I’ve been time travelling in my own head in recent weeks. Why is it so important to do the right thing for me? This follows a busy month with a number of conference presentations which led to a roller-coaster of emotions. The highs of being with like-minded individuals and being accepted by my new tribe. The lows of being iced by some members of my old tribe. A time to reflect on my experience of being ‘the other’. Children do not choose where they are born or to which family they belong to. They have no choice in the matter. The process of conception is close to miraculous, two tiny collections of DNA are joined together and become an unique recipe for a potential human being. Nine months of incubation later and the accident of birth occurs.
New month, new day, new streak of writing. The past month was rough, with child-borne viral illnesses having hit hard for too many weeks. Finished off with an unexpected death in the family that caught me by surprise, despite almost 17 years of full-time palliative care work. Being on the other side of the bed is so different.
I’ve been thinking about my why. Previously it was, “To make the world a better place for dying people.” Vague, dreamy, too undefined to be obtainable? What were the outcome measures? The Key Performance Indicators. Could it be morphed into a Just Cause as per Simon Sinek’s The Infinite Game?
I’ve often thought about Palliative Care as being the best sort of care – holistic, whole-person, patient-centred and quality-of-life-focused. Why do we save the best for last? Can we create a world in which people can have this sort of care from pre-cradle to post-grave? I have been saddened to hear from patients and their family members that for some people the short weeks they spent in our inpatient unit were some of the best weeks in their lives. I heard this about a patient in his eighties, the rest of his life must’ve been rough for the three weeks in hospice to be some of the best of his long life. What suffering did he endure during his life? What traumas? A lady in her forties told us that the weeks that she spent in our inpatient unit were also some of her best weeks. She had never felt so cared for, in her whole life. The time after she had received her terminal diagnosis was the best part of her marriage. Her husband stopped drinking alcohol to look after her. That’s not right. What can be done about those situations?
Can suffering be decreased throughout the lifespan? Not just at the very end. Can quality of life be improved throughout life, rather than just during dying and death? Instead of a sickness approach to healthcare, why not a wellbeing approach? A lot to think about and more to write about.
There are various methods of packing. Because of a tendency to pack at the last minute, I have mostly used the brute force method. Items fly across the room into my suitcase and start to resemble Smaug’s horde. A small mountain of treasure grows inside the suitcase until the invisible Jenga player makes one false move and causes an avalanche. My real-time 3-D modelling of a landfill is completed by my hands formed into the blade of a bulldozer, smoothing over the lumpy former pile. The lid of the overflowing suitcase is closed and then I take a run-up before launching myself into the air. My version of the people’s elbow rains pure pain down on the hapless plastic container. Gravity comes into play and the suitcase’s clasps are barely forced closed. Queen and David Bowie’s hit “Under Pressure” starts playing in the background. I pity the poor TSA worker who may open my case, as the contents could fly outwards in an explosion rivalling the Big Bang.
The previous method would’ve taken about 15 minutes in total and would’ve expended an impressive 2000 calories. My significant other looks at everything the method represents with utter disdain. The diametrically opposed way to deal with baggage is based on the premise that if you roll clothing up you can fit more into your suitcases and bags. Legends speak of squeezing the air out of things, allowing greater volumes of items to be placed inside. Everything is in its place and a place for everything. Even the deepest darkest secrets?
Are packing styles reflective of personalities? The guy who uses force is a brute? The orderly packer is organised in all facets of life? Not necessarily, we are all mosaics, made up of different personality aspects. What does your own patchwork quilt look like? What are the main features highlighted? What is important to you? How do you deal with life’s events? We all have our own baggage to deal with. Choose your method carefully.
palliverse.com 