“Compassion fatigue is the price you pay for empathy.”
Compassion fatigue wasn’t something I'd paid much attention to throughout my 25-year career in long-term care. But looking back now, I can certainly attest to experiencing it, to some degree, especially the last few years while suffering from back pain and trying to cope with an ever-changing work environment.
Empathy, first of all, is about feelings; it's about being able to slip into the shoes of the sufferer and see the world from their perspective.
Compassion fatigue, on the other hand, affects the quality of care we give, because something has interfered with our ability to radiate the compassion and empathy we once felt.
When I began my career in long-term care, empathy and compassion were something that came naturally to me. I didn't have a problem slipping into the client's shoes, to help them transition through whatever emotions they were feeling. It was empowering and energizing to uplift the face of a dear elderly, to say the least, and it still is!
During the last few years of my career, however, I began to feel exhausted, both physically and emotionally, which, in turn, had affected my zeal on the job. It wasn't that I’d stopped trying to provide the best possible care for the elderly, by no means, but there was a decrease in my empathy and compassion, nevertheless.
In retrospect, I was witnessing firsthand how the health care system—in an attempt for more oversight—had refocused its efforts at the administrative level. The organizational shift was meant to streamline the workforce. But it had indirectly dealt cuts to what I’d term as CARE (Companionship Always Restores Empathy) hours out on the floor, leaving less time for client/caregiver interaction, which left me frustrated and dissatisfied because it had hindered my ability to provide the same level of care to the clients.
For our compassionate heart to continue beating an empathetic rhythm, in sync, with those in our care, we must first maintain a sense of well-being for ourselves. And to preserve this wellness state, it may require stepping back to rejuvenate and replenish both body and spirit, or setting emotional boundaries, or whatever personal means works best.
It's been three years since I've retired from my career in long-term care. And while I believe that compassion fatigue can be the price we pay for empathy, the rewards of being a caregiver (for me) far outweighed the cost of caring.
