Compassion Burnout
It’s been a bit of a week this week; I’m currently sitting at the Sydney International Rowing Centre, waiting for my last athlete of the day; if she wasn’t booked in, I could return to the hotel.
This is my first time away with Rowing Australia, where I am working the first three days of their team selection trials.
I need to rewind to last weekend to get to the point of today’s post.
My sister Nicole took my niece Zoe to the Emergency department of the Canberra Hospital around 8.30 pm on Saturday. My mum drove them and waited until they were transferred to the paediatric ward around 3 am when she was told only Nicole could accompany Zoe to the ward. Zoe’s hernia, which she has had since October, flared up, and she was pretty distressed and unwell.
Fasting a 9-month-old is tricky; breastfeeding fuels her and comforts her too. Zoe had been listed for surgery on Sunday; the time was relatively unknown, so Zoe was being fasted. Because Zoe was being fasted, Nicole needed to express, so she requested a pump which a nurse brought in and then left Nicole to comfort Zoe, set up the pump and express. Thankfully a window of time was found when Zoe was happily sitting on the bed playing.
When I arrived at 8.30 am, Nicole said, now that you’re here, I will go to the toilet, she had been holding because she couldn’t leave Zoe on the bed alone. The staff hadn’t even asked Nicole what her name was.
My parents came around lunchtime, and we took turns distracting and soothing Zoe (who was also connected to an IV). I stayed at the hospital until they finally got taken to the theatre to get ready for surgery at 4.15 pm. Zoe is recovering well and was a champion, going without a feed for almost 25 hours.
The lack of communication from the staff left Nicole feeling invisible, at one point saying, “I know it’s not true, but it feels like they don’t care.”
Are the nurses burnt out, and are they projecting this onto the patients and their loved ones?
Zoe projectile vomited on Nicole in the elevator on their way out to the car to go to the hospital. Before they could return to her floor to clean up the lift and themselves, another resident had called the lift down to the basement. The lift doors opened, and Nicole said, “I’m sorry, I’m on the way out to take my baby to the hospital, and she just vomited everywhere”. The woman’s response was a huff of inconvenience; she proceeded to go to the other lift, and the doors closed.
Is the resident burnt out?
Does burnout result in losing compassion?
The similarity between these two situations for me is the lack of compassion. Simple acts of kindness and compassion go a long way.
Asking the name of a child’s mother, letting her know that they understand her distress and providing updates, even communicating there is no update, is an update and makes a person feel seen.
The woman in the elevator could have said no need to be sorry, and I’ll use the other elevator, offered assistance, or empathised with the situation.
Are we all burnt out and therefore have compassion fatigue, or does society generally lack compassion?
Gabor Maté has said that we lack compassion for others because we lack compassion for ourselves. There is no compassion fatigue; setting boundaries is one way to show compassion so we won’t be so tired.
This next one from Maté is related to addiction, but the same principles apply to life.
Ordinary human compassion - I don’t want to see people suffer.
The compassion of understanding - I don’t want this person to suffer. I want to understand their suffering.
The compassion of recognition - You see that the person is no different from you; you recognise the same things in yourself. I am in no position to be above them or judge them. We are two people, equal in significant ways sharing the same experience.
For me, the compassion of recognition is a big one; imagine if we all saw one another as equals, people navigating this thing called life.
I’ll apply it to my examples above:
Hospital staff are exhausted, staff shortages already existed before covid, and now it’s worse. They are doing the best that they can.
Perhaps the woman at the elevator had a rough day and just wanted to get home but was faced with a mother and baby covered in vomit. She’s doing the best she can.
As humans, we can always strive to be better personally and professionally.
It took me until Thursday to feel fresh again after Sunday’s events. I set a boundary to help me recover: saying no to running on Wednesday morning (because I was working till 6.30 pm and couldn’t make it to R4R) and opting to sleep instead.
Friday was a bit day, being up at 5.20 am, training, working till 4.30 pm and then driving to Penrith. I said no to joining the other staff for a drink, opting for a good night's sleep instead.
It’s now 2.40 pm Sunday, and I’m finally finishing this off, making the most of a quieter day (2 athletes compared to yesterday’s 9), before I help hold boats for the afternoon races and then drive back to Canberra. I took most of Tuesday off in the clinic to help me recover and give my best efforts to my patients booked in for the rest of the week.
What are your thoughts and/or experiences of compassion fatigue?
I’m a big fan of Gabor Maté. I have downloaded 2 of his books on audible and can’t wait to have time to listen to more of his wisdom.
Gabor is the goat.
Compassion fatigue is real. As a new parent, it’s very fuckin’ real, and I have a good baby!
It takes mental energy to be compassionate. You have to consider the bit picture, consider all angles. When you’re tired, stressed, running late etc, it’s way Fuckin’ easier to just get the shits over something, be grumpy got a bit and then move on.
I think when we’re tired we’re emotionally lazy and that makes us feel abt to process things and the quickest, most convenient way we can.
I hope everyone is feeling better now.
I agree with Sam, it’s takes time and mental energy to be compassionate, and most people are in such a rush they don’t have time to think about others.
Keep up the recovery!