Slowing Down

Ahhh. I’ve felt a sudden urge to write with so many different thoughts running through my head. Truth is – I’ve been busy! Gloriously, wonderfully, once longingly… busy.

Busy is good for me. Busy is fulfilling. It is satisfying. I enjoy completing things and welcoming accomplishments that can be celebrated throughout the week.

I’m not busy like I once was. I’m not busy to the extent that I can’t sit down and reflect. However, I’m busier than I was a few weeks ago.

I’m back at work! I love it. I love it so much. I’m on a reduced schedule, working about 20 hours/week with no more than 10 patients per day. It’s wonderful. I love getting up and getting dressed. I enjoy doing my hair, putting on a little makeup, slapping on some scrubs (because – COVID/Influenza/RSV). I love kissing my kids goodbye and telling them I’m off to the hospital to help people get better. I’m off to do the work that I always wanted, the work that I worked SO hard for, for SO many years, the privilege to meet all kinds of people at their most vulnerable and hope to give them some relief, some knowledge, some closure.

I’m happiest when I’m busy.

My husband has noticed this. “You’re so much happier when you work,” he tells me.

It’s nice to have less patients. Prior to getting sick, I usually carried a list of 18-20 patients, rarely less. It’s truly intense. It’s a long day with no lunch break and you’re often finishing up after hours. It doesn’t give much time for anything other than direct care. By this, I mean there is no time to possibly pop by a room again to check on a dying patient and family. There is no time to personally call a specialist to chat about a case to offer suggestions or sometimes, truthfully – to socialize. There is no time to socialize. You are running around like a crazy person trying to get everything done. It’s incredibly stressful. Forget it if one of your patients decompensates or has a rapid response called or crashes. Your day is shot. You’ll be there super late.

It’s different now. I’m nowhere ready to take on a full list because I haven’t fully recovered yet. After a day of seeing 10, I come home and nap a bit. I’ve figured out some rhythm and rhyme to my illness. I have sporadic flares (usually a few days a week), where my whole body just feels totally inflamed. I get the burning in my arms and a sense of general heaviness. The difference is, it’s now more predictable, and I know I can mostly work through it. I know to limit my physical activity and go to bed very early. It’s the only way, but it’s working out.

Early in my diagnosis, I read lots of articles, looked for research, searched for support groups. One article that stood out to me detailed the changes that long COVID has bestowed upon so many young professions. It talked specifically about a few cases of previously healthy, fit young professionals whose lives were truly turned upside down. There was one woman, who held a high leadership position in a large company, who mentioned that she had to let go of her previous self. She had to accommodate to this new person and say goodbye to her old self.

This made me so sad. It still makes me sad. I loved myself prior to illness. I still do, but I loved where I was in so many aspects of my life. I loved my ability to be physically fit, to chase my kiddos like crazy, to work a shift with 18+ patients and still come home, get my kid settled and THEN run 3+ miles. I miss that person, but I’m learning to say goodbye to her. Maybe that person will return someday (I have not given up hope), but it’s not looking like it anytime soon.

The new me is pretty great too. I may not have the same energy, but I am enjoying some of the new changes. I am so much more relaxed. This new work schedule and decreased load of patients has opened my eyes to new opportunities. I am able to slow down. I can sit down for lunch, in the cafeteria, for 30 MINUTES. Unbelievable. You never see doctors in the cafeteria. You never see nurses either, frankly. They’re crazy busy too. I sit amongst the ancillary staff – technicians, transport team, phlebotomists, patient’s family! I can check my emails or … just sit. I take my time.

Prior to illness, I was so busy that socializing in the hospital was truly a nuisance. I used to avoid heavily crowded areas so that I wouldn’t get interrupted and thrown off track. 10 minutes of small chat can really throw off your day. That’s 10 minutes I could spend seeing another patient or writing another note or completing a discharge. That’s 10 minutes later that I would have to stay at work and be away from my family.

Not now. I have that time. There is one specialist in particular who is known for “trapping” providers and talking their ear off. He’s a sweet older man who is quite worldly. He travels often with his wife and collects artifacts. Earlier in my attending career, he learned that I was Polish and gifted me his historic Polish stamps and coins from his collection. I was grateful, but I’m not really sure I appreciated the value at the time. He’s also particularly into collecting knives. He seeks out these little pocketknives from all over the world. They are specially made, designed and sometimes historical. I don’t get it. Evidently, I could care less about pocketknives. I’ve learned this from the last 10 conversations with this colleague and perhaps a 20-minute rendition (with video and photo) of a trip where he learned how they were made.

In the past, I used to be quite short with him. I’d be starting my day, seeing him walking around the corner, and I’d run to a different nurse’s station to go see another patient. I couldn’t be detained for 15 minutes to listen to him chat about his collections. I think he eventually got the hint.

The last few times I saw him, he was a little short too. I felt bad. I finally had the time to listen.

He sat in the same physician station as me a couple weeks ago. We were both documenting, and I turned around to initiate the small talk.

“How are you, Dr.__? Any trips planned?”

His eyes lit up. He went on to tell me about a 3-week cruise he has planned with his wife in Australia and New Zealand. He was excited about getting away and checking out a specific place that had a collector’s edition pocketknife he had his eyes on. It was interesting this time. Not necessarily the knife part, but I asked him about what he had planned on his trip and what he was looking forward to. He then went on to tell me about a recent clock he saw that remined him of a clock he once saw in Poland during his travels. He spent a few minutes finding the exact picture on his phone to show me. I waited. It was fine. I didn’t have to rush like crazy. I was on top of my list of patients. I had the time to give him.

Time is precious. It never stops and our gifted bank is continuously running dry. I can’t believe how satisfying life can be to just slow down. To take that time. To remind yourself of the point. The point of all of this. After all, what am I rushing to?

I started this post by detailing my excitement to be busy, yet I seem to be concluding with my satisfaction in slowing down. It’s an interesting dichotomy as perhaps the true contentment is coming from a balance of the two.

There is a running joke amongst doctors regarding a silly desire to switch places with your patient. There have been more than a few times in my early career, when I walked into a patient’s room at 7AM, after already being awake for 2 hours visiting my patients in the hospital and preparing for the day, and I’ve taken a good look at my patient, sitting up in bed eating a warm breakfast, drinking a coffee and watching TV – and …. I’ve wanted to switch places.

How crazy is that? Who would want to be sick in the hospital?

It’s striking that I later learned that most of my colleagues shared this sentiment. We were so crazy busy and overworked that sometimes we longed to just rest and be taken care of. We envied that poor patient who had the “privilege” to just sit there and relax.

I no longer share this thought. I never want to be that patient. I now get to relax and take care of myself because I was forced to do that. I had no choice as I physically could not keep going at the same pace. Now, I want those same capabilities to be crazy busy, but perhaps – I don’t need to use them like I did in the past.

Maybe — one day, I will regain them. Maybe, that day I will recall these thoughts and remember to seek the balance. The ability to take time to eat lunch, socialize and learn from a wonderful colleague.