Why Changing Peopleā€™s View of the World can Achieve Great Results
Last week was one to forget. Ben was not himself on Thursday, refusing his afternoon snack and supper. A look of worry and distress was deeply set in his eyes. The flu bug that had knocked him flat on his back a few weeks previous appeared to have resurfaced with a vengeance. It was sudden and violent.
For more than three hours he struggled as wave after wave of pain engulfed his body, forcing him to gag and wretch without success. By 10:30pm, the prolonged stress finally bubbled over into an all-out seizure – something that hadn’t happened in over four years. No matter how many times I witness them, seizures are always scary to watch. And that’s all we could do since we had no meds to calm the convulsions. Those we had used in the past had long since expired. Ironically, only a few weeks ago did we trash our out-of-date supply of valium and, at the time, mused at how long it had been since we had needed them. Plus, we thought, if Ben did have another seizure (very unlikely, in our opinion), we would simply call 911 and the paramedics would have valium to stop it.
A few minutes after this lightning bolt stopped surging through Ben’s brain his eyes did not return to normal. His face was still troubled and he did not seem coherent. Both Jan and I did not have a good feeling. The last time he was this way was when he had had his last bout of seizures, and that time he was hospitalized for 4 days.
Given the late hour, rather than put him to bed, we arranged the couch with lots of pillows so that he could rest and we could keep an eye on him. Lying him down was a big mistake. The panic feeling he had only became more intense and his body convulsed for all its worth for the second time. We quickly sat him up, consoling and comforting and reassuring him. The seizure subsided in short order, convincing us once again that the intense pain of his chronic reflux condition was (and likely always will be) the trigger for any seizure.
Called 9-1-1
He was becoming quite lethargic and not connecting with us at all. Things weren’t going in the right direction. With no meds on-hand, we knew he wouldn’t magically improve on his own which left us no choice but call for an ambulance to transport us to the ER. This used to be an all too familiar scene in early years so we had lots of practice.
The paramedics arrived within 5 minutes and quickly assessed the situation. As they were preparing to take him, Ben had his third seizure. As much as I didn’t want to make the trek to the hospital, there was nothing we could do at home to help him. And there was nothing the paramedics could do, either, to stop the seizure much to our surprise, since they no longer carried valium – something to do with substance abuse a few years back by staff. Imagine.
Though we were dying inside, both Jan and I approached the cold reality of an ER visit very matter-of-factly: she rode in the ambulance with Ben while I followed in the van a short time later, after I packed a bag for Ben and brought his wheelchair for whenever he would be released.
When I arrived at the ER entrance, the security guard quite politely escorted me to trauma room #21. Ben was neatly hooked up to a heart monitor, an O2 sat monitor, and the nurse was just finishing getting a line for his IV. All was quite calm in this large, private room, unlike the ER of old (of two decades past) where it was constant bedlam and the only thing separating you from the other patients was a thin curtain.
Soon after, the attending physician listened to our story, examined Ben, and drew some blood to run a series of tests. He was concerned about meningitis or encephalitis which can often been symptom-less until well progressed. We were sure it was none of the above.
Over the next few hours, Ben received a broad spectrum antibiotic to combat any possible bacteria that may be causing his distress, a dose of Adivan to calm his neurological system (and within 30 minutes, he was back to real world again, coherent, focusing, though completely wiped), and a litre of fluids. All blood tests came back normal except for his white cell count which was both good and bad.
An hour or so later, the internal medicine resident greeted us to get our story again, but in more detail. Both he and the other physician looked like they were 12 years old, which, I guess, means I must be getting old.
Following a chest x-ray that showed nothing, we were discharged (we wanted to go home) and efficiently loaded Ben into the van as dawn was breaking.
Two World Views - One Person
On the drive home, I couldn’t help but marvel at what a positive ER experience this was, as positive as they can be. The doctors and nurses all treated him like they would any 22 year old, and did not focus on his disabilities or judge him to have low cognitive ability or in any deficit-focused manner. And then it hit me. In describing the events of yesterday, we mentioned how Ben attends university and he couldn’t focus on completing his exam since he must have been feeling lousy.
So, let me ask you. What perception would you have of someone if you were told that they were enrolled in university studies? Would you assume a decent level of cognitive ability? How would you talk to that person? Would you have to scramble to find the right words or would it be easy?
Now compare that to the description that Ben’s sister gave to the 911 operator:
“My brother has had a seizure. He has epilepsy and is a quadriplegic. He uses a wheelchair …”.
What pictures immediately start forming in your head? Would the word “university” even come to mind?
Of course, both descriptions are accurate to describe Ben. Both are appropriate for the situation, both have their own language, and both describe different world views. For the ambulance setting, you want quick, decisive and emergency responses. For the diagnosis setting, you want a complete picture of Ben, so he is treated as a whole person.
Both situations produced optimal results. So just imagine what we could achieve if we could get the whole world to adopt the whole person view of the world. Astounding it would be!! Another shining example of how you see the world and the language you use determines your behaviour and, ultimately, how you live your life.
(BTW, a week later, he crushed his final test!! Seizures! HA! We laugh at them!!)
