The piece of artwork I have chosen is titled ‘The Scream’ by Norwegian artist Edvard Much. He created the artwork in 1893. The painting is often referred to as being his “soul painting” as it reveals an honest and possibly, an ugly glimpse of his inner struggle with anxiety.

The quote that accompanies the painting is as follows: “I was walking down the road with two friends when the sun set; suddenly, the sky turned as red as blood. I stopped and leaned against the fence, feeling unspeakably tired. Tongues of fire and blood stretched over the bluish black fjord. My friends went on walking, while I lagged behind, shivering with fear. Then I heard the enormous infinite scream of nature.” This painting, and its meaning, always strikes a deep cord somewhere within in me. I struggle with crippling anxiety and sometimes it over follows into the work I do. I often feel as though my anxiety controls my actions and my decisions. Although, I feel as though there are others out there who suffer along with me (“Edvard Munch | The Scream (1893) | Artsy”, 2019).

Reflection: I can distinctly remember an occurrence in which my anxiety ruled my decision making and left me thinking “Should I not just done it?” “Would the patient have been better of knowing the full gravity of her situation?”. I was placed at my general block, which was my first block of the year. It was well into the block and I was assigned a patient with a condition known as ‘Stiff Person Syndrome’. It is a rare syndrome that affects the central nervous system causing extreme muscle stiffness, rigidity and painful spasms that severely impair mobility  (“Stiff person syndrome”, 2019).

She was originally admitted for bronchitis but I was instructed to also do passive range of motion as the patient was already severely impaired and had severe upper limb contractures. As I began working with her, she would tell me about how she came to develop the condition and that her only wish was to be able to use her hands and walk again. I knew that there was no possible way that the patient would ever use her hands again, let alone walk. I was unsure as to whether it was my responsibly to explain how her current state would not allow her wish to come true. How it would effect her for the rest of her life. I developed a deep sense of anxiety every time I went to work with her, as she would continuously mention the regaining of the function in her hands and legs. I would try best to evade her questions and would think to myself “Has no one explained anything to this woman?” or “Do I have the right to tell this woman that she will never use her hands and legs again?”

My anxiety grew to such a level that I would try to see her at the end of the day so that I could mentally prepare myself to face her. My head would be screaming at me to tell her, but my mouth remained silent. Who was I to shatter this woman’s dream, who was I to tell her what a doctor should have told from day one? It left me with so many questions as to what my role is, as a physiotherapist, when it comes to telling a patient news that could potentially shatter them  and change their life. She was discharged after 4 days and I never got the chance to tell her anything. It left me thinking that I possibly gave her false hope because I did not simply tell her the truth. I let the anxiety of simply being honest and not knowing what my role was, dictate the information I told the patient. I never lied to her, I simple did not tell her the whole truth.

At the end of the day, I feel as though it is the doctors who should be telling the patients the honest truth about their condition as soon as possible and take a measure of responsibility for it. I feel that, as physiotherapists, we should be made aware of whether the patient has been informed and move on from there, picking up whatever pieces may have broken, and putting it back in a way that the patient can have a good quality of life within the constraints of the condition, as well as, understanding what the condition is and having sufficient time, with help, in coming to terms with the condition.

References

Edvard Munch | The Scream (1893) | Artsy. (2019). Retrieved 25 August 2019, from https://www.artsy.net/artwork/edvard-munch-the-scream

Stiff person syndrome | Genetic and Rare Diseases Information Center (GARD) – an NCATS Program. (2019). Retrieved 25 August 2019, from https://rarediseases.info.nih.gov/diseases/5023/stiff-person-syndrome