A lesson on humility

"No, I'm here to help you as well, it's not only the physio that does the walking..."


"You don't understand where I'm coming from, I'm just more motivated to walk, I don't see the need for an OT to see me" *Sylvie sighed. She looked tired, as she paused and squinted at me through the sunlight filtering in through the windows. 


Awkward pause.


"I know that although the physio has been walking with you and tt's great, but it doesn't mean that you can't walk with me. I'm here to help you be as independent as you were before in doing your daily activities, like gg to the toilet, brushing your teeth by the sink" I said defiantly.


"I know perfectly well what your role is but I just don't see the point. For me, as long as I can walk better, all these things will come naturally, i'll be able to walk to the bathroom myself, take care of myself!" Sylvie huffed indignantly.


Angry silence filled the air. I was feeling upset-that she didn't understand my role-why couldn't she see that it was for her own good?


"Well, I'll come to see you later in the afternoon then, when you're feeling better." I walked away, still feeling upset and slightly ridiculed. I was struggling with my professional role delineation, battling with my wounded pride and my failed attempt to bridge our differences. Why was it so difficult? I felt unsettled for the rest of the afternoon and had some time to reflect on our conversation. But I just couldn't let it go, it would be easy to just walk away and shove it to the back of my head. I decided to speak to Sylvie again before the end of the day. 


"Sylvie? I understand what you said earlier."


"Just...don't take it personally. It's really nothing about you, i'm a logical person and I think right now where i'm at, i'm doing most of my showering and toileting activities independently. I'm concerned about my walking- to me, as long as I can walk, it means that I can do all the rest of my activities independently.And i'll be fine!" 


"No worries, that's great Sylvie, I'm glad you think that way." Truthfully, I was still feeling a little defeated. 


"You know, I just want to get home by Christmas. It's so frustrating to be here for such a long time. I've always been a very independent lady. My sister cooks me food every single day. Every single day, without fail, and... she's already 80. I just... it's hard on her you know. She's old as well, and I don't want to trouble her anymore..." Sylvie's voice quivered as she pondered silently. 


"I know what you can do for me though." She took my hands and clasped them tightly. 


"You've been wonderful. Don't think that you didn't help me in this journey, you definitely did, in more ways than you can imagine. But what you can do perhaps...is to pray for me," Sylvie looked into my eyes. I felt tears starting to well up and consciously brushed them away. 


"Are you a Christian?" I asked. 


"I'm a firm believer of Jesus Christ and I hold onto His teachings dearly." Now Sylvie's was tearing too. 


"Bless your heart sister, I'll pray for you." I smiled and patted her hand gently. 


"Now off you go before we both start crying on each other." Sylvie waved. 


What a timely and important lesson on humility, afterall aren't we here to listen? To listen to our patients and know what their needs are instead of just assessing them and telling them what's best for them? 


Thank you God, for such a beautiful reminder, to listen. 


*Name has been changed to protect identity