I’ve been thinking about stones a lot lately… probably because I’ve been trapped in the hospital with not much else to do. Last week I suddenly experienced blinding pain and terrible nausea. I ended up in the ER and then being admitted to the hospital with apparently, a gallbladder full of stones and some other nasty complications. As I await my gallbladder surgery and deal with the effects of these tiny but vicious stones in an organ in which they don’t belong, I started thinking about all kinds of other stones and realised that there are actually quite a lot of sayings about them.
For example, lying here having to receive care, rather than being the one organising and providing it, I am reminded of the saying “People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.” I deal with patients and their loved ones all day long, and it takes a great deal of time and energy to keep up with everyone’s unique needs and requirements. Some patients or guests can be downright demanding… okay, impossible, but lying here in terrible pain just wishing I could be anywhere else – even at the CCMA (see last week’s blog), or the most mundane maintenance meeting – I have much greater empathy for our guests. We try hard at our lodges to make sure we’re attentive to the big and small things our guests need to make their recovery or end-of-life journeys just a little bit more manageable, gentle and beautiful. I’m reminded again, in this stiff hospital gown in a noisy ward, how much those things matter. When you’re in pain, every small irritation is a gazillion times more grating and irritating. It’s hard to be the recipient of care. Needing others and being “needy” and fragile is painful in itself, and when you add physical pain to that cocktail of complicated emotions, it’s no mystery why there are so many complex family and human interactions we have to navigate every day in the field of care.
It took a good while to figure out what was wrong with me. We were guessing everything from a PTSD-induced reaction,to hepatitis, to cancer, to internal bleeding, to pancreatitis there for a while but, the medical team left no stone unturned until they found the cause of the problem. We would all like it a lot better if medical situations were simpler and more clear-cut, and thankfully, sometimes there really is a simple surgical solution or a medicine you can take to solve the problem, but often, especially when it comes to the kind of care we do, there are no simple solutions or easy answers. I’ve learnt that medicine is an art as much as a science. Everybody is different and every body is different and responds differently. Psychological, emotional, spiritual and relational experiences have a profound impact on people’s physical health. Often, especially in end-of-life care, we have to weigh up quality of life against extending life. With illnesses, doctors and patients must constantly weigh up the risk versus the reward, the side-effects versus the potential cure. I’ve seen all too often, how family members of patients frantically turn over stones looking for answers and miracle-cures long after they should’ve quietly accepted the inevitable outcome and sat peacefully with their loved-one to savour the time they had left. Turning over stones – and knowing when to stop – is a tricky business.
This little hospital episode really put a spanner in the works and rather drastically derailed my plans this week. I have been reminded, in this very uncomfortable, painful and fragile state, that I am not “solid as a rock”, but am in fact, extremely fragile. All it takes is a few little gallstones to take me out – at least for a while. Fortunately, I’m still far from rock-bottom. This nasty experience has been yet another hard reminder that nothing is “set in stone” and life is spectacularly unpredictable. I’ve been so grateful for all the people who have stepped up and stepped in, have looked after me and helped me. My community has been amazing and so I’m incredibly grateful that I’m not a rolling stone who has gathered no moss, but that I’m firmly rooted (and therefore mossy, I guess) with an amazing support network.
My surgery should take place tomorrow, and then hopefully, I’ll be headed for a quick recovery and it won’t be long before I’m able to be back to work, and then to relax after a day at the grindstone with a nice cold something on the rocks. In the meantime, being on the other side of medical care is always really eye-opening and reaffirms so much of the heart behind my business and why I do what I do. I guess I can view this whole experience partly as market-research. Look at me, killing two birds with one stone.