About a year ago, my employer, being the forward thinking
organization that it is, hosted a teleconference for employees on compassion
fatigue and caregiver burnout. I of
course could check almost every symptom box on the list of possibilities. That being said, I have a very difficult time
accepting that I feel this way, and that it’s not necessarily a personality
defect. I have always been a “carer”,
and the thought that I essentially have nothing left in the tank and need to
tell people I’m full up? Well, it feels
like failure to me.
About 6 weeks after I started my new job? Pregnant.
And then along came Jack. I truly
believe that this job is one of the key reasons that I have been able to do all
that I do for the boys. God put me here
so that I would be able to be the mommy I need to be. I was here through the boys’ infancy; I could
nurse them on demand with the help of an in home daycare provider. It was hectic- there were lots of
interruptions, but it was worth it.
Little did I know what was coming with the boys- that this was by far
the easy part.
With each of the boys’ diagnoses things became more
complicated. As their mom, it was my job
to do everything and anything I could to help them- I have been through more
assessments (and depressing discussions) than I care to mention, I have taken
each of the boys through multiple clinical trials that eventually required me
to take FMLA to preserve my employment, I have taken every Friday off for
months to take my son to mother-son speech program. We now have in home therapy every day of the
week Monday-Friday from 4-6pm. While I
am still working. As I have said, I am
extremely thankful that I have the job that I have, because otherwise, the boys
could not have this. And I try to focus
on that.
My job no longer involves face to face, physical caring of
patients. That does not mean that I am
not still caring for patients. I spend
hours on the phone with my patients now, and am a bit of a jack of all
trades. I review their clinical
information and determine if they are eligible for a transplant, yes. That is one of my main jobs. But after this initial step, I call these
patients, establish professional relationships with them and help them with
everything from finding transportation to appointments, getting their
medications, explaining the transplant process, helping them find a transplant
center that will accept them, monitoring their rehab attendance if there are substance
abuse issues, to figuratively holding their hands when they are feeling low,
helping them find a caregiver when family members fail to support them, and
listening to them express their doubts about moving forward with transplant,
their thoughts about dying. All while
being recorded, ha. And being called by my son’s school daily as
he adjusts to his new placement, being asked to get on the phone and “motivate
him” to work.
I am lucky to have a partner in this- my husband. The reality of the situation is that he now
works an hour from home, so I am on my own with all of the daytime issues. The fact that I also have a full time job is
irrelevant, as he is too far away to assist.
And I have NEVER discussed this before- but my husband is also
chronically ill. I won’t go into
details, but I will say that his illness leaves him incapable of helping a fair
amount of the time. He is busy trying to keep his own health in check, as he should be.
I find myself yelling at my husband for being sick. I find myself not responding to my friend’s
calls and messages, actively avoiding them even. I find myself looking forward to work,
because it is my break. I find myself running until I am completely
numb, both mentally and physically. I
find myself locking my bedroom door for 20 minutes so that Jack can’t come in
and talk about planes- not that it helps, as he is content to continue his
monologue through the door. I find
myself breaking down every time Jack has a meltdown and becomes physically aggressive-
and I need to focus on him, I need to remain calm, I need to follow the plan
the behavioral therapist has in place.
But with all of the above that is going on, all I can think is, now he
is hurting me. How can this be? What have I done wrong? What is wrong with ME? This one change to the status quo has all but
cracked me- it is the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. I can handle a lot. I DO handle a lot. But lately, it feels like it’s just too
much. I end the day so exhausted, so overwrought, and so empty. I often wonder how I will make it through- each day feels like it's own individual battle. I wake up in the morning and brace myself for all of the unknowns that are about to be lobbed my way.
So what happens in the face of other stressors when one is
already feeling like this? I am told my
work hours are going to be changed, that it is mandatory- ok, whatever. We have a financial problem- mkay. House crumbling around us? No biggie.
Get yelled at at work? Oh well. I have no ability left to mount a response to
these things that seem so mundane these days.
And maybe under the circumstances that’s a good thing- it’s definitely a
protective thing. I am numb to so many things- my patients at
work don’t really affect me the way they used to- I care, but I don’t. I do my job, it is my JOB. But the passion? It’s gone.
The compassion? Well, I can fake
that. I am hanging on by a thread,
trying to remind myself that if I made it through Nathan constantly banging his
head on the floor and standing on his head, I can make it through this. But fatigue?
Burnout? Doesn’t even begin to
describe it.