The most important lesson.
The most important lesson I have ever been taught came served on a very cold dish.
A patient of mine had passed away. He was a patient who I had formed a very strong bond with. A patient who I looked forward to seeing every week; a patient whose family knew me by name. Whose family always looked for me, despite my trying to cower away in a corner in the consultation room. A patient who would fist-bump me every single time, and who would always smile at me with his bright blue eyes... and later on, eye. He was not my patient... yet, but oh how I wish we had that opportunity. He never ended up being my patient as he was taken from this world too soon, and that will be one of my biggest regrets. At the time I could do nothing, even now - I am still helpless.
Although I learned a big lesson that day - that of never forming strong, deep-rooted relationships with your patients; that was not the most important lesson I have ever been taught.
I was distraught when I learned of his passing away. I had missed a number of previous appointments, and ironically, during our last appointment together I was overjoyed to learn that he was finally being referred to our clinic - finally, he'll get to be my patient and I promised I would try my very very best to help him. We shared a meaningful embrace, even his sister joined in - and I told them I'd see them next week.
But that never happened.
The pain I felt when the consultant shared the news with me was incomparable to anything else. It broke my heart - the patient who I thought of everyday, who I prayed for everyday.. who I got my family to pray for everyday.. died? It shattered me, I could not function properly for a while after that. Did I have a right to feel this much pain? He was by no means related to me, but the pain I felt then was just as grounded. I thought to myself, I would really like to get in touch with his family, to see how they are doing. To see how they are coping, and to share our sadness together. I wanted to reach out because I really really cared, and because he had a special place in my heart... which he still occupies, almost three years down the line.
But then, the consultant shared a very important insight with me. He asked; "But what would they gain from you reaching out?"
I fumbled my words - I told him they would know that I cared, and that I thought of him. But the truth was; I was subconsciously wanting to reach out to attain some form of closure... for me. And although I might have very well gotten that closure, the real victims in this scenario, i.e. the family themselves, might not have gotten that same result from our hypothetical interaction. It was then that I learned, that no matter how painful a situation gets. No matter how unsurvivable, how heart-shattering, how mind-numbing a situation is... I should not reach out to absolve myself of any loose ends. The pain I feel might be greater than anything else I've ever felt before, and I might think that that pain would be allayed if I just reach out...
But it is never about my pain. I need to bring others first - my patients, my patients' families... you. Your pain preceded mine, and I care too much about you to try and fix myself at your cost. I am certain that in the long run it will be better for you that I did not reach out.. and I hope you never know the pain that not reaching out has caused me. I cannot put into words how badly I wanted to call you, message you, how much I wanted, needed to hear your voice... and the amount of times I came dangerously close. But I wanted you to feel better. And I knew that if I did reach out, I would hinder that. I wish you the very absolute best - and I really hope you find happiness in your life; as wonderful and fulfilling as the happiness you gave me. I hope that by not reaching out, I catalysed your journey to happiness.. but please don't for a second think that I did not reach out because of me. Because I did want to - I really did, but what I wanted more was to protect your heart.. at the cost of breaking mine.