This past year for me has been punctuated with surprises, most of them welcome and a few not so hot. In the latter category, I developed a few niggling medical issues after a life of robust health that sent me on a new adventure, into the jaws of the health care system. I’d never minded seeing a doctor before because I always had excellent insurance. But the Affordable Care Act changed it all up (sorry, kids, but it did) and now the kind of insurance that was perfect for me is no longer available at any price in the state of NY.
Now we’re all HMOs…OMG.
Now I brace myself when I have to see a doctor because there will be a hospital involved somehow and long lines. Lots of long lines. I compensate by bringing my Ipad along and getting caught up on my reading.
Today was typical. I went for an 8am fasting blood panel and sat in a waiting room at St. Luke’s for 90 minutes just to get the paperwork to then go off to the lab for the blood drawing. Getting annoyed after 30 minutes, I tried to do mindfulness exercises and even to meditate to stay centered, calm and patient. There were, after all, many people waiting all around me who were seriously ill. My test was routine. Finally the nice lady handed me my paperwork and off I went one floor down to another office…and more waiting, this time with The Today Show blaring a story about why it’s OK to wear white in winter now (how come that show is still on past 10am?). That almost pushed me over the edge, but NYC has taught me patience and so I endured.
Finally I was called back behind heavy doors by the technician from the Islands who silently, efficiently and in about 10 seconds flat drew 4 viles of blood. I hardly knew what hit me. It was surprisingly masterful and I told her so. She laughed and thanked me, saying that most people have a tendency to cry when they sit in that chair. Cry? As she completed her paperwork, she said,
“You know, it’s never about the needle. It’s always so much more.”
She stopped, faced me square on and looked me dead in the eye. ”This is a hard country to live in, you know. Many people are here alone without their families or they have no families at all. Life just builds up on them and when they come in, they can’t hold it anymore and they sob it out here. I just sit and listen for as long as it takes. Sometimes I hold their hand. I just let them cry it out for as long as they need because I know that unless they release all those tears, their bodies won’t give up any blood.”
She went on to say,
“I don’t care how long we have to wait or how many people are out in that waiting room. There has to be human care at moments like that. I don’t know what they are living with or what they are running from, but it’s only decent to respect them.”
And then she smiled at me.
I swear to God, tears welled up in my eyes and I wanted to break down in sobs myself. I suddenly realized how fast I move and how hard I push and how I rarely take a break for myself, relentlessly trying to save the world one child at a time. It was over-whelming. And yeah, in that moment I wanted a Mom to rock me, sing to me, soothe me out and tell me that all is well. These emotions lasted just 10 seconds or so, but I swear I had a healing in that room with that needle-packing Earth Angel, because I walked out with a happy heart.
As I left the hospital, stunned by how moved I’d just been in that moment with that wonderful woman, I remembered the time my favorite teacher, friend and shaman par excellence, Sharon Turner, and I witnessed a powerful moment with another stranger and how
Sharon turned to me afterwards all wide-eyed and said, “Do you think he was real?”
I don’t know, Sharon. But she sure was worth the wait.