Today was a day of learning lessons in humility and kindness.
Lesson #1: Words cannot be taken back, and your actions and words will define you throughout your lifetime. Also, the world is a smaller place than you might think, and the past may very well converge on the present. Be mindful of what is said because words echo for a long time after they are spoken.
We received a physician's order to evaluate a stroke patient in the hospital. The patient is a retired IBMer who still works as a consultant. Feeling nostalgic, I recounted my IBM career and project history with him, and he recognized my name. As it turns out, we worked on similar performance analysis and test projects back in the early 90s, and he knew (and still interfaces with) some of my former colleagues. I recognized his name, as well, but had no clear recollection of past interactions with him. In contrast, he remembered vividly his trip to Poughkeepsie and a very specific comment I had made during a meeting. My words had made an indelible impression on him, one which must have carried enough emotional weight to have been burned into his long term storage. And judging from his face, the recollection was most likely unfavorable, although he was very gracious and did not disclose his discomfort. When pressed regarding our interaction, he said that I had made a "joke" regarding the performance of IMS. Now, any of you who might have worked on this product in past might feel the comment was justified, but it clearly offended the patient, and that memory is what endured the test of time. The "joke" was more likely a disparaging remark regarding the product which, true or not, offended him (or at least I think it did). I might have said a million other kind, interesting and positive comments, but those were lost in the shadow of this one comment.
Lesson #2: Acts of kindness and forgiveness do not need to be earned and should be given freely.
My afternoon patient relayed a story to me about reconnecting with a high school friend at his high school reunion 2 years ago. His friend had been the valedictorian of his class, but more recently had been struggling with alcoholism and drug addiction. He is now homeless living in Santa Cruz. Estranged from his family, living either in a tent in the mountains or in a shelter. Since reconnecting at the reunion, my patient has been traveling down to Santa Cruz monthly to treat his friend to a hot meal and a hot shower. Recently, his friend was provided a stark, unfurnished room through government subsidy. So when my patient went down yesterday for his monthly visit what did he do? He took his friend shopping and bought him a radio so that he would have entertainment in his otherwise empty room. Next month he plans to bring him a card table and chairs. What an amazing man. When I probed as to his personal reasons for doing this, his simple answer was "because I figured he needed some help."
Most of you probably don't know this, but my younger sister has been battling alcoholism for over 30 years. Divorced, estranged from family, and in and out of 28 day programs. We last spoke over 6 years ago, and the conversation was disheartening. At that point, I had decided to extricate myself from the situation for my own good, to protect myself. She was not invited to my wedding.
During the conversation with my patient today, I tried to envision my sister's life. Was there someone outside the family that had shown her that same level of kindness? Is she being taken care of at some level by strangers? Is she alone?
So, I called her. At first I was really afraid to make the call. Partly because I had been so negligent with our correspondence, but also because I wasn't sure what I would find on the other end. Would I be stepping back on an emotional roller coaster? The call was much more benign, and much more healing, than I had imagined. Of course the conversation was a bit stunted, it has been a long time since we communicated and it was difficult to know where to being. And we both have reservations about opening up old wounds. But, we managed.... She is doing well, living in an apartment and participating in a 90day outpatient program. She has a few close friends providing her emotional support. The sense of relief I feel is palpable...
It's a start. Perhaps Lesson #3 is that it's never too late to say your sorry.
Write-on,
Faith
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