Sunday, March 26, 2017

The Power and the Humility of Collaboration

Throughout this ordeal with My Wife's medical condition, I've experienced a range of emotions. From the utter frustration and borderline anger with the answer "I don't know," which has been said to us more often than either one of us is comfortable.  To the relief and exhilaration of each milestone that we cross.  For example, this past Friday marks three weeks since any surgery has taken place. While it may seem like a simple accomplishment, remember that for us, there were two consecutive weeks where My Wife had emergency surgeries in the middle of the night.  It is the simple things...

One of the most important steps in this entire process was being linked with hematology for possible answers to the most troubling questions in My Wife's medical case.  This did not happen by accident and in fact, it happened through a very thoughtful and deliberative moment.  That moment took place when My Wife's surgeon realized she could not come up with all the answers. We had many, many conversations with her - some were hurried, in corridors of the University of Vermont Medical Center that I never knew existed (nor do I ever want to be in again), some were in the comfort and peace of her office, and many were over the phone.

I tried as best I could to be patient - to remember that this surgeon is after all, another human being who puts her pants on one leg at a time, just like I do.  (As a side note, during my Family Medical Leave, I came across this article in the New York Times - it continues to be all about #relationships). I knew that she was doing everything she could, I knew she was frustrated, and I could feel her empathy and compassion constantly.

After the third surgery, our surgeon recognized the limits of her specialty and let us know that she was going to share My Wife's case with other surgeons and physicians (anonymously of course). She was recognizing the limits of her specialty.  What a powerful and humbling step.

She started to hear back from colleagues and there were not a lot of ideas.  I wondered if this was just another dead end.  Then a break came when one of her colleagues mentioned that she once needed to refer a patient to hematology.  We were grasping at straws and through the power of relationships (and the fact that we live in a small state) we were able to see a hematologist the following day. While we still do not have all the answers, we have been able to see progress.

In education, there are limits to our professional abilities.  Despite our best efforts, we cannot reach every student, with his/her family life dynamics, on our own.  In life, we have limits to our human capacity.  There is only so much time, so we ask others to shuttle our children and we shuttle theirs to and from rehearsals, practices, and banquets.  We trust, rely on, and look for others in our professional world and in our personal world.  It is about #relationships.

When we have those moments, professionally or personally, I hope that we have the honesty, vulnerability, and humility to admit that we are at the end of our rope.  I hope we are able to turn to someone else we trust and ask for help.  I know that but for the power and humility of collaboration, My Wife would not have made as much progress as she has thus far.  We all have those moments - please pick one this week, and allow someone in your life, professionally or personally, to benefit from the power and the humility of collaboration.


Sunday, March 19, 2017

Letting Go

I am just returning to work after taking a medical leave to care for My Wife.  What was expected to be a routine surgery turned into something much scarier and much more serious.  Instead of one surgery, My Wife needed three.  Instead of recuperating from the original surgery and returning to her full time job two weeks ago, she needs to stay at home to continue to recover and is unable to drive.  There isn't much in the past six weeks I wish would never have happened, except for the fact that I've learned the value in letting go. 

There's been a great deal that I've had to let go of because it was simply out of my control.  Three times I hurriedly kissed My Wife, while she was laying on a stretcher about to be wheeled into an operating room.

I've relied on numerous friends and family members to care for Our Children - not always having the time to share details about when to take asthma medicine, what the bedtime routine looks like, and what's appropriate for them to watch on TV.

Dinners have arrived at our house two or three times a week, without any specifics about what Our Children do or don't eat.

During the February vacation, people came by and picked Our Children up and kept them for the entire day.  They returned home happy, with full bellies, and completely tired from all the fun they had.

These past weeks have been a lesson in letting go.  Aside from some truly terrifying moments, the act of letting go was liberating.  The sun rose the following morning, Our Children demonstrated a phenomenal capacity to learn and grow with this medical journey that we are on, and I felt surrounded by a work community and a personal community that embraced our struggle. 

Even though it's not something I'm used to, and I hope the reasons for it don't ever repeat themselves, I grew so much from letting go. 

This morning, some beautiful flowers arrived at my office from My Family, thanking my Work Family for all their love and support


The note reads: Thank you all for letting us borrow Dr. Ricca for so long. I know his absence was felt and your kind words meant a great deal to all of us. Love, Michal, Patrick & Brendan