Pandemic Panic (guest post by Dr. Dennis Ortman)
The
front-line workers confront the enemy face-to-face in the patients they treat.
They are the hospital service people, aides, technicians, nurses, doctors, and
first responders. I admire their courage and salute them. They risk their lives
daily, inadequately armed, and many have fallen in the fight. I am a back-line
worker as a psychologist, fighting another invisible enemy, fear. Pandemic
panic can be as contagious and pernicious as COVID-19.
Living
in Michigan, our governor has shut down all but essential services. Clearly,
psychologists offer an essential service in these desperate times. How
important is our work was brought home to me by my daughter’s recent illness.
She has been home with her family for the past three weeks, living in a bubble
for protection, as the governor requested. Suddenly, she developed a fever and
sore throat. Imagining the worst, she went to urgent care. What relief she felt
when the doctor told her she had strep throat. We all wondered how she
contracted that bug while in isolation. She admitted that she felt stressed out
by the epidemic. Knowing the mind and body are connected, emotional stress
weakens the immune system, making us vulnerable to diseases. So I see myself as
a first-line defense in helping my patients reduce their anxiety and strengthen
their immunity to the virus.
I
go to the office every day to meet with my patients and have phone therapy with
them. I am fully aware that I am not immune to pandemic panic, to imagining the
worst. To be of service to others, I must care for myself. “Physician, heal
thyself,” is my motto. The nightly news reports of staggering numbers of new
cases and deaths, nightmarish hospital scenes, and heart-breaking family
stories can over whelm me. I titrate my daily information intake to the 6:30
national news. I miss going to the gym, playing golf, and watching sports—the
guy things. I also miss seeing my family and friends, even though we are in
regular phone contact. I intentionally avoid fruitless debates about political
blame, conspiracy theories, and signs of Armageddon. Does debating really
benefit me in living safely, fully the present moment? Instead, my buddies and
I share humorous quotes and cartoons to relieve the heaviness of our fear. As
one patient of mine related, “Social distancing ought to be more accurately
called physical distancing.” While not congregating, we still need social
connection for our wellbeing. Finally, as an introvert, I am accustomed to time
alone when I welcome reading, reflecting, and praying. I go for brisk walks and
enjoy the outdoors. What I learn in caring for myself, I share with my
patients.
In
therapy sessions, I have been inquiring how my patients are coping with the
confinement, loneliness, and fear. Regarding their quarantine, I ask if they
experience it more as a prison or retreat. Almost all have told me that it
feels mostly like a retreat. Perhaps my encouragement of them to relax and
observe themselves is paying some dividends. However, as the quarantine drags
on for weeks, they may change their tunes. Surprisingly, my most emotionally
fragile patients struggle little with the virus fear. They do not sweat the big
stuff, only the small stuff. For example, they may agonize for years about a
rude comment. My patients also complain about so much closeness with restless,
arguing kids and bored partners that, they say jokingly, it will eventually
lead to the doorsteps of the obstetrician, Alcoholics Anonymous, Overeaters
Anonymous, the divorce attorney, or the undertaker (“We might kill each
other!). We work on maintaining boundaries for self-care.
Concerning
loneliness, my patients admit missing their usual activities and socializing.
Being alone with themselves is probably their greatest struggle. That is not
surprising, when you think about it. Mother Teresa founded a religious order to
serve “the poorest of the poor.” When she opened homes in India, everyone
nodded. But when she opened residences in the United States, people scratched
their heads. She explained that the United States is the loneliest country in
the world. We experience emotional and spiritual poverty. We are so busy
chasing after possessions, money, status and success, competing with each other
to be number one, that there is little time or energy to relax with ourselves.
Consequently, we become estranged from ourselves, and our relationships remain
superficial. I tell my patients, “The antidote to loneliness is solitude. You
cannot be any more intimate with another than you are with yourself. You can
only make friends with yourself by spending time alone with yourself.” If we
enter deeply into the silence and solitude, we learn we are never alone because
we are intimately connected with the universe. I continually invite my patients
to stop and listen to the still voice within. And to take it seriously.
During
this crisis, we are living in the shadow of death. Each night the evening news
confronts us with stark images of death, which make our fears go viral. We live
in a death-denying culture. We prefer to anesthetize ourselves by keeping busy
and distracted. However, therapy asks us to sit alone with our fears. Chogyam
Trungpa, a renowned Buddhist teacher, said, “Bravery is not being afraid of
ourselves.” It takes courage to be still and acknowledge to another everything
that overflows from an agitated mind. For example, a middle-aged patient told
me this week that he had an emotional breakdown and could not stop crying. He
reported that he was reading a novel and suddenly felt overwhelmed by a
nameless terror. I told him that it was a breakthrough of suppressed feelings,
and not a breakdown. Together we sorted out the experience that terrified him.
He said he was worried about dying from the virus and not doing all the things
he planned. He thought about his legacy and did not know what it would be. His
life seemed a meaningless waste. During therapy, I accompany my patients on the
terrible and wonderful journey of exploring the vastness of their minds. I tell
them to lean into their fears and not avoid them. We then explore what they can
teach us. Joseph Campbell, an expert on myths, wrote, “The cave you fear to
enter holds your treasure.” Entering the dark cave of fear, we discover what we
are afraid of losing and hold on to too tightly. We learn, then, what we
treasure, and further, can ask if it matches the largeness of our hearts.
Jesus, another wise teacher, proclaimed in his Sermon on the Mount, “Where your
treasure is, there is your heart.”
The
word “crisis” implies both danger and opportunity. The anxious mind sees only
danger, what can go wrong. The wise mind glimpses opportunity and joins the
battle with compassion and wisdom. Despite the noise of mass hysteria, we hear
a compassionate voice, “We are in this together.” There are countless stories
of people coming forth, risking their lives, to help others. There is a dawning
awareness of our connectedness. But how far does it reach in our minds: to our
community, our nation, the entire world? Our planet is a mere speck in the
boundless, expanding universe. Our tiny planet is so fragile and cries out for
care. Soon the epidemic will engulf the whole world. As our flu season ends,
the time of disease will likely take hold in the southern hemisphere. We have
an opportunity to extend our compassion to our southern neighbors, sharing our
knowledge, resources, and personnel. We will also share the wisdom gained
through our travails.
Dr.
Fauci, the spokesperson for the CDC, is the voice of scientific reason. He
says, “The virus will let us know.” We listen and then respond from our
knowledge base. However, there is a deeper wisdom gained by entering the desert
of emptiness during the stay home order. All the founders of the great
religions chose to go to the desert to prepare for their missions: Moses,
Jesus, Mohammed (Buddha went to the forest). There they spent time alone in
silence and faced their demons. In our quarantines, our individual desert
experiences, we encounter our demons, wrestle with our fears, and confront our
virulent thinking. What will we learn about our attachments to health,
possessions, power, status, relationships, to what is important, but does not
last? What lasts for us and is worth the dedication of our lives? What is our
ultimate concern? We know that this illness will pass, will have its season.
Facing the temptation of despair with a wise mind, we may learn, as Julian of
Norwich proclaimed, “All will be well, and every kind of thing will be well.”
May
the compassion and wisdom born of this battle spread like a virus around the
world.
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Helpful books by Dr. Ortman, available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kindle, and the MSI Press webstore. (The webstore offers 40% discount, using the code ad40.)
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