“How long have you been married?” The question came from a
young woman kneeling down by the elevator in the hotel where my wife and I were
staying while in Seattle. We were there to celebrate our 40th
wedding anniversary with an Alaskan cruise. I hadn’t even noticed her as my
wife and I were busy talking about the day. She appeared to be in her twenties.
Her appearance was that of a person seeking attention (or masking something
deeper?) - too much makeup and very provocative clothing. She held a hotel key
in her left hand. She was trying almost frantically to shove a pair of jeans
and a T-shirt into a small bag. Her purpose for the evening seemed apparent. It
was her unsolicited question and the words that followed that surprised my wife
and me and came to haunt us.
I answered, “We have been married 40 years and in fact are
celebrating our anniversary.” As she continued stuffing the clothes into the
bag, she looked up and said, “Just be thankful you aren’t a Millennial.” We
were both stunned by this comment and did not know what to say. She then said,
“My parents were married for 12 years. Stay married.” She returned to packing
her bag without saying another word. The elevator door opened and my wife and I
got in but she stayed kneeling intent on finishing the packing. I had the
distinct impression she was purposefully delaying an inevitable event.
In the elevator, my wife and I looked at each other, trying
to understand what just happened. We considered going back to find her. There
had been such sadness in her voice and in her face. Was she involved in human
trafficking? Was she a runaway trying to survive the best she could? What was the
“story” behind those words? Even now, two weeks later, we think about her, and
the words she said, words that were more like that of a sad little girl instead
of a young woman. We remain haunted by that brief encounter. We should have
done something yet we did not. Why? We both have compassion and concern for
others yet we did nothing. What will happen to her? We will never know. We only
know we missed an opportunity to help someone who cried out to us for help.
I wonder how many times in the 30 years I practiced medicine
I missed the subtle cries for help from my own patients because I was too busy
to “hear” them. We live in a hurting world. It is easy to not see the hurt, the
pain, and the hopelessness around us because of the busyness of our own lives
or maybe even our own personal struggles and pain. My hope is that each of us
will hear that cry for help, however subtle it may be, and do something about
it. We are in a unique position to truly make a difference in the lives of
people in more ways than just medically. We only need to be willing to listen
for that cry. Thank you for living a life that makes a difference every day.
Andy Lamb, MD
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