Compassion Fatigue

Out of sight, out of mind. You and I don't have to look at the horror of war. It is a safe distance from our everyday lives. How easy it is to feel badly about war as long as we don't have to go there and see it. We have lives to live, children to raise, tests to study for, futures to plan for.

We remember the TV comedy M*A*S*H. Unfortunately, the real thing is happening yet again. And Hawkeye, Pierce, Radar, and Klinger are not there. Real doctors and nurses are there, facing horrors seldom seen or imagined by the American public. There have already been over 12,000 battlefield casualties from Iraq. Of course, this does not take into account the Iraqi casualties which to some seem less important.

These doctors and nurses don't have strong enough pain killers to relieve the agonizing injuries of our soldiers. In Landstuhl, Germany, where our injured young people are sent, there are 1800 doctors, nurses, and other staff who every day try to fix whatever they can. But there are so many kids who can't be fixed. One Army reservist doctor said, "It's hard to see these kids come in, and it tears your heart out."

There is an enormous price to pay for our war caregivers. They, too, become ill from the stress and strain of their daily work, from the unrelenting casualties which pour in daily. An Army psychologist talks about the problem and says, "We call it compassion fatigue." It is very much akin to battle fatigue she explains. Yet many do not seek formal treatment, sometimes because of a fear of being judged unsuitable for promotion. Others just don't feel they have the time to take care of themselves. Their patients come first. Some caregivers deal with their stress by immersing themselves in their work to keep from falling apart.

No one who hasn't been there can imagine what it is like to see a young person who has just lost an arm or suffered irreversible brain damage. We can't know how it feels to call a mom back home to tell her that her little girl is never going to be the same again.

One doctor tried to explain how hard it is. He had just called a distraught mother back in the States. Fighting back tears of his own, he said, "Ah, the mother was crying. It's difficult for me."

Words are so inadequate.