Putting The C in Of Chronic Disease: A Look at the Impact of a Hospital Stay

Sharing a piece of yourself is one of the more frightening aspects of human relationships.  As social workers, we grow skilled at engaging our clients, promoting trust and opening up communication so that they share some of the most intimate details of their lives with us.  When the tables are turned, suddenly, openness doesn’t always seem like the best idea.  I’ve always enjoyed saying I am a hypocritical social worker, it’s a point of humor to think that while at work I can be honest and forthright and talk about any and all issues that arise no matter how sensitive the topic.  Once it’s about me? Well, the emotional shut off valve gets pulled really quickly.  I’m going to break that habit today and talk about an issue fairly close to my heart.<br />
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Dealing with a chronic disease has not been easy in my life.  Of course, it’s all relative, has my experience been as bad as it could be? No, I’ve been extremely lucky.  Has it impacted me in more ways than I could have ever imagined? Absolutely.  Last week I ended up in the hospital for an issue indirectly related to my chronic disease. Although it was far from my first time, it helped resurface many of the forgotten aspects of what a hospital patient thinks and feels.  I was appalled at times over the treatment I received.  Doubled over in pain, with rippling nausea and a heartbeat that could keep time with Dubstep, I was ignored by my nurse and residents, until my need overcame my sense of order and I went straight to the attending.  I’ve never understood making a patient feel as though they are bothering you.  As an ER nurse, you must know that by definition, emergency is in your work title, so why would someone be surprised that a Saturday night comes with emergencies? To hear a nurse yell at a patient next door that his condition “wasn’t her fault” sent shock waves through me.  To hear that same nurse tell me that she hated nursing and was going into accounting , less so. I had to do a training that involved placing us in the position of “helpless” hospital patients, just a few weeks prior to my own stay. It involved being fed pudding(and also feeding pudding) to a person without the use of verbal communication.  It was awkward, I hated it and yet I saw the point.  When a patient is in front of your it is usually not because they desire to be.  Most of the time they have probably exhausted every other mean before getting to you because most do not wish to admit they need help.  To then be treated as though they’re unimportant is only going to serve to reinforce the negativity of the event.  Coming out of hospitals in the past, I knew that if I wasn’t careful I could easily spiral into an anxious state.  It is difficult to not be confronted with every possible disaster that could happen to you after such an event. In the past, this meant that I was vunerable to losing myself in that anxiety.  Even now, I can feel myself finding the urge to think of the “what-if’s,”  all the ways that I could be at risk, making a catastrophe out of everything.  My determination is to not let that happen.<br />
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Like in everything, I take a look at my life and then apply it to my work.  I am not unique, my reactions are, debatably within the normal bell curve of human emotions.  So if this is the way I feel, then it is safe to assume that this is also something my own clients can feel. We must make the effort to remember the humanity involved in our work.  Tunnel vision and crazy days can mix together and suddenly that client isn’t “Mr. Smith”, he’s Section VIII housing.  When this happens, Mr. Smith feels it too, and he will start responding as his issue, and not as the person he is.