Unique Experiences
Every minute across the world, a Hurricane Katrina strikes. One moment everything in life seems calm (or at least not so bad), the next minute the storm hits, and for a long time – perhaps even forever – one’s entire world is turned upside down. Chances are the pieces can be picked up, but maybe not put back together. An entirely new reality ensues.
Working at the county hospital for the past six months as a medical social worker has afforded me some of the best and worst experiences. It has made me more cognitive of the fact that a “Katrina” is always just around the corner – whether it be a drastic injury to our bodies, a bout of major depression, or the loss of a loved one, etc. Despite someone being rich, or poor, intelligent or simple-minded, we can all be broken in a matter of seconds and we will all, eventually, turn into dust. This is a commonality we, as humans, all share.
I’ve gotten to see some crazy things thus far: Patients involved in motor vehicle accidents whose physical and mental capacities will never, ever be the same. They must now depend on their mother, who they’ve never quite gotten along with, to assist them in bathing their naked bodies and changing them into sweat pants, not Calvin Klein. I’ve seen persons who, in a moment of hopelessness, took a handgun, shot themselves in the head, and lived – blind, trached, pegged, and on a respirator. Parents by the bedside, some wondering if it would have been better had their loved one just passed on instead. Some of these people were young, others were old; some had families, others did not.
As a social worker, no matter what field we are in, we hear and see tragic stories like these everyday. What’s important is that we not get so “used to” these stories, these “diagnoses,” that we begin to categorize, assume, and devalue the unique experiences of those we are there to help. Social workers must maintain this outlook no matter what the personal cost.
I’ve seen many individuals from other professions in the medical field who see a diagnosis and treat the patient as if they were any other person with that diagnosis. They treat them as if they have the same history, family background, and story as anyone else. As social workers, we must take on an important role as educators in the field. We must constantly teach and remind other professionals around us that each individual has their own story. Each patient grieves in a unique way. Each family “deals” differently. Not all AIDS patients brought on their diagnosis via promiscuity or drugs – and if they did, it shouldn’t so much matter as much as the state of pain the person is in and the simple gesture of respect they deserve as members of the human race. Not all individuals with schizophrenia are incapable of rational decision-making and deciding what is best for them.
No, no two persons are the same. As social workers, we must never forget this and always, always teach this simple, but often forgotten, truth throughout our careers as competent professionals.
Written by. Holly H.
Working at the county hospital for the past six months as a medical social worker has afforded me some of the best and worst experiences. It has made me more cognitive of the fact that a “Katrina” is always just around the corner – whether it be a drastic injury to our bodies, a bout of major depression, or the loss of a loved one, etc. Despite someone being rich, or poor, intelligent or simple-minded, we can all be broken in a matter of seconds and we will all, eventually, turn into dust. This is a commonality we, as humans, all share.
I’ve gotten to see some crazy things thus far: Patients involved in motor vehicle accidents whose physical and mental capacities will never, ever be the same. They must now depend on their mother, who they’ve never quite gotten along with, to assist them in bathing their naked bodies and changing them into sweat pants, not Calvin Klein. I’ve seen persons who, in a moment of hopelessness, took a handgun, shot themselves in the head, and lived – blind, trached, pegged, and on a respirator. Parents by the bedside, some wondering if it would have been better had their loved one just passed on instead. Some of these people were young, others were old; some had families, others did not.
As a social worker, no matter what field we are in, we hear and see tragic stories like these everyday. What’s important is that we not get so “used to” these stories, these “diagnoses,” that we begin to categorize, assume, and devalue the unique experiences of those we are there to help. Social workers must maintain this outlook no matter what the personal cost.
I’ve seen many individuals from other professions in the medical field who see a diagnosis and treat the patient as if they were any other person with that diagnosis. They treat them as if they have the same history, family background, and story as anyone else. As social workers, we must take on an important role as educators in the field. We must constantly teach and remind other professionals around us that each individual has their own story. Each patient grieves in a unique way. Each family “deals” differently. Not all AIDS patients brought on their diagnosis via promiscuity or drugs – and if they did, it shouldn’t so much matter as much as the state of pain the person is in and the simple gesture of respect they deserve as members of the human race. Not all individuals with schizophrenia are incapable of rational decision-making and deciding what is best for them.
No, no two persons are the same. As social workers, we must never forget this and always, always teach this simple, but often forgotten, truth throughout our careers as competent professionals.
Written by. Holly H.
Labels: openness, social work, uniqueness
posted by Holly at 11:01 PM
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