My friend Paige works in the Intensive Care Unit of a hospital. As long as I’ve known her she has had hospital stories. Her dad is a surgeon. Hospital life was part of her childhood.
She has stories of visiting the burn unit and seeing the aching of those who have played with fire. She has stories of suicide attempts that didn’t end in the relief the person was hoping for. She has stories of college students that drank one too many at that party only to wake up shook up from seeing their parents standing at the end of their bed in an ICU room. She is my in real life connection to Grey’s Anatomy, minus a few love triangles.
Recently she shared with me a hospital story that encapsulated my word VULNERABLE in ways this whole year might never reveal to me. Here I am still in January, and I feel as though this story might be enough to reflect on for the entire year. I asked Paige if I could share her words directly, so you could feel the potency of the message from her perspective. She graciously agreed.
“I have taken care of this woman at work this week who had elective knee surgery, got a clot in her leg that broke off and ended up causing a stroke in her brainstem. She is 50. And her brain is perfect. Perfect. But cannot communicate with her body except with blinks. That’s it. Literally trapped in a broken body. And Mandy, she just cries and cries. Sobs.
And we bathe her. Turn her. Read to her. Brainstorm ways her eyes can talk. And when I sit and stare at her eyes, huge big wide-open eyes, I feel vulnerable. Me. Because somehow in that rawness…. I feel everything fall away. She has nothing to hide behind anymore. Nothing with which to fake or look away, no nervous laughter, no flirting, no avoiding. Vulnerable. Stripped raw. And when I spend my days with her, so am I. And I try to hold on to that…. For all the same reasons this is your word this year.”
{ 6 comments… read them below or add one }
this leaves me almost shaken. ‘nothing with which to fake or look away’…as indefensible as a baby. this is very sobering. thank you for sharing. it helps put so much into perspective.
You might want to have your friend look into The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, the true story of Jean-Dominique Bauby, editor of French Elle in the 90s who had this same syndrome, a stroke that caused locked in syndrome. He managed to write a book about his predicament by blinking with his eyes. I saw the movie version adapted from his book, and the blinking proces was long and tedious, but it told his story. I’ll stop there.
I can’t imagine being in both your friend’s situation but also the situation of the patient. I wonder at which point the vulnerability falls away (does it?) and turns into strict trust?
This is just… wow… I’m speechless. Thank you for sharing this.
Read this right upon waking this morning & still can’t get it out of my mind. Unimaginable to be locked within yourself. So glad your friend shared!
And maybe in some moments trust and vulnerability are two sides of the same beautiful coin— simply turning over and over in the air…. TRUST. FEAR. tRUST. accpeptance. TRUst… Trust… Fear. Tear. Sorrow. Love. Trust. Flip flip flip flip flip…… Dream. Love. Trust. Sorrow. Fear. Maybe all on the same coin.
Oh, I hope so, and I hope the flipping motion won’t scare us so.