No Man Is an Island

Those days when you just don't feel 100%. Do you have those? And then I feel guilty for not feeling 100%, so I try to figure what's causing it. What I've done wrong. And when I can't, it just makes it all worse, and I begin to panic.

Then I have guilt for panicking, and the spiral just keeps enlarging and spinning out of control.

Things have been really busy around here since we got back from our Cozumel diving vacation. You know the one where I only got 2 dives in because I developed middle ear barotrauma and had a stomach virus? Yes, that one.

Yesterday I was really feeling down in the dumps and really beating myself up for those feelings. Add to that I had to go to for allergy testing. (If you've never done this before, be glad!). I was dreading all the poking and needles and the CT scan of my head. But mostly I was dreading the professionals not understanding how hard it is for me to take care of myself.

I talked with my therapist. I had a healthy lunch. I took some meds, after calling to make sure it was okay. I got to the office early with my crochet to calm myself before being called back. I answered questions from the nurse. She took my blood pressure and asked it I had a headache. I said no. She asked if I was nervous. I said extremely. My BP was high. I explained as succinctly as possible that I have chronic PTSD and it just adds to my stress in these situations. She was very kind.

The doctor came in and we chatted about what had brought me to them. I volunteered again about the PTSD. And something shifted. In a really good way. She looked me right in the eye and said, "Thank you for telling me that. I believe in a whole body/mind/spirit approach to health." Then she proceeded to give me the name of another patient (with permission) who was also a survivor and has recently written a book about it. The doctor also told me if I had any trouble during the testing phase to tell the technicians to stop and call her. 

Compassion is an amazing thing. She didn't treat me with pity or asked for details. But when she was examining me, she noticed and commented on my survivor necklace. And she smiled. 

I went to another part of the building for testing and they were all very kind. The nurse who did all the prodding and poking asked if I was doing okay. I again shared about the PTSD. After expressing sympathy, she began to tell me about a friend of hers who was a victim of child abuse, but had been unable to find ways of dealing with it. I shared about my blog and prayer beads, and tried to listen compassionately without feeling obligated to fix his issues. As I left, I thanked her for helping me through the testing. She told me I'd helped her more.

That comment has stuck with me and made me think again about how important really connecting with other people is. How that connection is vital for all of us. And it's scary because it puts us in vulnerable positions. Positions where we can be hurt again. But it also puts us in positions to help and be helped. 

People need compassion. Compassion requires vulnerability.

Because . . . 

No man is an island,
Entire of itself,
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thy friend's
Or of thine own were:
Any man's death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in mankind,
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; 
It tolls for thee. 

--John Donne

Blessings!

linking up with imperfect prose