I visited a patient in the ICU who is both a racial and gender minority and also seriously mentally ill. As I looked into her eyes, I found myself kind of staggered by how difficult her life has undoubtedly been. She mentioned that she doesn’t like to talk to most people because—here she waved her hands to indicate that they are here and there, not completely oriented and present.
About 15 minutes into our 20-minute conversation, I asked, “Do you think our conversation is going well?” I didn’t think I was fishing for a compliment. I thought I was genuinely curious, but I must have expected her to say, “Oh, yes, you’re easy to talk to,” because I was surprised when she said, “No, not really.” She explained, “Because you’re not really you.”
Perhaps she had noticed a way that I did not seem authentic. Wishing to be more helpful, and also thinking I might learn something useful, I asked, “How do you think I could do better?”
She pondered for a couple of minutes, and finally said, “I’m not supposed to be helping you. You’re supposed to be helping me.” After a few more minutes of conversation, she said reprovingly, “There you go again.” What this meant, I had no idea.
When the afternoon was nearly done and limited time remained, I went to see a patient whose chart had said she was anxious. I found her in a good post-surgery mood, full of compliments for the hospital and all who had cared for her. She told me about some stressors she had been dealing with prior to surgery, and thanked me for visiting: “Just that little bit of talking was helpful!”
I gathered that she had found being visited by a chaplain pleasingly exotic, because as I left the room, she said, “Wait till my friends hear about this!”
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