Letter 13.

Dear Mr. Son of Man,

The average age of most patients that I see is about 30, but you took twice as many spins around the sun.  You actually looked much younger despite your years of your substance use and living on the street.  For most of our conversation, I couldn’t understand why you answered my questions while staring at the wall to the left of me.  I twisted my neck and used my forceful voice to try to get you to look at me.  It wasn’t until I asked you about what you did for work that you looked me straight in the eyes and said, “a mechanic, like my dad… if my dad was a doctor, maybe I would be one too.”  Your words stung, but then it clicked for me— my white coat, my appearance, and my invasive questions while you were stuck in the jail yet again was a reminder of what you didn’t have. 

You are not the first patient to tell me that that I didn’t understand their position.  I recognize the privilege that I have acquired, but oh how I wish I could respond with my story- and tell you how I got here because maybe then you would see that we have more in common than you think.  But sharing my story does no service to you, so instead I simply said, “tell me what your dad taught you.”  Looking directly at me, you went on to describe a hardworking man that did everything possible to make sure you had everything that he did not.  To me it sounded like your father taught you the skills that you were using to survive, so I told you so.  As our conversation went on, I think I surprised you perhaps because others in my position talked about your experience with substance use disorder and homelessness as deficits that needed to be fixed.  But you see, I don’t see it that way.  I want to understand your source of resilience because the “fixer” of your “problems” lives in you.  That’s why I was so adamant about looking you in your eyes, what people call “the windows of your soul”.  This is your journey; a journey rooted in where you come from and dictated by how you want to live it.  My job is to simply listen to you, try to understand you, and (if you want) support you to find your way in the manner that you want it.

 Sincerely without judgement,

Dr. A