cuff again and blow it up to get another set of vital signs. As I did so I would think about the HERN (Hospital Emergency Radio Network) call that I would need to make to the hospital emergency room. I knew that my voice would be on a speaker playing out loud at the nurse’s station. It was important to figure out what I was going to say before I started speaking. Once more I pushed myself to assume the role of a professional.

When we arrived, we would deliver our patient and hand them over the to the ER nurses and physician. This was followed by the ritual of cleaning the gurney and putting fresh sheets on it to be ready for the next call. As we did so the adrenaline would start draining down into a giddy sort of post-call high. I didn’t smoke but would often go out back with my partner for the day and we would stand and talk. It didn’t matter what we said, it was just good to be a part of a team.

It was so long ago and yet in an instant the sound of a siren pulled me back. I felt it and experienced it all over again. I once again knew what it was like to be young and what life felt like when everything was exciting and new. It was nice and I wanted to linger in that sensation for a little while.

A few years ago, I saw a 92-year-old patient in the hospital. When I had finished my usual medical questions and exam I paused for a minute and asked them, “How old do you really think you are?” I clarified the question, “I know that you know the number of years but if you just sit back and ignore the numbers, how old do you think of yourself being?” My patient understood and smiled, “That is an interesting question. Well, I know I am not young, but I am not that old either. I suppose I am about 70.” 

There is a strange thing about time. The years seem to click by so quickly that inside most of us don’t think of ourselves as being as old as the calendar might indicate. My 92-year-old patient was healthier than most and I think part of it was because of that mindset. “Act your age,” may be appropriate in certain contexts, but often it is okay to indulge in thinking and feeling younger than your years.

The siren called to me today. It said, “You are young. Life is exciting. There are so many things to see and do and learn!” In mythology the siren’s call would pull the sailors away from reality and lure them to their doom. But this siren’s call is not bad, I think, if we like Odysseus take the proper precautions.  It depends on how we use these memories. The memories can pull you into feeling sorry for yourself and only looking at what is behind you (that is the siren’s call of danger.) But it can be a good thing to really remember and to feel what it was like to be young including the thrill, excitement, and joy of it all.

Part of it is a philosophy of life that looks forward rather than back. It is a desire to live and experience what is ahead of us in life. It recognizes that there are always new things ahead to experience and to live.  

I had to learn about how to ride a roller coaster. When I was young, I was afraid of roller coasters. I would go on them to make my family or friends happy but as I did so I would close my eyes and just endure them. That was exactly the wrong thing to do. I later learned to keep my eyes open. I often pretend that I am in control and flying the roller coaster. The feeling is exhilarating. 

It is the choice to experience the adventure of life rather than have life just happen to you. This attitude makes all the difference in the world (like looking forward to each dip and turn rather than being jolted and jerked by them.) Sometimes we need to reach in our minds to remember what it felt like to be young and looking forward to what comes next in life, rather than just looking back at what has already happened.

Life should be exciting. There are so many new things yet to see and do and experience.  What is the next new adventure for us? At the moment it is packing up a house and building another as we downsize. It feels scary and overwhelming at times. Sometimes I want to shrink into the old and familiar. But life is an adventure. There is still so much to see and do and experience. I should want to be front and center. I should not be afraid to click on the siren and the flashing lights and head into the next new adventure.

The deep tones alarm from my police radio alerting us to our next call. “11 from 11-51, we are in route.