Charting a New Course: Lessons from the Unexpected

This past February, I was exercising in a group fitness class when I fell on the treadmill, lost consciousness, and sustained a substantial head injury. An overnight hospital stay left me feeling bewildered and fearful—unchartered territory for me as I was a confident runner in the midst of training for the Boston Marathon. With instructions to rest to manage my severe concussion, I withdrew from the marathon and mourned the months of preparation (in frigid conditions!) for a race that would never come to fruition.  

Managing disappointment has been an omnipresent experience for all of us these past two years. The COVID-19 pandemic interrupted our sense of normalcy and safety, introducing immense uncertainty and fear for the future and for the health of our loved ones. Graduations, weddings, trips, birthdays, and concerts were canceled amid the quickly spreading virus. Unpredictable disruptions remind us that we are constantly vulnerable to factors out of our control—a sobering and unnerving fact of life. In a social environment of increasing volatility and ambiguity, confronting the unexpected feels even more daunting. 

Experiencing the world of medicine from a patient’s perspective was unsettling yet illuminating. It was a salutary reminder of the importance of expertise and the value of a kind word. Being a patient offered firsthand insight into the need for improvements in patient/clinician communications, inadequate training, self-interested clinicians, and sensitivity to diversity (I was repeatedly asked if my ‘wife’ was expected soon, despite my explanations that my husband was on his way). I was reminded that our healthcare profession has a long way to go in ensuring we are providing high-quality, empathetic care for all patients (more about that here). 

Shock from unexpected events can not only be frightening but can also threaten our sense of self-identity. It is not uncommon for patients to vividly recall the “before” and “after” moments of receiving a diagnosis—a core memory of when their identity irrevocably changed. Some patients may grieve the loss of their prior “healthy” identity—and while not a physical loss—it can feel equally if not more devastating.

My treadmill accident was a small speck in the grand scheme of serious illnesses and challenges that many face, yet my experience of identity loss helped me better relate to what my patients may be feeling. Prior to my accident, I was a healthy, strong runner at the peak of rigorous training. In a matter of seconds, my identity as a fit athlete crumbled, and I transformed into a dazed concussed patient in the back of an ambulance. As straightforward and navigable as my injuries were, I was still experiencing anxiety and fear about my recovery. I found myself with a greater appreciation for the resiliency of my patients, and a stronger connection to my friends and colleagues who have also managed increasing tumult in the past two years.

Now fully recovered and with a clean bill of health, I’ll be competing in the 2022 Chicago Spring Half Marathon this weekend—a different course than what I had envisioned earlier this year, but one that I am ready to run with my new identity as a navigator of disruptive change, an even stronger runner (I hope!), and just maybe a more reflective, and appreciative person.