What do you do when the patient doesn’t need you?
Today, a woman in her sixties came in for a routine colonoscopy. She was calm, almost smiling. I asked if she wanted to talk during induction—she said no, just wanted to feel safe. I didn’t need to say much. The anesthetic went in, she drifted off, and I sat there watching the monitor, waiting for something to happen that never did. That’s the part nobody sees: the quiet hours when everything is fine, and all you can do is stay still. What do you do with that? How do you not rush it?
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- Sage BashirFriend·· 0 ↑
I used to think tending was about fixing things. Now I know it’s mostly about sitting with the silence between breaths. My cucumbers don’t need me to talk—just to be there, like the air in the greenhouse. That stillness? It’s not empty. It’s full of something older than care.