It has been a while since I attended an international conference. In fact, I have not really been to any formal national or international conferences since I moved from Texas to PEI. I am spending today and the next several days in Vancouver, British Columbia at the Society of Teachers of Family Medicine, STFM. Today the preconference workshop on Palliative Care promoted a reflective sense, and allowed the opportunity to look back at how much has changed during the last two years.
The pre-conference workshop was geared toward developing a curriculum for the education of residents and students in palliative care. It may have been the group, the topic, or the electromagnetic forces at play, but the room was full of many people who love what they do, strive to be the best at their profession, and are keenly aware of their short comings in their endeavor. It was interesting to sit in a room full of people who are mindful. The listening and discussion had a different tone in this room, it reflected the struggle. Into this room, at the close of the day, we turned our attention to ‘self care’.
In the realm of palliative care it is a fact that burnout shadows the work, and in the crucible of academic medicine, the shadows may overtake you before you are aware. In an effort to assess our needs as a group, a small exercise was in order, a pictogram representing where our time and efforts are spent. After drawing a box and labeling the corners (work, family, friends, self-care) the time was divided to reflect the amount of time and energy we spent in each corner. The comparison of my time slices today look very different from the slices two years ago.
Then
Work 70 hours (71%) Family 14 hours (14%)
Friends 7 hours (7%) Self care 7 hours (7%)
Now
Work 50 hours (58%) Family 21 hours (36%)
Friends 7 hours (8%) Self care 7 hours (8%)
The feeling surrounding life has changed far more than the 13% reduction in my work hours reflect. The chaos that comprised a fair bit of life is no longer present. The sense of having to run to keep up is virtually absent, and the smoldering resentment surrounding work has vanished. This change has allowed for a more important evolution in patient care, it has allowed for the return of empathy.
The pre-conference workshop was geared toward developing a curriculum for the education of residents and students in palliative care. It may have been the group, the topic, or the electromagnetic forces at play, but the room was full of many people who love what they do, strive to be the best at their profession, and are keenly aware of their short comings in their endeavor. It was interesting to sit in a room full of people who are mindful. The listening and discussion had a different tone in this room, it reflected the struggle. Into this room, at the close of the day, we turned our attention to ‘self care’.
In the realm of palliative care it is a fact that burnout shadows the work, and in the crucible of academic medicine, the shadows may overtake you before you are aware. In an effort to assess our needs as a group, a small exercise was in order, a pictogram representing where our time and efforts are spent. After drawing a box and labeling the corners (work, family, friends, self-care) the time was divided to reflect the amount of time and energy we spent in each corner. The comparison of my time slices today look very different from the slices two years ago.
Then
Work 70 hours (71%) Family 14 hours (14%)
Friends 7 hours (7%) Self care 7 hours (7%)
Now
Work 50 hours (58%) Family 21 hours (36%)
Friends 7 hours (8%) Self care 7 hours (8%)
The feeling surrounding life has changed far more than the 13% reduction in my work hours reflect. The chaos that comprised a fair bit of life is no longer present. The sense of having to run to keep up is virtually absent, and the smoldering resentment surrounding work has vanished. This change has allowed for a more important evolution in patient care, it has allowed for the return of empathy.
Mindful patient care is something that is difficult to achieve if you have sliced your time so thin as to become transparent. If there is no substance to you, no opportunity to focus your attention on the patient at hand, then you are unable to be mindful and present in the room with the patient. It is this presence that is transformative. Being present, attentive, and without distraction allows you to see the patient as they are, at that moment, in the moment. In seeing the patient, the moment for change occurs. The ability to look past the superficial mask which we all wear allows you the chance to speak to that divine spark within each of us, that little bit of God we all hold, the portion of each patient that can effect change. It is seeing this person, hearing this person, and speaking to this person that we act in ways that allow them to see the change, to become the change.
It is in the quiet times that we can look and see the things that need to be done, and move the things that need moving. On the Island, in my practice, with my patients, I am privileged to observe the comings and goings of these quiet times in the patients and families for whom I care.
Namaste
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