Tuesday, February 13, 2007

What am I doing here? It doesn't matter.

Some times we get so caught up in what we know, we forget what we were taught. Working in hospice has been like that for me. Everyday I wonder if I know what I'm doing, or if I'm doing it right, or if there isn't someone better suited for the job.

I decided to go back to the text books and review what I was taught. It was good to read what I already knew... I DO know what I'm doing. I was also good to be reminded of the things that I forgot. Not the the techinques or contraindications, but the purpose behind it. WHY was I doing this. It certainly wasn't because it was easy. I seem to remember telling people I wanted do something challenging (why did I ever want that!).

While re-examining my texts, I came across this:

"Relationships often revolve around what we do together, but when illness and death become a part of life, there must be a transition from "doing" to "being". ...Through massage we can simultaneously be "doing" while "being" with our friend, client, or family member." _ Gayle Mac Donald "Medicine Hands"

(The book goes into more detail, so if you're a massage therapist intrested in working with people with terminal illness, I highly recommend checking it out.)

In the end, it doesn't matter what I am doing. Not really. I've come up against this obstacle before and I have to keep reminding myself the other factors involved. The intent of my presence. The act of being there when others cannot bring themselves to be. I'm conditioned to produce a product with a tangible result. I do something really nifty with my hands and people heal and get up skipping and jumping. If only it really worked that way.

I know that there is a result from what I do, however I don't always get a clear answer to what it is. Some clients can't tell me, or they don't know how. Today I was lucky. My client is in a lot of pain on daily basis. He has three fentnyl dermal patches and morpine for breakthrough pain. As I massaged his shoulder, a constant area of pain, he sighed and said "that's better than any pain pill"