Whew! Tough day in clinic. I held a lot of hands today.

Had a new patient in today. A retired Marine. A homeless guy. I'm telling you, nobody should be homeless in this country, but especially not veterans. :mad::grr:

He was in for a pretty bad sore throat. I got him fixed up, but then he started talking to me about him being homeless. He said earlier this year, in January, he put the muzzle of a .45 in his mouth and came pretty close to pulling the trigger. He had two sons; both Marines like him. One was killed in Iraq in 2008, the other was killed in Afghanistan last year. He just about wanted to end it all. He was currently in a residential treatment program for suicidal patients. I told him that for future reference, he had friends at the clinic, people who cared about him, and that if he ever thought of suicide again, or started making or even carrying out a plan, to come to the clinic right away. That seemed to make him feel better.

Last patient of the day: following up from a hospital visit for treatment of an overdose due to attempted suicide. I had visited with her for about four appointments so far, and I didn't even have an inkling that this might happen. She is a recovering cocaine and meth addict who had been clean for over a year, then last week she slipped up and got high again. She was so ashamed that she decided to kill herself, and took a full bottle of pills that she found in her friend's medicine cabinet.

The hospital got her fixed up okay, but she broke down in the exam room when she told me what had happened. I told her the same thing I told the Marine: that she had friends at the clinic, and to come back right away if she felt those thoughts again. I vowed to make sure she was never turned away. (We do occasionally turn patients away when we have a full roster for the day.)

I'm just a little exhausted... :hangover:

Thank you...is all I can say...
Thank you for being there...




peace~

Sometimes the management gets on the providers' cases about increasing productivity. They want us to see roughly 25 patients a day. (I saw 14 today, and usually see between 12 and 21 patients.) I wish I could say to them "Hey, we're making a difference down here!", but that would be too much like grandstanding for my comfort.

Anyway, this job has its rewards, and the patients are it.

:hi::hug:

I know you've had your setbacks but can you imagine what life would be if you weren't there for them? I have no idea what it's like for the man to lose one son in Iraq and one in Afghanistan...a big hug to you for being there for him.

Same for the woman who took the bottle of pills...if it wasn't for you, she might not have a reason to keep going.

Sometimes your posts break my heart (never the Shakespeare ones!) but I'm always encouraged by the fact that you really care about and help your clients!

Keep on truckin'!

:yourock:

As someone who ponders suicide myself, what you do is very appreciated.

As a therapist (and as a human) I know that the mind, the emotions, the sense of self, meaning-making, the body, the "brain" and the ways in which we treat all of the above are profoundly interconnected. People are being treated very badly right now, and it's wreaking havoc on them. We absorb so much, no matter what aspect of them we are "treating." Sometimes you just have to stand back in awe, and try to just be there for them. And then treat yourself very, very well so you can keep on.

Hang in there. You sound like you're very good at what you do.

I'm so glad you found yourself in the perfect job for a giver.

My mother is an old-school Kennedy liberal. She was also a firm believer in parental discipline. She's a living, breathing example of how 'liberal' does not necessarily equate with 'permissive.'

I'm very fortunate...

:patriot:

:hi:

You are exhausted because you're doing very hard and necessary work...

And you're so damn good at what you do.

Blessings on you!

:hug:

and I admire you and the work you do. Thank you.

Nothing heals like compassion.

And as I'm sure you already know, sometimes the "cry for help" is just one human being wanting another to listen, to feel that in what seems to be an uncaring world, there's someone who cares.

The real strength...the toughest strength of all to muster...is when a person can look inside rather than outside and find the strength they need. That's what I had to do recently with my "heart attack scare"...but what I've found out since is the degree to which things are better is the degree to which I tell myself things are better.

Some days, things really suck...but the minute I say to myself "things really suck" I go into an immediate tailspin. Fortunately, I can now catch myself doing it and "put in the correction."

But that's learned behavior. Most people who feel like they have their backs against the wall are more comfortable with the cry for help. That's when it's critical for them to have someone like you who is willing to respond to that cry.

It's not the fact that they're depending on you to do anything for them. It's the idea that they can take that concept, put it in their pocket, and not fret over it.

Wayne Dyer has a book called "The Power of Intention." In it he relates an anecdote from someone who once interviewed Mother Theresa. He said that he felt compelled to do something for her, anything. She said "Tomorrow morning, get up before dawn. Go out onto the streets and find one of your city's homeless people, who feels that they are alone. Convince them that they're not."

So allow me to join the chorus of my fellow DUers who applaud you for a job well done.

I got into medicine for a highly paradoxical reason: I can't stand to see people suffering. Sometimes I can ameliorate that suffering. Other times, I fail in a big way. But the successes make it easier to get out of bed in the morning.

Seriously, bless your heart. To care so much, and invest such interest in your patients -- it is a touching and honorable thing.

Thank you, and :yourock:

I have some good examples to live up to; my Dad, for one.

He was kind of an oddball. He was a Registered Nurse, and a surgical technician who, after he died, his former colleagues spoke about to me almost in awe. He spent his career serving others, in and out of the military. Privately, he was often a selfish, egotistical jerk. But he was dedicated to his work, and very proud of what he did. He explained medical concepts to me, even when I was very young, in a way that I could understand easily.

He wasn't always compassionate to his family, but I'll bet there are thousands who remember him as a superior medical man. Seems a fair trade-off.

That was so kind to express genuine love and concern. Bless you.

You do good :hug:

you in this world. Compassion is in short supply these days....z