For some of you, the New Year has already started, but I’ve been in a lovely position where I’ve been on leave and haven’t yet started “work” – though the work of living is always present!
It’s traditional at this time to year to review the past year and plan for the coming months, so today’s post is a few musings on both.
Last year I noticed I’d been working on this blog for nearly 10 years! Astonishing really, because it was intended to be a learning experience for me during my recovery from a mTBI. It kinda grew like Topsy, and here I am 10 years down the road still blogging, albeit not so often as in the first couple of years. Over that time I’ve commented on a whole bunch of articles, made a few blunders, and put my thinking out in the public arena in a way that Academic journals just don’t really allow.
Some people would argue that my analysis is lightweight because I don’t leap into the depths of statistical analysis and research design in my commentaries. Others think I spend far too much time pondering the psychosocial and – how could I – omitting the biological. Some don’t like my reference to a biopsychosocial “model”, while others wonder what an occupational therapist is doing writing about pain psychology.
Blogging is a personal pursuit without written rules. I muse about things as part of my own processing, plus to hopefully put some useful content out online for those who don’t have the pleasure of ready access to articles. I’m interested in some of the research questions even poorly conducted research articles can pose. I’m intrigued by the relevance (or not) of findings to my own setting here in NZ. I’m fascinated by connections drawn by authors as they ponder the implications of their research question, findings and works by other people.
I write about topics that mean something to me. It’s a completely personal selection, reflecting papers I’ve recently read, topics discussed in social media, patients I’ve seen, and conversations I’ve had.
What’s the impact of blogging on anything or anyone? Well, that depends on the kind of “impacts” you’re talking about. Through blogging I’ve made contacts with clinicians and researchers (and social media people) from around the world. I’ve been able to contribute to some pretty special meetings. I’ve been asked to speak, to write, and have been in touch with so many people who have got in touch with me because of this platform.
My aim apart from satisfying my own curiousity, is to share information and help to translate from academic journals to the real world. Information locked up in journals isn’t likely to help a clinician who can’t access them! And reading, reflecting on, and integrating research into daily clinical practice is difficult. I hope some of what I write about helps to bridge that gap.
Why would an occupational therapist from New Zealand do this? Well the first question I’ll answer is why an occupational therapist – why not? And because occupational therapists are possibly the ultimate scavengers in terms of taking something that’s been explored by another discipline and applying it to their client’s own real-world setting. Occupational therapists apply clinical reasoning to help people DO in the real world, so in a sense we’re really translational scientists, applying what’s known from research into the unique context of our clients and what they need and want to do. As an occupational therapist I think I bring some unique skills to the process of translating research to clinical practice, and besides, I’ve been in this field for a few years now, so I want to temper some of the enthusiasm for whizzbang new things with some of the wisdom from older research. You know, the 1980’s and 1990’s produced some really foundational research in pain and pain management.
Why from New Zealand? What does NZ have in common with the “rest of the world”? We’re a relatively well-developed country, with a partly socialised healthcare system that struggles with many of the same problems as other developed countries with or without a socialised healthcare system. NZ struggles with a biomedically-dominated model of disease holding sway, limiting the availability of allied health professionals who focus on a more wholistic (no, it’s not a dirty word) view of health and wellbeing. Allied health professionals everywhere in the world have difficulty being heard over the clamour of medicine with it’s one-shot, high-tech and super-simple view of disease. Our work is not sexy. Our work involves being with people, and our currency is the time we spend communicating with people. We don’t rely on a brief consultation and a quick flick of a prescription, a jab of a needle or a slice of the knife. Our work is about messy human life, behaviour change, taking the time to listen to what’s important to our clients/patients and step-by-patient-step supporting them to achieve their goals.
Over the 10 years I’ve been writing, I’ve constantly heard bickering between various factions in allied health care. Mainly <puts on teacher face & granny glasses> amongst physically-oriented therapists. Mainly about trivia as to whether treatment X is “better than” treatment Y. Niggling time and again over ridiculously inflated claims, “trademarking” approaches that have been in practice for oh at least 30 years, heated arguments about whether nociception is important (well of course it is, duh), whether biomechanics is important (well yeah, just not all the time wrt pain), whether tape/laterality/neural stretches/posture/”correct technique” and on ad nauseum is crucial. Meh. The differences between us all are far less than the commonalities – and it’s only with the commonalities that we’ll actually make a change to the way pain management is done here in NZ, or the rest of the world.
So this year I intend to focus even more on allied health pulling together, looking for what we have in common, drawing comparisons with a reductionist model (whether that’s biomedical or biomechanical), and encouraging us to get involved in system change. Are you with me?