Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies. ~ Aristotle
Something happened four months back that is still shaking up my world in what feels like a tragic way.
It started with a series of events having to do with my mom.
Firstly, on a Wednesday afternoon I had to call 911 to have my mom taken to the hospital because - though she was on antibiotics - she was not recovering from a UTI. In the past nearly 3 years I had done everything - including learning to do in/out catheterization on her daily - up to the last resort measure of having her get a supra pubic catheter put in, to try to alleviate her chronic condition fighting UTI’s. If she got admitted to the hospital I felt like they could get her on the right antibiotic and, in addition to that, have the supra pubic catheter surgically put in while she was there. We had reached that last resort treatment and my goal was to give my mom a chance at being old without her body constantly fighting an infection.
Her long story shorter... she got admitted, Monday the surgical procedure was done, and on Friday the hospitalist - the fourth one in my mom’s ten days there - called to talk to me about releasing her.
I had previously met each of the three prior hospitalist that had worked on my mom’s case. I had not met this fourth one - Dr. B.
Dr. B related to me on the phone specific thoughts he had regarding my mom that dumbfounded me.
First, he told me that she had dementia. Second he thought she should be released into hospice care. Now, I’ve lived with my mom for over twelve years. I have been her primary caregiver when that became necessary. I’ve added private caregivers in the past year as the job of taking care of my mom became more overwhelming. And though I would definitely state my mom has age-related memory loss; I consider her to be pretty damn sharp! Hell, I have to ask her the name of things I can’t remember! In addition to that aspect of her overall health, I felt sure the urologist would not do a surgical procedure on an 89 year old women he felt was already in need of hospice care. So hearing this Dr. B tell me the things he was saying about my mom felt like either a real disconnect with me or with him. I felt like it was him, but it made me second guess my beliefs; he made me wonder if I was too close to the situation to see it with clear eyes. I started off seated when I began the call but I quickly got up and began pacing back and forth as I listened to him try to convince me of something I didn’t believe. I mean, my mom is 89; it’s not like I think she’s going to live forever; I don’t know how long she has. She has a good working heart, but she has an anatomy problem which makes UTI’s a constant threat. An infection can develop quickly and ultimately will probably be the cause of her death. But I felt like she still had life left to live. I felt like her infectious disease doctor, her urologist, and her GP all believed the same thing. I didn’t understand why this hospitalist - who had seen her for the very first time that morning - was somehow viewing my mom in the way he was.
Ultimately, by the end of the conversation I felt like Dr. B was frustrated with me (for not agreeing with his analysis) and I was annoyed at him because I didn’t believe he had any real comprehension of my mom. But as soon as I hung up the phone I remembered that I hadn’t got to ask him the two most important questions I needed answers to before I brought her home. So I had to call back. Fortunately, I was able to get him, but I could tell he was impatient... like, “I just gave you 20 minutes of my valuable time, what do you want now?” First, I asked him about the blood in my mom’s catheter bag. Was that normal? He proceeded to tell me he wasn’t aware of that problem and would go in her room as we spoke and take a look. That gave me more insight into him and more confidence in me! Second, I told him I wasn’t going to let my mom leave the hospital without the lose-dose antibiotic prescription that the urologist had told me he wanted my mom on. To that Dr. B replied with something along the lines of, “Well, research doesn’t show the efficacy of such a treatment.” At that point I rolled my eyes and thought - though I didn’t express it out loud - you mean to tell me you think you’re smarter than both my mom’s infectious disease doctor and her urologist in consultation with one another on what protocol they think would be most effective in treating her chronic infections? I didn’t care what he had to say, I wasn’t leaving the hospital without the prescription so he had better call the urologist and get it (though I’m sure I used as much diplomacy as I could conjure up under the circumstances)! He told me he would get in touch with the urologist and we hung up for the second time.
At that point he had so confused me
about my mom that I wanted to hurry to get dressed and out the door so I could put my eyes on her and find out if there was something he was seeing that I was missing.
Within an hour I was in the hospital and made my way to the nurse’s station before I even went in to see my mom. I was standingthere when I saw a white coated person out of the corner of my left eye walking up the hall in my direction. Ugh, I thought, I absolutely do not want to talk to this Dr. B. who I felt sure it was. I tried to appear invisibleto him and leaned in closer to talk with the nurse at the desk waiting for the doctor to pass me by and continue up the corridor.
But to my annoyance he didn’t continue walking past; I felt him stop right behind me. I didn’t turn around. I was still hoping he would move on. He didn’t. I had the feeling that he was trying to figure out if I was the the girl he had spoken to on the phone not long before. I also felt he was trying to remember what my name and my mom - his patient’s name - was and he was stuck and he didn’t know exactly what to do. His pause was so awkwardly long that I finally felt I had to turn around! So I did. The next five minutes were some of the strangest and clearest minutes of my entire life.
I spoke first. I asked him if he were Dr. B.
He answered that he was. I introduced myself saying I had spoken to him earlier about my mother and gave him her name. Then he began to tell me that he had spoken with both my mom’s infectious disease doctor and her urologist and the treatment plan (the one he outright dismissed when I told him of it in our earlier phone conversation!) was “something I hadn’t thought of.” But from the moment I turned around to meet him face to face - even as I spoke first and he continued the conversation - I had what I can only describe as an out of body experience. It might not have been that, but if it wasn’t, it was as strange as I could imagine that experience might be.
We were standing no more than three feet away. And almost instantly I was looking atmyself pressed against his chest with his arms completely wrapped around me. I watched as my right cheek lay against his chest and his chin rested atop my head. At the same time I viewed myself within his arms I immediately felt both comfort and protection. As I watched myself being held by him we continued our conversation. As odd as it may be to say, somehow I was able to be present both in talking with him and also in the thoughts and feelings that were coming at me that had nothing to do with what was being said. And even as I continued to marvel at watching me in his embrace and feel the emotional strength he was imparting to me, I also “saw” to the right of where we were standing something like an invisible river of conversation; in essence, it was another strong feeling that was emanating out from us. And the feeling was that I could talk to this guy forever! Like, there was nothing I couldn’t say to him or him to me. It was also beyond that... it was the feeling of being mentally stimulated for the rest of my life!
Notice my first thoughts and feelings had nothing to do with physical attraction. There was a surprising feeling of attraction there, but it was as if it were only the frame to a painting; it enhanced the art, but it wasn’t the art. And in this case the “art” was the mental, emotional and spiritual connection I felt. And I say, “surprising” feeling of attraction because he wasn’t my type. He was the opposite of my type, with average looks, lol. I mean, I don’t know, I just wouldn’t think of him as being a guy that stopped me in my tracks; he was “normal.”
After our five minute conversation we parted ways. I went to my mom’s room to visit with her and sat on the cot the hospital had provided for my niece - and later me - to sleep on. As I sat there I couldn’t help but go over in my mind what had just happened! I had seen that he had a wedding ring on so that made it even harder for me to understand what the Universe - knowing my situation in deeply desiring an intimate, loving relationship - meant by placing this guy - this guy who it felt like was some sort of soul connection - in my life. And outside of those thoughts I also wondered if he had felt anything towards me?
I’m single and looking. But I would want to assume that some guy I was soulfully attracted to - if married - would be the kind of guy that was in a deeply loving and committed marriage. Period. In other words, I don’t want my soul to be attracted to a cheater type guy; I would hope it was attracted to the best of the best kind of man. But him being happily married doesn’t preclude him having felt something - whatever, and however, that something might be - in meeting me. I longed to know his feelings.
About fifteen minutes later the nurse was changing my mom’s IV bag and was explaining that she thought one of my brothers - I have three - had come to visit my mom that morning and was explaining what he looked like so I could figure out which of my three brothers it might have been. At that moment Dr. B - who I had not seen standing in the doorway - said, because the characteristics the nurse had used to describe my brother were similar to Dr. B - said in a jesting way, “Are y’all talking about me?” I looked over at him standing there and my feelings for him were so unusually strong and bewildering.
He then said he wanted to text my mom’s urologist about whether or not she should get out of the hospital that day based on the blood in her urine catheter bag. And thenhe did the most unexpected thing... he sat down next to me on the cot! My mom has probably been admitted to the hospital fifteen times in the past three years, with more E.R. visits than even that, and I have never had a doctor do something so relaxed. Doctors - even the ones with great bedside manner - keep, and understandably so, theirdoctor/patient distance. They’re often nice,but in a very formal way. I’ve never once come across a doctor who made themselves so comfortable in the midst of strangers.
So he sat there next to me and everything within me was aching to just move myself into the space between us, to feel my shoulder leaning against his, to feel my leg resting beside him. He got his phone out wrote and sent the text and then told me he wouldbe back when heard something.
No more than a forty-five minutes later he returned. He told me that the urologist felt like my mom could be released, but that in his view, because her creatinine level was 8.8, he would like to have her stay one more night to make sure it didn’t go lower. Obviously I didn’t want to take my mom out of the hospital - especially going into a weekend - only to end up having to bring her back, but one of my other very real concerns was the hospitalist situation. As I said, Dr. B was my mom’s fourth hospitalist! And trust me, as much as each of them writes theirpatient notes with the detail needed for the hospitalist who follows, the hospitalist who follows ultimately comes to the patient withtheir own medical perspective (exactly how Dr. B came to, what I considered, was his messed up analysis of my mom!) and proceeds - good or bad - from there. I didn’t want to deal with a fifth hospitalist. So I askedDr. B if he would be working the next day. He told me he wouldn’t be. I explained to him my frustration and concerns and when Iwas done he said, “Hold on. I have a thought. Let me look into it and I’ll be back.”
He left the room and I tried to let my thoughts of him leave too. It was impossible. But about thirty minutes after he had gone, he was back... with another doctor! He introduced this doctor to both my mom and I. I had felt like I had some familiarity with this new guy. And Dr. L made me recall it was another time when my mom had been to that hospital and he had been the hospitalist who had taken care of her. As many patients as he had had since then he remembered her, and speaking with me then, as well. Dr. B continued by saying that the Dr. L was going to be my mom’s hospitalist the next day. He reiterated that he had told Dr. L of my concerns and that he had brought him up to speed on everything regarding my mom’s remaining issues, assuring me she would be in good hands and that if all went smoothly my mom would be able to go home the next day. It was exactly what I needed to make the decision to have her spend another night there.
So, in the end, that “out of body” experience I had had with Dr. B earlier; that feeling of being held, comforted and protected by him - a total stranger - ultimately, is exactly what he provided me in his own way.
I didn’t understand the experience I had with him; it both excited and disturbed me. And I remember after leaving my mom and driving home I broke down and cried; uncontrollably tears flowed. I felt utterly sad. Sadness that I had met a soul connection - beyond even my own imaginings of what that might be - and knew that because he was married, it was a relationship that had no where to go; finished before it could even have a beginning. It was depressing. And that I would not even be able to learn if he had had anything remotely close in experience to mine left me dispirited, as well.
So, all these months later, and still frustrated and downcast about why such an experience would happen without any seeming reason; no positive outcome, I got back in touch with my “guru-ish” counselor (who had moved away some years back) and she gave me a much needed perspective. Just basically letting me simply realize that the enormity of what happened; the rarity of it, was in itself the Universe allowing me to see, feel, and experience its expansiveness and ability to surprise at any moment in time. She wanted me to know that it was the Universe’s way of letting me to believe that my dream: of having a guy love me as intimately as I loved him, was closer to me than ever before. I can only hope so. I’ve waited a long time in this life to find that blessed happiness. I’m ready!
