Imagine this:
You're in your mid-50's, recently divorced, and one night you're in the wrong place at the wrong time. You were just part of a severe car accident and lost consciousness (knock on wood). The following day you wake up in a fluorescent hospital room, and no one is around. You call for help, and the nurse rushes in. "Mr. Jones, my name is Julie, and I'm going to be your nurse during your stay here at the hospital." She vaguely explains what happened the night before, leaving you with thousands of unanswered questions and storms out to give the patient three rooms down her meds.
Forty minutes later a gentleman walks in and introduces himself as your surgeon. He explains that you underwent a procedure to repair a fractured hip, shoulder and the blunt cardiac injury you sustained following the car accident. He confirms your initial thought -- you will be recovering and staying in the hospital for an extended period of time -- all while he stands over your bed and fails to make eye contact with you.
Before I continue, I'm sure you get the point. In their most vulnerable state, people just want to be heard. The truth of the matter is, no one actually cares if you're board-certified or if you have the most prestigious credentials. They just want you to sit down and listen -- an act that essentially requires no energy and simply demands you to sit there and redirect your attention to that person in that moment. In essence, it's the most eminent craving, yet the majority of us fail to provide it.
By no means are any of us perfect. We all fall victim to rambling on and on about our achievements. Many people don't genuinely care to listen, and even when they do, they listen to give a response and not to understand. So the next time that 86-year-old lady comes over and finds the courage to talk to you about something you may perceive as meaningless, take a minute to hear her story. You may be the only person that day to actually listen to her and make her feel heard.
You're in your mid-50's, recently divorced, and one night you're in the wrong place at the wrong time. You were just part of a severe car accident and lost consciousness (knock on wood). The following day you wake up in a fluorescent hospital room, and no one is around. You call for help, and the nurse rushes in. "Mr. Jones, my name is Julie, and I'm going to be your nurse during your stay here at the hospital." She vaguely explains what happened the night before, leaving you with thousands of unanswered questions and storms out to give the patient three rooms down her meds.
Forty minutes later a gentleman walks in and introduces himself as your surgeon. He explains that you underwent a procedure to repair a fractured hip, shoulder and the blunt cardiac injury you sustained following the car accident. He confirms your initial thought -- you will be recovering and staying in the hospital for an extended period of time -- all while he stands over your bed and fails to make eye contact with you.
Before I continue, I'm sure you get the point. In their most vulnerable state, people just want to be heard. The truth of the matter is, no one actually cares if you're board-certified or if you have the most prestigious credentials. They just want you to sit down and listen -- an act that essentially requires no energy and simply demands you to sit there and redirect your attention to that person in that moment. In essence, it's the most eminent craving, yet the majority of us fail to provide it.
By no means are any of us perfect. We all fall victim to rambling on and on about our achievements. Many people don't genuinely care to listen, and even when they do, they listen to give a response and not to understand. So the next time that 86-year-old lady comes over and finds the courage to talk to you about something you may perceive as meaningless, take a minute to hear her story. You may be the only person that day to actually listen to her and make her feel heard.
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