As I wrote earlier on November 30, death knows no holidays. People will die after long illnesses and then people will die suddenly. It doesn't affect us until it is a member of our family. This holiday weekend many people will be in hospitals with their critically ill and terminally ill loved ones. Many people will be called to nursing homes and hospices because the time is drawing near. It will be a difficult holiday for which many will survive.
Today I am one of them. A few days ago, we got a tip off of my cousin's Facebook page that my grandmother was not doing well and did not seem to have very long. (In my family . . . information is where you get it as we are not particularly close and live long distances from each other.) My wife called for me and got more specific information--it was not looking good--in summary--my grandmother was slowly slipping away.
I wavered over the decision whether to come or not come. I decided to make the run just before Christmas Eve to see her at least one last time.
Yes, my 101-year-old grandmother has bugged me over the years in one way or another. Even though I am in my mid-40's, she still talked to me as if she saw me as the little kid. She reminded me last year that as a five-year-old I still promised to hug her. (Berne was a genius in his Transactional Analysis theory--because it describes my relationship with my grandmother to a "T." She still talks to me as a little kid even though I have two masters and a doctorate.)
Being human
Even though I am a mental health professional, I am still very much human. We mental health professionals as humans still have feelings. We cannot look objectively at everything. On the personal side of things, we have to be human. For me, I have to say that I am numb as a reaction to this situation.
Hopefully, a mental health professional practices what they preach, but in my experience, I have met many mental health professionals who do not practice what they preach. They can reach over the professional-patient boundary to tell patients how to do things, but their private world is quite often a hot mess. For them there is a grave lack of integrity between what they practice and what they preach to the point that they are the pot calling the kettle black and are just miserable colleagues to be around.
Over the years, I have sought to suggest only things I would do myself or have tried myself. My patients and clients are my fellow human beings that I serve. I may be the professional, but they are of equal worth to me, and today I am trying something again that I have suggested to others.
What really matters today?
Being human today, I have found myself to have been a bit like a robot. I had one mission: to get out of work early and drive like a crazy man (yes I said crazy) five hours to see my grandmother. It was what mattered today. I have had to ask myself what matters so I do not regret things?
While it is not perfect and that there is always the possibility of regret later when we do our hindsight 20-20 analysis, I think that those in a similar position today--who have a loved one near death or who is critically ill may do better by asking the question:
Asking what matters helps us identify the basic and simple priorities. Numbness does not allow us to do much thinking about details and fine points. Feeling overwhelmed makes one tend to think in concrete terms and extra-tired when we try to figure everything out. Asking what matters also tells us about our values and helps us feel some sense of clarity
For me, it very much mattered to come and see my grandmother. Even though she did not like look herself, was confused, and could not say much, seeing her was the right thing to do. I fulfilled my promise to still hug her 41 years later. I feel at least some peace because it is what matters in this moment and I believe I can look back on future holidays and take comfort in it.
May you find peace in what matters.
Today I am one of them. A few days ago, we got a tip off of my cousin's Facebook page that my grandmother was not doing well and did not seem to have very long. (In my family . . . information is where you get it as we are not particularly close and live long distances from each other.) My wife called for me and got more specific information--it was not looking good--in summary--my grandmother was slowly slipping away.
I wavered over the decision whether to come or not come. I decided to make the run just before Christmas Eve to see her at least one last time.
Yes, my 101-year-old grandmother has bugged me over the years in one way or another. Even though I am in my mid-40's, she still talked to me as if she saw me as the little kid. She reminded me last year that as a five-year-old I still promised to hug her. (Berne was a genius in his Transactional Analysis theory--because it describes my relationship with my grandmother to a "T." She still talks to me as a little kid even though I have two masters and a doctorate.)
Being human
Even though I am a mental health professional, I am still very much human. We mental health professionals as humans still have feelings. We cannot look objectively at everything. On the personal side of things, we have to be human. For me, I have to say that I am numb as a reaction to this situation.
Hopefully, a mental health professional practices what they preach, but in my experience, I have met many mental health professionals who do not practice what they preach. They can reach over the professional-patient boundary to tell patients how to do things, but their private world is quite often a hot mess. For them there is a grave lack of integrity between what they practice and what they preach to the point that they are the pot calling the kettle black and are just miserable colleagues to be around.
Over the years, I have sought to suggest only things I would do myself or have tried myself. My patients and clients are my fellow human beings that I serve. I may be the professional, but they are of equal worth to me, and today I am trying something again that I have suggested to others.
What really matters today?
Being human today, I have found myself to have been a bit like a robot. I had one mission: to get out of work early and drive like a crazy man (yes I said crazy) five hours to see my grandmother. It was what mattered today. I have had to ask myself what matters so I do not regret things?
While it is not perfect and that there is always the possibility of regret later when we do our hindsight 20-20 analysis, I think that those in a similar position today--who have a loved one near death or who is critically ill may do better by asking the question:
What matters?
Asking what matters helps us identify the basic and simple priorities. Numbness does not allow us to do much thinking about details and fine points. Feeling overwhelmed makes one tend to think in concrete terms and extra-tired when we try to figure everything out. Asking what matters also tells us about our values and helps us feel some sense of clarity
For me, it very much mattered to come and see my grandmother. Even though she did not like look herself, was confused, and could not say much, seeing her was the right thing to do. I fulfilled my promise to still hug her 41 years later. I feel at least some peace because it is what matters in this moment and I believe I can look back on future holidays and take comfort in it.
May you find peace in what matters.
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