Center of the Universe

I think we all instinctively know that we are not the center of the universe. But despite this common knowledge, I think we all have a little voice that quietly, but indignantly insists that we should be. Like when you are driving through the parking lot at Wal-mart and those stupid pedestrians jump out in front of your car impeding the parking process, and when you are a pedestrian and those stupid cars don't slow quite respectfully enough while you're crossing....

You see this magnified in the ER setting. Everyone knows that they are not the only patient, but most people want to be treated like they are. People know there are sicker people than them, but they still feel it's unjust for them to wait with how miserable they feel. People recount each twinge and ache and unusual feeling or symptom as though conveying the most interesting and important information in the world.

I was thinking about this the other day after having a particularly trying little patient. She was in her 80s and came by ambulance for a flare up of asthma that was pretty much improved by breathing treatments in the ambulance before she came to us. The complaining started about as soon as her 5 foot frame hit the gurney.

"Oooooh... these beds are horrible! They must not care about people here, to have such horrible, uncomfortable beds! They must want you to suffer. I can't be the only one who has complained about these awful beds!" (She wasn't the first, but we usually don't hear the first compliant until at least a couple of hours have gone by). And that was just the beginning. The bed was horrible, the pillows were awful, she needed another pillow! "There - no not there, THERE!" She needed more blankets, then all these blankets were making her claustrophobic, take them off, OFF!

To make things even more lovely, despite a very detailed description of how to utilize the call light, she forwent the troublesome pushing of a button, and opted instead for the heart wrenching "Heeeelp! HELP!" whenever she wanted something. Be it a rearranged pillow, blankets on, now off... At about the 6th or 7th desperate pleading call for help that is really a request for more ice chips, the nursing staff begins to be a little less prompt in response, which never looks good to bystanders who only hear the frail voice of an old woman crying for help which seems to be unheeded...

Since the condition that brought her through our doors was pretty much fixed before she arrived, I tried to jump ahead on the "how do we get you out of here, I mean home" process since, well, she didn't need to be here and was on the verge of dissolving those last precious strands of patience. So I asked her about family or friends we might be able to call. She told me there was no one.

It's always sad when you realize that someone is literally alone in the world. Sad because of course they are lonely. And also sad, because that little voice insisting we should be the center of the universe is only held in check by the people in are lives who continually remind us, "um, no, you most definitely shouldn't be". She was alone with only herself to care for. Only her own needs, and pains, and frustrations and disappointments to think about and tend to.

I thought about this little woman who tried my patience that day as I bristled with irritation at some thoughtless pedestrian in the Target parking lot while I was trying to park. I was humbled in that moment by the realization that I too wish the world would bend and flex to accommodate me and my preferences, and I'm strangely irritated when it seems to fail too. I constantly need to be reminded that the universe has a much more deserving and glorious Center... and if I will recognize that truth more fully, perhaps I will feel more gracious at work towards trying people on busy days.

And in parking lots.