Paging Dr. Johnson

Ever since I became a certified, registered OT (US) or alternately, ever since I qualified (UK), my family has decided I am expert in all areas of occupational therapy, physical therapy, and medicine. Any physical problem large or small in my immediate or expanded family, and everyone turns to me for answers.

On occasion, when treating a patient who is in a great deal of pain, I have involuntarily demonstrated empathic tendencies (if you believe in that sort of thing). I flush bright red, sweat, become light-headed, nauseous, and take on their pain. Last time this happened at the hospital I was working at in NJ, I was unable to manage it, and had to get someone to take me home since I was useless as far as working with any more patients that day. Generally speaking, ever since I became aware of this phenomenon, I've been able to build up a barrier. But especially when I'm caught by surprise, this reaction can get away from me.

These two things are related, as I'm about to describe. We were checking out Tunnels Beach, where we'd heard the best snorkeling had been all week. Tressa and my dad headed out with their gear through the shallow underwater coral features, while my mom and I sat on the beach slathering on sunblock. But I watched their progress from where I sat, and I remember laughing when I saw my dad sort of flop down and start cruising around in shallow waters, rather than wade out to where it was deeper like Tressa was doing. All of a sudden he stopped, stood up, and walked out to where Tressa was still standing. For some reason, this caught my attention. They turned toward each other, presumably talking, and then my dad turned and headed back to the beach. And I said to my mom, "Dad's coming back, I think something's wrong." And she said it was probably just a problem with the equipment. A minute later, Tress started to follow him back. So I said again, "No, I think something's wrong." My mom still didn't believe me, but a few minutes later my dad was slowly trudging through the sand up to our towels, clutching his two hands together and around his snorkel. He announced he had sliced his hand open on some coral, as I watched blood run down his arm. My mom immediately began looking around for a bottle of water to flush out the wound, as my dad turned toward me, peeled back the skin flap, and asked what did Dr. Johnson think. The cut was in the V between thumb and forefinger and it was deep. Thankfully no nerves or tendons were severed, but the cut had gone right down to one of his tendons, which was glistening white in the wound. Through the roaring in my head I heard myself say he needed to keep pressure on the wound and he needed stitches. I tried to control my own reaction to his injury, as I took the excuse to sit down, and look through our guidebooks for info on walk-in clinics or hospitals. There was none. In the end, I finally thought to call the Tourist Board on one of my parent's cell phones and get the info. And after they'd left to go get his hand sewn up, I had the bright idea of getting myself into the ocean to help contain my own visceral, or empathic if you like, reaction. Once I had had stumbled out past the shallow water, it occurred to me that passing out in the ocean was quite possibly worse than passing out on the sand, but luckily this time, with the cool water and deep breathing I was able to shed the pain and shock that wasn't mine. Ah, the joys of Johnson vacations ;)

Anyway, here are a couple more pictures for your enjoyment.