In this blog, my primary topics are recovery, storytelling, and my experience with TBI. However, when I perform “Who Am I, Again?”, I’m often asked, "What actually happened in the accident?" My initial reaction response is that this isn’t important - while every case of TBI is different and caused for different reasons, many of the recovery experiences are the same, and its the recovery, not the accident, that this project is focused on. Also, I don’t remember - I was in a coma.
But I also recognize why people are curious - you want to know where a journey starts from, and so, with that in mind, this is the story of what happened as its been related to me:
It was November 4th, 1999 - I was a 17 year old high school senior and basking in all the arrogance that entails. In the evening, I had gotten into a spat with my mother over - I’m not sure about what, but it probably had to do with some work I didn’t want to do. My sister, however, was attending a class wide sleepover party at her middle school - a small Quaker school that was about a 20 minute drive outside of town. I wanted out of the house and away from my parents so I argued that I should take her to the school, and was allowed to be the chauffeur.
As a new driver, anytime I got behind the wheel I was excited. On the way to the school, we took some back country roads through the hills of Pennsylvania - much more exciting than the regular state highway. Knowing my temperament, then and today, I was probably driving just a little above the speed limit - not to save time but to show my mastery of the roads - yet we made it to the school without a problem.
At the school, I do remember seeing my former French teacher - the teacher chaperoning the event - and I remember feeling good and very adult. No longer was I one of the kids in her class but now I was the adult driving one of her students. It was exciting to be achieving this new independence. We spoke about my university plans, her life in college, how I was already feeling checked out of school (senior-i-tis), and I remember watching her waving goodbye as I pulled out onto the country road in my parent’s maroon red 1986 Volvo sedan, honking my own farewell.
I mention that scene in my performance piece, and that truly is my last memory. What happened is that on the drive back, on the same country, hilly roads, I passed a car going the opposite direction. He has said it didn’t seem like I was going fast, but I expect I was pushing the speed limit just a little. Immediately after he passed, I lost control of my vehicle and crashed into a telephone pole. No-one knows why I actually lost control, but as time has passed several possibilities as to what happened have been proposed - it may have been a deer jumping into the road that caused me to swerve, I may have been adjusting the stereo and lost track of the road for a second, or any one of a thousand other possibilities. The story I tell myself, though I have no proof of this, is that I was a little too far on the right side of the road - hugging the right curb - and going a little too fast. When the man passed me, being a new driver I pulled just a little more to the right, my wheel slipped off the side of the road, I lost control and careened into the telephone pole. Whatever the reason, the man who had just passed saw my accident in his rearview mirror and, because this was before cell phones were in their current prominence, he found a nearby farmhouse with the lights on where he called 911 emergency services.
That evening had been a quiet evening in terms of emergencies, and the nearby rescue team was able to immediately dispatch a Life-Flight helicopter to my location. Interestingly, our family auto mechanic and friend was volunteering on the emergency squad that night, so he recognized the car and immediately knew who was inside. This rescue team extracted me from the vehicle and flew me to Geisinger Hospital Emergency room where my journey through recovery began.
As I think about this story, I am constantly amazed at the events that all happened in just the right manner so that I could have the best possible chances for recovery. I’ve been told that I must have been really lucky that night, but then I remind whoever tells me this that I was in an accident that put me into a coma, give an laugh, and we move on. Whatever the truth is, that’s the best I know of how my accident occurred, but like I’ve said, this is only the beginning of a story, and the rest is a lot more interesting.
Wednesday, January 20, 2016
Tuesday, January 19, 2016
Artcile Review: "The Healing Power of Storytelling"
Another article review, this one “The Healing Power of Storytelling” by Richard C. Senelick, M.D. written for Huffington Post.
In this article, Dr. Senelick advocates doctors using storytelling as a way to give advice and as an important part of understanding the patient’s condition. In his words, “Storytelling is a two-way street. Illnesses unfold as stories, and physicians need to learn how to listen to those stories. The same is true of giving advice, for if good advice is given in the wrong way (a listing of individual facts), the patient will not follow it.” To illustrate the importance of listening to patients, Dr. Senelick cites his time with an elderly Scandinavian ship captain, or an immigrant woman struggling in her new land, and how hearing these stories - and the stories of other patients - teaches him while allowing him to know the full context of a patients condition. He then compares this to the experience of taking his 95 year old mother to the doctor, and emotionlessly answering the required questions dictated by the appointed medical assistant. As he explains his criticism, “We might as well have been answering a robot, for when he was done, he knew no more about my mother than when we first sat down.” After recognizing the interpersonal benefit of stories being shared by patients, Senelick continues by citing specific ways and examples of how and why storytelling is an effective tool when doctors are providing information, primarily focusing on how a person is more likely to remember and apply a story as opposed to a listing of fact or processes.
Put simply, I love this article and it supports much of what I am coming to understand about storytelling as a medical tool. I particularly appreciate how Dr. Senelick acknowledges that a doctor must both listen to and share stories to make using storytelling as a tool fully effective. The previous article I reviewed (“The Healing Power of Story”) discussed using literature studies to practice listening to a patient, but this article emphasizes focusing on the patient’s story - studies of metaphor aren’t needed when discussing what actually happened to a person. Dr. Suzanne Koven (from the previous article) suggested that using literary examples makes it easier to discuss difficult topics with patients - that may be true, but I believe that if one is able to move beyond discomfort and listen to what’s actually happening without judgement, it provides an clearer picture of what’s occurring. Granted, some people may be hesitant to share personal information, and literary examples may help to provide comfort by making the reality of what’s happening more abstract, but in my experience, more often than not, people love to share stories if a listener shows genuine interest in what is being shared. From the tone of his article, it seems that Dr. Senelick is pushing for the doctors not to listen to patients because “they are required to” or “it’s part of the procedure”, but because there is a genuine interest in gathering more information. To make this interest genuine and not merely “put on” is, perhaps, the trickiest part, but I suggest that once a doctor is willing to truly listen, he or she will quickly see improvements in both his or her professional and personal life thus continuing this practice for reasons of enjoyment and self-improvement. This provides a departure from the methodic, banal procedures that might plague routine visits. Again, Senelick, “As we careen into the digital age…Storytelling, in its various forms, may be one way to connect more meaningfully with our patients, to both help us get to know them individually and help them understand their physical condition.”
Despite the praise I am heaping upon this article, there are questions that remain. First, Does a busy doctor have time to create a personal connection with every patient who comes through the office door? When Senelick describes hearing the stories of his sea captain patient, he says, in his words, “I always asked my office to block out twice the usual amount of time so I could get a double dose of his spellbinding stories.” This is wonderful if time allows, but as I understand it, many doctors are already overworked and taxed for time. Scheduling extra time to spend with someone because they are a natural storyteller is a privilege that many practitioners may not have. How does one deal with the limits of an 8 hour, or even 12 hour shift?
There is also the question of personal investment in a patient - by creating the personal relationship that naturally develops by sharing stories, could a doctor risk providing less sound medical advice because of personal feelings toward a patient? While I, admittedly, have never worked or received training as a medical practitioner, as I understand things, a doctor is expected to keep emotions out of the medical equation - would personal story sharing create emotions that could potentially cloud professional judgement?
I do not raise these questions as a nonbeliever in Dr. Senelick’s article, but as a critical reader. While my gut agrees whole heartedly with the ideas expressed in the article, I promised myself and readers of this blog that I would carefully examine everything read and posted - my goal is to find a truth about any benefits and share information, not to adhere to a dogmatic belief in the miracles of storytelling.
That said, my favorite part of Senelick’s article is when he backs up his claims and observances with facts. In 2011, the “Annals of Internal Medicine” published a study that looked at whether storytelling could improve the blood pressure of people with hypertension. In this study, two groups of African-Americans with high blood pressure were observed, one group heard stories from peers about how to deal with high blood pressure while the other group received different materials, and the results are what would be expected from reading his article. In Senelick’s words, “The group that watched stories related by peers who shared their problem were more successful in lowering their blood pressure than the other half. A story told by a friend or peer is most effective in creating a lasting memory.” While this is only one example, and can in no way provide proof of the power of storytelling, it is some does provide information that gives even more weight to the argument.
Those are my thoughts, but what do you think? Can anyone provide more examples of studies concerning the benefits or lack there of when using storytelling? Does anyone have any stories they would like to share?
Article: Richard C. Senelick, M.D. “The Healing Power of Storytelling.” Published April 9th, 2012 in Huffington Post. Accessed January 17th, 2016. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/richard-c-senelick-md/patient-care_b_1410115.html
In this article, Dr. Senelick advocates doctors using storytelling as a way to give advice and as an important part of understanding the patient’s condition. In his words, “Storytelling is a two-way street. Illnesses unfold as stories, and physicians need to learn how to listen to those stories. The same is true of giving advice, for if good advice is given in the wrong way (a listing of individual facts), the patient will not follow it.” To illustrate the importance of listening to patients, Dr. Senelick cites his time with an elderly Scandinavian ship captain, or an immigrant woman struggling in her new land, and how hearing these stories - and the stories of other patients - teaches him while allowing him to know the full context of a patients condition. He then compares this to the experience of taking his 95 year old mother to the doctor, and emotionlessly answering the required questions dictated by the appointed medical assistant. As he explains his criticism, “We might as well have been answering a robot, for when he was done, he knew no more about my mother than when we first sat down.” After recognizing the interpersonal benefit of stories being shared by patients, Senelick continues by citing specific ways and examples of how and why storytelling is an effective tool when doctors are providing information, primarily focusing on how a person is more likely to remember and apply a story as opposed to a listing of fact or processes.
Put simply, I love this article and it supports much of what I am coming to understand about storytelling as a medical tool. I particularly appreciate how Dr. Senelick acknowledges that a doctor must both listen to and share stories to make using storytelling as a tool fully effective. The previous article I reviewed (“The Healing Power of Story”) discussed using literature studies to practice listening to a patient, but this article emphasizes focusing on the patient’s story - studies of metaphor aren’t needed when discussing what actually happened to a person. Dr. Suzanne Koven (from the previous article) suggested that using literary examples makes it easier to discuss difficult topics with patients - that may be true, but I believe that if one is able to move beyond discomfort and listen to what’s actually happening without judgement, it provides an clearer picture of what’s occurring. Granted, some people may be hesitant to share personal information, and literary examples may help to provide comfort by making the reality of what’s happening more abstract, but in my experience, more often than not, people love to share stories if a listener shows genuine interest in what is being shared. From the tone of his article, it seems that Dr. Senelick is pushing for the doctors not to listen to patients because “they are required to” or “it’s part of the procedure”, but because there is a genuine interest in gathering more information. To make this interest genuine and not merely “put on” is, perhaps, the trickiest part, but I suggest that once a doctor is willing to truly listen, he or she will quickly see improvements in both his or her professional and personal life thus continuing this practice for reasons of enjoyment and self-improvement. This provides a departure from the methodic, banal procedures that might plague routine visits. Again, Senelick, “As we careen into the digital age…Storytelling, in its various forms, may be one way to connect more meaningfully with our patients, to both help us get to know them individually and help them understand their physical condition.”
Despite the praise I am heaping upon this article, there are questions that remain. First, Does a busy doctor have time to create a personal connection with every patient who comes through the office door? When Senelick describes hearing the stories of his sea captain patient, he says, in his words, “I always asked my office to block out twice the usual amount of time so I could get a double dose of his spellbinding stories.” This is wonderful if time allows, but as I understand it, many doctors are already overworked and taxed for time. Scheduling extra time to spend with someone because they are a natural storyteller is a privilege that many practitioners may not have. How does one deal with the limits of an 8 hour, or even 12 hour shift?
There is also the question of personal investment in a patient - by creating the personal relationship that naturally develops by sharing stories, could a doctor risk providing less sound medical advice because of personal feelings toward a patient? While I, admittedly, have never worked or received training as a medical practitioner, as I understand things, a doctor is expected to keep emotions out of the medical equation - would personal story sharing create emotions that could potentially cloud professional judgement?
I do not raise these questions as a nonbeliever in Dr. Senelick’s article, but as a critical reader. While my gut agrees whole heartedly with the ideas expressed in the article, I promised myself and readers of this blog that I would carefully examine everything read and posted - my goal is to find a truth about any benefits and share information, not to adhere to a dogmatic belief in the miracles of storytelling.
That said, my favorite part of Senelick’s article is when he backs up his claims and observances with facts. In 2011, the “Annals of Internal Medicine” published a study that looked at whether storytelling could improve the blood pressure of people with hypertension. In this study, two groups of African-Americans with high blood pressure were observed, one group heard stories from peers about how to deal with high blood pressure while the other group received different materials, and the results are what would be expected from reading his article. In Senelick’s words, “The group that watched stories related by peers who shared their problem were more successful in lowering their blood pressure than the other half. A story told by a friend or peer is most effective in creating a lasting memory.” While this is only one example, and can in no way provide proof of the power of storytelling, it is some does provide information that gives even more weight to the argument.
Those are my thoughts, but what do you think? Can anyone provide more examples of studies concerning the benefits or lack there of when using storytelling? Does anyone have any stories they would like to share?
Article: Richard C. Senelick, M.D. “The Healing Power of Storytelling.” Published April 9th, 2012 in Huffington Post. Accessed January 17th, 2016. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/richard-c-senelick-md/patient-care_b_1410115.html
Monday, January 18, 2016
Always there...
I remember my mother sitting in my hospital room at Magee Rehabilitation, in her chair that was on the left side of the bed. She was always there - simply sitting and waiting. Encouraging me, listening to me, checking in on me.
She had taken time off work to be with me and moved herself to Philadelphia, staying with friends and at shelters so she could spend almost every day at the hospital. She was a constant comfort and frustration, and this duality created a strange mix of emotions - there were many times I would feel angry or trapped by her insistence of being there for everything, but simultaneously safety with her presence.
I recognize that having the privilege of a mother being constantly there is something most TBI survivors cannot have, and in some ways I don’t know that it was always a good thing - perhaps building up some co-dependency - but I also recognize that my recovery would have been drastically different without her there. Her insistence of physically showing that her love was always there inspired me to improve, even when that inspiration came from a desire to have more time away from her.
Blessings tend to comes in a mixed-up muddle of ways, and my the dedication of both my parents, but in this case my mother, was certainly a blessing.
She had taken time off work to be with me and moved herself to Philadelphia, staying with friends and at shelters so she could spend almost every day at the hospital. She was a constant comfort and frustration, and this duality created a strange mix of emotions - there were many times I would feel angry or trapped by her insistence of being there for everything, but simultaneously safety with her presence.
I recognize that having the privilege of a mother being constantly there is something most TBI survivors cannot have, and in some ways I don’t know that it was always a good thing - perhaps building up some co-dependency - but I also recognize that my recovery would have been drastically different without her there. Her insistence of physically showing that her love was always there inspired me to improve, even when that inspiration came from a desire to have more time away from her.
Blessings tend to comes in a mixed-up muddle of ways, and my the dedication of both my parents, but in this case my mother, was certainly a blessing.
About Me - the quick and simple
I’ve been trying to write a little about myself, so people who don’t know me can have a better idea of where I’m coming from in my writings and commentary, but I’m finding that it is a really hard thing to do - write just a short bio - I feel like I’m always leaving too much out. Below is my bio that leaves out all the interesting details, but I hope it gives an idea of where I come from.
Originally intending to be an actor, I moved away from theater after a car accident that caused Brain Injury in November of1999. After this incident and as I began university studies at the local Bloomsburg University, I dabbled in a wide variety of social science and artistic fields, finally deciding that I wanted to be a Storyteller after witnessing a performance by Master Storyteller Jay O’Callahan. The day after this performance, I began to study the art with head librarian and Master (though not as well known) Storyteller Hal Pratt.
While independently studying storytelling, I was also completing my Bachelor of Arts in Philosophy, and upon completion enrolled in the graduate program for Storytelling at East Tennessee State University, where I studied with Dr. Joseph Sobol, as well as other artists and academics. I completed the graduate program with a thesis presentation titled “Who Am I, Again? a verbal collage of stories about Traumatic Brain Injury”. Upon graduating, I began working various part time jobs and professionally performing at locations throughout the North-Eastern United States, including several performances of my signature piece about Brain Injury at conferences throughout the country.
After leaving Tennessee and working several years in Pennsylvania as an independent performance artist and an artistic educator with Box of Light Studios, in 2012 I decided to see more of the world by teaching English in Korea. Currently, I am finishing my time in Korea, living in the small city of Pohang and preparing to begin my final Korean teaching contract.
That’s the quick and easy of where I’m from, but I hope it helps to give an idea of my back ground - if you have any questions, please leave them in the comments below.
Originally intending to be an actor, I moved away from theater after a car accident that caused Brain Injury in November of1999. After this incident and as I began university studies at the local Bloomsburg University, I dabbled in a wide variety of social science and artistic fields, finally deciding that I wanted to be a Storyteller after witnessing a performance by Master Storyteller Jay O’Callahan. The day after this performance, I began to study the art with head librarian and Master (though not as well known) Storyteller Hal Pratt.
While independently studying storytelling, I was also completing my Bachelor of Arts in Philosophy, and upon completion enrolled in the graduate program for Storytelling at East Tennessee State University, where I studied with Dr. Joseph Sobol, as well as other artists and academics. I completed the graduate program with a thesis presentation titled “Who Am I, Again? a verbal collage of stories about Traumatic Brain Injury”. Upon graduating, I began working various part time jobs and professionally performing at locations throughout the North-Eastern United States, including several performances of my signature piece about Brain Injury at conferences throughout the country.
After leaving Tennessee and working several years in Pennsylvania as an independent performance artist and an artistic educator with Box of Light Studios, in 2012 I decided to see more of the world by teaching English in Korea. Currently, I am finishing my time in Korea, living in the small city of Pohang and preparing to begin my final Korean teaching contract.
That’s the quick and easy of where I’m from, but I hope it helps to give an idea of my back ground - if you have any questions, please leave them in the comments below.
Sunday, January 17, 2016
Article Review: "The Healing Power of Story"
I read the article The Healing Power of Story by Elizabeth Cooney and released on the Harvard Medical School Website.
The article briefly lays out the new Writer in Residence program at Division of General Internal Medicine at Massachusetts General Hospital. For this program, author and HMS assistant professor of Medicine Suzanne Koven guides workshops for physicians that focus on looking at literature, applying the themes to real life situations and discussing the questions that arise from the readings. As expressed by Koven, “These are difficult questions and I find that people who do this kind of work are very eager to talk about them and feel very grateful to have an opportunity to talk about them.” By removing oneself from the somewhat invasive nature of the questions, physicians find it easier to discuss personal matters that arise in appointments.
Approaching and discussing sensitive personal matters through the veil of story makes perfect sense to me, and is much of what this blog is about, but I ask, is using classical literature is necessary to discuss these themes? Koven states, “The storytelling is really where the medicine is. There is nothing that I can think of, there is no kind of testing, there is no sort of physiology or pharmacology that is more essential to clinical skill than the ability to elicit, interpret and communicate someone else’s story.” From here, however, the workshops focus on the interpretation of literary masterpieces. Why can we not focus on the stories told by patients - when a doctor asks “What’s wrong?” should a patient be expected to relate their physical experience using metaphors?
That’s not to say that I think this is a bad idea - literature moves us and helps to explain experiences that are foreign. More often than not, a patient’s explanation of “Where does it hurt?” will not be as comprehensive as one crafted by George Orwell (one of the authors studied in this workshop), and I believe this is an amazing first step in opening doctors to listening more carefully. As put by Koven, “…The professional has to write notes in cold, clinical terms. And they can’t discuss what happens freely, out of respect for privacy. Their training teaches them to bottle up these thoughts and emotions.” Literary studies clearly show a step in improving and increasing the comfort and productivity in patient/physician relationships.
Despite the grand intentions of this program, I feel the program does place a burden on the patient - being inspired and able to tell a story upon entry. Similar to how doctors have been trained to bottle thoughts and emotions while diagnosing a patient or providing general care, patients often don’t want to open up to the doctor any more than necessary - say what’s wrong, turn your head and cough, and get out of there. I would hope that, simultaneous with learning to interpret literature, doctors are taught how to elicit stories from patients. Although these new stories likely won’t be peppered with the same colorful or enrapturing language, by better hearing and interpreting personal stories I think doctors would find ways to better care for the individuals.
Furthermore, the article states that this opening of conversation will improve care by practitioners, but it doesn’t clearly explain how this will occur. There will be more communication in the process, but I was left wanting a more scientific explanation of how this will improve care. Why wouldn’t a unbiased, unelaborated look at symptoms and situation provide a clearer diagnosis of a patient’s condition and provide a clear best path for recovery? I don’t think this would provide a better diagnosis, but this article didn’t provide evidence or reasoning to back that up.
This program sounds like a grand idea, and a great start, but it seems to keep the focus on the doctors’ process instead of the patients’ care. My gut suggests that this interpretation of literature could have more effect if it were coupled with workshops on helping patients tell a story, but I similarly don’t have data to support that. I want this data - if anyone reading can provide any sources with such information, please post . I also would also love to hear your thoughts on my critique, so please post comments.
Article: Elizabeth Cooney. “The Healing Power of Story.” Published May 15, 2015. Accessed January 17, 2016. http://hms.harvard.edu/news/healing-power-story.
The article briefly lays out the new Writer in Residence program at Division of General Internal Medicine at Massachusetts General Hospital. For this program, author and HMS assistant professor of Medicine Suzanne Koven guides workshops for physicians that focus on looking at literature, applying the themes to real life situations and discussing the questions that arise from the readings. As expressed by Koven, “These are difficult questions and I find that people who do this kind of work are very eager to talk about them and feel very grateful to have an opportunity to talk about them.” By removing oneself from the somewhat invasive nature of the questions, physicians find it easier to discuss personal matters that arise in appointments.
Approaching and discussing sensitive personal matters through the veil of story makes perfect sense to me, and is much of what this blog is about, but I ask, is using classical literature is necessary to discuss these themes? Koven states, “The storytelling is really where the medicine is. There is nothing that I can think of, there is no kind of testing, there is no sort of physiology or pharmacology that is more essential to clinical skill than the ability to elicit, interpret and communicate someone else’s story.” From here, however, the workshops focus on the interpretation of literary masterpieces. Why can we not focus on the stories told by patients - when a doctor asks “What’s wrong?” should a patient be expected to relate their physical experience using metaphors?
That’s not to say that I think this is a bad idea - literature moves us and helps to explain experiences that are foreign. More often than not, a patient’s explanation of “Where does it hurt?” will not be as comprehensive as one crafted by George Orwell (one of the authors studied in this workshop), and I believe this is an amazing first step in opening doctors to listening more carefully. As put by Koven, “…The professional has to write notes in cold, clinical terms. And they can’t discuss what happens freely, out of respect for privacy. Their training teaches them to bottle up these thoughts and emotions.” Literary studies clearly show a step in improving and increasing the comfort and productivity in patient/physician relationships.
Despite the grand intentions of this program, I feel the program does place a burden on the patient - being inspired and able to tell a story upon entry. Similar to how doctors have been trained to bottle thoughts and emotions while diagnosing a patient or providing general care, patients often don’t want to open up to the doctor any more than necessary - say what’s wrong, turn your head and cough, and get out of there. I would hope that, simultaneous with learning to interpret literature, doctors are taught how to elicit stories from patients. Although these new stories likely won’t be peppered with the same colorful or enrapturing language, by better hearing and interpreting personal stories I think doctors would find ways to better care for the individuals.
Furthermore, the article states that this opening of conversation will improve care by practitioners, but it doesn’t clearly explain how this will occur. There will be more communication in the process, but I was left wanting a more scientific explanation of how this will improve care. Why wouldn’t a unbiased, unelaborated look at symptoms and situation provide a clearer diagnosis of a patient’s condition and provide a clear best path for recovery? I don’t think this would provide a better diagnosis, but this article didn’t provide evidence or reasoning to back that up.
This program sounds like a grand idea, and a great start, but it seems to keep the focus on the doctors’ process instead of the patients’ care. My gut suggests that this interpretation of literature could have more effect if it were coupled with workshops on helping patients tell a story, but I similarly don’t have data to support that. I want this data - if anyone reading can provide any sources with such information, please post . I also would also love to hear your thoughts on my critique, so please post comments.
Article: Elizabeth Cooney. “The Healing Power of Story.” Published May 15, 2015. Accessed January 17, 2016. http://hms.harvard.edu/news/healing-power-story.
Saturday, January 16, 2016
God?
Did God save my life?
This begs the question, “What is God?”
I don’t believe in a blessing by a deity that brought me back from the dead. I don’t believe in any “plan” that decided the events that happened to me or a “mission” that I’ve been called on to complete because of the miracle that touched me. I certainly don’t believe in any bearded guy sitting in the sky or any amorphous consciousness that in anyway affected the events surrounding my accident.
Nor do I believe I was merely lucky.
What I do believe in is community and love - that’s Love. I have been lucky in the circumstances of my life to have been raised in and to have access to such a community spirit. At every moment of my recovery, my family and I were enshrouded by the infinite wrappings of Love - this came from the outpouring of well wishes and prayers by the community, the incredible talent and attention by the medical staff that cared for me, the consistent and pragmatic offers of help from any person who had anything to give, and all the people in uncountable situations holding out a hand to help do what had to be done.
i call this the Divine - the Love that exists in all communities coming to the surface and then being accepted by those who need it.
This is my personal philosophy, and if you don’t want it, I have no desire to push it on you. Every person needs to come to one’s own spiritual beliefs and, if these beliefs are held in a fashion that is tolerant of other people, I hold that there is no “right” or “wrong” way to have one’s faith. But if this helps you find support in anyway, please know that I do believe this with all my being, and I hope it helps you.
I was born hearing the idea that “God is love”, and while that’s beautiful in many ways, I prefer the inverse: Love is god.
If you are a survivor or was with someone through their healing, I would love to hear if and how you found any spiritual comfort. Perhaps your story will help another.
This begs the question, “What is God?”
I don’t believe in a blessing by a deity that brought me back from the dead. I don’t believe in any “plan” that decided the events that happened to me or a “mission” that I’ve been called on to complete because of the miracle that touched me. I certainly don’t believe in any bearded guy sitting in the sky or any amorphous consciousness that in anyway affected the events surrounding my accident.
Nor do I believe I was merely lucky.
What I do believe in is community and love - that’s Love. I have been lucky in the circumstances of my life to have been raised in and to have access to such a community spirit. At every moment of my recovery, my family and I were enshrouded by the infinite wrappings of Love - this came from the outpouring of well wishes and prayers by the community, the incredible talent and attention by the medical staff that cared for me, the consistent and pragmatic offers of help from any person who had anything to give, and all the people in uncountable situations holding out a hand to help do what had to be done.
i call this the Divine - the Love that exists in all communities coming to the surface and then being accepted by those who need it.
This is my personal philosophy, and if you don’t want it, I have no desire to push it on you. Every person needs to come to one’s own spiritual beliefs and, if these beliefs are held in a fashion that is tolerant of other people, I hold that there is no “right” or “wrong” way to have one’s faith. But if this helps you find support in anyway, please know that I do believe this with all my being, and I hope it helps you.
I was born hearing the idea that “God is love”, and while that’s beautiful in many ways, I prefer the inverse: Love is god.
If you are a survivor or was with someone through their healing, I would love to hear if and how you found any spiritual comfort. Perhaps your story will help another.
Thursday, January 14, 2016
Why Storytelling is Important in Healing - Initial thoughts:
As humans, the ability we have that makes us different from every other animal species is storytelling. It is a necessary part of our existence as societal creatures and we use some form of storytelling in nearly every communication we make.
We need to tell stories. Because of limitations to our senses, an experience can never be fully expressed, and thus we do the best we can to share it with stories. This is also how we create bonds with other people - by having stories that we share. Yet storytelling, especially oral storytelling, is no longer deemed as important or necessary, and this is changing the fabric of how we function in society.
As one on one, or even performer/audience storytelling is getting nudged to the corners of culture - replaced by charts, emoticons, and other technological adaptations - many feel less comfortable sharing an experience. This unwillingness to share and limited locations to listen to others can create a sense of isolation - “No-one knows what I’m going through”, “My experience is different”. Returning to the topic of recovery from TBI, or any injury, my sense is that this isolation from lack of storytelling can cause a healing person to give up - not consciously, but with the bombardment of medical charts and predictions a recovering survivor doesn’t feel compelled to ignore the statistics and heal.
I also believe that every healing journey has successes and failures, many of which are never chronicled in medical literature - perhaps the fear of getting into a car again after an accident, or the thrill of actually chewing and swallowing food after a mouth has been wired shut. By sharing these experiences through storytelling, a recovering person can better anticipate some future stages in the journey.
This is not intended as a criticism of technological advances or the modern medicine process. I love technology. Were it not for the medical technologies that were employed in my process, I would not be here - what happened to me would have been unfixable even 30 years earlier. Furthermore, I am sharing this entirely with modern technology - the internet - because allows communication that was absurd science fiction less than 50 years ago. My stance is that we need to continue to improve lives with technology, but in this kaleidoscope of bling bling excitement, we should be careful not to forget the elements that define us as human - simple, beautiful ancient methods of communication that may be less dynamic, but are sill powerfully potent in how they can change our mind and even our bodies well-being.
As an inspirational speaker and performance artist, I have had the privilege of sharing the story of “Who Am I, Again?” with audiences throughout America, and what I find most exciting and inspiring about the consistent response is how audiences feel compelled to share their own stories. Sharing a difficult story helps to remove the stress that story has burdened us with and sharing an inspirational story will bring joy to everyone involved - the listeners will feel inspired and remember their own success stories and the teller will feel a new validation for his or her experience.
This is the stance I hold as I begin this project. To date my experiences have supported this belief, but I feel a need for more proof to support this, so I will do what has been suggested by a multitude of teachers in my life - if I want to know more about something, do some research. And that’s one of my missions in this blog - to research the subject of storytelling in medicine. My initial Googles have turned up a variety of recent articles and books that reference this in some manner, and my goal is to start sifting through the information while keeping an open and critical mind. I will seek to understand any science that is behind the process, as well as seek to understand my personal reasons of why I feel so deeply about the power of storytelling. I’ll be sharing this information and commenting on it throughout these writings.
This is where I start, but what are your thoughts on storytelling as medicine?
We need to tell stories. Because of limitations to our senses, an experience can never be fully expressed, and thus we do the best we can to share it with stories. This is also how we create bonds with other people - by having stories that we share. Yet storytelling, especially oral storytelling, is no longer deemed as important or necessary, and this is changing the fabric of how we function in society.
As one on one, or even performer/audience storytelling is getting nudged to the corners of culture - replaced by charts, emoticons, and other technological adaptations - many feel less comfortable sharing an experience. This unwillingness to share and limited locations to listen to others can create a sense of isolation - “No-one knows what I’m going through”, “My experience is different”. Returning to the topic of recovery from TBI, or any injury, my sense is that this isolation from lack of storytelling can cause a healing person to give up - not consciously, but with the bombardment of medical charts and predictions a recovering survivor doesn’t feel compelled to ignore the statistics and heal.
I also believe that every healing journey has successes and failures, many of which are never chronicled in medical literature - perhaps the fear of getting into a car again after an accident, or the thrill of actually chewing and swallowing food after a mouth has been wired shut. By sharing these experiences through storytelling, a recovering person can better anticipate some future stages in the journey.
This is not intended as a criticism of technological advances or the modern medicine process. I love technology. Were it not for the medical technologies that were employed in my process, I would not be here - what happened to me would have been unfixable even 30 years earlier. Furthermore, I am sharing this entirely with modern technology - the internet - because allows communication that was absurd science fiction less than 50 years ago. My stance is that we need to continue to improve lives with technology, but in this kaleidoscope of bling bling excitement, we should be careful not to forget the elements that define us as human - simple, beautiful ancient methods of communication that may be less dynamic, but are sill powerfully potent in how they can change our mind and even our bodies well-being.
As an inspirational speaker and performance artist, I have had the privilege of sharing the story of “Who Am I, Again?” with audiences throughout America, and what I find most exciting and inspiring about the consistent response is how audiences feel compelled to share their own stories. Sharing a difficult story helps to remove the stress that story has burdened us with and sharing an inspirational story will bring joy to everyone involved - the listeners will feel inspired and remember their own success stories and the teller will feel a new validation for his or her experience.
This is the stance I hold as I begin this project. To date my experiences have supported this belief, but I feel a need for more proof to support this, so I will do what has been suggested by a multitude of teachers in my life - if I want to know more about something, do some research. And that’s one of my missions in this blog - to research the subject of storytelling in medicine. My initial Googles have turned up a variety of recent articles and books that reference this in some manner, and my goal is to start sifting through the information while keeping an open and critical mind. I will seek to understand any science that is behind the process, as well as seek to understand my personal reasons of why I feel so deeply about the power of storytelling. I’ll be sharing this information and commenting on it throughout these writings.
This is where I start, but what are your thoughts on storytelling as medicine?
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