Denial--Oh, How We All Use It

Working in a hospital, I've been pretty amazed at some of the coping techniques people find to get them through their day. I have seen families ignore or deny their feelings (sometimes for years), try to laugh off their pain and fear, rearrange their lives to take care of a loved one so that they don't have to face their own fear of death, etc... The human capacity to survive is pretty amazing. Recently, however, there have been three situations which have shocked and amazed me, and they all have to do with out and out denial.

The first one occurred at 1:30am in the Emergency Room a few weeks ago. I was paged by a doctor down there because a woman had died, and the chaplains respond to all deaths and code blues (people stop breathing or their heart stops beating) in the hospital.

A 90 year-old woman had been brought in by paramedics when her husband found her passed out on their bedroom floor in the middle of the night. The woman was a diabetic, which can turn into a very nasty degenerative disease. On top of that, the woman had a pulmonary embolism two years ago (a blood clot in the lungs, which would have been a heart attack if the clot went to the heart or a stroke if the clot went to the brain). Basically, this woman was pretty old and sick.

The doctor was great--he was very gentle and kind with the man. He explained what had happened, what they had tried to do, and gave the man plenty of time and many openings to ask questions, etc.. When the doctor asked the man if he and his wife had ever discussed funeral arrangements, the man replied, "No, never--she was so young and healthy!"

Now, I totally get that this man was in shock, and I felt incredibly bad for him...but really? Young and healthy? She was a 90 year-old diabetic who had already had a pulmonary embolism. The gymnastics the mind has to go through to construe her as young and healthy is amazing.

The second case was quite tragic. A 45 year-old woman died of cirrhosis of the liver. She was an alcoholic who drank 1/2 liter of hard liquor a day, and she came from a long family tradition of alcoholics. The woman was so sick, she was yellow. And when I say she was yellow, I'm talking Sponge Bob Squarepants yellow.

The woman was incredibly sick, and ultimately, she went into cardiac arrest (her heart stopped beating), she survived hooked up to machinery for a while, and then she died. Then, her family and friends started arriving.

No one was talking to anyone else in her family, and her friends were quite distant from the entire family. Everyone was in denial that she had been sick. Her best friend kept saying, "She was only diagnosed with cirrhosis last week, how could this have happened?"

Once again, I get that this situation was totally overwhelming, but, seriously? You didn't know she was sick? Really? Not even in the farthest depths of your mind? She was yellow.

The final event occurred on Christmas at about 11:40pm. I was on call, and I awoke from a sound sleep with a start when my pager went off. I headed up to the 8th floor where a patient had just died. Apparently, it wasn't really a surprise to the staff that the patient had died. However, his family was in shock. I knew I'd be there for a while when the wife said, "I know he's 83, that he's had lifelong health issues, that he's had two massive strokes in the last month, and that he's been totally unresponsive for the last week, but I really thought he'd get better and come home!" I ended up being there for 2 hours.

Now, I've never waited with someone I love in a hospital. I've never sat at the bedside of someone I've loved and prayed for a miracle day after day. I've lost people I loved, but I've never had the particular hospital experience. I have no idea what kind of stamina it takes to be there day after day, helpless as ever.

It's amazing to me that people can do that, and it's even more amazing to me how they do that. Sometimes the spirit needs to protect itself by offering up an explanation--I'll just be here until they can walk on their own again, or until the wound heals, or until he is strong enough to come home. People tell themselves that this is a turning point, and that the person is ready to change their diet/exercise routine/outlook on life/addiction patterns to emerge a new and healthy person. People will grasp so tightly to a shred of hope, wishing with every bone in their body that it's true.

It makes me wonder what I hide. If someone can deny that their loved one is old, or sick, or even yellow, what can I deny about myself, or deny about the people I love? What feels too painful to admit or even think about?

I offer up the same questions to you, my friends, family, and fellow human beings. What is it that has always seemed too hard to say or hear? Is there anything you've always wanted to tell someone? Are their secrets or wishes that make you feel too vulnerable to share with those around you?

In this time of New Years and New Beginnings, I wish you ever-widening and deepening self-awareness. You're worth it.