The last speaker of today’s part of the conference was a motivational speaker. He talked about how the pandemic had increased our fear and anxiety levels. He also talked about how we have to courageously move forward with a positive mindset and passion. Ooooh, that hit home for me. I taught a leadership class several years back called Managing People with Passion. I thought I had it all figured out and talked about how if you lost the passion for what you did, it was time to move on. But, then the pandemic came and tossed every one of those great ideas out the window.
Working in healthcare during a pandemic does something to you. It’s hard some days to wake up with the spark to keep moving forward. The fear of the unknown is always pressing down upon you like a ten ton gorilla. Early on in the pandemic, I think there were those of us that really thought it would be over in a few months. We were convinced that maybe it was all hype and we had nothing to worry about. But things got real very quick. The governors started shutting down the states, the schools shut down, and soon enough, supplies were hard to get.
The speaker talked about how the anxiety level before the pandemic was bad enough but according to a survey he’d read, it had gone up considerably. It’s still expected to rise because the truth with going through something like this is that the emotional after effects don’t always hit in the midst of it. Sometimes it takes months or even years for people to realize they are carrying around emotional scars.
I work in healthcare leadership, and lucky for the patients, I don’t do direct patient care. I’m behind the scenes working to recruit, to manage, and to support our employees. You would think in a position like mine that was not on the frontlines, I would have been shielded from the darkest days of the pandemic. The reality is that even though I was somewhat on the “sidelines” I had to witness the helplessness of our employees during the darkest days. In the early days, I sent my staff home to work and I kept our office locked down. It made me feel like I was trying to keep a monster out and in some sense, I was. I stayed in the office by myself to help our employees because I didn’t want to risk the health of my other employees. We weren’t 100% sure of all of the dangers and the transmission methods at that time. One thing I did know was that it was serious.
I’d worked in healthcare at the time of the Ebola scare. We prepared and had plans ready to take care of an influx of patients, but it never happened. I hoped that COVID would be just another media-hyped story. But as things quickly changed and businesses closed, I knew that this wasn’t something that was passing. And, then we rode the waves. The early days of the pandemic brought people out of the woodworks to support the hospital. Civic groups, churches, and individuals sent snacks and water to the tired staff. People gathered outside the doors in prayer for those working inside. We even commissioned a Heroes at Work sign to be built and placed where employees could see it as they came to work.
But something happened with each wave. People became more cynical that COVID wasn’t real and wasn’t actually killing people. I heard people in stores talking about how their cousin’s uncle’s best friend worked at a hospital and told them that people weren’t dying. People even had the audacity to say that hospitals had to report every death as COVID regardless of the real cause. The ignorance was rampant and as someone who didn’t really consider herself a “healthcare worker,” I suddenly aligned with my peers on the forefront. I really didn’t feel like “just an office worker” when I’d hear those things. I was fighting the battle alongside everyone else. But now there was a new battle—the battle to educate the public so we could stand a chance at winning the COVID war.
Then, the miracle we’d been waiting for seemed to be the way — the vaccine. But that waged another war between those who felt that medical science had produced a solid tool to fight and those who felt that it was a government trap to see how much the public would allow to be told what to do. Some had legitimate concerns but some felt like the vaccine was the mark of the beast or intended to give us some kind of tracker. Then, as healthcare workers, we were entering another wave and having to battle the public to get vaccinated. The new variants were becoming more contagious and, the one in the late summer of 2021, was more deadly for us. Patients were flooding in, and most were pretty sick. Employees died. Friends died. One day I was talking with a Security Guard who told me that he’d carried nine bodies to the morgue that day. His eyes bore the sorrow for those families and dark circles underneath. He said he didn’t turn on the news or look at Facebook anymore because it was filled with people waging war against the vaccine.
As tired, broken healthcare workers, we had to still fight the battle. Our staff had to still take care of those who were sick and dying. There was an overwhelming sense of helplessness despite having a weapon that could help fight the battle. I had to stop looking at my own social media for all of the conspiracy theories and those shouting how they weren’t going to let the government tell them what to do. I found myself going home tired then ending up broken when I’d see the things people would say. People were no longer bringing snacks and having prayer gatherings. Instead, people were protesting the vaccine and the CMS mandate for hospital workers to get vaccinated.
Truly, I believe in individual freedoms. I believe that we each have to side with what we believe. But the pandemic brought out an attitude of defiance and, in some cases, hostility. Healthcare workers not only had to fight the battle of COVID amongst their populations of dying patients, they had to listen to people battle about the vaccine. There was a time I remember going into a grocery store with my mask on and I still had my badge on from work. The majority of people didn’t have a mask on and many glared at me like I was the enemy. I heard one lady whisper about me wearing my mask and how I had to be one of those people trying to brainwash the public. What happened to all of the support for hospital workers?
So is it any wonder that I’ve lost a little bit of my spark? I realized it sitting in the presentation that I don’t have the same enthusiasm and passion that I once did. I care about my job and about what I do, but instead of meeting each day with a renewed passion, I have been going through the motions just to get through each day. The speaker talked about how we had to have renewed efforts for recognition of our employees and I felt like he was talking about me. One of the things I enjoyed most about my job had been scarred by the way we had to put focus on the immediate needs. I was always wading through the weeds and fighting to do the basic parts of my job. I felt like I was being called out and rightfully so. I thought about how I’ve allowed myself to shrink as a person and as a professional. If I’m not out there doing new things and trying to push ahead like normal, then maybe there’s nothing anyone can criticize. But what I realized is that by denying myself to return to the pre-pandemic enthusiasm and the recognition of our employees, I’m contributing to a greater problem. I’m not the only one in this battle and certainly not the only one carrying around the same, or much worse, scars of this pandemic.
If I’m not living with a spark, I’m living with ashes. Ashes blow in the wind while a spark can set fire to everything. It can illuminate the darkness and take away the fear of the unknown. I read a quote that is attributed to John Mackey of Whole Foods Market, “If you are lucky enough to be someone’s employer, then you have a moral obligation to make sure people do look forward to coming to work in the morning.”
Yes, I have a moral obligation to do my job with passion. I can’t just teach about it in a class and not live it myself. I’m great with giving advice but very poor at taking my own advice. Part of my hospital’s recovery is up to me and how our employees feel about their jobs in the aftermath of hell is also up to me to improve. I have a choice to stay hidden in the sidelines, away from the extraordinary to settle for the mediocre. Or, I can risk it all with a renewed passion. I can go through the halls, not with a script, but with a heart to care about each and every one of them. We’re all fighting the battle to temper the anxiety but whether we fight it with a spark or an ash will determine who wins.
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