"Every man on that transport died! Harry wasn't there to save them, because you weren't there to save Harry...Strange, isn't it? Each man's life touches so many other lives. When he isn't around he leaves an awful hole, doesn't he?" - Clarence, Angel 2nd Class, from "It's a Wonderful Life."
It's May, springtime in Atlanta, so naturally I'm thinking about Christmas. Rather, as I reflect on my rich, full, crazy-making week of humbly serving all mankind, I am thinking about Clarence, Angel 2nd Class. In the classic movie "It's a Wonderful Life", Clarence is guardian angel to George Bailey, a man reflecting on the ultimate importance and value of his life. Clarence grants George the opportunity to see what the world would be like if he'd never been born at all.
My patients have touched me this week, and taught me so many important lessons. I'm not sure exactly why, but more and more, I find myself slowing down and listening more, moving slower, touching more, directing less. I think it is because I know now they trust me implicitly. It's an incredibly humbling thing when a very frail, fragile patient in pain trembles, then relaxes under your hands. Although friends might tire of hearing me talk about my work, I can tell you, it never gets old. And this week I discovered, that for as much as I try to give them, they give me so much more. I am a better person for serving them.
I learned deeply this week that the most important thing you can give someone is your attention. Although that might sound obvious, I wonder how many of us actually do that, in the moment we are with someone. Many times in patient encounters, I have had one eye on the clock (productivity and units are expected), one eye on the chart (I live in fear of missing an important detail) and one eye on...And therein lies the dilemma for any health care professional. But for some reason, this week, I just stopped. I stopped DOING, and started BEING.
I found that what my patients wanted most from me was my full attention, and what I wanted most was to give it to them. I gave compliments on improvement, and watched the face of a blind elderly man beam and blush like a schoolgirl. I required slightly less of a post-op patient, and before my eyes she improved. I admired a stack of old photographs and heard the history of Atlanta and the Civil Rights Movement from a man who lived it. In the process, they saw me too, and told me things about myself that surprised me. This was what they wanted all along. They wanted appreciation, and relationship.
A very, very fragile patient of mine taught me this week one of the most beautiful lessons I have ever learned. After several weeks of concentrating on strengthening, coordination, and initiation of movement, I suddenly felt how much she was trembling and all I wanted was to take her pain away. So I gently eased her into a reclining position, and took her to another place with my voice, teaching breathing, visualization, relaxation. And after the treatment, this tiny, tiny angel from heaven beamed, and said, "Oh! I FEEL better! I feel GREAT!" Not surprisingly, I get treated like royalty when I arrive to see her.
I will forever be grateful to her for teaching me that the most important thing I can do FOR my patients is to BE WITH them, and to really SEE them, with loving eyes. Everyone melts a little when you look at them with eyes of love, and more and more I realize how rarely that really happens, how rarely we take the time. Sometimes, I'm not really sure anymore who was sent to save whom. But I do know I'm beginning to feel a little like George Bailey, surrounded by angels.
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