transparency

the other day i chased down an old man in the hall of the VA, because i thought it was malcolm.  it wasn't.  malcolm is a older gentlemen who i met last month while waiting for the elevator after i finished my morning clinic. he spoke to me in french and had sparkly eyes. he is 87 years old.  we were talking and accidentally went up before we went down.  he told me briefly about his life- his wife from buenos aires-where he'd gone to high school, how he'd learned french and then taught it most of his life, how he still carves wood, and reads and writes poetry, and that is how he keeps his mind going- how he keeps himself together.  he told me his name, and said in french that it was a pleasure to meet, and then there was an awkward minute when there was obviously no reason for us to keep talking.  the elevator ride was over. we'd reached the main floor. we shook hands- which seems strange, yet not enough.  i almost wanted him to ask me to dance.  none of it made sense.  we'd just met in the elevator. but i didn't want to let him go.  it was a moment when you wonder about past lives.  when you think about these quick connections and how they can possibly feel so meaningful when they happen in less than 5 minutes.  weird.  i kind of knew i'd never see him again.

it was also a moment that would have been ruined if it had another five minutes.  it was a scene. a snapshot.  that's what made it beautiful. brevity.

one of the ingredients that i think allows us to be in those moments is transparency.  openness.  willingness even. being in the moment- not so busy with what just happened or what happens next. being present.

this is something i like to teach the medical students because sometimes white coats come on and barriers come up. and sometimes the shorter the coat, the higher the barrier.  the sick/ well split, the doctor/patient split, the information holder/ information seeker split. and in it, people forget that it's also two people having a conversation. two people who share a lot more in common than not.  we are united by our humanity. by loss and joy, by illness and health, by sour relationships and life sustaining ones. holding on to this, remembering this- is essential to good communication. essential to being relational.

but sometimes i wonder if i practice this at home as well.  am i transparent with my kids? am i real with them? obviously this needs to be in an appropriate parenting way, but am i present with them. do i say, 'because i said so' or do i take the time to explain it? do i invest in the little moments? do i make myself available to them? they are the most important things in my world - do they feel that?  i hope so. i want to model that. i want to be that. maybe tomorrow i'll ask them each to dance.