so no compassion for you, then?

i have a lot of empathy.  and it works for me.  sometimes i feel so ridiculously sorry for someone that the only way to make me feel better is to make them feel better.  so i fluff fluff fluff the pillows, wash some hair, obsessively organize the room...whatever it may be to make the patient feel well taken care of and like they're getting "extras".

so that's what i've been doing for my new 'lifer' who will sadly be in the hospital for probably almost ever.  according to trauma, the guy was practically dead upon arrival.  he's a hot mess: trached, tubes all over, multiple broken bones, required more than one -ectomy, just SICK.  his bowels will. not. move.  will not.  after so many surgeries, his belly is a tangle of adhesions, and somewhere one of them is obstructing his small bowel.  we feed him in one tube, it comes out the other.  and, while he is getting nutrition, every day he seems to get skinnier and skinnier.  

so he sits in his bed, looking like some sort of large frail bird.  he's trached, so he can't really talk.  he can't eat.  he's clearly bored out of his mind.  and every time i walk in his room to see him holding a picture of a family member and just staring at it, it breaks my heart.  

how sad, to be in the hospital for months and to have every day be the same as the one before.

to not get to do the things you love.

to not be able to do the things that once came so easily.

to feel so isolated, and so hopeless.  

like i said, it breaks my heart.

or, i should say, broke.  

because low and behold, who shows up today?  the police.  and wouldn't you know it, the story wasn't quite the same coming from them.  turns out the patient was drag racing drunk with some of his other drug selling felon buddies and ended up crashing his car.  the police recovered thousands of dollars and some stolen electronics.  there was also some sort of bribery involving the patient's mother who's silence could be bought for something like $10,000.

you have GOT to be kidding me.

i guess this stuff shouldn't surprise me anymore.  it also shouldn't matter.  and in a way, it doesn't.  i'll still treat the patient the way i always have.  and i still feel bad for his situation, bad for the fact that it will take months for him to get back to even a halfway decent life...that is if he doesn't die of complications first.

but for some reason, it still really bothers me.  i feel like i was lied to.  i've been treating the patient like a victim.

the only thing this man is a victim of is his own lifestyle.

i have a rule, and it is however you treat me, that is how you will be treated.  you can be a murderer or a thief or an abuser and we will not have a problem if you are polite and respectful.  i'm not sure why this situation feels so different, but it does.

so what do you do?  is compassion a resource?  does it go to those most deserving of it?  or is it kind of like triage...given to those who need it the most, despite of why they arrive on our doorstep?  can the feelings be taken out of it altogether?  is it possible to provide compassionate care to people you think kind of deserve what they got?

i think it can be done.  but we shall see.