Had a weird day at work the other day. It was at the end of the work week. Long and packed with lots of patients. I am usually quite inspired when I am seeing patients. But this day, I was not sure what the issue was. I told my medical assistant, “ I am exhausted and I don’t think I have helped anyone today.” I felt all I did was medication adjustments, and field all their non cardiac issues. I am a cardiologist so that is my field of expertise. As a metaphysician, and holistic heart doc I try to find their root cause of illnesses by using a more wholesome mind-body connection methodology.

Yet this was a day where everyone was apathetic, and even though I did my “job”, I did not “feel” like I was able to truly help the patients. I had become the automaton kind of doctor that people had come to apathetically expect of modern medicine providers. Then came the last patient of the day. I had known him for many years. I even had taken care of his wife, though now she had been struck with progressively worsening dementia.

He looked tired, sort of like me at that moment. He sat in silence waiting for me to ask my doctoring questions. Which I did. All were negative. He had no cardiac symptoms. I knew that the source of his exhaustion was his unrelenting stress with his wife and her erratic behaviors due to the memory loss. It was wearing him down day by day, like chipping away at an old tree.

I asked him if he had any support nearby, like family etc. His kids had all grown and left the area and he had become estranged from them for the better part of 20 years. His niece came to help them, but apart from that, he was left to being the caretaker to his wife, who seemed to recognize him a little less each day. Heartbreaking for him.

“ I would not wish this life on my worst enemy doc”, he said.

I felt powerless to help him. I rummaged through my mental bag of tricks to help him shift out of his state. I had nothing for this in this moment. I paused, about to say something profound, or helpful, but I swallowed my words before they came out. This man before me, did not need any advice. He needed me to listen. So I did. That was what was needed to help him heal. Silence. He required the empty space between us to process his emotions. My task was to be quiet and let the poison be drawn out of him in the vacuum of the field before us.

At some point I broke it, and inquired if he was religious. He was not he replied. I suggested sitting outside in the sunlight each morning for a short time and just feel the weight of surrendering himself to the universe/God, asking for help and strength. That he affirmed he would do. I could have launched into a dissertation about exercise and nutrition but that would not have been prudent at this juncture. When we are under so much stress, we cannot think about our body or its needs. The road to recovery required him to get his mind in order, yet the path to his mind was not mindset behavioral work, it was empathy and letting his broken spirit heal.

Surrender is not the same as giving up. The former comes from the heart and the latter comes from the mind. Surrender and silence offers space to heal. His priority was to take care of himself. Sometimes the greatest tool I have in my box is the instrument to shut up and listen. Just what the doctor ordered.

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I love you