Dennis Blocker writes about the important role EMS and emergency room leadership holds in the mental well-being of their employees.
As an ER Tech (EMT-B), the first task I did every morning in the emergency department was to check the LIFEPAK 20s and glucometers. With each piece of equipment, I’d perform quality controls to be sure that the devices performed the functions required. These two devices were vital as their correct operation directly impacted lives that hung in the balance.
Years later, while writing the manuscript for what would be my reminiscences on 23 years in EMS and ER, a thought staggered me: “We did quality controls for these devices day after day, month after month, and year after year, but for the humans we did nothing.”
Think about that.
A department only operates as good as the vitality of its human element. I think it’s safe to assume that emergency room charge nurses, assistant directors, directors, and PCC’s greatly desire a highly efficient department. Having worked for some of the best I can attest to that fact. So, why then, was so little emphasis placed on the mental well-being of the employees?
Now to be fair, I do recall our various ER directors demonstrating their appreciation for our hard work during Emergency Nurses Week, EMS Week and other festivities. During these times in the break room, the bosses would come in early, don aprons, mix up pancake batter, and make dozens of waffles and pancakes. Other times it was a nacho bar, or sandwiches from Jason’s Deli or Jimmie Johns. These displays of affection were greatly appreciated.
It’s important to me that the reader (hopefully someone in a leadership position) understands that I most certainly felt appreciated and thus gladly worked my butt off for these tremendous leaders. However, there was a separate issue going on that was never touched.
It was almost like there were separate chambers of my soul, my being, and that the demonstrations of appreciation succored a chamber that longed for recognition. However, there was a separate chamber that was hurting, deteriorating and rotting. It was a place much deeper in my spirit, located in a secret place of my heart.
The secret place was fueled by empathy and compassion and as such was extremely important. I drew from this wellspring every single day and it never once ran dry. Over time, however, this compartment began to fill with despair, sorrow and pain. Ironically, my empathy had inadvertently birthed this deterioration. I was placing myself in the shoes of those I was treating, and it was slowly diminishing my spirit.
Related
- First Responders and PTSD: A Literature Review
- Toward a Better Understanding of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)
Soon, I was having nightmares that typically featured children we couldn’t save. One common nightmare that haunts me still features a blonde-haired youth of ten. She stands surrounded by darkness as a light illuminates only her. She is motionless and utters not a word. Clearly visible, the puncture marks on her neck, from the neighbor’s dog who latched onto her throat and would not release. While prepping her body for her family to come and view her, that wellspring of empathy and compassion seared the scene into my inner core.
So, though pancakes, waffles, and nacho bars were greatly appreciated, they did not help with the transformation that was slowly taking place within me. I needed professional help, but I never sought it out because I didn’t want to be perceived as weak.
Nightmares kept me from sleeping and my bed soon became a dreaded place that, though my body required for rest, my subconscious knew only all too well that the mattress and covers would not provide it. Lack of sleep and dread of scenes of death all manufactured an impoverished spirit. I longed for peaceful sleep. I craved a tranquil environment. Death soon became the only option.
That first moment came on my way into work when I looked up at a parking garage and thought: “You know, if I stepped off that thing, I would finally get some rest.”
The thought terrified me because it made sense, sounded like a good idea. It was a fleeting thought indeed, but it made an impact. The vision of my daughters without me to guide them through this world jolted me. I knew I would have to get help and I would have to retire from the ER.
Looking back on all those “burned out” RNs and medics I could not help but wonder, “What if policies were in place to help such a tremendous human resource properly deal with PTSD. Would not the hospital and EMS retain these veterans longer?”
I know the leadership we had greatly loved and cared for their employees, but there was no attention to the mind of the RN or the EMT (ER Tech). Only when it was too late for me did I seek out mental help.
To leadership out there, I challenge you to talk with your staff in private. Don’t buy the line of “I’m OK.” Dig deeper. Incorporate required counseling sessions. In my situation, it was a matter of rewiring how I thought about the cases I handled. I could feel the weight fall of my shoulders when I learned these techniques from the CPT program.
I envision a full-time counselor who is tasked with scheduling a meet time with each employee for quarterly 30-minute time slots. Of course, most would probably not even use the full 30 minutes, but the time slot is theirs. Others will go in, report they are fine, and quickly walk out. Well, then that’s on them. The opportunity to heel was provided. The counselor would have an “open door” policy, meaning that if there is a meltdown underway, she/he is there to help the employee through it.
The counselor would have the authority to recommend time off or refer to outside resources for continued therapy. Of course, it’s all highly confidential, and the fact that everyone is required to attend will hopefully diminish the stigma of seeking help.
I know I’m not the only one who is hurting, and I cannot bear the thought of losing another Medic or RN to PTSD. We must get serious about this. It starts with leadership. Everything rises and falls on leadership. Leaders, take ownership of this issue. Lead by example. Keep your people thriving. Keep them alive!
This written work is solely the opinion of the author and does not represent the opinion or policies of any department or entity the author may have been employed with.
