And once they are discharged, there aren't any places to find "us." The survivors and families are confused and angry to find the next step because often, there isn't any next steps. The hospitals take the brunt of their topsy-turvy positions because they struggle to get responses to their post-discharge surveys and live under the fear of readmission. Wouldn’t your life be simpler if you have a way to stay in touch with us? Why don't you work with a team who is collaborating to find a solution?
The dreadful, devastating experience is real and is reflected on so many issues around data. You eventually lose trust with survivors, and the data is in jeopardy. When you have restored the trust and get back in touch, why would data ever be an issue? Strokefocus is the answer.
All the survivor wants is a light at the end of the tunnel, but months that turn into years live in the dark. Your research is therefore running empty often in total disconnect with the survivor community.
I understand you are looking for data and participants to your carefully designed research projects. I have also heard so many times that you are struggling to find us. It often takes your team of very talented graduate students months to collect some data merely enough for your regression analysis. They hate how laborious it is to find us. They hate how much they have to work on the phone convincing us to come to your lab. Some of us who participated in your studies vowed to never go back. Many of us feel your researchers have no idea what we are going through and the help we want. Making matters worse, we hear that because it is so hard to demonstrate the value and impact of your research, funding becomes harder and harder to get.
After all, there are 8 million of us crying for help. Shouldn't the task of getting a few thousand data points be like a cake walk? The issue is not with data but with a disconnect that destroyed the trust between us.
Data collection is nothing more than “getting to know you” on an industrial scale. But you don’t even know, in most cases, where the “we” are. And sadly, our ties with society breaks, or disconnects, at every discharge office.
But after a while, I didn't want them to come. They said ignorant things like "Can you go home if you can't walk" (as if that condition would last forever) or "I hate seeing you in your condition" (even though I couldn't do anything about it) that added to my sorrow. Having the stroke itself is easy compared to what comes after: trouble peeing, constant and medically-induced constipation, double vision, speech and the resultant communication problems, one-sided mobility, anger, confusion, and frustration leading to depression, and lots more. I want to forget but can't.
Does my stroke experience sound vaguely familiar? Of course, it does. Stroke survivors, even though no two strokes are exactly the same, follow similar patterns of recovery, similar to Elizabeth Kubler-Ross's 5 stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance). But even Kubler-Ross, if she were alive today, would say the stroke survivors take longer to go through the steps than, say, a death of a friend.
If you do not help turn the discharge office into the starting point of a new type of connection, then you will continue to be like chasing zillions of untethered flying kites into oblivion. We both have a stake in the game! Work with us! (1)
(1) This blog was a collaboration between me and Jing (Daniel) Gu, the founder of Strokefocus.net (new release coming this month), a site that's revolutionary for stroke survivors, caregivers, family, friends, health professionals, anybody who has stroke in their genetic pool, and other people who just want to know about strokes. If you want to read more about gracious, thoughtful, and oh-so-brilliant Daniel, check out https://stroketales.blogspot.com/2016/10/a-place-for-everything-stroke-and-other.html
Thank you for that post Joyce. It resonated totally with me, an aunt of a young stroke survivor.
ReplyDeleteAnonymous, thanks for the comment!
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