Nathaniel Brown, MD – Emergency Physician
None of us coped with the pandemic in the same way.
There were the all-hazards people—the double-masked, face-shield, hair-net wearing, gowned and gloved people. They put their PAPR on to obtain an EKG for a toothache.
There were the nihilism people—not ambivalent, but still convinced that the purification practice by the first group of people represented an uncomfortable, implausible means to escape fate.
Finally, there were the normal people. And by “normal”, what I mean is people doing COVID exactly like we did. We followed workplace rules, hoping it would help bring about the end. We kept our social distance from strangers, our patients, and from our colleagues. We covered up any smiles we had with masks. We brought the stress virus home to our families, and then medicated it with virtual school. We felt our healer’s art wither and meter of satisfaction plunge. With that sort of “normal”, we then wondered why colleagues were looking at other job options.
The strain on emergency department nurses deepened in the pandemic, but the stress of working in vocations of service to the public was not new to our team. Caring for humans raises some human issues.
Caring for people in society’s safety net can burn out your spirit. The addict rarely shows gratitude for your courtesy, but it weakens you inside to hold part of you back. Others may not care enough for themselves to make good health decisions, but it weakens you inside to hold part of you back. The job cannot pay enough for what you do, and has terrible hours, but it weakens you inside to hold part of you back. Most have only so much self to give, before becoming the spent candle.
In the same token, when we separated a dying patient from loved ones, bowing to newly designed hospital protocols, we weakened our team on the inside. Seeing colleagues and patients as potential infectious agents, that weakened us on the inside. Such threats were new headwinds to the fire. Death wasn’t dying right, and life sure wasn’t living right. We felt powerless to overcome the adverse effects of our imposed routines. Camaraderie once renewed our professional purpose, but we got suspicious of those people wearing masks differently or who vaccinated differently than we did. Distrust festered. We may have spoken out, but it was like other groups of people weren’t listening. Humanness and vulnerability, key to allowing us to be as ourselves in compassionate professions, this was at times forfeited for the new normal of the safety regime. The freedom and hopefulness, necessary for our own spiritual renewal as caregivers—we often held this part back, just to get through a day. It weakened us. How long can a person last without moments of joy? If you can’t keep your spirit fueled, you risk losing your work’s purpose.
When we recaptured the caregiver’s spirit in the emergency department, it was times when we broke with the rules of the pandemic. Like a clenched fist. Group solidarity photos of us all wearing PPE, but nearer each other than the ideal mantra of six-feet distance. Making an exception and letting a family member sit in the room with their sick loved one, despite the no-visitor policy. Making an exception and taking down our masks, for a patient who needed to lip-read. We were real. We were compassionate. We felt most human, when we accepted the risk of being human. Imagine!
The lesson I took from that is, human caregivers should never allow ourselves to lose sight of who we truly are. Nurses are the pinnacle of the compassionate professions. Even if not religious, you have devotions—to patients in deep need of care and dignity and love. And you did your job, even as COVID made up new barrier precautions to reaching out to others with your heart. Recognize yourself; you are the healing hand. You comfort the afflicted, you care for the helpless, you heal the sick. “You are the light of the world” (Matthew 5:14). If you run low with your inner fuel, the world becomes less for it, because your light will no longer illuminate. If you don’t reignite the spirit, or fuel your colleagues, all become less for it. Our normal grows darker.
None of us coped with the pandemic in the same way.
Also, none of us find our spiritual fuel in the same way either.
But true normal can be restored; with it, moments of true joy.
Seek what rekindles your healing spirit.
Pour that warmth back onto your team.
Brace for blowing winds.
Because all of us will someday find ourselves facing up at you, from the bed.
And we will look for your light.
© 2022 The Supported Nurse
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