The In ‘N Outpatient by Kris Harty

“Who, me?”

Patient? I ain’t no stinkin’ patient.

Denial is a wonderful thing.

After being a patient with a chronic illness for more than three decades, I became a wee bit tired of playing the role. No offense to anyone in the medical community, but it was a too-close connection that I didn’t want anything to do with anymore. I loved the providers, but loathed patienthood.

It was a role I was more than willing to chuck.

But could I? How the heck does one give up such an identity? It’s not exactly like resigning from a job. But wouldn’t that be nice?? I imagine it might involve a scenario like this one (cue movie ‘dream’ music):

“Here, I’m handing in my resignation letter. Yes, that’s correct. I am no longer your patient. Yes, I’ll still see you as needed, but as a person, not a patient. Nothing personal, it’s just business. It’s the business of survival. I’m no longer choosing to survive as a patient. I’ll live as a person, and if, when you treat me, you choose to label me as a patient, well, that’s your issue.”

We each carry out many roles in our lives – roles like spouse, parent, child, sibling, friend, employee, nurse, and unfortunately sometimes, (argghh) …patient. It’s that last one that doesn’t have a lot of positives going for it. After awhile, it gets to be a moldy oldie. It needs to be thrown out with the trash.

So I threw it out. I gave up my patient identity. I wrapped it up in smelly used fish paper, tied it tightly with white butcher string (somehow seems appropriate, being the recipient of multiple surgeries), and tossed it with a flourish into the garbage can across the room, scoring three points in the process.

Cut to last scene of the movie: “Ta da!” said the former patient, wiping her hands clean of the mess.

If only it were that easy.

It might not have looked quite that tidy, but I did perform some Olympic-worthy mental gymnastics to change my thinking of who I was and am, and will be.

Fortunately, my calendar has since changed, too, to reflect my non-patient status. It’s no longer filled with regular and irregular medical appointments during any given week or month – as is so common for people living with chronic illness.

During surgery years, like last year, that calendar fills up again with appointments and tries to tell me I’m once again a patient. I refuse to believe it. Instead, I go about living my life and fitting in time for the medical industry when I can.

I’ve decided to be a friend, sister, volunteer, writer / speaker who happens to occasionally see a doctor in amidst her other life activities. I’m no longer first and foremost a patient who, in her off-time, happens to be a friend, sister, volunteer, writer / speaker.

Who am I? Whoever I want to be, and that doesn’t include the Queen of Denial.

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A new year means new joys and, unfortunately, new struggles. Who will you help Stick To It – No Matter What? Kris Harty’s upcoming book celebrates nurses as the StickPeople they are. Her unique perspective is educational, inspirational, and full of reminders for nurses new and lifelong. Kris helps student nurses continue to persevere through their studies, educates newer nurses on quick, easy ways they can positively and significantly impact patient care, and reminds long-time nurses of what they already know but may have forgotten in the hustle and bustle of their overwhelming workdays. She is an author, keynote speaker, small group facilitator and a 40-year veteran of the industry – on the receiving end. Kris Harty is the Stickabilities Specialist at Strong Spirit Unlimited. If you’re looking for an effortless and meaningful way to inspire your staff or students to keep going, contact Kris. Call 877.711.STIC(K), e-mail StrongSpirit@StrongSpiritUnlimited.com, or visit  www.StrongSpiritUnlimited.com.

The In ‘N Outpatient by Kris Harty

“2011 has got to be better than 2010.”

Don’t know about you, but I hear that comment a lot. Maybe you’ve heard it, thought it, or grumbled it, along with a few other descriptive words, too.

There’s no denying that 2010 brought unwelcome, un-fun challenges to a slew of us, including me.

On the whole, though, I gotta say, these setbacks gave me a renewed appreciation for the people who got me through them. And still do. They help me ‘Stick through the Ick.’

It’s been a year since I was looking at going into a potentially harrowing modified total knee revision. Because of untold complications I brought to the table, there was no clear-cut fix for my situation. Some of what potentially needed to be done was impossible or risky if attempted. I was also looking at an insurance situation where there was no promise of coverage or payment. Can you say stressful?

It was the kindness and calmness of many people who got me through the year, beginning twelve months ago. A bunch of those people happened to be nurses.

How would I have gotten through yet another year marked by surgery if it hadn’t been for everyone who pitched in to take care of me throughout the lengthy process: pre-surgery, surgery, post-surgery, recovery, and for-crying-out-loud-it’s-been-five-months-when-will-I-stop-feeling-like-a-patient-and-just-get-to-be-a-normal (sort of) person-again?

Because of your profession, you already know the medical team needed to take a patient through surgery. Nonetheless, humor me as I test my memory for the nurses alone who helped me through the Ick of Surgery:

- my clinic nurse Fran, who helped with all the nitty-gritty practical issues of insurance and oh-so-much-more, including calming nitty gritty nerves before and after surgery;

- pre-op nurses, who calmed yet more nerves, and who walked me through this all-too-familiar process which should be piece o’ cake for me by now but never is;

- all the OR nurses who watched me when I couldn’t watch myself because I was unaware of um…everything;

- my post-op nurses who patiently and kindly answered my repetitive questions when I would have driven me crazy with such confusion;

- my post-surgical nurses on the floor who took care of, well…in a word – you guessed it – everything.

Isn’t it always the people in our lives who make it or break it for us? This last year was filled with people who helped me ‘Stick to it – no matter what!’  They are the StickPeople of my life.

By the nature of being a nurse, you’re a StickPerson to many, even if you don’t always see it. Know you’ve made a difference for others, and on the flip-side, who made a difference for you this year? Who helped you Stick through the Ick of 2010? Think about it, and if you’d care to share, I’d care to hear. Send me an email to the address below.

Here’s to a brighter and shinier 2011! And to the StickPeople who make it happen for me and for you!

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A few more days until a new year…and sorry, new challenges, too. Who will help you, and who will you help to Stick To It – No Matter What? Watch for Kris Harty’s timely book in early 2011, written specifically for and about Nurses as StickPeople. Kris is a 40-year veteran of the industry – on the receiving end. Her unique perspective is educational, inspirational, and full of reminders for nurses new and lifelong. Kris helps students decide on a nursing career, educates nurses on the easy way they can positively impact patient care, and reminds long-term nurses of what they already know. She is a keynote speaker, author and small group facilitator. Kris Harty is the Stickabilities Specialist at Strong Spirit Unlimited. If you’re looking for an effortless and meaningful way to thank your nursing staff for a job well done, contact Kris. Call 877.711.STIC(K), e-mail StrongSpirit@StrongSpiritUnlimited.com, or visit  www.StrongSpiritUnlimited.com

The In ‘N Outpatient by Kris Harty

“Bah humbug!”

No one wants to spend Christmas in the hospital. Not staff, patients or visitors. No one wishes to so much as stir there at Christmas, not even a mouse.

My first hospital adventure was 39 years ago, and fortunately, it was the only one involving Christmas.

I was seven years old, and no one knew what was suddenly wrong with me. Admitted on Nov. 1, I wasn’t released until early February. My medical case was followed throughout the hospital. The staff became my temporary family.

In 1971, children weren’t allowed to visit hospitals. Three months was a long time to be away from my three siblings. I was the pesky youngest child so, at first, it had the potential to be a nice mini-break for my older siblings. By the time Christmas arrived, for me, it was simply a miserable, lonely holiday season.

When nurses asked what I wanted for Christmas, I could only mumble my answer. Forget presents, forget front teeth: all I wanted for Christmas was to go home.

I begged my mom and Dr. Hunter, my family doctor, to let me go home, if only for a few hours. That wasn’t going to happen, but Dr. Hunter did what he could. As chief of staff, he pulled some strings and reserved a room for us in a far corner of the hospital. There, in a little room with a Christmas tree, we had our family celebration.

It was the first time my siblings and I had seen each other since I was admitted. I didn’t look like I used to look. My face was swollen from cortisone and my joints were swollen from what we learned was arthritis. I couldn’t move well or leave my wheelchair. It was an awkward re-acquaintance with my siblings and my hospital-phobic dad. Nonetheless, for a couple hours, it quenched the need to be with family, to belong.

As our time came to a close, we said our goodbyes. I was wheeled back to my hospital room.

Christmas dinner was served on my bedside tray. All the usual fixings were there. All that was missing was someone to join me.

That’s when my makeshift family came to the rescue. Each nurse spent time by my bedside, during dinner and throughout the evening. They did what they could to cheer me, to be my family.

A volunteer group created a decoration for each tray. To my seven-year-old eyes, it was the most beautiful little angel I’d ever seen. She kept me company that Christmas season. She has traveled with me through these decades, tucked amongst my Christmas decorations.

That angel is a reminder of how hospital staff become makeshift family to their patients during holidays. She is a reminder of the selflessness your profession demands. You’d rather be home, too, but you’re not. Know that your family at the hospital – coworkers, patients and visitors alike – wouldn’t get through the day without you.

Merry Christmas, and thank you, makeshift family.

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This heartfelt message is an excerpt and adaptation from Kris Harty’s upcoming book. Watch for it in early 2011: “StickPeople:  How to Beat Burnout, Stop Stressing, and Combat Compassion Fatigue; Health Professionals Stick to It – No Matter What!” Kris’ unique perspective and gratitude for healthcare providers inspires them to keep going.  Kris helps healthcare teams, particularly nurses, combat Compassion Fatigue, while helping their managers reduce turnover. Her message is content-rich, relevant, engaging – and sporadically funny. She is a keynote speaker, author and small group facilitator. Kris Harty is the Stickabilities Specialist at Strong Spirit Unlimited. Clients say her message is life changing. If increasing employee engagement is on your agenda for 2011, take a look at your calendar and book Kris now. Call 877.711.STIC(K), e-mail StrongSpirit@StrongSpiritUnlimited.com, or visit  www.StrongSpiritUnlimited.com And remember in these next two weeks, Stick Together with those who make the season bright, and it will be brighter.

The In ‘N Outpatient by Kris Harty

“What a wimp.”

It must be bad when you recognize it in yourself.

Why is it the older I get, the wimpier I am when it comes to – of all things – needles?

Sitting in the lab technician’s chair recently, I found I was distracting myself from her preparations. The rubbery tourniquet thingy, the vials, the – ugh –needles. I was looking everywhere but at the tools of the trade. What’s with that?

I’ve noticed over the years I’ve gradually become less comfortable sitting in that hot seat. I never used to give it a thought.

For the last couple decades, I’ve typically only had blood drawn once a year. No big deal, you’d think, yet there’s a squirminess going on that didn’t used to be a part of the equation.

It’s the complete opposite of life eons ago.

My first two decades with this body required a decided lack of the wimpies. Pin pricks, arm sticks, and tourniquets were as common as changing underwear. These years, they bring on the need for an extra pair. Well, almost.

All through my school years, including college, I received regular injections of myochrysine. ‘Regular’ being anywhere from weekly to every six weeks depending on the then-current condition of my Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis. Beginning in first grade, these gold shots quickly became a regular part of my routine.

The shots stung a bit and for my most of my childhood, purply green bruises covered a good portion of my thigh. But the fact that they had bits of real gold in them added a cool ‘wow’ factor. Ooh aah. Yessiree, ripe stuff for the “Believe it or not” crowd.

The more frequent the gold shots, the more frequent the blood draws. All systems needed to be ‘Go’ to continue the injections. Dr. Hunter and his nurses, Pat and Jan, and the lab techs got me through those early years at the clinic. Dr. Hunter made me laugh before sticking me. Jan and Pat followed up with soothing words and trinkets. The lab technicians were as quick and gentle as possible, even on repeated attempts.

As often as needles were flying at me in those days, I seldom had an issue with them. No sense getting worked up over necessary evils.

That was then; this is now. Along with the disappearance of regular prickings, my tolerance has also disappeared. The wimpiness factor has filled its place.

I don’t get it.

This coming from someone who has had eight surgeries with all the accompanying tubings and needles. Heck, I’ve had a good portion of my skeleton sawed out and replaced with someone else’s and with metal and plastic parts. How does such a person lose her courage for procedures medical, large or small? I dunno.

That courage must be out there floating around somewhere. I’m hoping to not require it ever again. If I do, I’ll need to kick out the wimp in me and toughen up again. Sheesh. The lessons we learn from our seven-year-old selves.

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Holiday craziness taking its toll? You’re only weeks away from the antidote. Ok, maybe not THE antidote, but a darn good start to feeling better soon. Watch for Kris Harty’s upcoming book in early 2011: “StickPeople;  How to Beat Burnout, Stop Stressing, and Combat Compassion Fatigue;  Healthcare and Mental Health Professionals Stick to It – No Matter What!” Her unique perspective and gratitude for healthcare providers inspires them to keep going.  Kris helps healthcare teams, particularly nurses, combat Compassion Fatigue, while helping their managers reduce turnover. Her message is content-rich, relevant, engaging – and sporadically funny. She is a keynote speaker, author and small group facilitator. Kris Harty is the Stickabilities Specialist at Strong Spirit Unlimited. Clients say her message is life changing. If increasing employee engagement is on your agenda for 2011, take a look at your calendar and book Kris now. Call 877.711.STIC(K), e-mail StrongSpirit@StrongSpiritUnlimited.com, or visit  www.StrongSpiritUnlimited.com

The In ‘N Out Patient by Kris Harty

You sure you still want to do this?”

“Yah, I’m sure. Why?”

“You don’t mind picking me up at the airport when I’ve got the creeping crud? I’ll be hacking and sneezing all over your car. Who knows what infectious stuff I’ll leave in my wake?! I don’t want you to get sick, Kris!”

“Thanks for checking, but really, it’s not a big deal, Miranda.”

“Ok, if you’re sure. I’m wearing a mask so that will hopefully cut down on spewage.”

“You’ll be all the easier to spot in the crowd when I’m picking you up!”

It’s no fun to travel when you’re sick. And definitely no fun dealing with the funky air pressure of planes: it easily messes with already messed up ears.

But to catch a cab at the airport and deal with yet one more stranger when you’re not feeling well? Yuck. If I can spare a friend that part of the journey, so be it. Miranda and many others have been there for me, times ten. It’s a nice gesture even if you’re feeling fine. I love ponying up on these kinds of paybacks. It’s all part of giving back.

My masked friend, waving wildly, stood out in the curbside crowd.

“I’m so glad to be home and away from the crowds. I’ve never been stared at so much in my life. And the mask is for their own protection! Ungrateful brats.”

“We’re not so much into thinking of protecting others from ourselves, are we? I read something once, that in Japan, they regularly wear masks while flying or in public, even if they only suspect they might be getting sick. So see, you’re an international trendsetter in our own country and you didn’t even know it.”

“A trendsetter, huh?”

“Yep, I think so, my friend.”

“Well, I guess that’s something, anyway. The friend I was visiting offered to pick up the change fee to reschedule the flight if I wanted to stay an extra day. But I really just want to change into my pajamas and crawl into bed and stay there, til, I dunno, infinitely or forever, whichever comes first.”

“Our own place is always the best place to be when we don’t feel good, isn’t it, Miranda? Nice of your friend to offer, though.”

“It was. Even if I stayed, I couldn’t see me getting much rest with the kids screaming their pointy little heads off in the next room, though. How do parents do it? They really don’t even hear the lil’ squealers after awhile, do they? It’s like their hearing goes AWOL. Matter of survival, I guess. Me? My own little quiet – very quiet – abode is calling.”

“Oh, you mentioned you need to stop at the drugstore on the way to your place?”

“Yea, I’ll load up on the essentials. Drugs. Basic food-like substances. Sicko beverages. That kind of thing. Oh, and chocolate. One for you, one for me.”

“Sounds good.” Chocolate – the cure-all, even for The Masked Marvel.

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Holiday craziness taking its toll? Fed up, worn down, and burned out? You’re only weeks away from the antidote. Ok, maybe not THE antidote, but a darn good start to feeling better soon. Watch for Kris Harty’s upcoming book in early 2011: “StickPeople; Healthcare and Mental Health Professionals Stick to It – No Matter What;  How to Beat Burnout, Stop Stressing, and Combat Compassion Fatigue.” Her unique perspective and gratitude for healthcare providers inspires them to keep going.  Kris helps healthcare teams, particularly nurses, combat Compassion Fatigue, while helping their managers reduce turnover. Her message is content-rich, relevant, engaging – and sporadically funny. She is a keynote speaker, author and small group facilitator. Kris Harty is the Stickabilities Specialist at Strong Spirit Unlimited. Clients say her message is life changing. If increasing employee engagement is on your agenda for 2011, book Kris now. Call 877.711.STIC(K), e-mail StrongSpirit@StrongSpiritUnlimited.com, or visit  www.StrongSpiritUnlimited.com.