The dreaded look of genuine concern

September 3, 2011

I have found that there are three types of concerned looks.

First, there is the look of fake concern.  I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.  Someone doesn’t really care, but they try to look concerned because they know that’s the socially acceptable response.  I ignore those.

Next, there is the look of detached concern.  This is the one where someone really does feel bad for what I’m going through, and they want to sympathize, but they’re not close to me, so their concern is more general.  This is the concern you would feel for a stranger when you hear about something terrible they are dealing with.  The concern is real, but it’s not personal.

Finally, there’s the look of pure, honest concern.  This comes from a loved one who really cares.  Their concern is genuine.

It’s this last one that’s haunting me right now.  A friend recently asked me about my latest treatment.  I answered her with the truth, something I don’t tell many people.  She asked about other options if it doesn’t work.  Again, I told her the truth.  Now I can’t get the look on her face out of my head.  She was really concerned about me.  I wanted to reassure her that everything would be fine, but of course, I don’t know if it will be.  I love that she cares.  But that look just makes me feel bad.  I hate that I’m making people worry.  Of course, I’m not the one making them worry, it’s the illness that makes them worry.  It just doesn’t always feel that way.

She is one of my oldest friends.  We’ve known each other for 22 years.  (Wow, I guess I’m older than I thought.)  We did our elementary school science fair project together.  We’ve seen each other through divorce and dating and children and many jobs.  Of course we care about each other.  I just wish I could tell her I’ll be ok.


Hurray for good docs

August 26, 2011

I’ve had a lot of bad doctors.  A lot.  “Bad” can be defined in a lot of ways.  For me, these include not taking me seriously, not fully listening to me, refusing necessary tests, and prescribing treatments that are unlikely to work.  And then there was the one who said I shouldn’t complain because there are people worse off than me.  I was in pain 24/7 at that point.  Oh, and I was 16 and scared.  What a jerk.  But I digress….

So I’ve had bad doctors, but I’ve also had some really good doctors.  The good ones make such a huge difference.  I spoke to my rheumatologist yesterday and was reminded again of how fantastic she is.  When I started the new med a few weeks ago, she told me she would be going on vacation, and to call the day she returned.  I left a message and she called me back later that day.  She took her time with me and didn’t rush, even though she must have been very busy.  She listened to everything I had to say.  She was surprised by a side effect I’m having, which she had never heard of.  I told her I’d found evidence of it online.  She assured me she’d look into it.  Based on past experience, I know she will.  Otherwise would brush it off, but she takes it seriously.  I told her I’d like to take a new Lyme test I’ve heard about.  She didn’t know about it, but promised to look into it.  Again, I’m certain that she will.  Her treatment suggestions are always well thought out and specific to me and my situation.  She orders every test that she thinks is necessary and skips the ones that she thinks aren’t (Checking vitamin D?  Yes.  MRI?  No need this time.)  This is how I would like every doctor to be.  She’s not perfect; she’s human after all.  But she does a great job, and does her best to improve my health.

So here’s to all the great doctors out there, who do all they can to make us feel better/less bad!


A little consideration

August 2, 2011

It happens every day.  A slightly older woman got onto the T (the subway) and was clearly not completely steady on her feet.  She looked around for an empty seat.  She came over to one which was wet (I prefer not to consider the possible reasons for that.)  I wanted to help, but I was standing too.  Most people were either too wrapped up in their own books, phones, games, lives to notice, or else they pretended not to notice.  Like I said, it happens every day.  And then a woman looked right over, signaled to this lady, and offered her seat.  The lady declined, said she’d be fine.  The woman simply said “If you change your mind, let me know.”  She was kind, respectful, thoughtful.  The lady was clearly appreciative.  I was a bystander, but it warmed my heart all the same.

The next time you’re on a train or bus, look up.  If you see someone who needs a seat and you’re capable of standing, remember how lucky you are to have the option to stand, and offer your seat.  You’ll feel better and so will they.


A little thoughtfulness goes a long way….

July 24, 2011

Like so many, my department is split between two floors.  The office building has an elevator, of course, but most people just run up and down the stairs between meetings.  Of course, not all of us can so easily handle a flight of stairs.  I’m still in between on that – some days I can, some days I can’t.

The other day, a coworker and I were headed to a meeting upstairs.  We walked out the main door, into the hallway, my coworker in the lead.  As she reached the stairs, she turned back and asked if I could take the stairs, or if I’d prefer the elevator.  I was amazed.  Sure, I’ve worked there for a while, but people forget all the time.  This simple gesture of thoughtfulness meant so much.  She actually took a moment to think about the fact that I might not be able to walk up those stairs, and was going to adjust her pattern to meet my needs.  I truly believe that if everyone could do that from time to time, the world would be a better, happier place.  Until then, let’s at least thank the thoughtful people who go out of their way to think of us in large and small ways.