One Thing

One Thing

In surgery there are moments that call for focus in the face of lit­eral car­nage and destruc­tion. In the emer­gency room when a crit­i­cal trauma patient arrives it is not unusual for 15 peo­ple to sur­round the gur­ney. Most have a job; all are sup­posed to have a job if they are in there. But it is so excit­ing, dra­matic. They can’t help them­selves. Pretty quickly, once the ques­tions get answered (what hap­pened, how sick is this per­son, etc), the crowd dis­si­pates. Some­times though the phys­i­cal chaos of the injuries or the crazi­ness of the mech­a­nism of the injury will draw more and more peo­ple. The sur­geon stands at the foot of this bed, the ER doc­tor at the head. I usu­ally don’t do too much – an exam: feel the belly, touch the foot, look at the chest wall move with the breath. Think. The roil­ing around me doesn’t change, but I change. I have one thing to do. One at a time. I do them. Check the air­way, check the breath­ing, check the cir­cu­la­tion. ABC. The algo­rithms that I learned all those years ago as a stu­dent, pop up in my brain like a slideshow, and, in the quiet of my mind, in the fre­netic noise of that room, I walk through, step by step, with the patient. I make deci­sions, some­times right, some­times not. I am not, how­ever, par­a­lyzed. I am in action.

In the rest of my life I am not so good at this. Maybe it is a lack of prac­tice, or that there are not algo­rithms. Maybe it is because it is my own life that I try­ing to fig­ure out. Even though I am acutely aware of the life in the bal­ance in the ER, it is still not my life. While the noise of my own life and the the deci­sions I need to make are not life/death, they involve me. Harder to get per­spec­tive. What to do with that?

Another set of eyes, ask for help, step away. Learn the les­son of one thing at a time. ABC. I am cur­rently feel­ing over­whelmed – way more than I can make sense of. I am decid­ing to wake up each day, look at the plate of things/people/events in front of me and do my best. The noise never stops. I don’t have the lux­ury of dis­tance from myself. I am in it. This is why I need help in my life: I can­not see myself. I need the per­spec­tive you might have. It is bet­ter when I remem­ber this, but I often don’t. Today I am remem­ber­ing to remem­ber that.

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2 Responses to One Thing

  1. P. Voyles says:

    Per­son­ally I feel over­whelmed every­day. I know how for­tu­nate I am to have my chil­dren, fam­ily, and friends. How­ever, I keep feel­ing like there is more to life and it is pass­ing me by. Some­times I feel like the whole world is mov­ing for­ward and I am not going any­where. Recently I went back to school just to add some vari­ety to my life. I am always tak­ing care of oth­ers and needed to do one thing for me. I felt so self­ish, but real­ized I needed a change. I have also in many ways walked away from ide­olo­gies I had and found my own spir­i­tual aware­ness. It has made me a much hap­pier per­son. I am ready to feel things I haven’t felt for a decade now and snap out of my rou­tine. I just hope I can con­tinue on my jour­ney and keep find­ing each day a lit­tle more worth­while and ful­fill­ing. Per­haps one day we will both stop hear­ing the noise and just feel the bliss of the moment.

  2. stephenarcher says:

    this sounds really cool. I like the vision of untar­nished expe­ri­enced – in the moment, as you said. thanks!

    s

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