I drag myself through the day. I am hungry but too fatigued to prepare a meal. I am thirsty but haven’t maintained adequate hydration. I want to decorate for the holidays, bake cookies, and watch happy holiday movies like “normal” people do but I can not manage to drag myself off the couch. Days later I am still exhausted after my Thanksgiving in the hospital and I am thinking about the new meaning of Thanksgiving after cancer.
Thanksgiving In The Hospital
Thanksgiving was a bust. I spent the week working in the intensive care unit. I was understaffed all but one day. The hospital was on a skeleton crew which left me covering not only the critical care unit but also non-emergency pulmonary floor consults. During a normal week I would have two fellows helping. On Thanksgiving week some days I had one, some days I had none at all.
Thanksgiving day I came home to a dark and empty house. My husband was out celebrating Friendsgiving. After a hastily prepared and unsatisfying dinner, I crawled into bed. I watched a couple old Thanksgiving episodes and fell asleep before my husband got home. It was one of the worst holidays I have had in a long time.
Each day I worked tirelessly from 7 in the morning until whenever I finished seeing the 40+ patients of the day. At the end of each day, I exhaustedly crashed into bed. I didn’t eat enough, drink enough, or go to the bathroom enough. Now, days later, I am still paying the price with fatigue.
On Thanksgiving day other physicians with non-emergency specialties placed many bogus consults, not because they needed my expertise, but because they knew I was “in-house” for emergencies and would quickly lay eyes on their patients so they wouldn’t have to.
This made my job that much more difficult. It increased the number of patients I had to see. Without documentation from other physicians it took longer to figure out medical histories. As other physicians were home celebrating, I was seeing the patients on their behalf, and making sure nothing was missed.
This is not an unusual hospital scenario. This happens every single year. It’s just harder for me now. After being diagnosed with breast cancer just over a year ago (a year and two and a half months to be exact but who’s counting), holidays take on a new meaning.
Critical Care Doctors Usually Work Holidays
Every year of my adult life I have worked the holidays. Year after years spent in intensive care units taking care of the critically ill instead of celebrating with friends or family. This is part of the deal when you are a pulmonary critical care doctor. You will not spend holidays with your family. You will spend your holidays taking care of someone else’s. And this never bothered me … until now.
This year missing out on the holiday deeply bothered me. I found this quite surprising and my intense feelings caught me off guard. All the sudden Thanksgiving, just another work day in my pre-cancer life, became important. In my pre-cancer I life I suppose I just always assumed that there would be more Thanksgivings to celebrate in the future and so if I missed out now, it wasn’t a big deal.
Thanksgiving After Cancer
Now, after cancer, nothing is guaranteed. Who knows how many Thanksgivings I have left and all the sudden the day becomes precious and valuable. Not celebrating it becomes a loss. “What if the cancer comes back this year?” I wondered. “What if that was my last Thanksgiving and I spent it working and alone?” It was the saddest thought in the world.
Now, still struggling with the fatigue from working the holiday last week, I find myself feeling a rare emotion…regret. I regret not spending the day with my family. I regret not celebrating. It was a loss and I am sad.
Even worse, working such a strenuous week brought my fatigue back for the first time in two months. After such a long stretch without fatigue, I had hoped maybe that phase of recovery was behind me. Even days later the fatigue still prevents me from participating in holiday celebrations. That stretch of work not only stole the holiday itself but many days of activities afterwards.
I did not expect to feel this way, but this is also not the first time I have been caught unexpectedly by my changing values. All I can do is acknowledge that after cancer my feelings about the holidays are different. I am different. What is important to me is different and so is the value I place on relationships, experiences, and ever so precious, limited time. I am still getting to know this post-cancer me and working Thanksgiving was an unexpected learning experience.
Moving Forward
I look forward to this holiday season with hope. I still have Christmas to celebrate, after all, and it’s never too late to make a change. My husband and I agreed we would have a “make-up” Thanksgiving and I made a promise to myself that this Thanksgiving would be the last time I agreed to work a holiday week with skeleton coverage.
So I will fight my way past the fatigue and begin my holiday celebrations. I look forward to getting to know the new me, apparently she values the holidays!
