Showing posts with label normalization. Show all posts
Showing posts with label normalization. Show all posts
Sunday, June 27, 2010
In Central Park, the Sky Really Is Falling
Yesterday afternoon, a branch fell off a tree just outside the seal lion exhibit at the Central Park Zoo
This is the sort of story that makes you gasp and exclaim how awful it is. The sheer randomness of this event, coupled with the death of a tiny child, seems especially horrible. As we start to think about it, we wonder why it doesn't happen more often. After all, parks are full of tall trees, and branches fall off trees, so it was just a matter of time, we suppose, before this happened. And if it happened once, it can happen again.
If that's how we feel, imagine what it would be like to be just outside sea lion exhibit at the Central Park Zoo and suddenly hear a loud noise and see a woman and her baby crushed by a falling tree limb. Gianna's father witnessed his baby's death and his wife's serious injury, completely powerless to stop it. There were certainly others, perhaps not as focused on that particular pair, who saw the accident or arrived shortly thereafter.
A security guard at the scene was interviewed by the New York Times
he heard a loud crack, like a thunderclap, and saw the branch plummet. After the mother fell, members of her family shrieked, the guard said, and her husband began screaming and jumping around. “He was going crazy,” the guard said.The phrase "going crazy" really bothers me in this context. First of all, what, exactly, is our expectation for rational behavior when you have just seen two of the most important people in your life critically injured in a freak accident? How do we expect this man to act under the circumstances? Is screaming and jumping around really that odd?
The second problem I have with this description is that the number one thing I talk to people who have been traumatized about is the sense they have that they are going crazy. I would say that at least 80% of what I do is assure people that there reactions are typical and understandable. They are not crazy, the situation is. Behavior and reactions that would be totally bizarre on a regular day or in reaction to regular stress make total sense when the world has turned upside down.
At the same time, I can't blame the guard too much. He just witnessed something awful as well, and frankly I wish the press wasn't so eager to get quotes from people in situations like this. I doubt very much that the security guard actually thinks Mike Ricciutti's reaction was so out of whack. He was describing the scene, and he used a turn of phrase that was unfortunate. Under the circumstances, I can more than forgive him.
I really hope everyone who was in that part of the park yesterday gets some support. It's going to be hard to walk under trees for a while, not because trees really are, statistically, all that dangerous, but because they seem that way. I also hope all of those people have a chance to talk to each other at some point. They need to know they aren't crazy, that this really was awful, and that the others around them didn't think their reaction was nuts. It's easy, at moments like this, to feel like you're the only one reacting the way you are. It might help them to know that others are gasping and exclaiming how awful it is, too.
Topics:
Central Park,
New Jersey,
New York,
normalization,
stress symptoms,
witness,
world view
|
0
comments
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Abnormally Normal
Yesterday, I spent the day training crisis team members in Group Crisis Intervention. A big part of the material for the first day of the class is learning to distinguish normal stress reactions after a traumatic event from those which may require more intervention. Sometimes, the difference is pretty obvious (shaking is normal, bleeding is not). Sometimes, however, pretty disturbing symptoms are considered normal. For example, it's not at all unusual for a traumatized person who is usually quite calm and collected to jump at even relatively small noises. I think about 80% of the benefit of early crisis intervention comes from telling people that they are normal.
However, I never use the world normal to describe these things, because they don't feel normal. Someone who cannot concentrate for 30 seconds on the simplest task does not like to hear that he or she is normal, because that seems to be saying that they should feel OK about it, and they don't. I prefer to tell people that their reaction is a typical reaction of a normal person to a very abnormal event. That sits easier with most people.
Traumatic events feel inherently random. They disrupt our sense of order in the universe. So it's hard to imagine, sometimes, that either the events themselves or our reactions to them could possibly fall into predictable patterns. On the face of it, that implies that the events themselves are predictable and, by extension, preventable, even though often they are not. The fact that you can make predictions about an event or people's reactions to it once it has happened does not mean that the event is any less horrific or that it could have been foreseen.
I thought about this last night as I read the news that a suspect has been arrested in the beating murders of five members of the Gee family in Beason, Illinois last month. The suspect is the former son-in-law of one of the victims. In other words, a man is suspected of beating his former father-in-law and his family to death. The fact that the suspect is a family member is predictable. Family annihilation murders are often committed by male family members. In fact, I actually predicted that this was committed by a family member when it first happened. This pattern is typical. But I still find it hard to call something so awful by the label "normal."
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Trauma Witness and Witness for the Prosecution
Gary Haup, who was standing with Tiller when he was shot, described what happened and then said that what he heard was a "pop."
Keith Martin, another usher, said that he heard a loud noise and saw Tiller on the floor. He said he recognized the man who shot him, but couldn't remember when. He also said that the man
had a horrible smell about him. ... It wasn't just somebody at the gym smell. It was something more, an ammonia-type smell.He testified that the shooter threatened him as he chased him, and that he could see "straight down the barrel" of the man's gun.
These statements caught my eye because they are really vivid. Haup didn't hear "something" he heard a pop. The suspect didn't smell "bad" he had a very specific, unusual odor. And he didn't just see the gun, he "stared right down the barrel."
There are two things going on here. The first is that the prosecutor has almost certainly told these men to be as specific as possible with as much detail as they can remember. That's good prep work with witnesses.
The second thing that is going on here is that these witnesses are remembering vivid detail. That is what happens during traumatic events. When our bodies experience the "fight or flight" response with which we are all familiar, our brains flood with a neurotransmitter responsible for memory. All of our sensory exposure from that instant on is much more likely to be held in memory. We don't just remember what happened, we remember the sensory details. If you've ever been driving along and suddenly had to slam on the brakes because the car in front of you stopped short, you've seen this in action. You can't remember one thing from the second before it happened, but you can remember every little detail right afterward.
From an evolutionary standpoint, this makes sense. Natural selection favored those animals who could react quickly when faced with a threat -- that's how the fight or flight response evolved in the first place. But it also favored those animals who could identify a threat quickly. In order to do that, they had to learn from their experiences what was dangerous and what wasn't, and how best to react. And in order to do that, they had to keep track of everything they saw, smelled, tasted, felt or heard when something bad happened. That way, when it happened again, they could run even sooner.
The bad news for modern humans is that having heightened senses to perceive danger is not actually all that useful in today's society. Unless you are being shot at with some frequency, remembering what a shooter smells like, for example, is not actually going to help you survive. But it is going to set you up for some troublesome associations, without you necessarily knowing it. The next time Mr. Martin smells someone with that odd ammonia odor, his body is going to shift directly into danger mode, even though he will probably not be in danger.
If this has ever happened to you -- being thrown into overdrive by a smell or a sound that you subconsciously associate with a dangerous or stressful situation -- you probably know that it can make you feel completely insane. The good news, however, is that a) it's typical and b) it usually goes away in a few months. You will still have associations with that sensory experience, but they won't be so complete and alarming.
The good news is also that, if you have to, you'll be one heck of a detailed court witness.
(For additional Quarterbacking on Dr. Tiller's Murder, see The Tiller Family's Critical Incident)
Friday, July 10, 2009
Flu Preparedness: Body AND Mind
We were discussing plans to set up "triage centers" around the county. The idea was that, in a major health emergency, hospital resources would be used solely to treat the very sick. Because we know that roughly 80% of people who seek health care in these situations are actually the "worried well," we don't want those people overwhelming hospital emergency rooms. By setting up remote centers, health professionals can figure out who is actually sick and send them to the hospital, those who are panicked but not sick can get some support, and the hospital can concentrate on healing. The media would be used to let people know that they should go to their triage center, not the ER. Great.
The Quarterback, being an impudent sort, asked what seemed to me like an obvious question: What are you going to do about the people who go to the ER anyway. The response? People will be told not to go to the ER. But what about the people who do? They will have been told not to.
I bring this up, because the Department of Health and Human Services had a big flu preparedness summit yesterday, and kicked off a public contest to create a relevant Public Service Announcement on preventing the spread of influenza. The Quarterback tries, really tries, not to be cynical, but I can't help but think that for all we learned from our practice run back in April with H1N1 "swine" flu, there's a lot we still haven't learned. I have ranted at some length in a previous post about the failures of communication and the failure to take mental health into consideration this spring. The message may be cleaner and smoother now, but it is still pretty much the same.
The stance of the Obama administration seems to now be that if we tell people "Don't panic, just prepare" and we give them things to do to prepare, they won't panic. It's not that there's no truth to this. Panic is in part caused by a feeling of powerlessness, and giving people something useful to do combats that feeling. As my regular readers know, our minds desperately want to feel like the situation is under control, and certainly being useful helps with that.
But that's not all our minds need. Our minds need good information, and our minds need to feel heard. It is all well and good to tell us not to panic. Many if not most people won't, just as most people won't go to the ER if we tell them to go to a triage center. But just as we have to have a plan to deal with the people who come to the ER anyway, we have to plan for those who are panicking when they don't need to.
In the Quarterback's humble opinion, it would help the panicking folks a lot to hear, "We totally understand why you might be anxious about this. We are confident that we are ready, and here is why. If you are feeling really anxious, here are some things you can do to help yourself and your family deal with the stress." We know some people are going to overreact. Are we ready to deal with them preemptively as well as reactively?
The administration is telling schools to get ready to be "significantly impacted." As someone in the front lines of that battlefield, the Quarterback appreciates the heads up. But mostly what they are talking about is preparing for school closures, significant student and staff illnesses, and possibly administering vaccine on site. That's all important, but that's not what I'm preparing for right now. While the nurses at school work on that side of things, I'm thinking about how we can best prevent panic among our parents and staff. Last year, we had parents asking if we were going to stop serving tacos in the lunch room (which is both racist and incredibly, incredibly stupid) and teachers refusing to teach kids who had vacationed in Mexico. Telling those people not to panic is not going to be enough. Telling them what to do about their panic might help.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Trigger: It's Not Just for Roy Rogers Anymore
The Quarterback has a friend who has Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The details aren't important, she just does.
Recently, she told me that while she enjoyed reading this blog, she thought she might have to stop, because it triggers her. If you've never been triggered you may not have the first clue what it means. Once you have been, you don't have any doubt that that's what it was.
Simply put, when someone is triggered, they suddenly feel the emotions and physical sensations of something really awful -- often something really awful from their past, but not always -- because of some association with the present. People with PTSD of course are more easily triggered and their reactions when they are triggered can be much more severe. But really, anyone can be triggered, and sometimes the connections can be quite tenuous.
I will use myself by way of illustration -- I don't know of anyone else who has volunteered to have their personal trauma reactions exposed to public scrutiny. One of the standard things that instructors warn you about when you take classes in Critical Incident Stress Management is that some scenario or other that is being used in a practice exercise may trigger you. So I'm going to warn you that I'm about to share a scenario that triggered me, and encourage you to take a deep breath, maybe have some tea, because it might well trigger you.
Last summer I took the Strategic Response to Crisis class at an ICISF regional conference. The practice scenarios in this class all build on one another. First there's a car accident in a small town. Then there's a leak at the chemical plant, causing the town to be evacuated. Then a school administrator completes a suicide, and it turns out he was responsible for part of the evacuation in which someone died. Then some kids on a hiking trip get lost in the mountains, and a rescuer falls over a cliff. In our class, we joked that this town was about as safe to live in as the fictional town of Cabot Cove, Maine was in the old TV series Murder She Wrote.
About the third or fourth scenario involved a panicked mother coming up to a roadblock during the evacuation and saying she couldn't reach her babysitter. Sure enough, the sitter had missed the evacuation notice, and both she and the baby were dead. When we reached that part of the script, there was a collective gasp and sort of a thud feeling in the group. And there was that same thud in my gut. Something must have shown in my face, because my instructor, the incomparable Doug Mitchell, asked if I was OK. I said, "This is a hard one for me" and he told me to take a walk. (As an aside, I went to the ladies room and Doug came to find me and sent someone in to drag me out. I enjoy telling people that Doug Mitchell once followed me into the ladies room.)
It wasn't that anything like this had ever happened to me or anyone I knew. It just represented the worst fear I had ever had as a parent. The fact that it had happened, even fictionally, represented on some level that it actually could happen, and my panic and all the associated emotions just flooded me. Doug did that which we do -- he walked and talked with me for a bit and told me I was normal, these things happen, and then I went back to class.
The thing I want to highlight here is that he told me I was normal. There are different ways people like to phrase this message, and different phrasings that different people like to hear:
- What you're going through is pretty typical for people in your situation
- You're having the normal reactions of a normal person under abnormal circumstances
- I'd be worried about you if you weren't feeling a little off
- I often hear that from people who have gone through something like this
Personally, I prefer the very professional wording, "You're not crazy." And I figure that between 80 and 90% of what I do in crisis intervention is deliver that message. People under stress feel like they are losing their mind. Reassurance that they're not goes a long way.
Which brings me back to my friend, and her triggering. Triggering is a real phenomenon. It happens to most people at some point in their lives, whether they have PTSD or not. So, if you ever read anything in this blog that triggers you, or causes secondary trauma even to the slightest degree, let the Quarterback preemptively tell you that you're not crazy (well, you might be, but this isn't evidence of it). Give yourself a break, do what you need to do to feel better, and don't feel like you have to read the rest of the post. I'll live.
Monday, June 15, 2009
On Openings and Closure
Yesterday, the Monday Morning Crisis Quarterback ranted about how important the recovery of loved ones' remains is in the healing process. This got me thinking about how we as a culture and we as crisis responders think about the bodies of the dead.
When we think about Themes for crisis response, one that sometimes comes up is the issue of whether or not there will be an open casket at the funeral or visitation. Sometimes the death is so grisly that having an open casket is simply not an option. And those in the CISM biz will sometimes say, "Not having an open casket interferes with people's sense of closure."
I always cringe when I hear this, because it is said with such authority and as though any idiot could figure it out, but it isn't universally true. I had never been to a funeral with an open casket until I was an adult. Jewish funerals do not have open caskets. So failing to have an open casket doesn't interfere with anything for me or my family.
The signs and symptoms of distress that are displayed by those exposed to trauma, and the thoughts and feelings they report are so universal that it's easy to forget that this experience, like all experiences, is rooted in culture. Culture is the lens through which we see absolutely everything, and sometimes that changes what we see or how we see it. We tend to assume that the way we see things is the "normal" way, particularly if the culture we come from is dominant in our society. This is where the listening side of crisis intervention is so important.
It is not uncommon at all for me to hear, as I work with traumatized people, some discussion of whether or not there will be an open casket and how important having one is to the person and their sense of this being a "real" funeral. I know my job is to hear that distress, normalize it, and help the person cope with it. I try to say, "It sounds like having an open casket is very important to you. That makes sense, because it is part of how you understand death. Not having one takes this abnormal situation and makes it even more abnormal for you."
It is not my job, nor should it be anyone's job, to say, "You don't really need that. My family never has open caskets." Yet I also know that, during a group intervention, what I say will be heard by everyone in the group, so I also don't say, "Yes, having an open casket is very important for closure." Who knows what the next person in the circle is used to, or how that will or will not alienate them from the intervention and their sense of trust in me. On the other hand, I have been in interventions where my partner said just that, and it makes me cringe -- not for myself, I can handle it -- but for anyone else for whom closed caskets are the norm.
I don't mean to criticize my colleagues -- we all do the best we can. But how many other things come up in interventions that I, or they, treat as "just normal" when they're really cultural? It's something to think about. I guess Quarterbacks are only human, too.
When we think about Themes for crisis response, one that sometimes comes up is the issue of whether or not there will be an open casket at the funeral or visitation. Sometimes the death is so grisly that having an open casket is simply not an option. And those in the CISM biz will sometimes say, "Not having an open casket interferes with people's sense of closure."
I always cringe when I hear this, because it is said with such authority and as though any idiot could figure it out, but it isn't universally true. I had never been to a funeral with an open casket until I was an adult. Jewish funerals do not have open caskets. So failing to have an open casket doesn't interfere with anything for me or my family.
The signs and symptoms of distress that are displayed by those exposed to trauma, and the thoughts and feelings they report are so universal that it's easy to forget that this experience, like all experiences, is rooted in culture. Culture is the lens through which we see absolutely everything, and sometimes that changes what we see or how we see it. We tend to assume that the way we see things is the "normal" way, particularly if the culture we come from is dominant in our society. This is where the listening side of crisis intervention is so important.
It is not uncommon at all for me to hear, as I work with traumatized people, some discussion of whether or not there will be an open casket and how important having one is to the person and their sense of this being a "real" funeral. I know my job is to hear that distress, normalize it, and help the person cope with it. I try to say, "It sounds like having an open casket is very important to you. That makes sense, because it is part of how you understand death. Not having one takes this abnormal situation and makes it even more abnormal for you."
It is not my job, nor should it be anyone's job, to say, "You don't really need that. My family never has open caskets." Yet I also know that, during a group intervention, what I say will be heard by everyone in the group, so I also don't say, "Yes, having an open casket is very important for closure." Who knows what the next person in the circle is used to, or how that will or will not alienate them from the intervention and their sense of trust in me. On the other hand, I have been in interventions where my partner said just that, and it makes me cringe -- not for myself, I can handle it -- but for anyone else for whom closed caskets are the norm.
I don't mean to criticize my colleagues -- we all do the best we can. But how many other things come up in interventions that I, or they, treat as "just normal" when they're really cultural? It's something to think about. I guess Quarterbacks are only human, too.
Friday, June 12, 2009
The 2009 Flu Pandemic
Well, it finally happened. Yesterday, the World Health Organization moved the Pandemic Alert Level to 6 (pandemic underway), in honor of a huge increase in H1N1 cases in Australia, which is in flu season. Perhaps the most remarkable thing about this is that it wasn't anywhere close to the top story in yesterday's news. Think back to the first week of May, and what would have happened if the alert level had gone to 6 then.
In the beginning of May, we were all in a complete panic here in the U.S.. Now we seem to be uttering a collective yawn. What happened? And why couldn't we have been so laid back 6 weeks ago?
The biggest difference for folks in the U.S. between now and 6 weeks ago is that, having lived with H1N1 in our midst for a month and a half, we have realized that we are not all going to die. On May 1, we were not so sure. Between the time that "swine flu" came to the U.S. and yesterday, we learned a lot of information: that the seasonal flu kills 36,000 Americans every year, so a few deaths was not a big deal by comparison (although clearly still a big deal to those patients and their families); that H1N1 in the United States turns out to have a death rate of less than .1% of cases, which is the rate for a typical seasonal flu; and that "pandemic" actually doesn't have anything to do with the severity of the disease.
You might argue that we had to live through the last 6-8 weeks to really believe that this wasn't that big a deal, but I'm not sure that's true. This is a situation where folks in authority managed their message so well that they didn't actually give us what we needed.
If you watched TV, listened to the radio, or read e-mail the last week of April or the first week of May, you heard the lockstep mantra: don't panic but do be concerned, wash your hands often, stay home if you are sick. I got emails from my school district as an employee, and from that same district as a parent. I also heard from the local health department, the state health department, the CDC, the WHO, my congressman and President Obama. And all of that was good, but it wasn't enough, as evidenced by the fact that people were flooding emergency rooms, demanding that neighbors who had been to Mexico be quarantined, and even, in one case, asking why we were still serving tacos in our lunchrooms (really, the Monday Morning Crisis Quarterback never lies!)
The problem was that we didn't really understand what was going on. The data about flu mortality rates and how this compared to the typical flu came out achingly slowly, and was not well publicized. Joe Biden's "off the cuff" statements that we shouldn't even be taking the subway didn't help.
Good information was hard to find. Each health organization was reporting statistics to the next one up the chain once a day, but not every one was reporting at the same time. The result was that the CDC might report at 11 AM EDT on Tuesday, but the data they reported from Michigan might have been reported to them Monday at noon. In turn, the WHO, upon getting the CDC's report, might well wait 12 or more hours to update their data. The result was that the WHO might be reporting cases from Michigan on Tuesday morning, almost 48 hours later than Michigan published them. Speaking of Michigan, in the Quarterback's fair state the Department of Community Health was releasing press releases that did not match what was on their website, so if you heard something on the news and wanted to learn more, you would go to the website and discover that what you heard did not appear to be true. I'm sure other jurisdictions had their own problems.
The result of this was that the most up to date place to get information was Wikipedia, which is probably not where most public health officials want people to be getting their information. And the mantra of "don't panic" lost credibility, because it was so obvious that the factual information was jumbled that it seemed likely the information about the severity of the situation was also jumbled.

Then, of course, there was the issue of what the United States was doing to respond. If you went online looking for information about pandemic influenza preparedness, you might well have found this chart. If you look at it carefully, you will note that "first human case in North America" is U.S. Response stage 4, which maps to WHO alert phase 6, which is a pandemic. But we were only in alert phase 5. Why?? Because the U.S. stages presumed that the disease would emerge in Asia, and were fairly useless for a Mexico/U.S. outbreak.
In the end, though, the most important problem that kept us from hearing "don't panic" was the complete and utter failure on the part of public figures to acknowledge that we were already panicking. There is an idea out there that if we manage the factual message, people will manage their emotions, and that if we acknowledge the emotions we cause people to be emotional. In CISM, however, we find that the opposite is true. Acknowledging the emotional response, normalizing it, and letting people know that it's understandable lends credibility to everything else you say.
In the long run, it may not matter. However, if H1N1 comes back around in a more virulent form next flu season, the Quarterback hopes that the CDC has more credibility in getting us take it seriously than it did in getting us not to panic this spring.
In the beginning of May, we were all in a complete panic here in the U.S.. Now we seem to be uttering a collective yawn. What happened? And why couldn't we have been so laid back 6 weeks ago?
The biggest difference for folks in the U.S. between now and 6 weeks ago is that, having lived with H1N1 in our midst for a month and a half, we have realized that we are not all going to die. On May 1, we were not so sure. Between the time that "swine flu" came to the U.S. and yesterday, we learned a lot of information: that the seasonal flu kills 36,000 Americans every year, so a few deaths was not a big deal by comparison (although clearly still a big deal to those patients and their families); that H1N1 in the United States turns out to have a death rate of less than .1% of cases, which is the rate for a typical seasonal flu; and that "pandemic" actually doesn't have anything to do with the severity of the disease.
You might argue that we had to live through the last 6-8 weeks to really believe that this wasn't that big a deal, but I'm not sure that's true. This is a situation where folks in authority managed their message so well that they didn't actually give us what we needed.
If you watched TV, listened to the radio, or read e-mail the last week of April or the first week of May, you heard the lockstep mantra: don't panic but do be concerned, wash your hands often, stay home if you are sick. I got emails from my school district as an employee, and from that same district as a parent. I also heard from the local health department, the state health department, the CDC, the WHO, my congressman and President Obama. And all of that was good, but it wasn't enough, as evidenced by the fact that people were flooding emergency rooms, demanding that neighbors who had been to Mexico be quarantined, and even, in one case, asking why we were still serving tacos in our lunchrooms (really, the Monday Morning Crisis Quarterback never lies!)
The problem was that we didn't really understand what was going on. The data about flu mortality rates and how this compared to the typical flu came out achingly slowly, and was not well publicized. Joe Biden's "off the cuff" statements that we shouldn't even be taking the subway didn't help.
Good information was hard to find. Each health organization was reporting statistics to the next one up the chain once a day, but not every one was reporting at the same time. The result was that the CDC might report at 11 AM EDT on Tuesday, but the data they reported from Michigan might have been reported to them Monday at noon. In turn, the WHO, upon getting the CDC's report, might well wait 12 or more hours to update their data. The result was that the WHO might be reporting cases from Michigan on Tuesday morning, almost 48 hours later than Michigan published them. Speaking of Michigan, in the Quarterback's fair state the Department of Community Health was releasing press releases that did not match what was on their website, so if you heard something on the news and wanted to learn more, you would go to the website and discover that what you heard did not appear to be true. I'm sure other jurisdictions had their own problems.
The result of this was that the most up to date place to get information was Wikipedia, which is probably not where most public health officials want people to be getting their information. And the mantra of "don't panic" lost credibility, because it was so obvious that the factual information was jumbled that it seemed likely the information about the severity of the situation was also jumbled.
Then, of course, there was the issue of what the United States was doing to respond. If you went online looking for information about pandemic influenza preparedness, you might well have found this chart. If you look at it carefully, you will note that "first human case in North America" is U.S. Response stage 4, which maps to WHO alert phase 6, which is a pandemic. But we were only in alert phase 5. Why?? Because the U.S. stages presumed that the disease would emerge in Asia, and were fairly useless for a Mexico/U.S. outbreak.
In the end, though, the most important problem that kept us from hearing "don't panic" was the complete and utter failure on the part of public figures to acknowledge that we were already panicking. There is an idea out there that if we manage the factual message, people will manage their emotions, and that if we acknowledge the emotions we cause people to be emotional. In CISM, however, we find that the opposite is true. Acknowledging the emotional response, normalizing it, and letting people know that it's understandable lends credibility to everything else you say.
In the long run, it may not matter. However, if H1N1 comes back around in a more virulent form next flu season, the Quarterback hopes that the CDC has more credibility in getting us take it seriously than it did in getting us not to panic this spring.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Meet the Quarterback
- Naomi Zikmund-Fisher
- is a clinical social worker, former school Principal and a Crisis Consultant for schools and community organizations. You can learn more about her at www.SchoolCrisisConsultant.com
Contact the Quarterback
Monday Morning Crisis Quarterback on Facebook
Subscribe via email
Quarterback for Kindle