Monday, March 23, 2009

Don't Hate, Participate

Today I had an appointment with - arguably - my craziest patient.  To hold this distinction is saying a lot because they're all crazy.  This gentleman, though, has always impressed me as someone who wasn't playing with all the cards in the deck - or maybe just playing with the low numbers.  This afternoon he offered to give me a mixed tape of songs he liked and thought I would enjoy.  I haven't had the capacity to play a mixed tape since I was probably 13.

. . . . .

I've had a rough go of it these last 7 months.  Some really serious health issues forced me to take a good look at my self and my life.  A few trips to the emergency room, a nice long stay at the hospital and the prospect of major organ failure and surgery to remove large parts of my insides will do that to a guy.  Without a doubt it was the darkest and saddest time of my life. Still,  I can't help but look at how I benefited from it, just as well.

When you suddenly realize that you're not invincible you begin to look at the world and the people in it differently.  I hoped and prayed as hard as I knew how for nothing more than my life back.  Health and happiness.  The time-tested mantra.

Now that I am "healthy" (which, to me now, is such a confusing term), I have a deeper appreciation for the silent battles that every person I meet every day quietly fights.  There were times when I would be waiting in a line at a store or bank and pain would grip me.  What was my own desire to get out of where I was and back to a place I felt safe and could take care of my problems was often viewed by those around me as annoyance or a bad attitude about the long line we were waiting in.  They saw me on the outside and I looked fine.  They had no idea what battle I was fighting.

It seems that no one is immune to personal struggle.  Some of ours are bigger than others but each has equal weight to the person who has to carry it.  So today, when my crazy patient told me that he wanted his new teeth to be chrome and look like a vampire.  A few moments before that, as he dropped my mirror, he told me that he didn't need seven years of bad luck - he had already had eighteen.  I caught myself as I got annoyed.

My crazy patient is still a nut, but he has struggles just like I do.  He always asks me how I'm feeling, tells me that I look good and healthy and takes a genuine interest in my life.  Today, towards the end of the appointment, I started to do the same for him.  He likes NASCAR, he makes wax candles and he has a niece who likes when he makes funny faces without his teeth.

He's bringing me my mixed tape at our next appointment.  

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