Tag: doctors

Empathy Machines

Before I get to what I really want to write about today, this:

“Reading is an empathy-generating machine.” – Dr. Vivek Murthy

Isn’t this the truth? When we are having conversations, we are typically taking turns waiting to talk. Our conversations have a tendency to veer off-topic. But when you are reading, it’s just you and the words which you are reading. And written words tend to be more soulful, more thought-out, more vulnerable, more honest than everyday conversations. Reading really helps you to understand how someone else feels about their experiences. Empathy is being able to answer the question: “How do you think this makes me feel?” for someone else, other than yourself. Reading gives you time to absorb and to understand the words, and to make conclusions about the words, without getting defensive or argumentive or confused. I absolutely love to read and empathy is a wonderful by-product of reading.

And also before I get to what I really want to write about today, this:

Credit: @woofknight, X

“Oh to have impacted someone so much that they find bits of your soul and hold the memory of you in things and places when you’re not around.” Isn’t this a beautiful part of the human experience? Isn’t it wonderful to have people (and pets) in your life who come to mind often, even when they are not around. And isn’t it also great to be the person who someone is reminded of, when they see or experience certain things? These are the types of aspects of living life, that my soul crushes on, hard.

Okay, finally to what I planned to write about today:

Yesterday, our youngest son called me around 11 am. And my heart fell to the floor. I knew that my son was at work, my kids rarely call me (texting is king), and also, he has epilepsy. Thankfully my son was fine, but he was letting me know that he had just gotten an emailed letter stating that his longtime neurologist/epitologist’s practice was no longer taking my son’s health insurance.

This was the final push, which we have long-known was coming, to force us to go about finding my son a new practioner. His neurologist is getting close to retirement age, he practices in a town three hours from where our son lives, and he is technically a Pediatric Neurologist. Our son turns 24 at the end of the year.

Already I have a lump in my throat, writing this. Our son was 14 when he was diagnosed with epilepsy. He started with the small seizures called “absence seizures” or “petit mal” seizures which had probably been going on longer than we think. I often thought that my son was ignoring me or distracted with daydreaming, which I know is not out of the realm of things that teenage boys do. (he has two older brothers) However, the summer that he was diagnosed with epilepsy, our daughter and I picked him up from a summer camp (where he had gotten very little sleep) and my son’s disjointed, disorganized, “filled with stalls and stares and pauses” stories about the camp made it clear that something just wasn’t right. Later that night, I found some videos of children having absence seizures on “YouTube” and my stomach filled with dread. I took our son to our beloved pediatrician the next day only to have him confirm my fears, and to quickly recommend one of the best pediatric neurologists in town.

It took a long while to see Dr. W. He had quite the waiting list of people from in town, and from out town, who wanted to consult with him. We went to see his younger associate first, and while this young man was fresh out of medical school, and was eager and obviously brilliant, he spoke entirely too fast, and too matter-of-factly, to parents who were quickly coming to terms that life as we had all known it, had come to an end, and a big change was in store for our family. We decided to wait for an appointment with the heralded Dr. W, to see what he had to say about our son’s condition.

I quickly understood why Dr. W was so popular with his patients (and all of the medical staff). He was kind, down-to-Earth, patient to answer all of the questions and challenges that I was peppering him with, and he took a genuine interest in our son, outside of his epilepsy. It turns out that Dr. W had grown up in a farm town, and he took an interest in studying neurology because he had an uncle with epilepsy who chose never to get it treated. (This uncle would often ride around on large tractors, to the dismay of his family.)

Over the years, we have had many ups and downs with our son’s epilepsy. Epilepsy is tricky because it is treated with heavy-duty brain medication, with heavy-duty side effects, and these medications work differently, with each individual and they can stop working as one’s body changes. There is not a “one medication fits all” situation with epilepsy. There are always more questions than answers with any condition involving the brain. Currently, what is thankfully keeping ours son’s seizures at bay, are three different medications, taken two times a day. Some people with epilepsy can never keep their seizures at bay. We are lucky. This I know. I have never been more grateful for anything else in my life. It took us a long time, and a lot of scary moments with our son having many major seizures, to finally get to this combination that currently works for him. And all of the while, Dr W. did everything in his power to support us, but more importantly, to support our son, as we went through this long process of finding meds with the least side effects, that still stopped the seizures. Dr. W cared for our son throughout high school, throughout college, and throughout starting his sales career in his young adulthood. Dr. W has been a constant in our son’s sometimes otherwise unpredictable experiences.

My son was an easy patient. His mother was not. I was a totally desperate, semi-hysterical, pain-in-the-ass, many, many times. (I’m pretty sure that my son and Dr. W probably have some private jokes about his neurotic mother who thinks she knows everything due to her intimate relationship with Dr. Google, and do you know what? I effing love Dr. W for this fact. Dr. W always made our son feel nothing less than a totally normal, awesome guy with an unfortunate affliction which we were going to find a way to control. Usually Dr. W spent the appointments more focused on these sincere questions: “What did our son think about that game last night? Whose our son dating now? How’s school going? Who can I reach out to at the DMV, to let them know that it is now safe for you to drive?”)

When you are going through something tough in life, you are never alone. God sends angels. They are usually in human form. Dr. W will always be one of these “angels on Earth” for me, and for my family. Always. He took “bedside manner” to a down home, yet ethereal form.

So yesterday, with my voice cracking, I told my son that he should reach out to Dr. W for a recommendation of whom he should go to now, for treatment of his epilepsy. The time that we long knew was coming, has now come. Thank you Dr. W, for everything. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, from the bottom of the deepest wells of my heart. I am a grateful witness and recipient, to you living a well-purposed life.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:

938. What is the most beautiful city in the world?

The Position to Help

Our middle son is finishing up his last year of medical school. Anyone in medical school has to go through rotations of all of the different specialties in medicine. So even if you know for sure, that you want to become a country family doctor or a psychiatrist, you still have to go through surgical rotations and emergency room rotations and rotations in the Intensive Care Unit and in Burn Units. My son’s medical school is part of a hospital system in a major city in the United States. The things that he has witnessed in just a few short years, are overwhelming to just hear about them. (I could never be in the medical fields. I don’t have the temperament for it, but I am so utterly grateful for, and respectful of those of you who do. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.) As a mother, I am constantly taking my son’s “temperature” to ensure myself that he isn’t traumatized and distressed, by all that he has seen and experienced. One time my son said something to me, really profound and comforting. He said, “Mom, if I had been a helpless witness to the accident or to the situation that brought the patient to us, that would be far more traumatizing. It is a great feeling to be in the position to help.”

That is what I mean by my tagline. If we can alchemize our pains into healing for ourselves and for others, the pain doesn’t remain in its most dire, useless, self-perpetuating state. It is a great feeling to be in the position to help. Our pain gets to a higher level of healing and empowerment, when we use it to help others instead of using it to hurt others, to bring them down to the level of pain which we are feeling. (Unfortunately, misery loves company.) We get empowered over our pain when we use it as a catalyst to change what created our pain in the first place. Look at all of the people who have turned their own pain for good: civil rights leaders, women’s rights leaders, gay rights leaders, AA sponsors, diet/fitness gurus who were once overweight and unhealthy and now help others to get healthy, gun control advocates who have lost loved ones to violence, research advocates for a myriad of diseases who have lost loved ones to suffering, therapists and grief counselors who have healed their own mental health issues and want to help others to do the same, people who grew up poor and now create opportunities in the impoverished communities that they grew up in, spiritual leaders who once lost all hope, and then found inspiration and faith, and bring that inspiration to others, etc. etc.

We all have pain. Own your pain. Don’t deny it. Don’t let it eat you up inside and destroy you. Don’t remain unaware and project your pain onto someone else. Don’t compare your pain to others’ pain. This is your pain. Allow yourself to feel it. Be angry at who/what caused or contributed to your suffering. Be sad. Be compassionate. Make yourself seek help if you need help to process your pain. When you allow others to help you, you are giving them the great, empowered feeling of being in the position to help, and to continue to alchemize their own pain into uplifting good. When you accept help for your pain, you are letting your helper see that their own pain suffered wasn’t entirely in vain. And then, when you are feeling healed enough to start helping, do it. Do it. It is a great feeling to be in the position to help.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:

2712. What phrase or quote best describes you?

Cocksure

A couple of weeks ago my husband and I took a ride in a helicopter, over a large mountain range. I had never taken a long ride in a helicopter, so I was admittedly a little bit apprehensive. We got to talking to the pilot before the ride, and I was instantly reassured. I felt very little fear from the beginning of the ride until the end, despite it being a big thrill. In turns out that our pilot had served in the marines, flew planes for firefighters in the west, and he had an entirely “cocksure” attitude. Typically, I don’t care for this kind of arrogant cadence in people, but there are certain professions where it is absolutely what you want to encounter, such as from your doctor/surgeon, your lawyer, your financial accountant, and absolutely any kind of driver or pilot who is in charge of getting you safely to and from your destination. And reflecting back, this pilot was extremely likable. He was definitely more confident than truly arrogant.

Confidence is not something that is easy to fake. And some people are so stupidly, unwarrantly confident/arrogant, and that attitude stands out like a sore thumb, and makes anyone around these people feel less confident in them than ever.

Arrogant people need to feel “better than”, in order to feel good about themselves. Other people are desperately needed for arrogant people to feel good about themselves, as either adoring audiences or as people to compare themselves to, whom they consider to be “lower standard” than themselves. The feeling of superiority is an aching need for arrogant people. Ironically, most arrogant people are extremely insecure. Confident people get all of their self-assurance from their own inner knowing, their faith in life and/or in their Higher Power, and in their own individual purposes and gifts. Other people really don’t figure into the equation of how confident people feel about themselves. Confident people assume that everyone has the ability to be confident in their own lives and in their own purposes and talents, and they wish the best for us all. Confident people feel assured that any of us have the ability to live life to the absolute fullest. And thus confident people inspire us, and they lead the way without even realizing that they are doing it.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:

488. Fill in the blank: Working _______ hours a week is too much for me.

A Little Magic

We are in yet another city this weekend, visiting our son who is a second year medical student. Our son is more stressed than usual which says a lot when you are in medical school (Medical school is obviously intense and stressful to begin with – the whole family has started to ask for just “the gist” of his experiences, especially when he starts talking about amputations and other emergency room scenarios.) The reason our son is particularly stressed is that he is having to decide on what specialties he wants to hone in on, and so he is going through angsty rounds of “What ifs?”, “Where can I best be utilized?”, “Is work life/balance important?” What if I hate my choice?” . . . . You know the questions. We have all gone through similar handwringing choices throughout our lives.

As a mother, this is when I would love to open my purse and pull out the ever-ready, sparkly, golden magic wand (the proverbial magic wand which we all wish that we had access to). I would show it to my son, with a proud and knowing and able look on my face, and I would bonk it on his head three times, and then I would wiggle my nose and then we would all see a little pink cloud appear with, ta-da, “The One and Only Infallible Perfect Answer!” My son would beam with relief and ease and thank me once again for being such a wonderful, reassuring mother. (and then this is when he would probably ask me which of our four kids would get the magic wand in the will.)

Okay, enough of my stupid fantasy. Of course I don’t have a magic wand and I don’t even have the right un-magic answers to guide my son. We talked about intuition, and prayer, and what just “feels right.” We talked about values, and overall well-being. We talked about practicalities and time. My husband and I talked in circles with our son, trying to ease his stress. At one point, my son mentioned something about reading that you should live your life by thinking about what would be written on your tombstone and what would be said in your eulogy. And that’s when I had, at least to me, a little flicker of a magic wand moment.

Backstory: When we flew down here, my husband insisted that I continue to get out of the dark ages, and he asked me to download yet another airline’s app on to my phone. And so I begrudgingly did it. And in creating my profile I had to answer 542 security questions. (it felt like 542) One question that stood out to me, and was the most easy for me to remember the answer, was the question, “Who was your favorite elementary school teacher?” My favorite elementary school teacher was Mrs. Simmerman, in third grade. She was a tall, elegant Southern woman (in Pittsburgh, PA no less!) and she cared. She oozed care. She wasn’t just teaching little kids facts, she was teaching us to love each other, and to love life. She seemed noble to me. I adored her.

So, as my husband, and our son and I sat at dinner last night, ruminating on his upcoming choices, and my son talk about considering his epitaph in regards to the decision, the whole Mrs. Simmerman security question popped back into my mind. I exclaimed, “G, when you make your decision, remember that when it comes to your life’s end, it doesn’t nearly as much matter WHAT you do, or WHAT YOU ACHIEVED in any field, as it is, HOW you lived you life, HOW you made others feel in your life, and IF YOU MADE A POSITIVE difference doing whatever it is that you end up doing.”

And then much to his chagrin (this reserved young man has never had a mother who embarrasses easily), I asked the two young men who were waiting on us, if they could name right now, in that very instant, their favorite coach or teacher from elementary school. It turns out that the young men were originally from Cuba and they did not speak English well, but when they finally grasped what I was asking them (I gather this is not a regular question which they get from their customers), they both had beautiful, shining expressions on their faces. Their eyes shown. They had instant answers. One young man said, “Mr. Sandoval. He was like a father.” These young men beamed. I beamed. And in some small way, I think that I had a wee little magic wand moment. At least, it felt a little magic to me. And I feel quite confident, that whatever my son decides, he will do just fine.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Healers and Wholeness

Since last Monday, I have been grappling with a pinched nerve in my neck. I have pulled muscles before, even in my neck, but this experience has taken “pain in my neck” to a whole new level that I have never experienced before. Now, if I ever call anyone a “pain in the neck”, it will be possibly one of the worst things which I could ever call a person.

In the beginning of this pinched nerve mess, I started out thinking that I could just stretch my neck out, with some light exercises. This plan, instead, took things to a whole new level of miserable and excruciating. I then assumed that a day at the beach, vacillating between hot sand and cold water would do the trick, all the while downing Aleve and Advil like candy. That ended up being a sand-filled, “how am I even going to get up and out, from this beach chair?” disaster that sent me to an Urgent Care the very next morning. In conjunction with my doctor’s orders, I got prescription strength Aleve and Advil, and I rested on the couch, all this entire past weekend, watching an entire season of “Love Island”, and other stupid, mind-numbing shows, on the couch, with the kind, cuddling company of my daughter. (They say that love and laughter is the best medicine.) While this was peaceful and enjoyable, by Sunday, my restless self was still in a great deal of pain, and so I caved to starting steroids. Since this pinch nerve situation happened last Monday (and I am still not even sure how it happened!) I dreaded every single night (as did my husband), because until last night, I could not find one comfortable position to prop myself up into, in order to fall to sleep. For a week and a half, it took me a good 45 minutes to an hour, until I reached utter exhaustion, to finally fall asleep in a strange contortion of me being twisted in tandem with a heating pad and a mountain of pillows. I looked like a living Picasso painting.

But then, yesterday, I remembered that a wonderful acupuncturist had cured a pesky eye twitch of mine in just a couple of sessions, a few years back, and I thought that it couldn’t hurt to see what she might have to say/do on the matter of my neck. And last night, after a few needles and ear seeds later, I had the best night of sleep I’ve had, since this whole fiasco started. My arm and thumb still feels a little numb (in case you’ve never experienced it, and I hope that you never have to, pinched nerves in your neck radiate through your entire shoulder and down through your arm all the way to your fingers and thumb), but the pain is gone. I have one more session today, and my acupuncturist is confident that I will feel better by the weekend. She didn’t “tsk tsk” me for going to Western medicine first, and using her as a last resort. In fact, she told me to continue following their orders, too. “We will work in tandem,” she said, “to get you better.”

I am a believer in the yin/yang of all healing practices. What I love best about Eastern practices is that my acupuncturist started yesterday’s appointment with, “Okay, what is your body trying to tell us, my dear?” Sometimes Western medicine seems to just want to put a quick bandaid on to the symptoms. But Western medicine is backed by a lot of science and technology, and in my life, I have witnessed that all healers have the same thing in common: A deep calling to help others to make themselves whole again. Just like there are many paths to God, there are also many paths to healing. And ultimately, I think that our minds, and our bodies, and our spirits feel appreciated and “seen”, when we don’t take them for granted. Our bodies notice when we take a pause, and we show that we are willing to amble down different paths of healing, in order to make ourselves whole again. And so this helps our cells to relax, and they jump aboard the healing process, too. Pain is just a cry for help, to set things right. There are so many different healing modalities available to get any of us to wholeness, if we willingly surrender our controlling ideas of “how and when” we should arrive at “whole and well.”

“A healer’s power stems not from any special ability, but from maintaining the courage and awareness to embody and express the universal healing power that every human being naturally possesses.”
― Eric Micha’el Leventhal

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

F.E.A.R.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

This quote is a good one to remember during Halloween’s “scary season.” I always tell my kids to always ask for what they want, go after what they want, look for every possibility to get what they want, because what is the worst place that anyone will end up in, if you don’t get what you want? You’ll be in the same place and position, where you are sitting at right now. You really have nothing to lose. Face everything and rise.

A Dear Abby column written decades ago has always stuck with me. A writer asked Abby about his situation where he was in his thirties and he realized that he wanted to switch careers. He realized that he wanted to become a doctor, but looking at everything that this would entail, it would probably take ten years, and he probably wouldn’t even start practicing medicine until he was 45. She asked him a simple question, “How old will you be in ten years if you don’t go to medical school?” This point was made real for me when I belonged to a book club many years ago. The woman who started the book club said that her father was a doctor when they were small children, and then one day, he sat his family down, and he said that their lifestyle might change for a bit, because he had decided to follow his biggest dream to become an airline pilot. Her father retired as a very content and happy airline pilot, who also had a medical degree.

Face your fears. Face your dreams. Face your callings. Don’t run. Rise. The choice is ripe for the taking. The choice is yours.