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Latest Voices
Drowning in Paper
On December 13, 2017, I had major surgery. That operation involved hours of paperwork, both before and after the procedure.
Once my surgeon and I agreed upon the surgery, I had to fill out health forms in his office—forms about past procedures, about my current medications, about my physical and mental state of being. The forms even asked about my marital status. Does being divorced really affect how I will handle the surgery? Completing the forms exhausted me, causing my pain to exacerbate.
Transfer of Care
We take a man home on hospice from the hospital: end stage cancer, metastatic. His Power of Attorney requested one last pain shot of Dilaudid. We cinch belongings into bags, gather discharge papers and old flowers in vases. He groans being moved from cot to gurney, and again over the bumpy roads. It’s his final ride; we are his transporters.
What Exactly is Occupational Therapy?
Many occupational therapists struggle to describe the profession to patients, other health-care providers, and health insurance companies. Oftentimes, occupational therapy (OT) is incorrectly billed as physical therapy (PT), and some insurance companies do not even cover occupational therapy, reasoning that physical therapists can do everything necessary to address patients’ rehabilitation needs.
Cotton Wool Hair
“How long have you been doing this?” he asked, eyes gleaming with admiration. I was unsure whether he was asking long I had been conducting patient interviews or how long I had been a medical student. I decided on the latter. “Two years,” I replied with a confident smile across my chin. “Well, you’re very good!.” “Thank you,” I replied, almost a whisper.
It was a compliment I was definitely not expecting on my first day there.
The Spirit of the Holidays
Snow is drifting down lightly outside my window, and the early-morning light is just starting to shine into my room. I am nestled in my bed, snug and content. Nothing is going to get me out of bed this morning, I think. Then my alarm goes off, and the realization that it is Thursday, that I have a more important place to be, pulls me out of the warmth of my bed. I know I am headed to a place filled with more joy than even a comfy bed can offer me.
Poor Me
Usually, I loved my work as an RN in the coronary care unit. But I always dreaded leaving my family on Christmas. Poor me.
So, whenever the schedule called for me to work on the holiday, I’d think back to 1980 and my patient, Mr. Watkins.
The Masks We Wear
Every day we pass by friends, acquaintances, classmates and strangers, and all of us are wearing smiles on our faces. For some, that reflects feelings of bliss, joy or contentment. For others, though, it can be a mask.
I often think about my pain and the smile I wear to mask it. Most days, I am have the ability to express my troubles and fight the uphill battle against chronic depression. I tell myself, “You can do it! Just go and talk it out with your therapist.”
At least I had the ability to express myself and fight the
Zipped
“What do you think?”
“How long does she have?”
…”We need you here.”
