This is the second part in a series in which I am focusing on the personal lessons of self-care during family medical crisis.
Self-Care Buddy. My
primary self-care buddy – my husband – was at home when I received the
call. He held me when I was
shaking. He helped me find things that I
could not see but were right in front of me. He helped me stay calm and grounded in
facts. He did everything I needed at the
time and then some.
No Major Decisions. My husband/self-care buddy reminded me of
something I teach in Field Traumatology about crises: this is not the time to
make any major decisions. I agreed to
defer major decisions whenever I can, and to discuss with him and those directly
involved any major decisions that could not be deferred.
Social Media. I am
a regular Facebook user. One of the
first things I did was to put out the word to my closest network of family and
friends and ask for prayers. At first I
felt weird about putting such a personal matter into the larger social media
context. That feeling gave way quickly
as I started receiving messages of support.
Those messages over the next few days were beacons of light nourishing
me at the deepest levels. I have a deep
sense of gratitude to those who rallied around me and my family. Thank you!
Technology. I
cannot underscore enough the value of technology and social media during times
of crisis. My husband loves technology
and stays current with trends. Both
daughter and husband had been encouraging me for a long time to give up my flip
phone for more advanced technology. Last
year I started with the iPod Touch.
Having mastered that, I went this year for the iPhone. This communications tool kept me in touch
with my family and social support network from the moment the crisis began.
Unexpected Support.
My flight north had a very tight connection through Charlotte NC. I feared missing the second leg of my
travel. I talked with the flight
attendant, asking if someone towards the front of the plane might be willing to
change seats with me. I tried to manage my anxiety as we began our initial
descent and I was still at the back of the plane. Minutes before landing, the flight attendant
told me there was a volunteer. An
elderly gentleman traded seats with me.
The woman seated beside me was his wife, a hospice volunteer
in the Jacksonville area who works with caregivers. She touched my arm as she talked, and
underscored the importance of touch when one is in crisis. Her gentleness and
kindness touched me but also reminded me of what I needed to do for DCR: be
fully present. As we talked I noticed a
piece of paper near my foot. It was her
husband’s boarding pass. I now had the name of the man who traded places with
me. As soon as I can I will thank them
in writing for helping me.
We’re All Doing the
Best We Can. During times of extreme
stress it’s common for people to become crabby or short in tone or forgetful or
make errors in details. My first challenge
came at my destination airport, when I discovered someone else’s luggage in the
back seat of my rental car. I had to
walk back to the airport terminal in the cold at 11:30 p.m., dragging my bags behind me, fearful
that the car rental agent may have left already since it was so late. The agent was on the phone as I approached
her desk, talking to the person who had placed his luggage in the car next to
the one he rented. Gee, he must have
been really tired or stressed to not notice.
The agent accompanied me back to the car, and I drove her back to the
terminal I was not happy about the delay
but was able to stay civil and grateful for her help.
I went to the hospital address given to me by a family
member. DCR was not there. After a few minutes of confusion, reception
kindly located DCR at another local hospital which was not far away. The correct address and GPS in hand led me to
DCR’s location.
I told these stories to several folks, partly because were
it not for the circumstances they were amusing.
It was when an apology was offered about the wrong address that I said “We’re
all doing the best we can.” At times like these we need each other. Mistakes happen. And good self-care requires that we let them
go.
Next: The Hospital Emergency Room
