If I Die Young
Over a month ago, a bunch of us got together with the counselling team and talked about our horrid event (P.S. read last post).
You would think that these people - Senior Consultants, Critical Care Outreach Practitioners, Clinical Nurse Specialists - would've been more of an expert in handling or even processing their grief by now. What with all those years of experience under their belts.
I could not be more wrong.
What I witnessed that day - raw grief and pain - even from the most senior member in the team, was eye-opening.
Despite the fact that some of them only came into contact with her in the beginning or in the midst of her resuscitation, there is still pain. Pain for the poor girl, pain for the family.
Pain for a loss, OUR loss. Even if it wasn't personal, it became almost personal.
It was still a loss.
I have never attended a counselling session before.
The counselling lady kept saying, "this is a unique, traumatic event". Over and over, I hear the word "traumatic".
Almost like trying to ingrain into us to accept, to truly accept, that this is not a normal death, this is in fact, traumatic.
The sharp knife of a short life.
I suppose she knows our kind. The kind where we put a fierce front, the kind who hides our battle scars and get on with life, the kind who won't talk about it even if we say we're NOT okay.
Everyone had their bits of memory.
A piece here and there: something that reminded one of previous events in their own lives, some things that stayed with a few of us, some images suppressed, some sounds remembered.
But to see everyone come together, opening up. It was an experience I truly appreciate.
Because now I know it is NOT at all crazy to be sitting at home watching TV, not really thinking about anything, and then suddenly bursting into tears because I remembered her last words.
And now I know that no matter how many years of experience we collect like gold coins in our pockets, deaths like these will never be okay, and it is okay NOT to be okay for a while.
Now I appreciate that good support brings people together, even push them to come out of their shells sometimes. And that's when you know that those people are the ones who might need it most.
A. xx
You would think that these people - Senior Consultants, Critical Care Outreach Practitioners, Clinical Nurse Specialists - would've been more of an expert in handling or even processing their grief by now. What with all those years of experience under their belts.
I could not be more wrong.
What I witnessed that day - raw grief and pain - even from the most senior member in the team, was eye-opening.
Despite the fact that some of them only came into contact with her in the beginning or in the midst of her resuscitation, there is still pain. Pain for the poor girl, pain for the family.
Pain for a loss, OUR loss. Even if it wasn't personal, it became almost personal.
It was still a loss.
I have never attended a counselling session before.
The counselling lady kept saying, "this is a unique, traumatic event". Over and over, I hear the word "traumatic".
Almost like trying to ingrain into us to accept, to truly accept, that this is not a normal death, this is in fact, traumatic.
The sharp knife of a short life.
I suppose she knows our kind. The kind where we put a fierce front, the kind who hides our battle scars and get on with life, the kind who won't talk about it even if we say we're NOT okay.
Everyone had their bits of memory.
A piece here and there: something that reminded one of previous events in their own lives, some things that stayed with a few of us, some images suppressed, some sounds remembered.
But to see everyone come together, opening up. It was an experience I truly appreciate.
Because now I know it is NOT at all crazy to be sitting at home watching TV, not really thinking about anything, and then suddenly bursting into tears because I remembered her last words.
And now I know that no matter how many years of experience we collect like gold coins in our pockets, deaths like these will never be okay, and it is okay NOT to be okay for a while.
Now I appreciate that good support brings people together, even push them to come out of their shells sometimes. And that's when you know that those people are the ones who might need it most.
If I die young, bury me in satin, lay me down on a bed of roses, sink me in a river at dawn,
send me away with the words of a love song.
- The Band Perry
And I guess that was what we all did that day; we sent her away with our words of a love song.
A. xx
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