It's the sound of IV alarm.
Or maybe it's the smell of handsanitizer.
Sometimes it's circumstances. Like being an inpatient caregiver again. Having the pressure of needing to assimilate information quickly and accurately. Needing to understand complex medical information so you can be the best patient advocate possible.
I can tell you from personal experience that PTSD is very real for Childhood Cancer survivors, caregivers, and siblings.
To this day, the sight of an infusion room makes me want to vomit. And doing rounds yesterday damn near sent me into a panic attack. Because this sucks. It feels like diagnosis week with Benjamin all over again. Like 10 years never happened. And all I can think this "I shouldn't have to do this again. I did my time damn it."
I have skills. Skills I shouldn't have. Skills I don't want. I know how to pack a Chemo bag in 5 minutes (I swear it was easier when we just had the bag ready to go). I know the ER drill FAR too well. I told the doctor at rounds not to dumb down the report because I understand just about all the terminology. I know how to get a non compliant patient to eat. I know how to ask the right questions from the nurses because they know waaaay more than the doctor.
I don't wanna know this stuff. I wanna be ignorant of resistant bacteria and fluid overload. I want to trust doctors again (I got no problems with nurses... they know what they're doing).
In short, I want off this ride.
Labels: caregivers, Childhood Cancer, PTSD
Today I saw an add for a Christian movie called Breakthrough. It started cute enough. Nice little town..nice little kid. Annnd then the clincher... the kid falls through the ice. The firemen who are looking for him turn to each other. One says "It's been 15 minutes. This is a recovery, not a rescue." And that's when I knew what type of movie this would be. Your typical "Mom prays for a miracle and gets it." movie.
Sigh.
I really can't stand these movies.
Don't get me wrong. I've seen miracles. I've seen things that defy modern medicine. Praise God.
But...
I've seen the other side. When you pray for a miracle and it doesn't happen. When you pray for healing and for some reason God says no. And before you go much further, no, I don't always understand God. I believe He exists. I believe He cares. And I sometimes have no clue why He saves some people and let's other's die.
And THAT'S the problem I have with movies like Unbreakable. Because to me, the message is God loves you, and if you're a good, faithful servant, He will heal your loved one. And on the flip side, the unspoken message is if He doesn't provide a miracle, I guess your faith wasn't good enough.
And that doesn't work for me. Because I've seen too many people; good, faithful people not get miracles. I've seen them walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death with dignity and grace that I don't possess. I've seen then suffer things that made me so angry at God. I've seen them bury their children. And THAT IS WRONG. So very, unspeakablely wrong.
So, for me at this point in my life, I think I'll hold off on the miracle movies. Thanks, but no thanks Christian movie makers. I'll pass.
Labels: Christian film, PTSD
