Compassion
(Note to those who provide health care, as well as to those who receive.)
Providing healthcare and advocacy to patients is not a right one waves just because he/she has the education and licensure to do so. It's a privilege. So the money and benefits are good. The prestige makes you feel assured of your intelligence and accomplishments. The power you yield in possibly saving one's life or bringing a life into this world makes you feel like God. But what good are all of these if you don't have Compassion?
The healthcare industry should have some kind of a cut-off point where their employees have to show they're not robots who spew out medical-drivel they've been programmed to, always knowing when or how to save, how to treat, how to be God -- but simply, when or how to be an ear, a shoulder, a comforting hand or an acknowledging look. It's important to cultivate rapport with the patients you have as well as to provide them with the best possible care you and the hospital can afford.
As my loved ones continue to frequent hospitals for tests on top of tests on top of tests, I can't help but wonder if they're truly receiving proper treatment from the hospital employees. Being at the other end of the hospital door, I see how the individuals I work with treat our patients and it's definitely not satisfactory. Names aren't asked but read on wrist tags. Intensity of pain is often overlooked due to suspicion of addiction to narcotics. Doctors and Nurses butt heads because their assessment of the care the patient may deserve and need aren't aligned. Now, this isn't to say one group is right over another; however, it's safe to provide that self-righteousness and pride in the workplace lead to an unraveling of professional solidarity.
Think about your loved ones. If you do not know anyone who is currently being treated at a hospital, just imagine having them there. Imagine them being treated by caregivers who are callous and indifferent to the sufferings he or she is facing. Imagine the caregivers impatience, agitation and laziness towards providing care for your loved one. There's no one to talk to, no one to hear them, no one to empathize and tell them everything will be okay. Or, imagine you had to go into the hospital. Sure your family members are there to provide you with emotional support and hope but what about the times they cannot be there? You push the call light only to have your assigned nurse come in to converse with you in a terse, agitated manner. You want someone to listen to what you're going through, to tell you that you'll get well soon and that you'll be able to frequent lovely Korean clubbing establishments to pimp it like you used to. But your nurse is too busy looking through the Victoria's Secret catalogs to see what she could wear on her next date with Doctor McGropey. The Doctors and Residents make sweeps through your room and they're in and out in seconds. So you lay there, in that cold and somber room, with interactions as impersonal as some of the dates I've gone on in the past year or two.
For these patients, especially those who may need long-term care, the minute hand may drag along to its last point without the possibility for a return. Gluttonous death may soon start to take sanctuary in between every bone, in the joints, in between their atrophying musculature; it may start to pump it's poison through their veins, recycling through their already worn heart; every ragged expiration and inspiration of breath may soon be saturated with its insidious intent. Whether or not this is observably true or just in their mind, it's important they're cared for so that these thoughts do not invade their space to begin with.
Incase you don't know, in the hospital, time hangs. It weaves in and out of consciousness much like our patients and languidly drifts from times of wake and sleep. If you're a patient who is living with dying, these last few weeks, months or years at the hospital, being kept alive by machines and tubes, can be dreadful. Who can make their experience as a patient a bit more uplifting? We can. Yes, Doctors and Nurses, I'm talking to you. When treating those who are ill, it's not only important to treat them with devices, gadgets and the latest and greatest medication, but also with great, palliative care.
We need to understand the basis of human care, not just in the hospital but everywhere. If this consideration is not given, how can we expect it in return? I feel that with the uprising of the cost of living (having to hustle to keep our standard of living above water), coupled with intrinsic human motivation and ambition, somewhere along that line we've lost sight of how to co-exist. We co-exist to help one another, not hurt. To love one another, not hate. To bring each other up, not push each other down. To lend a helping hand, not rob each other. We were all dealt the same hand: the minute we started living was the minute we started to die. Having the same, inescapable end result, why can't we just spend that time together helping each other grow to the best of our abilities?
I know when I step foot into that hospital to begin my shift, there's no way I'm leaving without promoting education and longevity of health, ensuring the emergence of hope on the patient's end (as well as my own), cultivating and cultivating so that we can all reap the benefits of our burgeoning relationship as well as providing them with medical care. I'm here to make sure that the standard of living for all of my fathers, my grandfathers, my mothers, my grandmothers, siblings and friends laying on those hospital beds, are at their peak . . . because I don't believe they deserve anything less than that.