Category Archives: NaBloPoMo

The Feels Are Good

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NaBloPoMo 2018:  What I’m Learning

I’ve been working for many years now on feeling my feelings rather than thinking them.  Rationality and analysis in service of self-awareness and understanding are great, but I have tried too long to will my hard feelings away, or experience them all as anger rather than what they really are—sadness, shame, fear, etc.

With books like The Art of Possibility, Mindsight, and Rising Strong, after multiple readings, along with years of therapy, I have acquired the skills to allow these feelings to emerge, engage, and pass.  I understand much better now the purpose of emotions: they are simply signals.  They are meant to draw our attention to something meaningful in our existence.  This could be a threat, a connection, a relationship, anything.  We modern humans spend a lot of time judging our emotions (and thus one another’s), trying to suppress the ones that make us feel bad, masking them, numbing them, and offloading them.  For whatever reason, we are not good at simply allowing them, learning from them, and letting them go.

I started following Nate Green on Facebook just before he deactivated his page.  He now communicates with readers through email newsletters, and his is one of the few I actually read.  This week he sent a rare second message, linking to his recent article for Men’s Health, “There Will Be Tears: Inside the Retreat Where Men Purge Toxic Emotions.”  If you read nothing else this weekend, read this.

Nate participates in an Evryman retreat in Big Sky, Montana, a project “aimed at teaching men how to access and express their emotions.”  When I saw the headline I felt a squirming in my gut, which surprised me.  We, especially we women, are always urging men to be more ‘in touch’ with their feelings, right?  Don’t we always want our men to be more sensitive and caring, more empathic and expressive?  Don’t we want them to role model all of this for our children, especially our boys?

Nate describes the retreat and its exercises:

My thoughts are racing. I shift my feet. Andrew shifts his. We continue to stare at each other. Finally, Andrew takes a deep breath and speaks. “If you really knew me, you’d know that I smoke too much pot and use it as a coping mechanism. And you would know I’m ashamed of it.”

His gaze lowers, embarrassed. He looks back up and we lock eyes. Now it’s my turn.

“If you really knew me, you’d know that I sometimes drink too much alcohol and it worries me.”

I have never spoken those words out loud before. I instantly feel lighter, like a giant
weight I didn’t even know was there has been lifted. Andrew smiles, happy to not be alone in his confession.

“Thanks,” he says.

“Thank you,” I say.

…To our left and right are 16 other men, paired off just like us. Behind us sits a gigantic log cabin that will be our home for the next two nights. After that, we’ll carry 50-pound packs into the backcountry of Yellowstone National Park, where we’ll walk and sleep among the grizzlies, mosquitoes, and stars for three more nights.

We all met maybe an hour ago.

Yikes.  I’m pretty emotionally confident and open, and this would be hard for me.  Imagine (or maybe you don’t have to) how hard it would be for outwardly strong, independent, and stoic men to do this.  What would it take for you men to go on a retreat like this?  Women, how do you picture the men in your life going through something like this?  How would we react if our men disclosed their innermost fears to us, cried openly in front of us, at home, at work, on the field?

For a long time I did not understand how hard this is for men.  I thought they were all just shallow and simply did not have emotions (other than anger and sarcasm).  In Daring Greatly Brené Brown writes how she learned about the severe threat that vulnerability really is for men.  After one of her presentations she was approached by an older man, a husband and father of her superfans.  He pointed out to her that though we say we want men to show more vulnerability, the moment any man does, he immediately pays a steep price.  I like to think we would welcome it, but I have a feeling many of us would react with shock and dismay, at least initially.  We complain about how women are perceived as weak and ‘hysterical’ when showing emotion, and if I’m honest, I might feel the same or worse about a man doing it.

So our mission should be to make it okay for all of us, men included, to ‘be emotional.’  That does not mean losing control and acting out.  It does not mean using emotions as an excuse for abusive behaviors.  It means allowing and holding space for our common human experiences to affect us at our core, and acknowledging how it feels.  It means helping each other breathe and walk through it all, holding each other up through the hard parts.  In Rising Strong and Dare to Lead, Brown takes us through steps she and her team have developed for working through hard emotions, called the Reckoning, Rumbling, and Revolution.  I’m getting really good at the first step, also known as the Shitty First Draft.

I know I have included multiple links here with minimal explanation.  It’s late.  And you can click and read at your leisure.  Or maybe you don’t need to; maybe you know exactly what I’m referring to and you march with the same mission already.  If so, let’s connect.  Let’s find all of us who understand the profound need for this shift in culture and society.  Let us form a chorus and sing loudly to whomever will listen, and make the world better for all of us—men, women, children—all of us for one another.

 

Culture of Medicine, Part II

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NaBloPoMo 2018:  What I’m Learning

So, what did you think of how trainees described the Culture of Medicine?  If you’re in medicine, how much did you resonate?  If you’re not in medicine, how much were you surprised, or not?  How do you think this affects our relationships with you, our patients?

Do you wonder how we get through any given day?

I asked the group:  What are characteristics or traits of Culture of Wellness (COW) Leaders?  Once again, I present their responses here, in order of discussion.

  1. “They ask how people are doing.” They are proactive about it, opening the door, making it safe to talk honestly about how we really are doing.  They exhibit the ‘body language of listening.’  It’s still hard to talk about it, one student pointed out.  The best leaders explicitly carve out time to talk, to invite feedback.  It also matters what they do with the information once they get it—empathizing and acting on it if needed, rather than dismissing.
  2. Mentor. This is someone who knows you and whose role it is to help you ‘unconditionally,’ different from any of your evaluators—maybe an advisor.  It can be an informal relationship, maybe just someone you want to emulate.  Trainees agreed that it often happens organically, and they seek it actively.  One resident identified her program director as ‘absolutely a COW leader.’
  3. Walk the Talk. Examples: work/life balance/integration, acceptance of mistakes, admitting when you don’t know something.  NO DEFLECTING; OWN YOUR SHIT.  This one hit home with me—this is Integrity.  As Brené Brown says, integrity is “choosing what’s right instead of what’s fun, fast, or easy.  It is living your values rather than simply professing them.”

The next several descriptors emerged in a flurry.  The atmosphere in the room swelled with positive energy as one label after another of what we admire about our teachers and colleagues overtook the downtrodden mood just moments before:

  • Consistency
  • Proactivity
  • Openness
  • Empathy
  • Personally engaged
  • Curiosity
  • Caring
  • Kindness
  • Vulnerability—willing to share
  • Positivity—seeing mistakes as learning opportunities. Encouraging—“We’ got this!”
  • (Understand the importance of) Food: attending to physical needs
  • Humor—acknowledging the challenge and weight of the work and also holding it loosely
  • Validating
  • Appreciative
  • Grateful

The last one triggered a story.  One student rotated on an inpatient service.  Critically ill patients poured into the hospital; all work hour restrictions were necessarily violated.  Nerves were more than frayed, and people were at their worst.  He witnessed open hostility by senior residents toward interns, backstabbing, undermining.  The attending, present only minimally, was oblivious.  And, “They never said thank you.”  The student, who had planned to enter this field, considered switching.  It was that bad.  But somehow, he was able to get perspective and remind himself that this one bad experience did not represent the whole of this specialty.  It had been an unusually busy month at the end of a long, hard year.  Maybe the cumulative exposure to some of his COWL role model traits had rubbed off, and buoyed him when he stepped onto a leaky boat.

A senior student admitted that when she started medical school she had heard of burnout.  “I initially didn’t believe it could happen to me…  Then later I realized it can happen to anybody—it could absolutely be me, if I don’t take care of myself.”  I asked what that means, taking care of yourself?  They answered:

  • Sleep
  • Nutrition: “Any food your intern year; choices matter more when you’re PGY (post graduate year) 3!”
  • Outside interests
  • Finding a practice situation that fits: eg caring for the underserved, women’s health, hospital medicine, etc.
  • Find Your Tribe. The trainees did not use these words, but this is what I wrote in my notes—they expressed a need for belonging.
  • People at work: truly collegial relationships, especially across specialties
  • Confidants: safe people to share with, your emotional support network
  • Physician-Patient relationships: mutually vulnerable and open

I asked them what they needed to take care of themselves.

  1. Purpose
  2. Time—to be given by the system, and also to be responsible and efficient with themselves.
  3. Habits—established and also adaptible

Overall the discussion felt productive and successful in the end.  We had just mapped out the way(s) to Be The Change we seek in our profession.  Some of them took pictures of my notes (so Millennial), which made me feel gratifyingly connected.  I had tried to question more than lecture, to explore and facilitate more than ‘teach.’  I wanted each of them to own their own path to leading from any chair, now and forever.  I proposed that they could start the moment they walked out of the conference room door—no elevated status or title necessary.

This is why the calling still resounds compellingly, why our enthusiasm for the work persists resolutely, despite the hardships.  It’s Hope.  And at its foundation lies the bedrock of our best relationships—with ourselves, with one another, and with our patients.  On the march toward a true Culture of Wellness, real leaders go in front and set the example.  The rest of us learn by mimicking.  Thus we all have leadership potential and, dare I say, responsibility.  We are the system; we make the culture—each and every one of us makes a unique contribution.  Nothing we do is too small to matter.

Onward.

Culture of Medicine, Part I

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NaBloPoMo 2018:  What I’m Learning

Recently I met with a group of medical trainees from different institutions, ranging from pre-med to senior resident.  The topic was leadership in medicine and culture.  My objective was to lead a discussion on how we see leadership, and to encourage physicians at all levels of training to see themselves as leaders, regardless of designated status.  I often invoke Benjamin Zander’s invitation to ‘lead from any chair.’

We started out discussing the current state of medical culture.  My summary of the labels, in the order we discussed them, follows here.  I strive to hold these observations with minimal judgment, and to practice radical acceptance.  This is simply the way things are, not good or bad, it just is.  That includes how we feel about it all, and that we want to change the parts we don’t like.  Tomorrow I will continue with Part II, characteristics of Culture of Wellness leaders.  For now I invite you, especially my friends in medicine and healthcare, to review the list dispassionately, objectively, from a distance.  See how it lands.  How do you feel reading this list?

  1. Intense
  2. High stakes—we hold people’s lives in our hands.
  3. Imbalanced. When asked to say more, this trainees explained, “It encourages a lack of balance—we are not supposed to mind the long hours.  Our priorities are skewed—we say patients first (but it feels like patients above all else, at any cost?).  There’s the paperwork, the burnout.  You can’t go home if the patient needs you (internal medicine), and in some fields there is no such thing as a shift.  It never ends. (surgery)”  These trainees felt no work-life balance.
  4. Resistant to change. It’s an attitude—“When I was your age…”  Anything different and new in terms of work hours, work load, etc. is deemed bad or inferior before it’s even considered.
  5. Hostile. Between staff members, between doctors and nurses, between doctors themselves, nurses themselves.  The trainees saw this as a key contributor to everybody’s burnout.
  6. Hierarchical—especially surgery (they pointed this out explicitly). For example, walking in the halls, there is an order in which people enter patient or operating rooms.  One student reported entering before her team, because she knew the patient, and making small talk.  Later, she reported, “the senior resident yelled at me, said to go in order, and do not talk to the patient.  In 2017.”  In the OR, when students cut sutures, they must always cut the attending’s suture first.  One medical student was admonished loudly in the OR for this.
  7. “You’re expected to know everything already, even though you’re supposed to be learning on the job.” Trainees agreed that they expect to have to prepare for each day at work.  But as trainees, they cannot always know how to prioritize information as they study in advance for what feels like daily examination.  And they are belittled and shamed for not reading their instructors’ minds and knowing exactly what the teacher is asking for (‘pimping’ the students, as it’s known).  “I never feel like enough.”

At this point you may suspect that I somehow planted the seeds of negativity in these trainees’ minds, goaded them on to blast our profession and everybody who had ever said something mean to them in the hospital.  I assure you I did not, and I marveled myself at how easily these labels flew onto the table.  I hurried to take notes.

Thankfully the vibe circled, as it often does.  One woman commented:

  1. “Family medicine seems actually anti-hierarchy.” Attendings, she observed, often defer to students, who usually know the patients the best, when discussing patient history and data.  Team members may all address one another by first names.  Another student piped in:
  2. Pediatrics is similar. Attendings cover for the team during signout, answering pages and signing orders—everybody pitches in.    On rounds students are allowed to be students—to make mistakes, to show gaps in knowledge.  And a resident pointed out:
  3. In anesthesia, team members take breaks, and she felt a sense of autonomy and support of residents—no shaming. “Maybe it’s the nature of the work,” she said, “it’s easier to tag team.”

Fascinating.  I was practically trembling with excitement—here were ten strangers, from different specialties and at various levels of training, men, women, people of diverse colors and cultures.  And we all had the same experience of our chosen profession, much of it negative.  Yet here we all were, committed and still excited to be doing this work—we all still hear the call.  Whatever keeps us going?  How do we get up every morning and come to work in this ‘toxic’ environment?

I’ll tell you tomorrow.