Let Go

Ok, last post was over a month ago but at least I'm getting one in for the month of April!!

I've written about a million blog posts in my head over the past month. I just never seem to sit down in front of the computer and let it all out. I'm not sure that now is the right time to let it all out since I am one big ball of stress. But here goes . . .

I've been feeling on edge for a while. For the past several weeks I've been snappy, edgy, periodically unhappy. And I could NOT figure out why. Things were going pretty well. I recently started a new job that I really like, kids are doing well, fun stuff is being planned for the summer, I started slowly getting back into the gym and running again after a lengthy hiatus, my health and wellness business is taking off and providing much gratification and fulfillment. So what's the deal? Why do I feel OFF?

Today I tipped over the edge. Just a bit. I received some new referrals from my home health agency and decided to take a peek and do a quick chart review before scheduling appointments. As I perused one of the referrals three letters jumped out at me. Three letters that I had not read or spoken in a while.

A-L-S. Yep - one of the new patients was a 70-something person with bulbar onset ALS, the same exact type my dad was diagnosed with in 2010 and passed away from in 2011. Same piece of shit disease that had wreaked havoc on the lives of so many people I know. And here it was - staring me in the face again.

You'd think after 5 + years that I could handle it. You'd think I could read that referral like the professional I am supposed to be, the physical therapist with almost TWENTY years of experience who should not let personal issues get in the way of performing my duties. You'd think, right?

I couldn't do it. The thought of being face to face with that awful monster literally almost threw me into a panic attack. My heart started racing, my palms were sweating and a feeling of nausea came over me. I was having a visceral reaction to three letters, three awful letters that changed my family's existence forever.

I'd like to say that I approached it as a professional would, that I called and scheduled the patient and provided the evaluation and treatment necessary. I'd like to say that I didn't let my emotions get the best of me, that I didn't jump up and pace my house, growing more and more agitated as I thought about it. The mess around me didn't help and I started having irrational thoughts about the clutter and the state of my surroundings and how I couldn't make sense of anything because of it.

I ended up contacting my agency and asking them to reassign the patient. I also explained why since I'm two weeks into this new position. The fact that they quickly reassigned the patient and told me not to worry about it reassured me that signing onto work with them had been an excellent idea. But the guilt I felt at passing this patient on to someone else was eating at me all day long today. I felt awful because I imagined back to when my dad was having trouble walking and how I would have felt had I known a therapist that was supposed to come see him decided not to because of personal reasons.

But then I thought about it some more and I decided that I did the right thing. If I had gone there I would not have been able to look at this patient objectively. Maybe I would have lost it right then and there. Maybe I wouldn't have done a very thorough job because I would have been rushing through to get it over with. Who knows. All I know is that I went into self-protection mode and sometimes that's ok. You have to recognize your own limitations and act accordingly. I'm realizing that although it's been over 5 years since my dad left us, the feelings of that time have definitely not left. They are just festering under the surface, waiting to come up at various times.

In 2015 I ran the Marine Corps Marathon as a charity runner for the ALS Association. It was a momentous achievement for me and a humbling and emotional experience. I recently received an email from the ALS Association inviting me to join the team again for 2017. I'd already decided that 2017 would be marathon-free for me.

But 2018? Bring it on. I'll be ready to fight the beast again in memory of my dad. Even if I can't bring myself to treat a patient with the disease, I will do my best to support those organizations that make life more manageable for those navigating a dark and scary road. 26.2 miles in memory of the man who taught me what it means to be brave in the face of immense adversity is something I can do.

And tonight I will try to let go. Let go of the anxiety, the stress, the pain, the anger - all those things that I thought were gone for good. I will try to remember when they resurface that it's important to acknowledge them and then quickly let them go.

Let go.