Last Monday I went out for my first shoot of 2021. I was hoping to immerse atleast my feet to the ravishing waves, to have my 2020 misfortunes be washed away; but instead, I was greeted by the calm and gentle waters that occasionally clash the stilts. For a moment, I feel that this is what I desire for the new year. So much emotions (ranging from loneliness, uncertainties, and emptiness) that were piled up in 2020 that even when I tried hard to mask them with positivity, they affect me when the night falls.
Flagler Beach Pier. Sunrise. 01.04.2021
About a week ago, I have two different patients that definitely shook all emotions I have been carrying on. I have been sweeping them off under the rug recently as I do not have the time to reflect, and think objectively to resolve them because I am tied up of the holidays. Work had consumed myself as well that I feel like I am in a contained room gasping for air to breathe. And as it happened before, I can only hold so much.
On Tuesday after Christmas, I was taking care of RM216B. The report I got was that he was a handful, unruly, and non-compliant patient. A kind of patient that challenges me. He had given me the cold treatment when I introduced myself- not my first though. Throughout the day, I realized his frustrations- he was diagnosed as deemed incompetent to make medical decisions for himself just because he yelled and cursed all the other staff the previous day when his only wish was to be home. He cried; and I sat down next to him. That moment I felt the sincerity in his voice as he uttered, “It’s hard to live when you lost all your family and you are alone.” I found myself sobbing while I comforted him. We didn’t speak a word for a moment, but the presence of each other was enough to give the much-needed support. He apologized after and I said that he didn’t have to. I left his room- frustrated of his situation, and searching answers for my own.
The next day, I took care of an 87 years old lady in RM218A who also told me she wanted to go home- after she suffered of stroke-like symptoms. With limited knowledge of what her discharge plans, I didn’t say any concrete answers but the generic, “I’ll see what I can do.” I learned immediately that the reason was, she had a dying (from Covid) son and all she wanted was with her comforting family. By lunch time, I received a phone call from one of my patient’s children and told me that he passed away. After I say my condolences, she asked if I could help her break the news as she is coming in to see how her mother’s doing but still couldn’t figure out how to tell her of the tragic event. When she arrived, all three of us sat together at bedside and I told her the sad news. In my mind and in my heart, I can’t imagine the devastation my patient felt. No parent should ever have to outlive their child. As she started weeping, my tears dropped as well. I stayed briefly and decided to give the mother and daughter their privacy to grieve and talk personally. I walked in to the rest room and gave myself a good cry. I let my tears wash some of my sentiments for a bit.
Plato once said saltwater cures all ailments of man; I find its true when my anxiety and loneliness strike. The ocean has always been my go-to place When I feel hollow and searching for answers. The waves, seabirds and the sun are the elements I wanted to be surrounded with. Same thing with crying. Shedding some tears makes me feel better. They replace my energy drawn by the kind of work, people, and relationships I deal with. Both brings comfort and calmness to my inner self- then my day starts to brighten up again.