APPRECIATING CAREGIVERS

Nurses awaiting helicopter, FaceBook

The current coronavirus pandemic certainly has given all of us around the world a focus and heightened appreciation for all of our caregivers in a multitude of specialties.  And in this time of world-wide digital communication we’re now in close touch with those on the battle fields fighting for those stricken with the virus.  Some of them are saying that those that stay at home and do not facilitate the movement of the virus are on the front lines and that they are behind the lines caring for the patients that are seeking medical treatment.

Observing this crisis unfold called to mind a response of the famous anthropologist Margaret Mead when a student asked what she considered to be the first sign of civilization in a culture.  Excavations of ancient sites have uncovered the remains of fire pits, flint stones used for hunting and tools, clay shards, etc.  But she didn’t use any of these common examples.  Instead she replied that it was a healed thigh bone.  She explained that in evolving cultures a broken leg was a certain death sentence in the animal world.  “Helping someone through a time of crisis is where civilization starts”, she concluded.

Heroes aren’t born.  They’re created in times of strife and struggle.  We humans are hardwired for empathy.  And research has noted that when we observe others suffering, our brains are stimulated so that we experience the pain ourselves. 

There’s a great void between empathy and apathy.  People seem to have a range within which we can nurture either trait.  Learning new skills will grow parts of our brain for instance.  Practicing generosity, concern for strangers and others’ emotions grows our ability to create a kinder world.  And empathy is primary in the caregiving profession.  I still remember a senior ICU nurse that came into my room around midnight after major surgery and talked for quite a while to assure me that everything would be OK. 

But full time caring for the sick and being witness to dying patients will take a toll on our caregivers, demanding our own empathy for them.  I was witness to friends when the husband was terminally ill and required a demanding amount of time and energy from his wife.  She actually passed away before him.  And our oncologist that worked tirelessly with my wife to seek treatments for her metastasized breast cancer was said to have a terrible bedside manner and lack of empathy.  Once we spent time understanding his world, we came to realize that we too would have to emotionally detach ourselves from multiple patients with critical diseases for our own sanity.  Nevertheless, when the end was near, he still revealed his underlying humanity we had appreciated all along and for which I was grateful.