Kindness

In today’s world we are all too familiar with doubt, despair, and disappointment. 2020 has brought with it many challenges that we have never previously experienced in our collective lifetimes. Covid-19 has ushered in fear, anxiety, sadness, anger, grief, and a heaping helping of uncertainty. The fabric of our relationships with others have been stretched and, at times, have threatened to become unraveled. As a result, we find that we miss heartfelt connections with others, feeling distanced and isolated from those who bring meaning to our lives. And what of kindness? Somehow, it too, seems lost.

Is Kindness Really Lost?

Even though I was raised in Michigan, my parents brought me up with a southern sensibility. The phrase “bless your heart” was a term of endearment, of caring, of kindness. It was not a back-handed way of mocking or laughing at someone, as how it is used sometimes today. I was raised to be kind to others. And it is this type of kindness, this “bless your heart” kindness that I miss. I was beginning to believe that it was disappearing and was at risk of being lost. Thankfully, I recently found out that this is not the case.

How a Stranger Blessed My Heart

As I have previously mentioned in other posts and pages, I struggle with issues related to chronic pain and sometimes find walking very difficult. In public spaces or very open areas, I often need to rely on the use of a cane for ambulation. Going places by myself can sometimes be a daunting task, but I am determined to maintain every bit of independence possible. Recently I took myself to a local outpatient laboratory for routine blood work. I hate to admit it, but I am quite anxious when it comes to anything related to needles. So, to go to get my blood drawn was quite the heroic effort for me! I write this not to have anyone feel sorry for me, but just to “paint the picture” of my mindset this particular day.

I walked into this very open and spacious laboratory setting, equipped with my handy cane, a mask on my face, and a rather large dose of anxiety. I have difficulty transitioning from seated to standing positions, so while I waited for my turn, I remained standing…walking around occasionally while maintaining my social distancing. There is a specific lab tech that I request each time I have my blood drawn. Not only is she very good at her job; she and I share the same birthday! She makes the blood drawing experience very comfortable for me; easily distracting me with talk of birthdays and family. Unfortunately, today my special lab tech was not working. So, it seemed I would have the luck of the “draw” so to speak!

A Humble Woman

Enter, my appointed lab technician. This lady appeared to be around my age, perhaps a little younger. She was somewhat heavy set (as am I) and walked with a slight limp (sans a cane). I immediately felt a connection with her. She wore the expression of pain and a sense of a life of hard work on her face. But underneath it all, I sensed that she was a deeply grounded and humble person. I explained that I had difficulty with blood draws; that I had been told that I had “deep veins.” I also shared with her that I normally requested a specific lab tech. She quietly assured me all would be well. In preparation for the experience that I feared, I told her that I was “a nice person but a bad patient.” Again, quiet reassurance. And then, in probably less than two minutes, the blood was drawn and my fear was gone. Now, my task was to find a way to get down from the high lab chair I was in and walk through the building and out to my car. Did I tell you that this outpatient lab is connected to a major hospital campus?

A Humbling Experience

I thanked this new lab tech profusely, both for drawing my blood painlessly and for making me feel comfortable. I smiled widely, but of course she couldn’t see that behind my mask. I hope that she saw the smile in my eyes. Then…I looked down to the floor as I was trying to figure out how to get out of that darned chair. And, I noticed that my shoelace on my sneaker was untied. Now, this should not pose a problem to the average person. I could have dealt with this problem had I been home, having worked out techniques to take care of such circumstances; where to sit, how to stoop over, etc. But I was in a relatively unfamiliar setting which didn’t offer the same kind of at-home amenities I needed to solve this problem. Here comes the major point of this blog post: I was in an embarrassing and possibly dangerous situation (being my own trip hazard). I felt like I was stranded in the middle of a desert, aka a large, open, hospital setting. And I needed help. I didn’t ask for help. I didn’t need to ask for help. This kind, caring, lab tech, who was a stranger to me, didn’t hesitate to say, “Here, put your foot up on my leg.” When she realized I had trouble raising my leg, she gently lifted my foot and put it between her knees, like a mother lifting a child’s foot. And she tied my shoe. Kindness. From a stranger. This wasn’t in her job description. This was in her DNA. Kindness.

Kindness is Not Lost

Her act of kindness almost brought tears to my eyes right then and there. Later that day, and as I write this, it did bring tears to my eyes. Kindness is not lost. There are kind people in this world. Guaranteed. I’m so thankful for this. I hope that my view of life never becomes so negative or skewed that I forget this. And I hope that I never lose sight of this reminder of kindness when I connect with people in my life. I can be kind too. To people I know and people I love. And to strangers. For sometimes the kindness we give and the kindness we receive from strangers can be the greatest kindness of all.