In the piece “Who Am I, Again?”, the character Sarah (not her real name) has a moment when she shares - “Ever since my accident, I get real excited real quick…and then I also cry a lot. I don’t understand it - that’s just, how I feel.”
In brain injury, one of the parts that is often injured is the frontal lobe region, and this is the part of the brain that’s associated with aspects of emotional self-control. This damage can often lead to a tendency to overreact - to illustrate, when something is good it’s OMG, WFT, THAT IS AMAZING! but when it’s bad - the world has left and the only eventuality is death so why not shorten the wait. Please note, these examples are characterizations and not meant to speak for every case, but they do seek to highlight the absurdity these emotional extremes can reach.
As a survivor, I know the biggest difficulty that emerged from these emotional extremities was, and still is, my rage. It can suddenly swell from some slight, relatively mild, bruise of my desires or ego that wells into a torrent of rage and unanticipated anger - dominating my mind and body, though typically my soul is consciously criticizing each lash given by my other facilities, thereby causing the rage to increase - a sickening cycle. I’ve mentioned this struggle in previous posts, but feel it is something that needs to be acknowledged consistently because I recognize that - while my self-control has, and is continuing to, improve - I have not fully tamed that beast within my being.
This reflection brings me to one of my reasons for writing this blog, and my hope to use it as the base of a platform from which to encourage a movement in storytelling for medical and emotional recovery in brain injury and other conditions.
Brain injury is a hidden condition - if someone has lost an arm, that loss is typically acknowledged and most people will seek to accommodate that person’s needs. This is a good, altruistic instinct that is still deep within humanity and I am glad for it. In brain injury, however, the condition of a person is not always apparent - the body appears healed and so the assumption may be that the individual is healed, yet, as I hope my story reveals (and as any person who has close experience with brain injury knows), the healing is never truly complete. Many people have no idea that they know a survivor of brain injury, and my hope is that with storytelling, many can be made aware of these experiences and this healing process can be more easily recognized and better accepted.
I do not suggest that uncontrolled emotions should be made socially acceptable - the emotional control of a person allows society to function and must be fostered so that there is an acceptable behavior norm - but by encouraging the sharing of experiences, my hope is that those who do suffer from a lack of self-control are encouraged in healing and directed toward help. I was fortunate in my recovery that both my parents are open minded, dedicated researchers who were able to provide appropriate professional support in my healing and self-control regaining processes - I have no doubt this is one of the primary reasons for the success of my rehabilitation - yet I suggest that with more awareness of the struggles and successes of other survivors, many would be able to drastically improve their own healing and be guided toward the needed services.
These are my thoughts on the subject. I’m still researching and seeking more evidence to support (or refute) my claims. I would love to hear your thoughts on the subject, so please leave a note in the comments below. I hope to chat soon.
Thursday, March 17, 2016
Sunday, March 13, 2016
Focused on the Future
You may have noticed that I haven’t been posting as often lately. The primary reason for that is my new job as an English instructor at the Poly School Academy in Pohang, South Korea. With this position, I leave my house at 8:50 every morning, Monday to Friday, and get home a little after 8pm each night. This has limited the time I can give to writing and research. My goal is to compose two postings each week (on the weekend), but this output may increase or decrease as the weeks roll by.
That said, I DO NOT LIKE MY NEW JOB!
I recognize that I am fortunate to be employed and that I am currently living a relatively comfortable lifestyle, but simultaneously, there are many things about this position that I find appalling, but I don’t want to focus on that - I want to focus on why I took this position.
This position is a crutch - a way to move me toward my future goals. It’s hard, long work hours and I don’t agree with the education system at the school, but it’s only temporary. It’s an event that is a part of my life, but it’s not not the whole of my life. It’s just a time that I’m using to get me to where I want to be.
Back to brain injury - it was terrible, frustrating, difficult, and at times seemed defeating - but it was also just a time. The goal (and eventually the result) was that I would once again become fully active in the world and share my ideas in an attempt to better this existence for everyone. Recovery can be merely a time to move you on to the the time that you want.
Life rumbles along, bouncing over bumps along the trail, but what needs to occur within a recovering person is the acceptance of this divot ridden path as a part of her or her history. I do not like my current job and I did not like my brain injury, but both are a part of the experiences that have made, and are making, me. At the same time, both these experiences are only part of what is me. Focus on goals - the reason you want to recover - and see each step as moving you there.
This job is only a temporary snag in life - I’ll work through it and move to the next adventure. Brain injury is a much bigger snag, but you’re alive and by moving forward, brain injury can also be a thing that you’re working through to move further along in the journey.
That said, I DO NOT LIKE MY NEW JOB!
I recognize that I am fortunate to be employed and that I am currently living a relatively comfortable lifestyle, but simultaneously, there are many things about this position that I find appalling, but I don’t want to focus on that - I want to focus on why I took this position.
This position is a crutch - a way to move me toward my future goals. It’s hard, long work hours and I don’t agree with the education system at the school, but it’s only temporary. It’s an event that is a part of my life, but it’s not not the whole of my life. It’s just a time that I’m using to get me to where I want to be.
Back to brain injury - it was terrible, frustrating, difficult, and at times seemed defeating - but it was also just a time. The goal (and eventually the result) was that I would once again become fully active in the world and share my ideas in an attempt to better this existence for everyone. Recovery can be merely a time to move you on to the the time that you want.
Life rumbles along, bouncing over bumps along the trail, but what needs to occur within a recovering person is the acceptance of this divot ridden path as a part of her or her history. I do not like my current job and I did not like my brain injury, but both are a part of the experiences that have made, and are making, me. At the same time, both these experiences are only part of what is me. Focus on goals - the reason you want to recover - and see each step as moving you there.
This job is only a temporary snag in life - I’ll work through it and move to the next adventure. Brain injury is a much bigger snag, but you’re alive and by moving forward, brain injury can also be a thing that you’re working through to move further along in the journey.
Monday, February 29, 2016
Anger Inside
Recovery never ends and often, a tick or habit that begins after brain injury will continue to plague you, quite possibly, for the rest of your life.
I say that because one tick that has been hurting me for years, and is common among people who have suffered frontal lobe brain damage, is anger. The anger can arise suddenly, striking like a viper and making one real back in a painful rage that lashes out, hurting others.
Sometimes, I blame my anger on my injury, but that is no excuse.
The damage is caused by me, not my injury. The anger takes control of me in the present, not me at the time of my injury. Any rage is my responsibility.
It’s easy to use the excuse, and I’ve done this at times, “Well, that’s my brain injury, I’m sorry but I can’t do anything about it.” That’s bullshit.
I call bullshit on myself, and anyone else who says that. As survivors of brain injury we have been gifted a second chance at life and it is our responsibility to understand and tame any damning reminder of brain injury, regardless of the situation in life. Any damaging, personal ticks come from any injury are still one’s personal responsibility. Don’t ever believe otherwise.
That’s not to say we shouldn’t have help. Friends, family members, trained professionals can all help a person with anger, and I encourage reaching out to all of these resources in a way that feels comfortable, but the responsibility for healing and managing personal dark spots is still on oneself. Every person is a product of the things that happen to him or her, and to shun responsibility because of “this” or “that” excuse is not accepted, nor should it be. As a survivor, we do not want to be defined by our injury, therefore, we should not try to use our injury as an excuse for our actions.
I recognize this isn’t always easy. Brain damage does make it harder to control impulses and extreme reactions, but one’s goal, if he or she wishes to remain an active member of society, must be to temper and control these reactions to the best of one’s ability.
I don’t write this because of any recent incident - as time moves forward, I have found myself better able to control my anger, but there are still times when rage dominates me. I can now see, my anger is a part of my history and does try to influence my contemporary self. What’s important, however, is to not let this vice define me, but rather use it as an opportunity to grow. There’s a dragon inside of me, but my goal is tame it instead of being burned by the flame.
I say that because one tick that has been hurting me for years, and is common among people who have suffered frontal lobe brain damage, is anger. The anger can arise suddenly, striking like a viper and making one real back in a painful rage that lashes out, hurting others.
Sometimes, I blame my anger on my injury, but that is no excuse.
The damage is caused by me, not my injury. The anger takes control of me in the present, not me at the time of my injury. Any rage is my responsibility.
It’s easy to use the excuse, and I’ve done this at times, “Well, that’s my brain injury, I’m sorry but I can’t do anything about it.” That’s bullshit.
I call bullshit on myself, and anyone else who says that. As survivors of brain injury we have been gifted a second chance at life and it is our responsibility to understand and tame any damning reminder of brain injury, regardless of the situation in life. Any damaging, personal ticks come from any injury are still one’s personal responsibility. Don’t ever believe otherwise.
That’s not to say we shouldn’t have help. Friends, family members, trained professionals can all help a person with anger, and I encourage reaching out to all of these resources in a way that feels comfortable, but the responsibility for healing and managing personal dark spots is still on oneself. Every person is a product of the things that happen to him or her, and to shun responsibility because of “this” or “that” excuse is not accepted, nor should it be. As a survivor, we do not want to be defined by our injury, therefore, we should not try to use our injury as an excuse for our actions.
I recognize this isn’t always easy. Brain damage does make it harder to control impulses and extreme reactions, but one’s goal, if he or she wishes to remain an active member of society, must be to temper and control these reactions to the best of one’s ability.
I don’t write this because of any recent incident - as time moves forward, I have found myself better able to control my anger, but there are still times when rage dominates me. I can now see, my anger is a part of my history and does try to influence my contemporary self. What’s important, however, is to not let this vice define me, but rather use it as an opportunity to grow. There’s a dragon inside of me, but my goal is tame it instead of being burned by the flame.
Sunday, February 28, 2016
Nicknamed "The Gimp"
As mentioned in an earlier posting, I play piano, and as part of that, I was in a high school and early college Rock ’n Roll band that was modeled, in large part, after the band Phish - by this I mean we played songs with moderately simple chord structures and then improvised around those chords. We weren’t bad, but by no means amazing. The band formed just before my accident, and several of my closest friends from high school were in the group, and there was no doubt I would rejoin when I returned from the hospital. It was fun, and it gave me a chance to be socially active.
But it wasn’t always an easy social interaction. As often happens with brain injury, especially during early recovery, my accident changed a lot of my behaviors and this was difficult for my bandmates to understand. Here was this classmate they had spent years with - they had an image in their mind of who I was - but now I was overly affectionate, quick to anger, slow to comprehend a situation, and more common traits associated with recovery from brain injury. All the band members were supportive and did their best to be understanding - probably more so than many people would be - but they were also high school guys. They didn’t understand something, so they sought to label it in a way they could laugh. And so I took on the label “Gimp”.
It became my nickname, my title, and something I even encouraged by pasting it into my own language. If I made a mistake, it was easy enough to pass it off as an error of the Gimp, and as the name was used more often, I found it an easy way to amuse. “Don’t blame me, I’m a Gimp,” would often pull out a laugh. At least at first, but as usage of the term developed, I began to feel the cutting implications in the term.
Gimp is defined by Google as, “A physically handicapped or lame person; A feeble or contemptible person.” I didn’t know this at the time, but this was clearly how the term was making me feel. As use of the term continued and I began to feel it defined me, and the attitude of the band members became darker as well. There was one incident which I didn’t learn about until years later, where I was excluded from a social event because one member stated, “I just don’t want to deal with the Lethan circus.” As time passed, it seemed this attitude grew - it had been a year since my accident, I was in college, I was alive, why the hell couldn’t I act like I used to - or at least more normal? There was a certain, thinly veiled contempt by some band members toward having to do things with me.
Now, I must be perfectly clear when I say I feel no ill will toward any members of the band or my experience in the group. There were still a lot of fun times when the recovery from brain injury didn’t factor into our performances, and in retrospect, when the issue involving my recovery did come into play, I can see how this would be hard for anyone, especially high school boys - being in a band is, in many ways, about rebelling from responsibility, and here they’ve got this guy they need to keep an eye on to make sure he doesn’t do something irreversibly damaging.
Yet, this sense of being on the outskirts of the band - not fully a member - did hurt. I went from being a relatively popular “high school hippie performer” to someone my friends kept at a safe distance. I’m not sure the pain from that transition will ever fully heal. That’s not meant to be a cry for self pity, but a recognition of the reality of the emotions. I expect that there are many survivors who have also had to come to terms with these feelings of social stratification, and that may be scar that can never fully mend, but that’s only my informed guess.
There is also no clear resolution to this memory - no obvious ending. Things move on, and some must remain unresolved. The band went the way of many high school bands - dissolving as college took members to other parts of the country. I’ve remained close with some, lost contact with others, and life continues. As I’ve reflected on these memories for this blog entry, I’m recognizing how important these events were to me and how I may be still struggling with some of them, but have pushed these thoughts to the peripheries of my mind for decades. Returning to these memories by sharing this story is allowing me to look at the events from a new perspective and with a new maturity. Something to think about - thanks for letting me share.
But it wasn’t always an easy social interaction. As often happens with brain injury, especially during early recovery, my accident changed a lot of my behaviors and this was difficult for my bandmates to understand. Here was this classmate they had spent years with - they had an image in their mind of who I was - but now I was overly affectionate, quick to anger, slow to comprehend a situation, and more common traits associated with recovery from brain injury. All the band members were supportive and did their best to be understanding - probably more so than many people would be - but they were also high school guys. They didn’t understand something, so they sought to label it in a way they could laugh. And so I took on the label “Gimp”.
It became my nickname, my title, and something I even encouraged by pasting it into my own language. If I made a mistake, it was easy enough to pass it off as an error of the Gimp, and as the name was used more often, I found it an easy way to amuse. “Don’t blame me, I’m a Gimp,” would often pull out a laugh. At least at first, but as usage of the term developed, I began to feel the cutting implications in the term.
Gimp is defined by Google as, “A physically handicapped or lame person; A feeble or contemptible person.” I didn’t know this at the time, but this was clearly how the term was making me feel. As use of the term continued and I began to feel it defined me, and the attitude of the band members became darker as well. There was one incident which I didn’t learn about until years later, where I was excluded from a social event because one member stated, “I just don’t want to deal with the Lethan circus.” As time passed, it seemed this attitude grew - it had been a year since my accident, I was in college, I was alive, why the hell couldn’t I act like I used to - or at least more normal? There was a certain, thinly veiled contempt by some band members toward having to do things with me.
Now, I must be perfectly clear when I say I feel no ill will toward any members of the band or my experience in the group. There were still a lot of fun times when the recovery from brain injury didn’t factor into our performances, and in retrospect, when the issue involving my recovery did come into play, I can see how this would be hard for anyone, especially high school boys - being in a band is, in many ways, about rebelling from responsibility, and here they’ve got this guy they need to keep an eye on to make sure he doesn’t do something irreversibly damaging.
Yet, this sense of being on the outskirts of the band - not fully a member - did hurt. I went from being a relatively popular “high school hippie performer” to someone my friends kept at a safe distance. I’m not sure the pain from that transition will ever fully heal. That’s not meant to be a cry for self pity, but a recognition of the reality of the emotions. I expect that there are many survivors who have also had to come to terms with these feelings of social stratification, and that may be scar that can never fully mend, but that’s only my informed guess.
There is also no clear resolution to this memory - no obvious ending. Things move on, and some must remain unresolved. The band went the way of many high school bands - dissolving as college took members to other parts of the country. I’ve remained close with some, lost contact with others, and life continues. As I’ve reflected on these memories for this blog entry, I’m recognizing how important these events were to me and how I may be still struggling with some of them, but have pushed these thoughts to the peripheries of my mind for decades. Returning to these memories by sharing this story is allowing me to look at the events from a new perspective and with a new maturity. Something to think about - thanks for letting me share.
Thursday, February 25, 2016
Article Review: When Patients Share Their Stories, Health May Improve
The New York Times article “When Patients Share their Stories, Health May Improve” shares a summary of information that has already been presented in this blog. As stated in the article, “…Stories are an essential part of who we communicate, interpret experiences and incorporate new information into our lives.” It then goes on to cite a study reported in The Annals of Internal Medicine suggesting storytelling helps patients with high blood pressure. The article succinctly presents the information as, “…It appears that at least for one group of patients, listening to personal narratives helped control high blood pressure as effectively as the addition of more medication.” The article goes on to suggest that storytelling can be most helpful in “silent” diseases - in other words, diseases that have few symptoms that are not externally obvious or immediate, such as diabetes or high blood pressure. Due to the lack of external symptoms, these conditions are easy to ignore even after diagnosis, yet, as in the article, “Stories help break down that denial by engaging the listener.”
My response to this article is brief - I like it. It is a summary of what is starting to happen in storytelling medical research. It also recognizes what has hampered storytelling research for many years, the lack of quantifiable evidence. As noted in the article, “A vast majority of studies (about storytelling) have been anecdotal, offering up neither data nor statistics but rather…stories to back up the authors’ claims.” This piece then goes on to cite the high blood pressure study in African American patients, a study mentioned in a previous article review, and recognize how quantifiable data is becoming available to support the medical benefits of storytelling.
The aspect of this article that most excites me is the fact it was in the New York Times. This demonstrates that the idea of storytelling in medicine is becoming more accepted by popular culture and publicly recognized by the medical community. Granted, as far as I can tell, it has not received mainstream recognition, but something is happening. My hope is that this blog will continue to flourish, and help, in some small way, to further the this recognition and acceptance of medical storytelling.
Please share your thoughts below.
Article: Paulina W. Chen, M.D., “When Patients Share Their Stories, Health May Improve”. Published February 10th, 2011 in the New York Times. http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/10//health/views/10chen.html Accessed February 5th, 2016.
My response to this article is brief - I like it. It is a summary of what is starting to happen in storytelling medical research. It also recognizes what has hampered storytelling research for many years, the lack of quantifiable evidence. As noted in the article, “A vast majority of studies (about storytelling) have been anecdotal, offering up neither data nor statistics but rather…stories to back up the authors’ claims.” This piece then goes on to cite the high blood pressure study in African American patients, a study mentioned in a previous article review, and recognize how quantifiable data is becoming available to support the medical benefits of storytelling.
The aspect of this article that most excites me is the fact it was in the New York Times. This demonstrates that the idea of storytelling in medicine is becoming more accepted by popular culture and publicly recognized by the medical community. Granted, as far as I can tell, it has not received mainstream recognition, but something is happening. My hope is that this blog will continue to flourish, and help, in some small way, to further the this recognition and acceptance of medical storytelling.
Please share your thoughts below.
Article: Paulina W. Chen, M.D., “When Patients Share Their Stories, Health May Improve”. Published February 10th, 2011 in the New York Times. http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/10//health/views/10chen.html Accessed February 5th, 2016.
Thursday, February 18, 2016
A Package from Phish
I adored the band Phish from the moment I first heard their music in my friend’s car cassette player (remember those) when i was in the 9th grade. The “Phishhead” culture quickly became a part of my life and I joyfully saw three performances in the fall of 1999. As a committed fan (or Phan), I was especially enthusiastic of Page McConnell, the band’s keyboardist, as I also played piano and I found the melding of musical styles in his playing inspiring.
Just before my accident, several friends and I had purchased tickets for a Phish performance in Philadelphia, and although I was in a Philadelphia hospital when the performance happened, I was unable to attend (for obvious reasons).
I bring this up because on December 22nd, the day before I was scheduled to leave the hospital, a package arrived for me. Who was sending me a package? Was it an early Christmas present? Not knowing what to expect, I was still completely unprepared when I opened the package and found a mother-load of Phish merchandise - fleece jacket, unreleased CD, biographic book, video project on a VHS, two other CDs…and the list continues, but what brought the most joy was at the bottom of the package - under the mountains of memorabilia, a hand written note: “Dear Lethan, So sorry to hear of your accident, pleased to hear of your recovery. Keep in touch and we’ll get you to a show this summer. (signed) Page McConnell”
I was floored - this was my musical idol sending me a get well package!
This was exciting, and I think it speaks to the character of the band, but as the years have passed and I’ve been able to reflect on this gift, I recognize these material goods as a representation of why I believe my recovery was so successful. Material goods are insignificant, but the meaning comes from gifting that bit of added effort to show a person you care. Page McConnell gave me a lot of merchandise, but what touched me more than any of the material items was that he took the bit of time to write me a note. Yet this is insignificant compared to what allowed him to be aware of my condition.
After the thrill and joy of receiving the package, I came to understand how this rock star was made aware of my condition. That I was a fan of the band was well known, and as I was in a Philadelphia hospital while the band would be visiting the city, a letter writing campaign began among my friends and family - “Our friend Lethan is a huge fan of Phish, especially of Page McConnell, and he has a ticket to go to one of the concerts in Philadelphia. Unfortunately, he was in a serious car accident and will be unable to attend as he is currently in Magee Rehabilitation Hospital, also in Philadelphia. If you can get word to him in some way, he would greatly appreciate it. Thank you.” - or some variation of this.
This campaign went on consistently, without my knowledge from dozens of people, but the message I believe finally got through to the band was hand delivered to the band on the night of the concert - or at least nearly so.
Two mothers went along to this concert as chaperones, drivers, hip middle-aged ladies, and because we had (my) extra ticket (one mother was already planning on attending, but the second came for moral support). These mothers took it upon themselves to approach security at the concert with a copy of the letter and, with pleading eyes, negotiate their way to the band’s dressing-room by explaining my situation. They were not allowed to cross this final barrier, but the security guard at this last obstacle offered to personally deliver the message as he sent the mothers back to the crowd. I don’t know if is was this letter, or from the bucket of other letters that got his attention, but something got through to the band. Again, what touches me about this experience isn’t the final result of the package, though that was greatly enjoyed, but the numbers of people giving a little extra effort to reach out for a friend - writing that letters, approaching the security. I feel it was the people giving this added energy, just a little when they could - nothing extreme - but making sure they gave that energy. This force, be it subconsciously or spiritually or socially or what have you, encouraged my body- giving that added bit of energy toward healing and allowing me to have had such a successful recovery. Supplying the energy of a smile for someone in need can be that bit of healing that helps just that much more - sometimes that’s all we can do, but sometimes, that’s what someone needs most.
Please share your thoughts in the comments below. Chat soon.
Just before my accident, several friends and I had purchased tickets for a Phish performance in Philadelphia, and although I was in a Philadelphia hospital when the performance happened, I was unable to attend (for obvious reasons).
I bring this up because on December 22nd, the day before I was scheduled to leave the hospital, a package arrived for me. Who was sending me a package? Was it an early Christmas present? Not knowing what to expect, I was still completely unprepared when I opened the package and found a mother-load of Phish merchandise - fleece jacket, unreleased CD, biographic book, video project on a VHS, two other CDs…and the list continues, but what brought the most joy was at the bottom of the package - under the mountains of memorabilia, a hand written note: “Dear Lethan, So sorry to hear of your accident, pleased to hear of your recovery. Keep in touch and we’ll get you to a show this summer. (signed) Page McConnell”
I was floored - this was my musical idol sending me a get well package!
This was exciting, and I think it speaks to the character of the band, but as the years have passed and I’ve been able to reflect on this gift, I recognize these material goods as a representation of why I believe my recovery was so successful. Material goods are insignificant, but the meaning comes from gifting that bit of added effort to show a person you care. Page McConnell gave me a lot of merchandise, but what touched me more than any of the material items was that he took the bit of time to write me a note. Yet this is insignificant compared to what allowed him to be aware of my condition.
After the thrill and joy of receiving the package, I came to understand how this rock star was made aware of my condition. That I was a fan of the band was well known, and as I was in a Philadelphia hospital while the band would be visiting the city, a letter writing campaign began among my friends and family - “Our friend Lethan is a huge fan of Phish, especially of Page McConnell, and he has a ticket to go to one of the concerts in Philadelphia. Unfortunately, he was in a serious car accident and will be unable to attend as he is currently in Magee Rehabilitation Hospital, also in Philadelphia. If you can get word to him in some way, he would greatly appreciate it. Thank you.” - or some variation of this.
This campaign went on consistently, without my knowledge from dozens of people, but the message I believe finally got through to the band was hand delivered to the band on the night of the concert - or at least nearly so.
Two mothers went along to this concert as chaperones, drivers, hip middle-aged ladies, and because we had (my) extra ticket (one mother was already planning on attending, but the second came for moral support). These mothers took it upon themselves to approach security at the concert with a copy of the letter and, with pleading eyes, negotiate their way to the band’s dressing-room by explaining my situation. They were not allowed to cross this final barrier, but the security guard at this last obstacle offered to personally deliver the message as he sent the mothers back to the crowd. I don’t know if is was this letter, or from the bucket of other letters that got his attention, but something got through to the band. Again, what touches me about this experience isn’t the final result of the package, though that was greatly enjoyed, but the numbers of people giving a little extra effort to reach out for a friend - writing that letters, approaching the security. I feel it was the people giving this added energy, just a little when they could - nothing extreme - but making sure they gave that energy. This force, be it subconsciously or spiritually or socially or what have you, encouraged my body- giving that added bit of energy toward healing and allowing me to have had such a successful recovery. Supplying the energy of a smile for someone in need can be that bit of healing that helps just that much more - sometimes that’s all we can do, but sometimes, that’s what someone needs most.
Please share your thoughts in the comments below. Chat soon.
 | |
| Me with my Phishhead friends |
Wednesday, February 17, 2016
Article Review: The Importance of Telling (and Listening) to the Story
The article “The Importance of Telling (and Listening) to the Story" by Kirsti A Dyer, MD is an overview of reasons storytelling is important in the medical practice. The piece simply defines what it means by telling a story, and then goes through an explanation - filled with cited examples - of why this story sharing process is important.
Much of the work focuses on healing from grief, either due to a personal loss of ability or the loss of someone close to you. In Dr. Dyer’s words, “When a loss of significant life change occurs people need to adapt their life story to include the loss…Developing a narrative allows a person to weave there life changes into a new more cohesive story.” We need stories to makes sense of what happens - inserting events into a timeline that shows a complete process. I wrote about something similar to this in a previous entry (February 10th, “Life Will Happen”) and I agree that we need to see the prior and after events in a tragedy to understand the entire journey, but Dr. Dyer takes this idea a step further by suggesting using storytelling as the tool for that task.
She also emphasizes how storytelling is a tool to construct a set of purposes for a difficult situation. She writes, “Stories allow physicians and patients to communicate, look for meaning in their illness, and discover ways of coping.” This is something I hadn’t thought of, but can easily agree with - when a tragic situation that I cannot understand develops, I quickly fall back to a fatalist or nihilistic philosophy - what does anything matter, its all just random, meaningless events - and this can trample my urge to respond in a productive manner. With storytelling, as laid out by Dr. Dyer, one can transform the tragedy into a part of a grand story. My piece “Who Am I, Again?” attempted to do just that, and I can testify that since I began working with that story, the events of my accident, while still hard, seem less tragic and more passing.
There is also a recognition of the importance of listening by the physician in this process. In Dr. Dyer’s words, “By listening to the story of loss, illness or disease the physician gives the patient a chance to express his / her concerns.” By listening to a patient’s story, a physician is given the chance to take better care of that person. One of my first entries into this blog was about the nursing staff at my rehabilitation hospital in Philadelphia (January 14th, “A Good Memory from Magee Rehabilitation”), and in that entry, I mention how there was one nurse in particular (they were all good, but this man stands out in my mind) who would make it a point to kneel beside my wheelchair and really listen to my difficulties, and this simply task helped me to feel a greater sense of calm that made my time in that hospital endlessly better.
The entire article is filled with examples and support of the thesis that storytelling is important from both sides of a healing situation - from the patient as well as the care-giver. Dr. Dyer also acknowledges that there is beginning to be a recognition of the value of storytelling in healing in contemporary medicine, and she is glad for this and encouraging it to continue. As she concludes, “Physicians may be unable to take away the pain and grief following a loss, however we can listen. Listening to a patient’s story of loss or illness, if even for just a few moments, can be beneficial in integrating, healing and recovering from the loss.”
I loved this article for several reasons - it is direct and easy to understand, the information is presented in an objective manner, and there are a host of citations of studies (which I am in the process of following up on) that support the thesis that storytelling is important for healing. Previously (primarily while in graduate school for Storytelling), I had heard arguments about the medical benefits of storytelling laden with lots of impassioned sentiment - I do not mean to criticize such passions and I feel this passion holds validity, but the argument in this paper is presented in a pragmatic manner granting it more power in the scientific and medical communities.
Yet I still have questions that rose while reading. As part of her “Definitions” section, Dr. Dyer states, “Telling the Story focuses on the act of relating anecdotes and telling healing stories; this can be accomplished via several methods - verbal or written narratives, tape or video recordings.” My question - is there a difference in how these mediums affect the Storyteller (patient or grieving person)? I suggest that the immediate storytelling performance - the Storyteller speaking to his / her friends and family - is far more therapeutic - both for the performer and the audience - as the intimacy of a story cannot be replicated through any sort of video or audio production. I find the idea of a camcorder or a audio recorder set on a stand in front of the speaker to be very mechanized when compared to the engaging live interaction of storytelling. I have not, however, found any studies that support or refute this suggestion, but Dr. Dyer does not address the question.
My second question concerns the responsibility of the doctor to listen to and empathize with a patient’s story - this seems like it may be outside the physician’s expertise. As stated in the article, “May physicians may feel untrained with their patient’s grief.” I suggest that this is an unfair burden to place upon physicians. Listening is an active process, and to become a skilled listener can take a significant amount of training - granted, there are some people who are naturally good listeners, but to suggest that a physician should be trained and/or skilled in this ability seems out of place. Psychologists are trained to be listeners, and for that reason I suggest that patients would be better served if there can be an open dialogue between psychologists and physicians during a sever medical procedure so the Psychologist can assist n the listening process. Granted, I am ignorant in both fields, but from my experience, and having friends and relations in these professions, to expect a doctor to listen is putting another heaping ladle full of responsibility on a plate of duties that is already filled to the edge.
This is not intended take away from Dr. Dyer’s article in any manner - I believe she has a deep understanding of the subject matter through her research. I also expect I will be returning to this article many times for support of my thesis - that storytelling assists in physical and mental healing. My hope is that these questions continue the discussion, helping the medical field find the best ways to help people recover and become more fully alive.
Those are my thoughts - I highly recommend reading this article and would love to get your thoughts in the comments.
Article: Kristi A Dyer, MD, MS. “The Importance of Telling (and Listening) to the Story”. Published December 6th, 2001 on Journey of Hearts website. Accessed February 1st, 2016. http://journeyofhearts.org/kirstimd/tellstory.htm
Much of the work focuses on healing from grief, either due to a personal loss of ability or the loss of someone close to you. In Dr. Dyer’s words, “When a loss of significant life change occurs people need to adapt their life story to include the loss…Developing a narrative allows a person to weave there life changes into a new more cohesive story.” We need stories to makes sense of what happens - inserting events into a timeline that shows a complete process. I wrote about something similar to this in a previous entry (February 10th, “Life Will Happen”) and I agree that we need to see the prior and after events in a tragedy to understand the entire journey, but Dr. Dyer takes this idea a step further by suggesting using storytelling as the tool for that task.
She also emphasizes how storytelling is a tool to construct a set of purposes for a difficult situation. She writes, “Stories allow physicians and patients to communicate, look for meaning in their illness, and discover ways of coping.” This is something I hadn’t thought of, but can easily agree with - when a tragic situation that I cannot understand develops, I quickly fall back to a fatalist or nihilistic philosophy - what does anything matter, its all just random, meaningless events - and this can trample my urge to respond in a productive manner. With storytelling, as laid out by Dr. Dyer, one can transform the tragedy into a part of a grand story. My piece “Who Am I, Again?” attempted to do just that, and I can testify that since I began working with that story, the events of my accident, while still hard, seem less tragic and more passing.
There is also a recognition of the importance of listening by the physician in this process. In Dr. Dyer’s words, “By listening to the story of loss, illness or disease the physician gives the patient a chance to express his / her concerns.” By listening to a patient’s story, a physician is given the chance to take better care of that person. One of my first entries into this blog was about the nursing staff at my rehabilitation hospital in Philadelphia (January 14th, “A Good Memory from Magee Rehabilitation”), and in that entry, I mention how there was one nurse in particular (they were all good, but this man stands out in my mind) who would make it a point to kneel beside my wheelchair and really listen to my difficulties, and this simply task helped me to feel a greater sense of calm that made my time in that hospital endlessly better.
The entire article is filled with examples and support of the thesis that storytelling is important from both sides of a healing situation - from the patient as well as the care-giver. Dr. Dyer also acknowledges that there is beginning to be a recognition of the value of storytelling in healing in contemporary medicine, and she is glad for this and encouraging it to continue. As she concludes, “Physicians may be unable to take away the pain and grief following a loss, however we can listen. Listening to a patient’s story of loss or illness, if even for just a few moments, can be beneficial in integrating, healing and recovering from the loss.”
I loved this article for several reasons - it is direct and easy to understand, the information is presented in an objective manner, and there are a host of citations of studies (which I am in the process of following up on) that support the thesis that storytelling is important for healing. Previously (primarily while in graduate school for Storytelling), I had heard arguments about the medical benefits of storytelling laden with lots of impassioned sentiment - I do not mean to criticize such passions and I feel this passion holds validity, but the argument in this paper is presented in a pragmatic manner granting it more power in the scientific and medical communities.
Yet I still have questions that rose while reading. As part of her “Definitions” section, Dr. Dyer states, “Telling the Story focuses on the act of relating anecdotes and telling healing stories; this can be accomplished via several methods - verbal or written narratives, tape or video recordings.” My question - is there a difference in how these mediums affect the Storyteller (patient or grieving person)? I suggest that the immediate storytelling performance - the Storyteller speaking to his / her friends and family - is far more therapeutic - both for the performer and the audience - as the intimacy of a story cannot be replicated through any sort of video or audio production. I find the idea of a camcorder or a audio recorder set on a stand in front of the speaker to be very mechanized when compared to the engaging live interaction of storytelling. I have not, however, found any studies that support or refute this suggestion, but Dr. Dyer does not address the question.
My second question concerns the responsibility of the doctor to listen to and empathize with a patient’s story - this seems like it may be outside the physician’s expertise. As stated in the article, “May physicians may feel untrained with their patient’s grief.” I suggest that this is an unfair burden to place upon physicians. Listening is an active process, and to become a skilled listener can take a significant amount of training - granted, there are some people who are naturally good listeners, but to suggest that a physician should be trained and/or skilled in this ability seems out of place. Psychologists are trained to be listeners, and for that reason I suggest that patients would be better served if there can be an open dialogue between psychologists and physicians during a sever medical procedure so the Psychologist can assist n the listening process. Granted, I am ignorant in both fields, but from my experience, and having friends and relations in these professions, to expect a doctor to listen is putting another heaping ladle full of responsibility on a plate of duties that is already filled to the edge.
This is not intended take away from Dr. Dyer’s article in any manner - I believe she has a deep understanding of the subject matter through her research. I also expect I will be returning to this article many times for support of my thesis - that storytelling assists in physical and mental healing. My hope is that these questions continue the discussion, helping the medical field find the best ways to help people recover and become more fully alive.
Those are my thoughts - I highly recommend reading this article and would love to get your thoughts in the comments.
Article: Kristi A Dyer, MD, MS. “The Importance of Telling (and Listening) to the Story”. Published December 6th, 2001 on Journey of Hearts website. Accessed February 1st, 2016. http://journeyofhearts.org/kirstimd/tellstory.htm
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