Everything begins somewhere.
Very light muscle weakness, a constant-never-ending headache that refuses to disappear, left facial numbness, drenching nightsweats, bone pain, constant appearances of shingles, heavy, regular nose-bleeds, a fatigue which drags you down & always wins. I tried to accept these changes as subjects of fascination — idiosyncrasies particular to my body. But nothing can prepare you for loosing a little part of yourself, for no justifiable reason.
In my early -to- mid-20’s, I thought I had things figured out. I thought I was invincible, in a normal every day way. I could take another codeine. I could push through the fatigue, the bone pain. But after awhile it gets actually really hard.
It’s very nearly christmas, and all I really want is to feel better again. I know that santa can’t bring me this, but I have learnt that everyday in itself is a gift – however cliched that sounds.
This hasn’t been an easy lesson to learn. And when I reflect over the year or two, or three, my whole life has changed in ways I would have never been able to conceive of – say, 4 years ago. If you had asked me 4 years ago if I was going to be working in Healthcare today, I would have been like – what are you talking about?!
But it was my experiences (both illness & drawing freelance for the NHS), and ultimately having 2 in particular doctors whose care has been inspirational, amongst many, many other amazing healthcare professionals, that pushed me into chasing my new healthcare venture.
I have been shown kindness in ways I never knew existed. We all have those stories of where a teacher has changed your life by believing in you, and taking extra time (I have like 5 of those stories) – if you fall ill, and are lucky enough – you have this story with a doctor, or two.
Like, the time I turned up at my GP (Dr Pieri) twice in one week, begging him to do something about this horrendous one-sided headache that was making me want to cut my face/head off. Twice. I’ve never-ever done this before but I was getting desperate – (it’s no ordinary headache) – and I needed to get back to just mild-medium pain to function relatively normally. I felt so ashamed of myself and guilty for going twice in one week, what a waste of his time? Who did I stop from seeing him? What will he think of me? I’m the reason why primary practice is struggling.
But he offered no judgement upon me. I got him to check my ears, maybe it’s an ear infection I mused? We both knew it wasn’t. But he checked for me because he knew that even though it wouldn’t help me directly, it would ease just a little bit of my suffering. After checking my ears and saying “nope” out aloud, he put his hand on my shoulder for a moment. It was a hand of compassion. He gave me something for migraines and told me to call him with whether it worked. It didn’t, so I never called him. But I appreciated it in so many different ways.
A few weeks ago, I was seeing my endocrine consultant. I told him the usual, symptoms that he had no interest in – that couldn’t be explained by his field. He asked me if I had got back in touch with my other doctor, as he had wrote to me in August. I hadn’t actually received the letter – so I hadn’t replied to accept his help. My heart jumped, i sat up straight and at the end of my chair trying to peer at the upside down letter in my file. I was impressed that I hadn’t been forgotten about. The endocrine doc said, “Dr. Kersh has spent a lot of time thinking about all of this & trying to figure something out for you. He’s actually probably one of the only doctors who is actually interested.” This I already knew, but even this doctor was impressed with the extra time/help I was getting.
I’m a curve ball. I needed someone to game the system for me. I felt like I just needed someone to try. Someone who could understand just how delibertating this whole thing is, how I no longer feel like myself, how every day I feel like a hungover – windows computer full of malware and viruses. Dr Kersh made/makes me feel like I’m heard and understood, and what a gift to have – to make people feel less alone.
These 2 stories are just 2 tiny examples of the amount of care, kindness, generosity, compassion and time I’ve been given that I am forever grateful for. The extra time they’ve given me which no doubt made their clinics late, breaks probably missed, all the extra paperwork they’ve had to write, all the referrals they’ve had to justify. Words can’t match my appreciation of these people’s hardwork – the care they give to almost strangers – and I don’t want it go unnoticed.
Their actions inspired me to get into healthcare. As an artist, all I ever wanted to do was make a positive difference, and help rectify social injustices. I soon realized that actually healthcare is a place where this all comes together.
Anton Boisen (1960) coined an approach to care that is person-centred. From Boisen’s perspective, the patient is seen as a ‘living human document’, where practitioners learn about dealing with illness by listening to, and studying, the responses of their patients. It’s person-centred in that it identifies the sacredness of the lived human experience and the wisdom found in ‘authentic experiences’ as patients respond and try to come to terms with the vulnerability, anxiety or other existential concerns that may arise in connection with their illness (Devenny, 2013). This completely resonated with me and my care.
It’s weird navigating the system as both patient and healthcare professional in-training. But I feel like I’m in the best place – I can now empathize with suffering which I didn’t before. I just knew it from a system, logical perspective – but now I know it, acutely. I’m left wondering what is the relationship between empathy and understanding?
In the end, I don’t know if the old Smizz will ever return; I feel profoundly, unmistakably different and broken in a way that’s hard to describe. But when I think about all the help I’ve been given by the super smart, funny, and personable compassionate doctors ( Dr Rod Kersh & Dr marco Pieri) it still takes my breath away when I think about it. I’m not just lucky that I have been given this compassionate care, but I’m lucky that I have some pretty amazing role-models for adventures in my future healthcare career. They’ve shown me that empathy is first an act of imagination, and the smallest of things can make the biggest difference.
Since it’s christmas, I don’t mind baring my gratitude for all to see. Thank you to all the amazing people working within the NHS. I will fight to make sure that we all continue to have access to life-changing, compassionate care for free.
I know that if I can take any of those guys qualities as doctors, I would become a better person – both professionally and personally.
With indebted gratitude and thanks, every day, all day.
Thank you for making a world of difference.