Whether through formal education, clinical rotations, internships, residencies, or on-the-job training, somewhere along the way many of us have picked up the notion that, as professionals, we are not afforded the opportunity to pause after a difficult case and allow ourselves to feel and process what has happened before moving on to the next patient.
Instead, what is often modeled for us is to push down the feelings, definitely do not allow them to show, never let ’em see you sweat, and just keep on keeping on. For many, that has become the standard for professional boundaries.
“I’ll deal with it on my own time. I’ve got work to do,” becomes the mantra.
But do we ever actually get around to processing those difficult cases?
We encounter difficult situations every day. It is part and parcel of working in healthcare. What I am talking about here, however, are the cases that really impact you, the ones that trigger something deep within; that cause the tears to well up, the emotions to rise, and the feelings to run so deeply that you are forced to attempt to shut them down lest you break down in front of your patient or their family.
I have encountered several of these moments in my own clinical practice: fetal demises; the deaths of men close to my own age while their sons, who are my sons’ ages, are sobbing nearby; cases where the grief is so overwhelming that a family is wailing and their cries of anguish reverberate throughout the halls of the unit.
In those moments, we do have to maintain ourselves as best we can. The patient and family need our presence, and we cannot allow our own emotional response to become the focus of the clinical encounter.
But after we have walked away from the cases where it feels as though we have left a little piece of our souls behind, what we do in the moments that follow matters.
The “stuff it down and move on to the next patient” mentality can eventually make us less effective in our respective roles as clinicians. Over time, it can contribute to compassion fatigue and, in some circumstances, moral distress or moral injury.
Perhaps it is time to show ourselves a little compassion.
We show compassion to our patients and their families all day long, yet when we need it most, we often struggle to extend that same compassion to ourselves.
Kristin Neff, PhD, author of Self-Compassion, suggests that self-compassion can sometimes be as simple as a gentle, reassuring touch on the shoulder, a few encouraging words spoken aloud or silently to oneself, or simply acknowledging: That was hard. I am hurting. I am strong, and I will be okay.
Other encounters may call for a moment, or several moments, of quiet reflection, breathing exercises, prayer, meditation, a walk, or whatever practice you have found helpful in allowing yourself to process.
And some experiences should not be carried alone.
Those may require a call to the Chaplain’s Office at 26326 or HERE4U at 26129.
Whatever you need, remember the HERE4U motto: Stronger Together. Communicate your needs to your supervisor and allow others to walk alongside you rather than shouldering those hurts alone.
You are not alone.
A meditation for all of us who are healers:
May we receive rest and comfort.
May we be vulnerable enough to experience healing.
May we open to our enoughness.
May we discern where we are being called.
May we trust spirit to lead.
— Hayden Dawes
I consider it a privilege to serve the patients, families and staff at San Antonio Regional Hospital. We are here to provide a supportive presence during what can often be the darkest hour of their lives. We encourage anyone, irrespective of their spiritual or religious affiliation, or lack thereof, who needs additional support while in our hospital to reach out to the Spiritual Care Department. You can contact the Spiritual Care Department by dialing “26326” from any hospital phone or by making a request through your nurse.