As ambulance strikes continue, patient wait times outside hospital emergency departments continue to rise, and the cost of living becomes ever-more unmanageable, stress is at a high. Finding time to slow down and do things we enjoy feels impossible and, where possible, perhaps irresponsible or frivolous. When the state of the world feels too serious or dire, it feels like we should be doing something important—and every reader of this journal certainly spends much of their time this way already.
However, there is something to be said for fun, play, laughter and engaging in mindless tasks to relax. Some days, I feel like I'm running around trying to get things done around the house. Then I look at my husband, and he is lying on the sofa playing chess on his phone or watching silly, funny videos. I feel frustrated that he should be helping me. When I voice this to him, he says he has been working all day and needs a bit of time to unwind. When put like that, it sounds fair enough. But our responsibilities around the house don't stop just because we are tired—or do they? If I say I also need to unwind, he asks me why I don't rest or relax with a book. I go on to list all the things that need doing but he continues to challenge me with what will happen if I don't do them. If we are both too tired to cook, we could order in or toss something simple together like we would for lunch.
In modern-day society, we are all busy, and doing our best—but some days, we have less capacity than other days. And on those days, we need grace. We may need to manage our expectations (and perhaps challenge where these are coming from), allow ourselves more time and space to rest and tune into our needs. Even though I become frustrated with my husband for his cat-like tendencies towards hyper-relaxation, it is also one of the things I love most about him. And while no reader must ever repeat this to him… perhaps I could take a page from his book.
I can be a busy body and then burn out. In this way, I have had to learn how to slow down, engage more in activities that fill me up, and notice what I can spend my time doing that really matters. On a day-to-day, it may feel like dinner, dishes and laundry are the important things—but how many of us will be lying on our deathbeds thinking about these things, or feeling proud of how pristine we left our kitchens? My guess is none. We are much more likely to look back on how we might have better used that time playing with our children or dancing with our spouse, laughing with a friend, indulging in a cuppa out, or taking up gardening.
Another way I have had to learn how to embrace change is in terms of technology. It is easy for me to become overwhelmed with how fast the world is moving, and how quickly it—and we—are changing. I hate how much time people spend locked into technology, and locked away from each other. And while I can see that technology helps us to advance, I am afraid of how much we also regress in terms of the things that really matter—human connection first and foremost.
In the context of healthcare, the resources available are simply not sufficient for the demand. But I am hesitant to embrace technology for fear of losing the connection, compassion and care that can only be effectively delivered by a real person. However, on page 214, Joe Frankland et al delve into how artificial intelligence might actually be optimised in a way that puts these aspects at the forefront—not leave them behind. Change is not the enemy—it is our responsibility to embrace it for our benefit without losing sight of the big things (that often disguise themselves as the little things)! And think about the lofty-feeling but all-important question—what really matters?