Tears, Fears, a Shawl and the New Year

Monday was my meltdown day. I spent roughly six hours crying. Some of it was outright sobbing; some of it was quiet and contained. I cried with my head on the bed at Joe's side until my son came to drive me home. I cried when I talked about how I felt to my adopted daughter. I cried when an old dog park friend showed up at my door with food. I cried because I thought she had stopped liking me years ago, yet here she was with compassion and love and yummy food. I cried when my son and his girlfriend took my keys so they could bring my car home for me. I cried out of gratitude. I cried because my heart hurts. I cried because I am tired. I cried because I am afraid.

No fewer than half a dozen people at the hospital, including the doctor, attempted to soothe me. They offered lists of ways to support my emotions: journaling, sleeping, walking, talking, praying, eating, and so on.

One nurse brought me a Christmas present from two total strangers: a prayer shawl. With a note:



Naturally this made me sob harder.

My fear for Joe's life was often matched by the fear the people around me. Some of their suggestions clearly came from a place of personal discomfort; it is hard to see someone in so much emotional pain. It is pretty instinctive to want to reach and out and attempt to make the sufferer feel better. They struggled to focus me back to the positive; that meant walking a fine line because they don't know if he will survive. They hope he will; they think he has a better chance than a few days ago, but they clearly didn't want to make promises. Empathy makes us human, but when we empathize we can feel someone's feelings, but that is not always pleasant.

I have taught Daniel Goleman's Emotional Intelligence to my students for the last two semesters. One of the five areas of EQ that he discusses is empathy. He argues that if we are able to share feelings, relate to the pain and situations of other, that we can connect on a deeper level and have more successful relationships. For many people, in order to remain detached enough to offer effective care, the empathy is sacrificed.

On the other hand, one of the downsides of empathy is the inability to handle the distressing emotions that occur when dealing with someone else's difficult situation. The folks in the ICU unit are all very well trained, but they are human and emotional distance is sometimes hard to maintain. I had managed to stay completely focused and steady for 10 days before melting down. I'm sure they were expecting a reaction, but my ongoing tears must have been distressing. That distress resulted in visceral reactions on their part. One of the nurses told me later that she had to leave the room or else she would have cried. Another staff member was fidgety, alternately stepping backwards away, and forward towards me. One nurse, who was going off-duty, spent several minutes nervously talking about how Joe might react later as he recovers from the trauma of intubation. Some of the suggestions and input were helpful, most were not. I recognized early in each conversation who they were trying to soothe: themselves. They were faced with a distressing reaction to a distressing situation and each of them feels a personal connection to me. They have each talked with me at length. Some have joked with me and swapped stories, discovered commonalities; in other words they have become connected to me. That connection has served us well in caring for Joe. That connection caused them pain as I struggled.

Last night I kissed my husband's hand at midnight and cried in fear of what is to come. At New Years we set our laser focus on the new, the possibilities, the promise of goodness. But as it unfolds, the new year rarely meets our expectations. My hope is that I can wrap myself in the prayer shawl as I sit with him and feel the love of strangers, as I also feel wrapped in the metaphoric prayer shawl of the many people who have swooped in with words of love and worry, with food and drink, with the smallest and largest of gifts to buoy us as we move deeper into uncertainty. If the best New Year's celebrations so often usher in difficult years, maybe this difficult New Year's celebration will usher in the positive outcome that Joe needs.