Monday, February 22, 2016

On being Humbled by Mental Torture

People say it is not ethical for medical practitioner to treat personal friend or family, mainly because judgements can be clouded and could pose imminent danger to the patient, who essentially is also someone beloved and held so dear.

I am at a cross road I don't know what I should do.

Someone I love dearly is suffering. Because an important man in his life is suffering. While I have the capability to do render proper help to whoever suffering from similar symptoms where I practice, I don't have the such privilege in where he lives. For two weeks, he texted me everyday and described to me how he saw his man suffer, and the frustration from the start, gradually turns into helplessness. Every time he turned to me and let me know in one short sentence 'My Papa is unstable today.'

Starting off with some degree of skepticism, it took me a few days to understand what his worries were based on. But with that understanding, I began to become more irritable and anxious. I was jumpy and I skipped a beat when his text was about his man. I had in turn became annoyed, partly at him, partly at his man and partly at everything else. I snapped at my loved ones physically around me, I lost my patience and I could not concentrate in my readings. For days in a row, the ringtone of his message turned my hands and legs cold and my heart rate doubled, and my chest aching. It wasn't only till a few nights before the impulsive trip, of which I made because I could no longer cope with it, that I found how terribly wrong and how sorry I should be to misunderstand him. To him, I was a form of consolation. I was where he thought he could seek solace and peace. Physically or not, I should have been able to provide what he hoped he could find in me. And I had failed myself in failing to understand where he was coming from and I hated myself for the first time.

When we finally met that afternoon, the silence in the car was deafening. His love was silent, and so was he. I had no means of breaking the ice, because I was already frozen to my core. Thankfully the ride was not long. But not thankful to any extend, was the moment when all of us stepped out of the car into the afternoon sun at the porch of his house. My heart sank. And I was so near to tears. Whatever had he done to deserve such punishment and suffering? He was entirely different, the negativity from his man, had sucked out the light and soul of him, and he was haggard, downcast and lethargic. If there was a choice then, now or whenever possible, I would have wished for me to have that sufferings he bear.

The short 2 days we were together, I told myself repeatedly I needed to be strong for him. As I watch him struggling to stand and walk, having been bogged down by the burden and pain of watching his man suffer, I had indirectly joined and boarded his train of heartache. Despite the ability in sharing what I know and making sure it was understood, the motivation and relief in having a glimpse of hope to the end of this gloom was too short-lived...

Entering the 3rd week now, I began to wonder if this is all but a nightmare. My helplessness was so great, I tear at the thought of this one person I love dearly.