Monday, June 14, 2004
Power and Powerlessness
Last night I had trouble getting to sleep. As I am wont to do, I started obsessing over my dreadful situation, constructing conversations in my head with the surgeon, revisiting all the "what ifs", feeling anger, sadness and frustration welling up in me. When I finally fell asleep, this is what I dreamt:
It was before my operation and I was with my surgeon. I was crying and begging him not to do the operation because I knew what awaited me. He didn't listen. It was as if I were a ghost that he couldn't see. I still feel the depth of my anguish as I cried and begged.
This morning, not surprisingly, the feeling remains. I have just come out of a crying/wailing session. The straw that broke the camel's back this morning was going up the stairs to the second floor, carrying a bottle of water and my cane. With my cane in the crook of my arm, I went up a step at a time, putting the bottle of water one or two steps higher. Just as I reached the top, my cane went tumbling down and I had to go all the way back down to recover it. Of course, I couldn't do any of this if I didn't have one railing on either side of the stairs. I had the second railing put in after my surgery. Otherwise I would have been unable to tackle the stairs on one foot with crutches.
All this leads me to the subject of this post: power. Like it or not, most patients who go through a medical crisis or serious illness do not have the specialized knowledge to make a truly informed decision when choosing a medical practitioner to (hopefully) bring them back to health. We trust in our instincts and in the recommendations of others. Then we relinquish our power. When we put ourselves literally in the hands of a surgeon, we have no more power. He (or less frequently, she) takes over the course one's life. The anesthetist puts us into a sort of coma and the surgeon proceeds to place us in a life-threatening though controlled situation in order to restore us to wellness. When the surgeon's efforts fail for whatever reason, the patient's feeling of powerlessness, which was originally associated with trust, now comes to the surface and bonds with anger, hate, fear and depression.
Powerlessness--perceived and real--is one of the greatest enemies I face now. As my body continues to fall apart due to the surgery (now the elbow of my cane arm is hurting, since it has to take so much pressure), my sense of power and control are sorely tested. I have been robbed and violated.
It was before my operation and I was with my surgeon. I was crying and begging him not to do the operation because I knew what awaited me. He didn't listen. It was as if I were a ghost that he couldn't see. I still feel the depth of my anguish as I cried and begged.
This morning, not surprisingly, the feeling remains. I have just come out of a crying/wailing session. The straw that broke the camel's back this morning was going up the stairs to the second floor, carrying a bottle of water and my cane. With my cane in the crook of my arm, I went up a step at a time, putting the bottle of water one or two steps higher. Just as I reached the top, my cane went tumbling down and I had to go all the way back down to recover it. Of course, I couldn't do any of this if I didn't have one railing on either side of the stairs. I had the second railing put in after my surgery. Otherwise I would have been unable to tackle the stairs on one foot with crutches.
All this leads me to the subject of this post: power. Like it or not, most patients who go through a medical crisis or serious illness do not have the specialized knowledge to make a truly informed decision when choosing a medical practitioner to (hopefully) bring them back to health. We trust in our instincts and in the recommendations of others. Then we relinquish our power. When we put ourselves literally in the hands of a surgeon, we have no more power. He (or less frequently, she) takes over the course one's life. The anesthetist puts us into a sort of coma and the surgeon proceeds to place us in a life-threatening though controlled situation in order to restore us to wellness. When the surgeon's efforts fail for whatever reason, the patient's feeling of powerlessness, which was originally associated with trust, now comes to the surface and bonds with anger, hate, fear and depression.
Powerlessness--perceived and real--is one of the greatest enemies I face now. As my body continues to fall apart due to the surgery (now the elbow of my cane arm is hurting, since it has to take so much pressure), my sense of power and control are sorely tested. I have been robbed and violated.
