I am a perpetual patient, yesterday visiting three different clincs within the Duchossois Center for Advanced Medicine at the University of Chicago. There was a post-op visit in the ortho clinic and a pre-op visit in the ENT clinic, and then I accompanied Mr. Jorie as he had a consultation in the neurology clinic.
Gratefully now I can walk independently and make my way up and down the elevators and in and out of the parking garage without the aid of an assistive device. I count my blessings as I observe many people who are not as fortunate as myself...and I always wonder what the world looks like through their eyes.
The young woman and her service animal, a huge and beautiful greyhound, sat next to me in the neurology clinic. She told me that she had MS and her dog, which she had trained herself, assisted her with her balance and helped her compensate for her lack of peripheral vision. She was happy and seemed delighted to tell me "her story." I wondered what the world looked like through her eyes.
Her father continued talking with me after the young woman left the waiting area. He told me how proud of her he was and continued on with her story, telling me that she visited hospitals and nursing homes with her dog...the patients did not need to sit up or get out of bed because the dog was tall enough to put his head right up on their laps. I wondered what the world looked like through the father's eyes.
A middle-aged mom and dad entered the neurology clinic waiting area with their teenage daughter who was permanently wheelchair bound. They looked intent as they studied the papers in their hands. Their daughter looked at me rather blankly and then I smiled at her. It took her a moment, but she smiled a great big crooked smile back at me. I wondered what the world looked like through her eyes and through the eyes of her parents who would care for her every need always.
In the ENT clinic I waited patiently and observed other people as they came and went. In came a woman in a wheelchair being pushed presumably by her husband. She wore a mask over her mouth and nose and her head hung low. He looked tired. I wondered what their world looked like. I wondered if she had a chronic illness and he was her caregiver, or perhaps she was only temporarily ill and would be well soon. I wondered if she could take care of him if the tables were turned.
I wondered about the mom pushing her child in a wheelchair. The youngster looked as if he had cerebral palsy. I wondered about the mom who was walking behind her six-year-old daughter, another apparent victim of cerebral palsy. The happy child walked awkwardly and her mother had to tell her to watch where she was going so she would not run into people. I wondered what the moms had thought about when they were pregnant with their children...and I wondered what they thought about each night when they fell into bed exhausted.
I wondered about the woman in the elevator who wore a scarf over her bald head, and I wondered about the vacant look on the person who accompanied her. I wondered about the old man in the wheelchair who wore oxygen. His IV bag hung on the pole of the chair above him. I wondered about the woman who could only take tiny steps. I watched her labor to walk as she left the ortho waiting area.
Patients and family members alike--we all roamed the halls of the big city hospital. How did we look to each other? What had brought us to the medical center? What were we hoping when we came and what were we thinking when we left?
I never leave the medical center quite the same person as when I came. I have been given information from my doctors that often impacts my physical well-being and my outlook for the future. I may have been told things that will change my life. However, often the most profound feelings I have when I leave the medical center are the thoughts and emotions I have experienced as I looked at all the people who have shared the day at the DCAM with me.
I wonder what the world looks like to them.
Do you think they wonder what the world looks like to me?
Do you think we crossed paths for a reason?
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