I once nearly had a falling out with someone when he couldn’t respect my autonomy. For those of you who may be unaware, I have dealt with systemic chronic illness for over a decade now. In addition to 24/7 chronic cystitis pain, I have also battled dysautonomia, ataxia, and Crohn’s disease.
One particular evening after a long day of work, the characteristic dizziness, tachycardia, and muscle weakness came back. While on the phone with my friend, I remarked that my neurological symptoms had returned.
His reaction was less than ideal. He didn’t ask me how he could help. He didn’t express sympathy. In a panic-stricken frenzy, he instead resorted to telling me what I should do. He decided that knowing me for less than a week gave him the right to decide what was best for me in that particular situation.
Forget the fact that I’m the one inhabiting my body, that I’m the one who lives with the consequences of medical interventions, that my life is a living testament to the iatrogenic harm that healthcare professionals can cause.
The medical literature is rife with examples of harm done by inappropriate intervention. Offering simple starches to a starving individual can trigger refeeding syndrome, a dangerous and often fatal metabolic condition that occurs when food is introduced too quickly after a period of malnourishment.
NSAID medications administered for pain management sometimes trigger gastrointestinal bleeding. Long-term use of statin drugs can damage our mitochondria. Many commonly prescribed drugs are linked to liver and kidney damage as well as gut microbiome dysbiosis.
Anyways, back to that fateful evening. When I insisted that the best thing for me to do was rest (as I had already experienced countless hospitalizations and been administered many anticonvulsant drugs to no avail), he badgered me to seek immediate medical care nonetheless.
I calmly expressed that it wasn’t in my best interest to pursue that route, as I’d already visited every hospital within a 50-mile radius. In every instance, my condition was only exacerbated.
“Don’t do this to me,” he remarked, as though asserting my truth were a dagger to the core of his being. He chided me for giving up and being “hopeless” and insisted that I provide him with the number of a close family member so that he could convince someone else to take me to the hospital.
I refused, but he wouldn’t let up and kept continually repeating, “I’m a very persistent person.” He was utterly belligerent in his quest and seemed much more concerned with winning the argument and exerting control over me than helping me feel better.
When I needed kindness, patience, and understanding, he met me with confrontation, disrespect, and arrogance. Instead of offering moral support, he responded with an air of all-consuming self-righteousness. When you’re already struggling to maintain stable vital signs, that kind of response only makes your condition worse.
His attitude towards me got me thinking about human interaction in general. Contrary to what we might feel, we don’t always need to intervene. We don’t always need to spring into action. Sometimes, it’s best to just sit beside someone else in silence. Sometimes, just being there is enough.
When you first visit someone’s house, a good house guest quietly observes, takes in the surroundings, and compliments the decor if warranted. A good house guest doesn’t just start moving around objects, rearranging the furniture, repainting the walls, and replacing the drapes without permission. A good house guest is akin to a wallflower, inconspicuous yet attentive.
What if we adapted the same approach to our relationships? Upon first meeting people, we could take the time to get to know how they operate, what makes them tick, and what works best for them. We could slow down for a beat and allow the other party to tell us what they need.
What if we exercised love and acceptance and respected each other’s boundaries? What if we vowed to do no harm and actually meant it? What if we just took the time to listen? Maybe we’d start a revolution.
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