By Elana Miller, MD - Read this article on Zen Psychiatry
Two and a half years ago, I was sitting in the small waiting area outside the trauma bay of the Los Angeles County ER. My boyfriend had just been in a motorcycle accident, and I was there by myself, staring in a half-daze off into space, barely holding it together as I agonized over what was happening as doctors and nurses rushed around his hospital bed.
An older man saw me there and sat down next to me. He said something along the lines of, “Hey… you doing okay?” He chatted with me for a few minutes. It turns out his son had just been in a motorcycle accident, too, and had been airlifted to the emergency room. He asked me about my boyfriend and told me a bit about his son.
To be honest, my mind was a million miles away during this conversation, and I don’t even really remember the details of what was said. It felt like any word that came out of my mouth would devolve into tears, so I didn’t say too much. When he looked at me, concerned, and asked if I would like to go get dinner with him and his other son (“My treat,” he insisted), I brushed the invitation away. “I don’t think I should leave,” I said. “You know, in case the doctors have some news.”
I’ve thought about that moment about a million times. I was too preoccupied to show any appreciation at the time, but that man—a total stranger whose son was probably in worse condition than my boyfriend—cared about me and my wellbeing. He saw I was distraught and went to comfort me. It was dinnertime so he offered me food and company.
Our world is ruled by love.
Later in the evening my boyfriend needed a CT and so was wheeled off to the scanner. It was hospital policy that I couldn’t go with him, so I asked the nurse about a million questions. “Where are you going? How long will it take? When will you be back? How will I know if something’s happened?”
Off he went and I found some windowsill in the corner of the hospital, put my head in my hands, and started sobbing. I was there maybe 45 minutes when the same nurse came up to me. I’m not even sure how she found me, and imagine she must have been searching around for a while.
She said there was a delay in my boyfriend getting his CT scan, and offered that I could come sit with him in the radiology waiting area (“It’s against the rules, but don’t worry about that”). She said she had been thinking about me—”I just figured you’d be down here worrying and upset, and your boyfriend wants you up there, too, so I came down to get you.” She said it casually, but the action was driven by compassion.
Our world is ruled by love.
Later in the night, at about 1am, my boyfriend was in surgery, and I was in the small waiting room on one of the upper floors of the hospital, outside the operating rooms. It was a waiting room I had walked by mindlessly 1000 times as a medical student (LA County is where I did my medical training), and now I was the one inside the room instead of walking by.
The only other person there was a young Mexican man whose uncle was having lung surgery for cancer. I picked up an old Oprah magazine sitting on one of the side tables, but my eyes couldn’t focus on it, so I just held it on my lap. The young man started chatting with me and asked me who I was waiting for.
He seemed to sense that even though I was trying to keep it together, I desperately needed reassurance. He started regaling me with stories of the amazing care his family members and friends had gotten at LA County (which I found especially endearing because I used to work there).
“These doctors are really good,” he insisted. “Your boyfriend is going to be fine.” For some reason, I asked him if he thought my boyfriend would be able to be discharged the next day. “Yeah, I’m sure of it!” he said. “They’re good here, he’ll be outta here in no time.”
Our world is ruled by love.
These are just a few stories from one night, and there are countless more acts of kindness I’ve experienced.
There was the time, in a brilliant move, I thought it would be a good idea to hold my oversized wallet in my tiny shorts pocket as I carried groceries from the market to my car (surprise surprise, the wallet fell out somewhere in the parking lot). I didn’t realize my mistake until an hour later, and anxiously rushed back to the market, expecting the wallet to be long gone. I went into the store and asked the first employee I came across if anyone had turned in a lost wallet. She went to a drawer and pulled my wallet out—”Is this it?”
Our world is ruled by love.
Even when there is hate, it’s not because there is a lack of love, but rather because there are obstacles to love being fully expressed. Sometimes we are afraid that our own needs won’t be met. Sometimes we forget that we are all interconnected, that my joy is your joy, and that my pain is your pain.
After all, when you see a beautiful sunset, it’s not just your joy, it’s ours. When I sit in traffic on the 405 (the infamous North-South freeway in Los Angeles), wanting to gouge my eyeballs out, all I have to do is look around at the other drivers to see it’s not just my pain, but our pain.
I’ve thought so many times about those strangers who reached out to me that day in the hospital, and how their kindness still touches me years later, even though I couldn’t express it at the time. So share love. Be kind. Receive kindness. We’re all in this together.
Our world is ruled by love.
***
Photo by epsos.de
No comments:
Post a Comment