A Visit to My Grandparents’ House

Written by Dr. Taylor of Luna Wellness Co.

This past June I was visiting my 90-year-old grandmother in Vermont who has Alzheimer’s. I have been very close with my grandmother throughout my life. While she has 20 grandchildren (and now 32 great grandchildren), I was her mini-me. I soaked up everything she taught me about health and nutrition. She was well ahead of her time. She barely graduated high school yet was teaching me the microbiology of our bodies with various foods and diets. I was a sponge and wanted to learn it all. My grandmother and I had (and still have) a very special bond. Unfortunately, I am only able to visit once or twice a year, but when I do, I spend quite a bit of time talking with her and observing her. 

During my last visit, my grandmother’s hospice doctor was making a call to the house. I had been with my grandparents all morning and was standing in the kitchen making my children lunch while my grandparents and their caregiver sat at the kitchen table. My grandfather was reading the newspaper, and my grandmother was enjoying some fruit. The hospice doctor arrived and took a seat at the kitchen table next to my grandmother. The doctor turned to the caregiver and asked how my grandmother had been doing. The caregiver, who I typically enjoy, started to talk about how weak my grandmother is and how much she has declined. She went on and on about all the things she can’t do and how unable she is. I turned from the sink and looked at my grandmother holding back tears in my eyes. My grandmother started to get tense. Her smile turned to a worried expression. She looked around as if something bad was happening. I could tell that she was taking in what the caregiver and doctor were discussing. They spoke as if she wasn’t even there. I turned back to the sink, grabbed my kids’ plates and brought them outside to eat their lunch in the sun. I stood outside in silence trying to decide what to do. Part of me felt sad for my grandmother’s reality (a grief so strong that made me want to leave) while the other part of me felt so much anger. I was so frustrated at the way they spoke of my grandmother as if she wasn’t in the room, as if she wasn’t a human sitting right there feeling the energy and negativity inside the room. I felt that I had to do something.

I walked back inside, and the same type of conversation had continued. My grandmother looked very concerned. I walked over to her and knelt on the ground between the hospice doctor and my grandma. I blocked out the noise and turned to my grandmother and started to talk with her. I asked her about her lunch and told her I loved visiting and seeing her. In an instant, I saw her soften. She cracked a smile and began to reach for her food again. I could tell that she, too, was blocking out the noise. While my grandmother and I were chatting, the doctor took notice and turned to me and said, “Wow, you really have a way with her.” It felt nice to hear, but I don’t know that I had a way with her as much as I chose to sit next to her, to include her in the conversation, to help her feel safe and seen, to help her feel able, to help her feel less alone.

This has been my journey as a provider. Patient-centered care is something that I care so deeply about. I may not be able to solve every single complaint, but I can assure you that I will help everyone to feel less alone and more resourced. As Rachelle Seliga Garcia of Innate Traditions says, “Rarely, if ever, are any of us healed in isolation.” Our patients and clients need us.

I feel frustrated when I see or hear about providers simply going through the motions of their day trying to just get through. While I used to blame them, I have recently decided to approach this with curiosity. Why are providers showing up to just go through the motions of their day? And what I am observing is that they are so worn out that they must disconnect to some level to keep going. They typically get into medicine/healing with wonderful intentions, and the system wears them thin. They are asked to see so many patients in a day. They are asked to do a boatload of administrative tasks AFTER working long treatment hours. They are merely trying to stay afloat and commit to the path that they decided on in graduate school. The weight is tremendous. I get it. And there is a better way. Providers have choices. There are models that allow providers to do the work they love while staying true to themselves and honoring their own needs.

Just as I feel that healing with our patients happens when they return to their true selves and honor their needs and desires, the same goes for us as providers. I have run myself into the ground in practice and I have paid the price. And I asked myself, “Is this fair to my patients? Is this fair to me? Is this fair to my family and my community?” And the answer at the time was “no”, so I paused and I restructured my practice. Sometimes we just need a break. Sometimes we need support. Sometimes we simply need to remember who the heck we are.

We are helpers. We are seers. We are the pillars that hold our communities together. It is IMPERATIVE that we resource ourselves so that we can continue resourcing our community. We deserve to feel held and seen just as our patients deserve the same. 

I am no longer tolerating providers who show up, slap their briefcase down on the table and talk to or about patients (in front of them) as if they are just another number in their schedule that day. It is not okay. We are all human with a longing for connection and love and the ability to provide this to others starts with turning inward and asking ourselves what needs we have. Resource yourself to the point where you can meet every single patient or client as if they are the most important individual that you will walk with that day. Not only will your patients heal, but so will you.