Still sorting my feelings
15/06/24 00:51
I am not a psychologist though once I aspired to become one. I did two back to back internships in a counseling center and was well on my way to full certification with the American Association of Marriage and Family Counselors before I entered the parish ministry. I even intended to complete my counseling credentials during my early years as a pastor, but the rural and isolated location of the first congregations we served made getting supervised practice a nearly impossible challenge. The main reason I didn’t complete the process of becoming a psychologist, however, was that I discovered the joy of being a pastor. I decided that I didn’t want to be a therapist to the people I served. Throughout my career I made referrals to psychologists on occasion and I explained to those who had need of a psychologist that I wanted to be able to provide love and support to them instead of maintaining the distance that a professional relationship requires.
From observation of some of my younger colleagues, I think that there are now pastors who also maintain that professional distance, learning the intimate details of the lives of those they serve without sharing their personal lives with their congregations. That, however, was never my style as a pastor. I tried to allow myself to be seen by the congregations I served and to lead by example as well as word.
More importantly than technical distinctions between pastors and psychologists was that I withdrew from the collegial and professional relationships that enable psychologists to keep up with continuing education and develop a growing understanding of human psychology. Although my educational background gave me insight and I used a lot of the knowledge of developmental psychology in understanding children and youth in my work, I never aspired to provide psychological counseling.
The longer I live, the more aware I am that I do not possess the skills and understanding of a psychologist. There have been some occasions in my life when I have gone to a psychologist for counsel and have been grateful for their training and gained from their understanding of what is going on with my psychologically.
Other times, however, I have worked through psychological challenges and dilemmas on my own, combining a variety of different coping skills including sharing with family and friends, writing in my journal, prayer, and meditation. There remain, however, some things about my personality that are mysteries to me.
One of those mysteries is my reaction to hospitals. Throughout much of my career I worked in hospitals with ease. I understood the processes of modern health care enough to be an advocate for church members who were hospitalized. I kept my credentials in place to visit regularly in hospitals. I often found myself in emergency rooms and intensive care units in the middle of the night working with the people I served. I was comfortable in those places.
Towards the end of my career, in 2019, my wife was hospitalized to be treated for atrial fibrillation. I was comfortable accompanying her to the emergency room and through the process of admission and treatment. I used my familiarity with the hospital, the fact that I had hospital credentials as a pastor, and my law enforcement credentials to have extended visiting hours and came and went from the hospital on my own schedule, balancing my work at the church and my desire to be with her as much as possible. After she had been hospitalized for a week she had a reaction to a medicine that she was receiving and went into cardiac arrest. If you are going to have a cardiac arrest, a hospital is a good place to be. A code was called and the trauma team administered CPR effectively. Though she arrested a second time, care was administered appropriately and she made a full recovery. Today she is in excellent health with no signs of heart rhythm problems.
After the experience, I noticed that I had completely lost my comfort with being in the hospital. When she was hospitalized for an overnight stay following a heart cauterization and ablation procedure, I could barely stand to spend hours at the hospital. I was nervous and experienced flash backs to her cardiac arrest. I noticed that this discomfort extended to other situations. When I was in the emergency room to provide care for a family who had just lost a loved one to suicide, i was distracted by the announcements on the hospital PA. Hearing a code Blue called sent my heart racing and robbed me of my ease with being in that place. Fortunately I had access to a very good trauma psychologist and I followed up with care for myself. I discovered the distinction between a genuine panic attack and my reactions. I learned to monitor my heart rate when I thought I was having a panic attack. I discovered how my mind could play tricks on me and mislead me. I returned to breathing exercises and meditation techniques that had eased me through challenges in other situations.
It wasn’t long after that the Covid-19 pandemic shut down my visits to hospitals. Then I retired and have given up hospital visits except for visiting family and friends. I no longer have flash back dreams. I am quite comfortable with my life.
However, this year, Susan has received outpatient treatment at the hospital twice. The first was a routine colonoscopy which was performed at the hospital because of her now known drug allergies. Anesthesia was used but general anesthesia was not required. Then, last week, she had laparoscopic surgery to remove her gallbladder. Although the procedure was performed under general anesthesia, an overnight stay was not required and I was able to bring her home the same day as we went to the hospital. What I learned about myself an my psychology from those experiences is that I am not “recovered” from the trauma of 2019. I know all of the codes that are called over the hospital PA. I even know Code Gray (combative or violent patient), Code Silver (weapon or hostage situation), and Code 5 (shelter in place). Code Gray was called once when I was at the hospital with Susan, but I’ve never been present for a Code Silver or Code 5. Rapid Response calls, Code Blue, and Code Yellow still send my heart racing. I can monitor the increase in heart rate with my smart watch.
I am not a psychologist. I don’t fully understand all that is going on with me. But I am grateful that I have retired from near daily visits to hospitals. I’m ready to leave listening to all of those codes and being prepared to respond to others. And I am grateful to have my loved ones safely in our homes. I am also grateful for hospitals, but I’m willing to accept that I’ll never be quite as at ease in those institutions as once was the case.
From observation of some of my younger colleagues, I think that there are now pastors who also maintain that professional distance, learning the intimate details of the lives of those they serve without sharing their personal lives with their congregations. That, however, was never my style as a pastor. I tried to allow myself to be seen by the congregations I served and to lead by example as well as word.
More importantly than technical distinctions between pastors and psychologists was that I withdrew from the collegial and professional relationships that enable psychologists to keep up with continuing education and develop a growing understanding of human psychology. Although my educational background gave me insight and I used a lot of the knowledge of developmental psychology in understanding children and youth in my work, I never aspired to provide psychological counseling.
The longer I live, the more aware I am that I do not possess the skills and understanding of a psychologist. There have been some occasions in my life when I have gone to a psychologist for counsel and have been grateful for their training and gained from their understanding of what is going on with my psychologically.
Other times, however, I have worked through psychological challenges and dilemmas on my own, combining a variety of different coping skills including sharing with family and friends, writing in my journal, prayer, and meditation. There remain, however, some things about my personality that are mysteries to me.
One of those mysteries is my reaction to hospitals. Throughout much of my career I worked in hospitals with ease. I understood the processes of modern health care enough to be an advocate for church members who were hospitalized. I kept my credentials in place to visit regularly in hospitals. I often found myself in emergency rooms and intensive care units in the middle of the night working with the people I served. I was comfortable in those places.
Towards the end of my career, in 2019, my wife was hospitalized to be treated for atrial fibrillation. I was comfortable accompanying her to the emergency room and through the process of admission and treatment. I used my familiarity with the hospital, the fact that I had hospital credentials as a pastor, and my law enforcement credentials to have extended visiting hours and came and went from the hospital on my own schedule, balancing my work at the church and my desire to be with her as much as possible. After she had been hospitalized for a week she had a reaction to a medicine that she was receiving and went into cardiac arrest. If you are going to have a cardiac arrest, a hospital is a good place to be. A code was called and the trauma team administered CPR effectively. Though she arrested a second time, care was administered appropriately and she made a full recovery. Today she is in excellent health with no signs of heart rhythm problems.
After the experience, I noticed that I had completely lost my comfort with being in the hospital. When she was hospitalized for an overnight stay following a heart cauterization and ablation procedure, I could barely stand to spend hours at the hospital. I was nervous and experienced flash backs to her cardiac arrest. I noticed that this discomfort extended to other situations. When I was in the emergency room to provide care for a family who had just lost a loved one to suicide, i was distracted by the announcements on the hospital PA. Hearing a code Blue called sent my heart racing and robbed me of my ease with being in that place. Fortunately I had access to a very good trauma psychologist and I followed up with care for myself. I discovered the distinction between a genuine panic attack and my reactions. I learned to monitor my heart rate when I thought I was having a panic attack. I discovered how my mind could play tricks on me and mislead me. I returned to breathing exercises and meditation techniques that had eased me through challenges in other situations.
It wasn’t long after that the Covid-19 pandemic shut down my visits to hospitals. Then I retired and have given up hospital visits except for visiting family and friends. I no longer have flash back dreams. I am quite comfortable with my life.
However, this year, Susan has received outpatient treatment at the hospital twice. The first was a routine colonoscopy which was performed at the hospital because of her now known drug allergies. Anesthesia was used but general anesthesia was not required. Then, last week, she had laparoscopic surgery to remove her gallbladder. Although the procedure was performed under general anesthesia, an overnight stay was not required and I was able to bring her home the same day as we went to the hospital. What I learned about myself an my psychology from those experiences is that I am not “recovered” from the trauma of 2019. I know all of the codes that are called over the hospital PA. I even know Code Gray (combative or violent patient), Code Silver (weapon or hostage situation), and Code 5 (shelter in place). Code Gray was called once when I was at the hospital with Susan, but I’ve never been present for a Code Silver or Code 5. Rapid Response calls, Code Blue, and Code Yellow still send my heart racing. I can monitor the increase in heart rate with my smart watch.
I am not a psychologist. I don’t fully understand all that is going on with me. But I am grateful that I have retired from near daily visits to hospitals. I’m ready to leave listening to all of those codes and being prepared to respond to others. And I am grateful to have my loved ones safely in our homes. I am also grateful for hospitals, but I’m willing to accept that I’ll never be quite as at ease in those institutions as once was the case.
