My Job

Friday is still embedded. It was a long and very busy day, not as busy as the rest of the week, but a day that made an impact on why I am a Family Health Care and what I really do.

It was the end of the day and I would have rather been leaving for the day because I was exhausted but with just one more hour to go we were met by our last appointment for the day. They were irritated by the traffic and the cold. They had poor directions and ended up in the wrong end of town. They were late and had to fill out a pile of paperwork to make things worse. They too were tired.

I am a glorified receptionists, more like a paralegal without the degree to back it. Most days I wish I was in that room listening to the problems and able to give out the answers that could fix them, but I sit on the other side of the door making sure they have dotted all the i's and crossed the t's, I set their appointments and I answer their calls. I wish I could fix them or at least help them. I am not the lawyer and I am not the law student.

Well Friday, I may have been priceless and no degree from any school or any plaque on a wall could have made more of an impact. My review is coming up and I want to change my title from Legal Coordinator for the Medical-Legal Family Health Services Clinic to The Listener.
I sat at my desk making small talk to the Aunt, the ride of the client. Talking about weather and the fish tank in my office. These are my "topics" I start with to pass the time in the waiting room. But this person took weather and fish and turned it into her story. Everyone has a story. Hers was sad. She was able to tell me about the loss of her husband of 15 years to a heart attack. She talked about the two funerals days apart. The one of her husband and the one of her niece that found her husband dead. The little girl died of a heart condition at 6. She told me about this wonderful man that served for our country and died because the V.A. doctor was busy and made a mistake that resulted in his fatal heart attack in the room with this little girl screaming. This brilliant little girl that left us too soon undiagnosed with a fatal heart condition. I am sure she has told this story a million times and will tell it a million more, but she told it to me.

She told me her story for 45 minutes with out a tear, just this glaze across the room. She was still numb from the losses. I said few words to her. What could a person say to that story? I choked back tears. I could hardly hold them back, but she wanted to tell her story with out the garbage attached with hollow cliche's that people say, like "I understand" and " I am sorry for your loss".

They left with a smile and had heartfelt goodbyes. But when they left I collapsed in my chair. It was like watching the towers from 9-11 collapse again. I could not believe what I heard, her story was so sad. And the phone rang I answered and it was them. The aunt wanted to tell me that the weather was getting bad and to be careful on my way home... because the weather report from when she came in had change since she left. She came in upset and left with a smile, a genuine smile and almost a look of relief.

They see the clients and I see the family or the person that gave them the ride. I hear their stories. I hear the stories of the long lines and smell at the homeless shelter. The many busses they had to take to ride across town. The neighborhood that is filled with drug dealers. The missed child support checks and the loss of yet another low paying job.

This is the beginning of our clinic. I am not able to give out professional advise, but I am the Listener. They may be able to fix the obvious, but I listen to them tell their story. Everyone has a story and just needs someone to listen.