In
nursing school, we learned about wholeness as a person. We called it "shalom" and wrote
hasty papers about the way that this new concept would change our practice forever. But a dry essay is nothing like the man crying before me, confessing that he’d rather be dead than spend
more years leeching off of others. Somehow we deceive ourselves into thinking
that the elderly or disabled are perfectly content with their bed baths and 24/7 television,
as though age and illness purifies us of our humanity. But here he sat, silent and
trembling, wanting simply to be on the farm again, or actually visit his children
instead of taking up their money and making them worry. "What good am
I?" he asks quietly. My heart freezes. School does not prepare you
to truly answer that question.
Praying with Lloyd is the sweetest moment of the day. He reaches out his translucent and quivering hands (oh how like baby birds!) and grasps mine through once sterile gloves. It is a plain, calm prayer of thankfulness, asking
for hope and purpose. There are things that hourly rounding, anti-anxiety
medication, and psychotherapy will never be able to do. There are some
questions that cannot be answered with words or therapeutic touch, or simply
being kind.
A lot of the time, I'm just struggling to appear trustworthy,
knowledgeable and professional. But the thing that people like the best is just
carrying on a friendly conversation, and having silly things remembered about
them. It's really not too extraordinary, I suppose. If I'm honest, those
are the same things I want. My favorite people are those who make me feel like
I belong in their lives, as though I'm useful, funny, respected, and important
to them. I don't want sympathy or politeness, or flawless professionalism. I
want to be seen for me, and to be liked for it. I want others to want the best for me. I want my problems to touch someone else, so I feel less alone.
At the end of the day, my patients, coworkers, and family want the
same things from me that I want from them. They don't care if I win
professional awards. They want me to take a joke, give them truthful
information, listen to their questions, and show up when I say I will. If I do
those things in a decent, cheerful way, perhaps they'll feel not only cared for, but worthy of being cared
for. It's not because they're entertained, it's because I've become another
human to them instead of a faceless professional. These actions say simply “As you wish,” which is, as we all know, the
best way to say “I love you.” When we take time to kneel in the dust, to step
inside another complicated life, we are often at our
finest. Perhaps this is our true superpower.
"Beloved, it is a faithful thing you do for these brothers,
strangers as they are, who testified to your love before the church. You
will do well to send them on their journey in a manner worthy of
God."
3 John 5-6
Lloyd the Eternal