Toxic Flu
You came to see me that day, for a completely different reason, you told me you had the ‘flu’. What happened next, changed us both!
It was right at the end of the day, and you’d snuck into my appointment book. The receptionist had already left, and I hadn’t actually been informed that I was seeing anyone else that day. I shut down the computer, finished the notes and cleaned up. I’d just started to walk out of the door when I saw you sitting in the waiting room. “Sorry, I’ve been running late”, I said covering my faux paux, “You can come on in now”.
You told me that you felt terrible and that you’d just kept getting sick lately. Then you burst into tears and tried to compose yourself.
“I feel so humbled that you feel safe enough to do that here” I said. Then you ‘ugly’ cried, a lot and a lot louder.
Finally, you sighed. You told me that things were just really hard at the moment. You told me that your husband was in a lot of pain and having trouble sleeping. You kept waking up and finding him asleep in the chair, you felt helpless and overwhelmed, and future fearful.
The bills had been stacking up, and you were both exhausted and constantly sick. You felt scared and couldn’t see any way through. You told me you both desperately wanted to change your life and felt trapped and unable to leave the area. I asked if you would like to do a guided meditation with me, it actually surprised me when you agreed.
After just for a few minutes, I watched your nervous system reset.
I encouraged, then you laid out all your cards on the table and we started to unpack, really worked it all out. We made an achievable small change that would get you through the next few days. That felt doable, you said, and not quite so intimidating.
We then looked at what could be addressed next, and then made another, and then another bigger plan, with safety nets and timelines that could move in either direction. You sighed at that point; something had shifted in you. I think perhaps you saw hope.
Then we looked at the final pieces, the master plan, the ‘how, what and when’ you could make that final move. When we really broke that down, you said it looked somewhat easier now, like actually an achievable thing.
You smiled then. And that was lovely to see. After an hour you felt ready, and so you just left, going home with a new fire in your belly, and I wished you all the very best.
Looking back now, I’m not even sure I took your temperature that day!
About six months later I was working one morning, and you walked in the door. You looked so different, not really younger as such, maybe just healthier. You broke into the most beautiful smile and introduced your eldest daughter who had an appointment with me. And then you whispered in her ear so I could hear you.
“This woman saved my life”.
I laughed, awkwardly “No I didn’t, not really, you did that all by yourself, I just showed you the way”. After your daughter returned with her sample, I was able to congratulate you for the first time as a new grandmother. And I watched you both tearfully embrace.
I never saw you again after that day, I had heard later down the track that you had all left the area and relocated. When I heard where you went, I smiled quietly to myself.
