Our Sandpiper Lives

Exploring paths to find fertile ground

            Quite a few years ago, while sitting on the beach in San Clemente, California, my fascination with sandpipers reappeared. Watching them scavenging for food always intrigued me. These small, long-beaked birds perched on toothpick legs are in constant motion.  They whir like buzz saws as they race across the sand, screeching to a halt when they find tiny air holes in the sand. Then they poke their beaks into these bubbly openings to snag their prey. Sandpipers have captivated me for years. But looking back on my life’s journey on that San Clemente trip, I discovered why.

            In my early years, just like those birds, I dashed from place to place with no apparent plan or direction. I chased after every possible path that might lead to an exciting and meaningful career. One at a time, I consumed each challenge. Then I’d flounder and move on to the next. But like the sandpiper, my exploration ended with a meager catch.

            However, my interests always centered around the same question: what the best way was to make connections with other human beings and make a positive difference in their lives? Even as a child, I was attracted to adults who listened to me. Then I felt recognized and knew it was safe to express myself. I wanted to feel that same connection to my life’s work.

            Years later my husband and I were invited to a conference focused on increasing numbers of elder healthcare patients who were becoming more religiously observant as they aged. Why was this happening and what impact would increasing numbers of elder patients have on the healthcare system? In fact, it was all about the numbers. The presenters recounted statistics gathered by organizations like Gallop and Harvard. It was dull and uninspiring.

            But that changed when a young pediatric cardiologist took the stage.  She began by describing her relationship with a nine-year-old terminal cancer patient. As she presented his case, it was obvious that he had touched her deeply. She began to cry as she talked about the effect the illness had on his life, how he felt isolated and alone. Uncomfortable with her emotions, the audience rustled, shifted in their chairs, and whispered disapprovingly to one another.

            She stopped in mid-sentence and turned to the audience, “Look.  I can see that you are upset with my emotional response, but we need to recognize that healing takes place in the space in between you and the patient. This child needed more than a diagnosis and medications. He needed assurance that I felt his pain.”

            That sentence changed my life.  At that moment it was clear to me that human-to-human connection with a patient is a key ingredient in meaningful healthcare communication. That was it! To help patients heal they had to have a person-to-person connection with the healer. A nurse would have to put down the patient’s chart, make eye contact, and recognize them as person, not as a diagnosis.  They had to BE with them.  Not just DO for them. Yes, it would take more staff time.  Yes, it would require training.  Yes, it would mean a change in protocol for the entire nursing staff.  But it would be worth it! But would the hospital in which I was working give my theories a chance? The answer was that they would allow me to try it out.

            So, I created a series of communications classes for the nursing staff with the worst patient satisfaction scores. I found that I had as much to learn as they did!  At  the first meeting, all of us sat in a circle so we could see each other’s faces. I sat in the circle as well. 

            “Tonight’s class is all about your complaints, I began. “This is the only class in this series when you can speak your mind about your dissatisfaction with your work environment. I want to hear about what you would change in your relationships with your patients, supervisors, and with each other. Tell me what would improve your work experience.  This a one-time opportunity. The conversation will be totally confidential. No notes!

            “You have an hour to share what bothers you.” I didn’t have to wait to find out.

            •          Too little time for breaks.

            •          No time for discussion during or after staff meetings.

            •          No team building or communication with supervisor to solve personal                         or  team problems.

            •          Inadequate information about personal patient information on chart.

            •          No input about staffing hours or pay.

            •          I am treated like a machine, not like a person.

            •          What happened to our request for patient-centered care?

            The complaints went on for the entire hour.  No wonder their patient satisfaction scores were so poor!  I left the meeting sad and discouraged. My upset only grew over the hour it took to drive home.  By the time I reached my front door, I was in tears, crying for the nurses, the patients, and for being discouraged about my dream of building a culture of healthy and caring communication. In addition, I had absorbed all the negative energy that grew stronger with each complaint. It grounded me in utter depression. My sandpiper was telling me I would have to dig much deeper to find the answer.

            Despite the awkward start, the class continued. Things improved after they were able to express their complaints.  Several classes later, after each of them partnered with a fellow nurse and shared their feelings confidentially at the end of each shift. After a time, the atmosphere cooled enough to allow new protocols to be established to heal patient communication. An open and honest exchange was established between staff and nursing directors.  In addition, the attitudes of the nurses improved as did their patient satisfaction scores.

             The sandpiper was satisfied. However, the hospital administration was not. The additional pay for staff instruction didn’t look good on the bottom line. The extra expense was not valuable enough, so the training was discontinued. We’d have to find more nourishing sand holes. And we did.

            Not long after that, the Institute of HeartMath in Boulder Creek, CA, researched the ‘vibes’ we feel when we meet with people. Exchanges can be pleasant or unpleasant, boring, or stimulating. But they are not a product of our imagination.  They are very real. They found out what was in the space in between.  It was all about exchanging energy.  Research showed that the energy we project to one another can be measured by monitoring our heart rhythms. Whether we project coherent or incoherent vibrations is the difference between transmitting healthy energy or experiencing stress. So, I continued working on communication in the space in between by sharing information about the ongoing research in workshops and with nursing staff and administrators.  Now communication classes could be based on the solid foundation that continued to expand over the years.  The sandpiper was happy!

And so, like the sandpiper, I continue to dip my beak in soil that nourishes my growth and feeds my passions to explore different paths to fertile ground.

            Years later I wrote a children’s book, Granny Green Says…Listen Louder which was a direct result of 40-years of experience with patients and medical staff members to improve interpersonal communication. Granny turned out to be a great communications teacher, though it was difficult for her to stop talking and learn to listen louder.  But she came to understand the importance of energetic connections with the children who came to tell her their stories because she listened louder.  Granny continues to teach us to listen louder.  Her aim is to encourage people to put away their cell phones and meet each other face-to-face and heart-to-heart.  Granny is available on Amazon. She’s looking forward to sharing her vibes with you in the space in between.