In my account sits four "drafts" of blogs I have started over the past few years now, but before I finish one, or all, I need to post something fresh and relevant to what we as sonographers are facing during this pandemic of 2020. I will share very personal details and hope you have the patience to find the "gold nuggets" amongst the mire.
The past couple of work years have been the same, over and over, with occasional highlights that once brightened my workday and made it all worthwhile. Usually I would write about such moments; they kept me going. Why didn't I? I lost the ability to write. It was gone. I could not find the words to form a sentence to convey a thought. Just to think of a title was virtually impossible. Why? Medication. Prescribed medication, at the request of my significant other, but it erased all creativity from my being. I could not even begin. I was blank, just as the pages of this blog remained blank; for years. That is a closed chapter now and there is no need to dive into the details of the struggles and battles. In the end, I emerged ME AGAIN. I feel. I can create. I can express. I no longer need the medications he wanted me to take so he could control every aspect of my being. I am free to be me and it feels good.
But with all this feeling back, I also feel more stress and anxiety, and during this pandemic it has gotten a bit intense for me. Work became a daily struggle for me. I am grateful to have work, a paycheck, and means to continue paying all our bills, but every day being exposed to individual after individual and some with coughs or other symptoms, but we are told we must scan them anyway; anxiety. Wearing a mask has become as much of our uniforms as wearing our work badge in order to have work privileges; it is a must. And I am glad, but I hate wearing the damn thing. Given the choice though; I would wear it: so I smile and proceed to cover my smile as I pull the bands over my ears and scan another stranger again and again; exposed to everything and everyone they have been exposed to. Do they even realize they are also being exposed to very patient I have come in contact with now too? I doubt it. Most don't even wear masks and our practice won't provide them with one. If they do have one, they usually pull it half off their face or they ask if they can remove it completely. I try as sweetly as possible to let them know that if they wish to have their scan then they need to keep their mask on, just as I do. I have never been so irritated and rushed while I scan as I have during these strange times. I am usually talking, sharing, explaining, listening and making their ultrasound an experience to remember fondly. Now, "limit your exposure" echoes in my head over and over and I get what is absolutely necessary, then exit the room as quickly as possible. I used to enjoy accompanying the physician during his consult. Now I wait outside the room. I hate myself for this. I miss talking. I miss hearing my patients' stories. I miss connecting. I miss the joy my job used to bring me. My soul is starved.
I needed a break. I was burning out. My coworkers and physicians saw me struggling and getting worse as the weeks passed. They voiced their concerns. I reached out to the counseling services work offered. I also reached out to my personal counselor more frequently. I was desperate; desperate for a reason to keep putting that damn mask on, desperate for a reason to deal with patients who act as though there is no pandemic whatsoever. I listened to the counselors. I did the work. "Acceptance". We cannot change this reality, we can only accept it and do our best. For about two weeks I did my damndest. I controlled what I could control to protect myself and I focused on gratitude for still having a job and money to survive. I tried to "shift"; DAILY. I gave it my best. But even after two weeks, I was defeated. I started feeling angry that a patient would have the nerve to ask if they could remove their mask. I found myself becoming resentful that the patients were even showing up for their appointments. How dare they, don't they know the risks?!? In the midst of this I felt GUILT. I was not dealing with dying patients. I was not on the frontlines having actual COVID patients to tend to; I am working on 'easy street', so how dare I feel these feelings of resentment and angst? How dare I! But I did. My reality was very real and very exhausting...to me.
I share this in humility and with the hope that if you struggle with such feelings, you know that you are not alone. I tried, really tried, not to dwell on these feelings, but the more we would talk about the pandemic at work, and we talked about it constantly, the worse the feelings became. I needed to BREATHE.
Breathe. Take a break and breathe. So I did. I had to think of my own well being. I was on the verge of breaking and it terrified me to even think what that might actually look like. In this line of work, we have to be aware, we have to be present, we cannot miss something, we cannot make a mistake, we have a job that requires perfection and AWARENESS. I couldn't risk making a mistake, no matter how small. I had a pending elective surgery - now was the "best time". I felt guilty leaving my coworkers to tend to the same amount of patients without me, but I was soon going to become useless or worse; detrimental. So I took three weeks to breathe. I have one more day before returning to work and feel like a new person. I have only worn a mask three times since I left for surgery and that was for the testing site for my COVID-19 test, the day of surgery, and to go to the post office the other day. It has been nice to "breath" - literally. I have not set an alarm and I have relaxed; which were doctor's orders for the first two weeks, then ME TIME started as I settled into this new routine of being home and accomplishing things that made me happy. I got home projects started and some finished, I started to write again, I sat and did puzzels with my boyfriend, and I enjoyed every moment of feeling safe, feeling calm, feeling free, and being able to breath. I needed this time to learn what I was struggling to do while working and was unable; ACCEPT. During this break I came to terms with the fact that the pandemic is what it is; no matter what I do or wish, it is still our reality and quite possibly a constant variable we will always have to navigate. This might be the new way we live our lives and I can not continuously live in fear, so accept. Accept that work is different now. Accept that daily routines have changed. Accept that wearing a mask is nearly as essential as wearing shoes. Accept that people will handle it differently, and that is okay. Accept that it is killing thousands, a 1,000 here in the US now. Accept it, because I can not change it, but I can adapt. If in Bird Box they could live years without ever seeing sunlight, and that became their way of life, I can do this.We can do this. I also realized that I have God on my side and He will never leave me nor forsake me. That thought brought me peace. And I accepted that. I needed time to breath, to think, to process so that I could learn to accept. This is reality. I go back to work now. I will wear my mask, gladly, and I will be grateful for every patient I get to be of service to. I accept my role and I trust that I am protected by higher powers, and in Him I trust. I will still have anxiety, and that is okay, I can accept that. It is warranted, but it does not have to take control of me. I accept me.
So tomorrow I will be a better (rested) version of myself. I will be do my best to navigate this unknown territory of COVID-19 and I will strive to find golden moments (gold nuggets) in what often feels like filth, muck and mire. I accept my role. Through my mask, I will smile and try to once again allow my heart to speak to other hearts and hopefully feel that connection with my patients that I have missed. We are not alone in this pandemic and they could be just as apprehensive as I am - maybe I can ease their angst in some way.
I learned the hard way; to bend before I break, and if I feel I am going to break, and "bending" means taking a "break", then a break I shall have. If we don't care for ourselves first we can not care for others to the best of our abilities. Self care is vital. I hope that in this new space of "acceptance" I will have a better handle of my role as a sonographer, a medical professional, a coworker, as well as friend, mother, daughter, and partner.
May you know your limits and care for yourself. Bend before you break; whatever that "bending" means, you need it and deserve it. Take a breather, take a break, take care of you so that you can take care of others.
The past couple of work years have been the same, over and over, with occasional highlights that once brightened my workday and made it all worthwhile. Usually I would write about such moments; they kept me going. Why didn't I? I lost the ability to write. It was gone. I could not find the words to form a sentence to convey a thought. Just to think of a title was virtually impossible. Why? Medication. Prescribed medication, at the request of my significant other, but it erased all creativity from my being. I could not even begin. I was blank, just as the pages of this blog remained blank; for years. That is a closed chapter now and there is no need to dive into the details of the struggles and battles. In the end, I emerged ME AGAIN. I feel. I can create. I can express. I no longer need the medications he wanted me to take so he could control every aspect of my being. I am free to be me and it feels good.
But with all this feeling back, I also feel more stress and anxiety, and during this pandemic it has gotten a bit intense for me. Work became a daily struggle for me. I am grateful to have work, a paycheck, and means to continue paying all our bills, but every day being exposed to individual after individual and some with coughs or other symptoms, but we are told we must scan them anyway; anxiety. Wearing a mask has become as much of our uniforms as wearing our work badge in order to have work privileges; it is a must. And I am glad, but I hate wearing the damn thing. Given the choice though; I would wear it: so I smile and proceed to cover my smile as I pull the bands over my ears and scan another stranger again and again; exposed to everything and everyone they have been exposed to. Do they even realize they are also being exposed to very patient I have come in contact with now too? I doubt it. Most don't even wear masks and our practice won't provide them with one. If they do have one, they usually pull it half off their face or they ask if they can remove it completely. I try as sweetly as possible to let them know that if they wish to have their scan then they need to keep their mask on, just as I do. I have never been so irritated and rushed while I scan as I have during these strange times. I am usually talking, sharing, explaining, listening and making their ultrasound an experience to remember fondly. Now, "limit your exposure" echoes in my head over and over and I get what is absolutely necessary, then exit the room as quickly as possible. I used to enjoy accompanying the physician during his consult. Now I wait outside the room. I hate myself for this. I miss talking. I miss hearing my patients' stories. I miss connecting. I miss the joy my job used to bring me. My soul is starved.
I needed a break. I was burning out. My coworkers and physicians saw me struggling and getting worse as the weeks passed. They voiced their concerns. I reached out to the counseling services work offered. I also reached out to my personal counselor more frequently. I was desperate; desperate for a reason to keep putting that damn mask on, desperate for a reason to deal with patients who act as though there is no pandemic whatsoever. I listened to the counselors. I did the work. "Acceptance". We cannot change this reality, we can only accept it and do our best. For about two weeks I did my damndest. I controlled what I could control to protect myself and I focused on gratitude for still having a job and money to survive. I tried to "shift"; DAILY. I gave it my best. But even after two weeks, I was defeated. I started feeling angry that a patient would have the nerve to ask if they could remove their mask. I found myself becoming resentful that the patients were even showing up for their appointments. How dare they, don't they know the risks?!? In the midst of this I felt GUILT. I was not dealing with dying patients. I was not on the frontlines having actual COVID patients to tend to; I am working on 'easy street', so how dare I feel these feelings of resentment and angst? How dare I! But I did. My reality was very real and very exhausting...to me.
I share this in humility and with the hope that if you struggle with such feelings, you know that you are not alone. I tried, really tried, not to dwell on these feelings, but the more we would talk about the pandemic at work, and we talked about it constantly, the worse the feelings became. I needed to BREATHE.
Breathe. Take a break and breathe. So I did. I had to think of my own well being. I was on the verge of breaking and it terrified me to even think what that might actually look like. In this line of work, we have to be aware, we have to be present, we cannot miss something, we cannot make a mistake, we have a job that requires perfection and AWARENESS. I couldn't risk making a mistake, no matter how small. I had a pending elective surgery - now was the "best time". I felt guilty leaving my coworkers to tend to the same amount of patients without me, but I was soon going to become useless or worse; detrimental. So I took three weeks to breathe. I have one more day before returning to work and feel like a new person. I have only worn a mask three times since I left for surgery and that was for the testing site for my COVID-19 test, the day of surgery, and to go to the post office the other day. It has been nice to "breath" - literally. I have not set an alarm and I have relaxed; which were doctor's orders for the first two weeks, then ME TIME started as I settled into this new routine of being home and accomplishing things that made me happy. I got home projects started and some finished, I started to write again, I sat and did puzzels with my boyfriend, and I enjoyed every moment of feeling safe, feeling calm, feeling free, and being able to breath. I needed this time to learn what I was struggling to do while working and was unable; ACCEPT. During this break I came to terms with the fact that the pandemic is what it is; no matter what I do or wish, it is still our reality and quite possibly a constant variable we will always have to navigate. This might be the new way we live our lives and I can not continuously live in fear, so accept. Accept that work is different now. Accept that daily routines have changed. Accept that wearing a mask is nearly as essential as wearing shoes. Accept that people will handle it differently, and that is okay. Accept that it is killing thousands, a 1,000 here in the US now. Accept it, because I can not change it, but I can adapt. If in Bird Box they could live years without ever seeing sunlight, and that became their way of life, I can do this.We can do this. I also realized that I have God on my side and He will never leave me nor forsake me. That thought brought me peace. And I accepted that. I needed time to breath, to think, to process so that I could learn to accept. This is reality. I go back to work now. I will wear my mask, gladly, and I will be grateful for every patient I get to be of service to. I accept my role and I trust that I am protected by higher powers, and in Him I trust. I will still have anxiety, and that is okay, I can accept that. It is warranted, but it does not have to take control of me. I accept me.
So tomorrow I will be a better (rested) version of myself. I will be do my best to navigate this unknown territory of COVID-19 and I will strive to find golden moments (gold nuggets) in what often feels like filth, muck and mire. I accept my role. Through my mask, I will smile and try to once again allow my heart to speak to other hearts and hopefully feel that connection with my patients that I have missed. We are not alone in this pandemic and they could be just as apprehensive as I am - maybe I can ease their angst in some way.
I learned the hard way; to bend before I break, and if I feel I am going to break, and "bending" means taking a "break", then a break I shall have. If we don't care for ourselves first we can not care for others to the best of our abilities. Self care is vital. I hope that in this new space of "acceptance" I will have a better handle of my role as a sonographer, a medical professional, a coworker, as well as friend, mother, daughter, and partner.
May you know your limits and care for yourself. Bend before you break; whatever that "bending" means, you need it and deserve it. Take a breather, take a break, take care of you so that you can take care of others.
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