On the other side

When my wife learned of her diagnosis this past summer, it was a challenge for me to 'stay clinical' about the situation. Meldrick Lewis, that wisecracking detective from my favorite cop show, had said once that homicide detectives working a case should keep everyone around them 'at a distance'. That has been one of my strengths as a CSD clinician over the years; one of my marketable skills as an SLP. No matter the noise about the person I had been helping; no matter the amount of stress in my day; - I could keep it clinical, blocking out the clouds of peripheral activity to the case and to myself, - I could say, it's just agitated behavior. It's just the patient urinating on the chair, or it's Capgras syndrome - she's still a human being and my patient. My responsibility to her is to focus on the reason for skilled SLP to be called in.

My wife is not my patient. It's the slicing open of my clinical mask by her recent medical status change, that has made me newly aware of the following: When you're on this side of the encounter - when you are personally involved in a treatment program - it's not so easy to stay indifferent to the emotions that rattle and slap against you. You can't easily push back the anxiety, the fear, the puzzlement, the latent skepticism, or the stark reality that you feel utterly powerless against these medical 'forces'. But, I initially told myself - you know the system. You even know a bit about this medical condition, and what can be done. That led to a relatively large conundrum for this healthcare worker, one that is related to the contemporary psychological dictum - it's not just about you.

 I live in the caregiver's world now, albeit a fairly literate caregiver when it comes to health knowledge. I can deduce the effectiveness of medications, and follow directions for treatments. I can approach doctors, nurses, social workers and all their ilk assertively, to deduce their thinking about what needs to be done. But I ultimately have no power; at least no clinical power, to help steer my wife's outcome towards its conclusion. Caregiver power is regardless, substantial.

It's an entirely different skill set - one based on intimate knowledge; attentiveness; patience; the big picture; the little things; not sweating the small stuff; not dropping the ball; being there and celebrating every little success on the journey - celebrating every landing that is reached, on the long staircase my wife is climbing towards her recovery. It's a switch in my psyche that I toggle now; namely, to go between the clinical professional and the grateful caregiver. Grateful I get the chance to be there for her when she needs it. Grateful that I can empathize better, with the caregivers of my patients I meet almost daily.