I had a sweet, yet powerful experience at work on Friday that humbled me and taught me that there is a beautiful freedom in not always fixing things. Because it happened at work, and regarding a patient, I can’t say much due to HIPAA rules, but I think what I can safely say is that this woman, I’ll call her “Regina,” is essentially quadriplegic. (For example, even though she does have some very limited use of her hands/arms, she is unable to feed herself.)
Regina’s been having a rough time. She asked me for a blessing
the day previous (Thursday), which I gave her. Then on Friday, I got a message
that she wanted to see me. I’m not going to lie here, even though this is going
to make me seem like a terrible person, because even though I love Regina, it’s
sometimes hard to be around her because it takes a lot of energy to interact with
her. I know that sounds horrible, especially when she is clearly not at fault,
but it’s important that you know that because it sets the stage for what
follows.
In the afternoon I decided it was time for me to go visit
with her to see what she needed from me. As I walked to her room, I mentally prepared
myself, as I usually do for each patient, in order to ready myself for what I knew
would most likely be a draining experience. I gowned up fully, (because, thanks
Covid!), and went in.
She started by thanking me for giving her a blessing. She
recalled me placing a dab of oil on her head, but didn’t remember much after
that. I typically don’t recall much when I give a blessing, but I told her all
that I could remember. Then she started talking to me about her fears. These
kinds of conversations aren’t new and part of why it takes a lot of energy to
be with her, but I always see it as an opportunity to provide a listening ear
and to give some words of comfort, if I can. As she was speaking, I remember
praying – as I often do – for the guidance/inspiration to know what to say in
response and what I can do to “fix” the situation. The feeling that I got in my
heart was this, “you don’t need to say anything, just be here.”
Something inside of me became calm and clear. I suddenly
felt a great release. I believe it was the feeling of being relieved of a
burden. In this case, the burden I felt was that I needed to have the right
words or advice in order to make Regina feel better, as in, to fix the
situation. I know that my desire to help her is absolutely sincere, which
somehow also increases the burden of needing to know what to say in order to help.
But when I received the message that I just needed to focus on being there and
not worry about what I could say, I felt that burden lift.
I stood next to her bed and reached out and held her hand.
And I just listened. She shared how lonely she felt in her trying
circumstances, and that she had never said that aloud to anyone and how scary
it was to even say it out loud. I continued to listen. I grabbed a tissue and
wiped her tears away when she couldn’t hold them back. And I was just there,
not trying to fix anything, but just being there. She point blank asked me how
much time she had left on this earth. I told her that I couldn’t answer that,
but that if she was still here, there’s a reason and that she is not forgotten
and that all of her trials, troubles, and fears are known by the Savior who
loves her deeply and would compensate for every pain and for every loss, if not
in this life, then in the life to come.
She didn’t say much more after that, but did say thank you,
and I left.
It struck me profoundly while she was talking to me that she
didn’t really need me to fix anything for her. What she needed, more than
anything, was just for someone to be there and to listen. I was humbled and
grateful for the inspiration to do just that.
When I walked away, I reflected on how many times in my life
would I have loved someone to just be there for me in that same way – not to
fix anything, but just to let me talk and just to be there. The answer is –
often. I would have OFTEN loved just to have someone there to talk to and not
try to fix anything, but to just listen and just be there for me. Certainly,
there have been times in my life when someone was there for me, and I don’t
mean to minimize that. I think it’s just that, however often it did happen, I
still would have wanted that more. Maybe that’s just me being selfish. I am
deeply grateful for those who have been there for me when I needed someone to
talk to.
But for so much of my life, my experience was that people were
always trying to fix things. If I came to them with a problem it was just an
immediate laundry list of what I needed to do to fix the situation and then
just move on. I didn’t know how to say that that isn’t what I really wanted. I didn’t
want an immediate fix. Most of the time, I didn’t really need advice anyway. I
think I just wanted someone to listen to me and I just wanted to know that
someone was there for me.
Sometimes it’s hard to remember that because my job is all
about “fixing” things. It’s literally my job to rehab people on their
cognition, and speech, and swallowing, and whatever. My job is to “fix their
problem” and help them be as independent and safe and they can. I also think this
can be tough because the desire to fix things is healthy! It’s a reflection of
the care and concern that we have for each other; if you come to me with a
problem, I want to help you fix it because I care about you and I want you to
be happy. But even though the desire to help, i.e., by fixing things, is good,
it shouldn’t be underestimated how powerful the desire to help by NOT fixing
things – and just being there – can be.
I guess this post is kind of supplement to a previous post
about finding value even while broken. Maybe this is just a continuation of
that idea. Not only can we have value while being broken, but sometimes there
can be great healing in not trying to fix anything.
Maybe this is also an invitation for all of us – myself included.
The next time someone comes to you with a problem, maybe you could ask yourself,
“does this person really need me to fix anything, or do they just need someone
to listen to them and just be there?” Paradoxically, maybe people trying to fix
me all the time is what taught me that I was a problem…
What would it be like if we could be a world of just being
there for each other, instead of always feeling like we have to fix each other?
I think we would find a lot of beauty in not needing to fix everything – and
just being there – just like I did with Regina.
