The Link Between Love and Horseradish

Matthew Baldwin of Defective Yeti is one of my favourite bloggers. The guy would be a menance to traffic if he had a radio spot and I have long since given up drinking anything while reading his posts - I've had too many unexpected returns of tea/coffee/ginger beer that have burned or severely irritated my nose.

Matthew writes on a number of topics. He is an avid gamer and has made recommendations that make frequent appearances in both my own gift wish-lists (seriously, you still don't use these?) and my purchasing decisions for others.

One of Matthew's most frequent topics is his son, aka The Squirrelly. You will have a rough idea of Matthew's robust approach to parenting if I quote from the account of a recent check-up at the paediatrician:

So, yes, we're having the standard toddler War Of The Wills, but, fortunately, The Squirrelly is exceptionally easy-going. His tantrums are infrequent, and rarely last more than a handful of seconds. When we took him in for his two-year checkup, the pediatrician asked "does he ever have tantrums that last longer than half an hour?" and we were all, like, "Half and hour?! [edited] no -- if he did we would have just left him in your elevator, sprinted back to the car, and driven to Ontario at 85 miles an hour."

I've been reading the blog for some time, but it was only today that I came across the post where Matthew announced that he had attended an assessment centre where he and his wife were advised that The Squirrelly is probably on the autistic spectrum. The post has an anecdote about eating horseradish: it's poignant, funny and remarkably tender.

The Emotional Rollercoaster Of Caring

Keith Carlson has given us another moving account of the emotional rollercoaster that is familiar to carers of people with complex issues. Of Train Wrecks and Ghosts tells us what it is like to look upon the outcome of years of self-abuse:

He sees me for the first time in weeks and says, "I'm hungry and they won't feed me." How do I explain to him how his lower esophagus disintegrated under the pressure of uncontrolled vomiting and that he must be fed directly into his small intestine, bypassing the stomach which now has no connection to his mouth which craves food and drink nonetheless? How do I tell him that his cocaine and heroin addiction, poor self care and choices have finally come home to roost, and that all of the warnings we gave him over the years were real?

We read about a woman struggling to keep her children, who is dealing with the ravages of HIV and a relapse from her sobriety. Carlson acknowledges his own emotions in the face of her current turmoil:

I hurt for her, even as I silently and internally process my profound disappointment and sadness.

There is an echo here of his previous exploration of Lofty Goals, Harsh Realities that will be familiar to anyone who has cared someone with addictions, particularly when these are secondary to mental illness. Carlson's aspiration is that

as long as diseases afflict living beings, may I be the doctor, the medicine, and also the nurse who restores them to health.

He tells us about the reality of dealing with a patient who has relapsed. He experiences very real frustration and understandable emotion at the consequences of the relapse both for the patient and her children. He realises that he needs to step-back from the situation and re-focus so that he can care for the patient and not lose his energy by paying undue attention to her behaviour.

At times, disappointment in my ability to maintain my composure in the face of my patients' failures to live up to my expectations can cloud my vision of who they are, of their own unfolding process. My cynical "social-worker self" sees addiction, cycles of neglect and poor judgement, seemingly avoidable mistakes and missteps. These perceived errors are easy for me to see, of course, and my agenda--- no matter how well meaning---cannot permanently get in the way of truly seeing with clarity and non-judgement, or else my powers as a stabilizing force for healing and growth are lost.

Carlson, like many carers in similar circumstances, feels the need for some "healing distance" that will allow him to renew those personal strengths that allow him to do the work that he does. Carers can need to remind themselves that a poor outcome is not necessarily a reflection of the quality of their efforts and love:

Sadly, there are some individuals who we eventually learn must implode on their own, beyond the reach of our assistance. At that time, compassion can still be front and central, even as the person's certain denouement looms on the approaching shore.

Carers do need to pay attention to their own well-being. I am disturbed that all the recent reports about the care of elderly people has not addressed the need for a programme for supporting carers adequately.

If No Man Is An Island, Is Compassion The Connection?

There is another extraordinary piece by Keith Carlson about the contrasts and ironies experienced by those who care for others. This piece is an antidote and contrast to the report about abuse by carers that is (rightly) dominating the news cycles at present, and the grisly stories featuring prominently on blogs like NHS Blog Doc's.

Keith Carlson gives us very moving insight into the currents of his working life and his vocation. He looks in on a patient and receives his good wishes for the weekend.

Our handshake was a lingering one, and then I took my leave, walked out into the light rain, and looked back at the windows of the institution temporarily housing this gentle and kind soul. He may be locked inside and I may be free to roam, but his spirit is as free as mine, and part of him left with me, and I carry it with me still. It lives in my heart, and no physical boundary can dissolve the strings of compassion which connect us all.

Amidst all the recent publicity, it is refreshing and necessary to read an account like this. And to know that there are people who are guided by their compassion and a keen sense of human dignity. It is all the more necessary when there are incidents that make us question whether some people recognise human dignity in the vulnerable. We frequently quote John Donne's Meditation XVII:

No man is an island, entire of itself...any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee

I have the privilege to run Happystance workshops with carers: the more that I meet them, and the more I come across the writings of people like Keith Carlson, the more I question whether the connection between us all is grounded in compassion. Which is back to thinking about the Dalai Lama's writing on the link between compassion and authentic happiness.

[E]thics are necessary as a means to ensure that we do not harm others...genuine happiness consists in those spiritual qualities of love, compassion, patience, tolerance and forgiveness and so on. For it is these which provide both for our happiness and others' happiness.

Compassion And Its Renewal: why character may be relevant

I deeply admire people who work in the arena of addiction. I have no understanding of how they constantly renew their compassion and energy for working with people who can present with extremes of dysfunction.

So, I was interested to come across a blog account that describes why Things Don't Go Better With Coke. Keith Carlson writes:

Working with this poor, chronically ill and generally disenfranchised community, addiction and its unhappy effects are normal aspects of my work, and part and parcel of many patients' lives. Compassion and love are still called for, and judgementalness and criticism only fuel the flames of separation. While my compassion-meter is sometimes pushed beyond its perceived limits, I find there is always more compassion and love somewhere in the chambers of my heart. The ultimate goal is healing, and especially in the face of addiction, compassion and understanding must, in the end, be the energy which fuels the healers' fire.

Challenged to explain how he can constantly renew his compassion, Carlson refers to a sense of gratitude for his own material and social good fortune. He also admires the work of Mother Teresa and the Dalai Lama. It may be yet another instance of Aristotle's argument:

men become builders by building houses, and harpists by playing the harp. Similarly, we become just by the practice of just actions, self-controlled by exercising self-control, and courageous by performing acts of courage. (Bk II, Nicomachean Ethics)

However, to an outside commentator, even Aristotle is insufficient to explain why Carlson and people like him have not burned out. It seems that Carlson has remarkable resilience and social intelligence/citizenship. I mention this last because positive psychology argues that when our character strengths and virtues are in line with the demands of our life and work, then people achieve remarkable results and they do not burn out as rapidly as other people would who have different strengths and virtues.