Burnout as part of the culture
I’m real happy to see this thread! This is a very real problem that is not getting better. When I left my 12-year career in EMS, in 1985, the burnout rate was 3.5 years!
The difference between then and now is a statistical numbers game. Today, there is a slightly better career-track that gets a lot of the dinosaurs out of the field and into more administrative or supervisory functions. These are the guys who get to rack up the years while the grunts come and go.
To a certain extent, especially in the private sector, longevity is simply not cost-effective. You can count on a steady stream of altruistic FNG’s to take the place of the burnouts. (I am not anti- any sector of EMS, I am only doing my best to identify systemic glitches. Economics is a driving force of so much that occurs in this country it affects all sectors.)
The assumption about PTSD is, broadly, that it is the result of a certain kind of stress that causes people to be unable to function and leave the field. The truth is, odds are more likely for you to have someone suffering severe PTSD right next to you as your partner than you’ll find as an ex-medic on the non-functioning bread lines!
The medical model of definition is often quite inadequate. PTSD has textures, like different characteristics of snow for the Eskimo. IMHO the PTSD suffered by medics is not incident related, or even incident after incident related, but the result of a progressive deadening of the medics ability to experience themselves as human beings. At some point, it all catches up and functioning starts to circle the drain.
From the get-go, we are told that in order to “do the job” we must distance ourselves from our human experience of what is perhaps the most human of all experiences, living on the edge of life and death. What results is a progressive layering on of protective shells that, after a time get so thick we are encased and lose the fluidity to respond authentically (and/or compassionately) to the moment.
Those layers are like a jumpsuit with a rusted zipper. They simply do not come off when we get home. And that’s where burnout rears its ugly head; in our relationships with others, but most importantly, with ourselves.
The biggest difficulties for medics are, unlike people in most high-pressure job functions, they have to face a constant barrage of paradoxes, contradictions, discrepancies, and hypocrisies within themselves, and they don’t have anywhere to turn for support because silence is the dominant culture.
The fact that discussion is going on right here, right now, is a sign of hope. The truth is, WE are the only ones that can help each other and ourselves. Why? No one knows the territory better than us, and few of the systems that define our roles are stepping up to the plate to help.
The dominant culture of the medic (and I am speaking broadly for allopathic medicine as a whole and most “disciplines’ of medicine taught “Western-style” as well) discourages us from talking about anything real with each other, like the concerns brought up about one’s relationship with suicide when a family member has taken that option.
What richness there is in such discussions! By cultivating such conversations we can claim ourselves as human beings in service to other human beings rather than as what I call “Flesh Mechanics,” which, let’s face it, is what we’re trained to be.
Aloha, Thank you, and let’s keep talking!