A Brilliant New Year to You all
Just a few closing thoughts I had before 2007 had ended...
I worked in the palliative care team for a local hospital in my
September to December work term. For those unfamiliar with the term
"palliative care", it is the type of care implemented for patients who
have severe or advanced illnesses.. whether curable or not. This field
of care focuses on providing patients with relief from symptoms and
pain, to ensure a good quality of life as they face their ordeal.
Emotional pain and spiritual distress are relieved as best as possible,
and finally, up until the end stage of a patient's life, palliative
care professionals try their best to make them as comfortable as
possible as they prepare to depart. This is a relatively new field in
medicine and proves especially important as the aging population
steadily increases. For those who have actually heard of the term
"palliative", you may notice that there is quite a taboo attached to
the word. "Palliative" does not necessarily mean one is going to die,
but simply what I had explained above.. an advanced illness that needs
special attention to relieve the patient.
I was energized and excited to work in this field as I had developed a
strong interest after taking a psychology of death and dying course
(with one of the most amazing profs I've ever had). I was in huge
disbelief when the job confirmations came in and I was selected to work
in this position as a palliative care research assistant.
A few blips here and there but I think I'm finding my way just fine in
the team. My job roles are mainly to manage multiple research studies
and do patient accrual (which is basically asking patients to
participate in my studies, most of which are quick questionaires on how
they feel). I speak with patients daily for almost half of the work
day. At first I was trucking along.. smiling here, offering a kind word
there, reading about the diseases (mostly cancer) that the patients I
just spoke to have, and keeping track of patient "disposition dates"
(their date of death). I was plugging this information into databases,
into spreadsheets, into documents.. with only a background thought on
how sad it all was. Of course, I came home everyday with a quiet
thought on all those I had met that day and on how hard it must be for
them.. but all this was with the registered thought that "all things
happen for a reason".
However, a couple of weeks in, I got updated on the disposition of a
patient with whom I had spoken with earlier in the week. She had smiled
with me as I asked how she felt. She was kind and warm and told me that
she wanted to go home soon. She was beautiful with brown hair and a
soft voice. She was so human.
I spoke to an outpatient and asked if she felt the symptom "depression"
as one of my studies entitled me to ask.. she sighed and started to
answer with a quivering voice. She couldn't help but cry and told me
she only had 8 months to live. I tried to cheer her up as best as I
could and we giggled at stories of sewing so passionately in high
school. The next week I was updated that she had been admitted to
the hospital. I was almost afraid to visit her in fear of what I might
find. And when I went it was her birthday. I stood outside and listened
to her family sing happy birthday to her with such a revering tone. I
came in afterwards to see that they were singing to her in her sleep.
Perhaps she was sedated but nonetheless, she suddenly looked so fragile
when just a week ago she had walked with me as I directed her to
different rooms and stations.
Another outpatient came in with her son to help translate as she only
knew cantonese. Maybe because of my ethnicity they found comfort in
confiding in me and the son told me how his mother was in so much pain
and was so tired. There was a sense of yearning from them to get
answers from me, they looked on desparately as I recited my lines of
empty reassurance that the doctor would know what to do. The patient,
she was so sweet and I wanted to hug her because she reminded me of my
grandma. On their third visit, the mother was admitted to the hospital
and I couldn't help but feel horrible that day.
In the first weeks I wrote down names of patients who had been admitted
to the hospital or passed away and recorded them in everything that
needed to be recorded in. But now all those names are becoming familiar
as I have more interaction with the patients.. and this job seems
heavier then it was in the beginning.
I know that it's necessary to keep believing that "everything happens
for a reason". My boss, the head doctor, keeps reaffirming that. My
boss, btw, is one of the most amazing people I have ever met in my
life. He's compassionate, caring, smart, funny, energetic, an excellent
leader, and one of the most formidable doctors I've ever met. This
palliative care team and their patients are lucky to have him.
As I was saying, it's easy to feel lost in this position when faced
with the bombarding statistics of death after death. My co-worker says
"sometimes it just doesn't seem fair!". I would add that "sometimes it
just doesn't seem real!". My quiet thoughts on the patients I have met
linger longer then before as I ride the subway back home. Silent
contemplation on life and the life of others get carried with me before
I snap back into reality. Funny how I say that, because in actuality,
reality is exactly what I experience at work. But I guess I can forget
about it by snapping back into my own perception of reality.
Everything that the doctors and social workers and nurses and
pharmacists of the palliative care team do is so meaningful. I fully
admire them for their work in this field. I hope that one day I can be
able to help people just as they do. Perhaps not necessarily in
palliative care but anywhere.
The other day I had a patient who I was visiting to see if he could
participate in my study. When I approached him his wife smiled and he
grimaced in pain. I told him I could come back another time and that I
hoped he would feel better soon. Through the wincing and clenching, he
smiled and said he was sorry and wished he could have helped me. I
didn't even know what to say. I was so moved to simply be in the
presence of someone who expressed concern for my dinky little research
study even though he was at the zeneth of his pain and he had his whole
life to be concerned about. At that moment I felt a twinge of
uselessness. There was nothing I could do to help him, just a passing
cheerful wish and smile before I headed on with the rest of my day. If
only these people could be painfree and could be relieved of their
suffering.. which is, of course, the admirable goal of palliative care.
Within the week, this patient passed away and I'm so glad I got to see
his smile before he went.
2007 was full of experiences that I will carry with me for all time.
One final thought..
I know that it doesn't always make us feel better when we hear "think
of the kids in africa" as the remedy to our blues. But perhaps, in that
same light we can live a little bit happier if we only count our
blessings.
I've had my share of days to think that it is hard to smile.
But now here I am meeting people who find it hard to breath, hard to
sleep, hard to walk, hard to eat, hard to remember, hard to live.. and
yet they still smile.
So spread forth your smiles.. because I've witnessed all too clearly
that life does have an end (or if not an actual end, at least a
physical end) and so we should not hold back from saying that we love
one another, and we should forgive and let go of that one thing we
might have been bitter about for so long, and we should live life with
heart and soul with each day that we have.
__Currently Listening __Biggest Bluest Hi-Fi __By Camera Obscura __Eighties Fan
my life as a tree
[buddha tree in hawaii, it had many many roots :)]
a friend once told me that no matter where i went i wouldn't be alone because we had a root together and that whenever i came back we'd still be held together by that root perhaps new branches have emerged but the roots will always be there and all i could do was grow maybe even grow apart from each other but i'll always have been touched i think that's one of the most comforting things i've ever heard in my life :)
__Currently Listening __Let There Be Morning __By The Perishers __Sway
"More time, more time!"
chinese new year weekend was spent back in toronto area though we are all easily connected in this day and age, thru internet and what not i had a small fear that when i returned, i would not know what i had left behind anymore because ottawa is now familiar to me, and how many things can we be familiar with?
but to see the faces i loved most, and spend nights with the hearts i missed most those things or people that matter, there is an infinite space for familiarity with them
"More time, more time!" exclaimed Randy. Thao's ride pulled up and she reassured me that there would always be more time. :)
"You only have one life, right?" recently i've been hearing this and after thinking a bit, i realize the total truth of it let's not hold back on doing what we love most
sometimes i think people are scared to embrace everything they are from stirring emotions to hidden passions i think insecurity is just not knowing yourself well enough so, as well, let's not hold back on loving ourselves
"Drosophila [fruit fly] courtship is an
interaction wherein males hound females until copulation takes
place. The male engages in a series of actions that include
orienting toward and following the female, tapping her with his
forelegs, singing a species-specific courtship song by extending and
vibrating one of his wings, licking the genitalia of the female, and
curling his abdomen to attempt copulation."
"The behaviour of the female largely consists of running away."
Professor: "Sounds familiar? ... Except I hope there is no licking of the genitalia."
