Spo-reflections on loneliness

I realized the other day I am experiencing loneliness. At first I thought the emotion was mere fatigue from a week’s worth of flu. I then wondered was I have some seasonal affective disorder-like feelings. After careful consideration I realize it is loneliness; I didn’t get it right away as I seldom experience it. I am fairly confident I am correct.

Work is a factor: there is no one in the offices when I am at work. This wasn’t always so. Back before COVID, all appointments were done at the office and the owners worked in-office as well. The halls and waiting rooms were always full of activity. Lately the receptionist has been more away than not with flu of her own. The therapists aren’t here; they are either working from home or have taken time off. I am in offices where no one else works; the other office doors are open to reveal dark empty rooms. Nearly all my patients are doing their appointments via video.

Home is another matter. With Harper gone I open the door to the house and there is no pooch to greet me. We no longer have to keep lights on for the sake of her poor vision so I enter a house that is dark, and at this time of year there is darkness when I rise and when I return. Someone works long hours at this time of year and he often doesn’t get home until after 10PM. So I have the place to myself in the evening. I haven’t experienced such quiet in years, and it is not a serene; it is the sort of quiet of something missing. I am going to bed early as there isn’t anything to do; I could sleep the winter away like this.

Other than patients I am going days without seeing or talking to anyone. I text constantly – this is a comfort – but it isn’t enough. I want to be around people, especially at this time of year. I wonder if getting out the Christmas trimmings would be cheery or make things worse. It seems lackluster if it is only me who will see it.

This weekend I flew to Michigan to see my niece dance in ‘The Nutcracker’. I glad to be with family, which includes extended in-laws also coming in for the ballet. As soon as I post this, Brother #3 and I go over to Brother #4 for pizza and Dungeons and Dragons. He’s quite involved in his neighborhood and I dare say other fellows will join us. It feels good to be among people; I want to give them all a hug. I hope they have low savings throws. ho. ho ho.

Spo-reflections on my break in life.

Note: this one is more personal than usual; tt was inspired by a patient who recently told me a jobsite was going to give him a chance, despite his lack of experience or qualifications. Spo.

I was taught what made America great was opportunity. Regardless of background you had a chance to grow from nothing to something. Unlike other countries where success was determined by title, caste, or governmental decree, our nation takes as many kids as possible and nurture them to their potential. We didn’t select the ‘best’ seeds but watered them all to see which ones would grow and thrive. For example, I have a vague memory, maybe a false one, the local Little League wasn’t something you tried for but you signed up and the coach’s job was to turn who he had into a team.

I did well in school but I wasn’t that great; I always had to work hard to get good grades. This became harder to do with each advancement in academics. By the time I got to my internship I was over my head and struggling in may ways. I won’t dwell on the factors but in summary I bungled it, enough the program directors weren’t going to keep me. Where I would go do: that was my not their responsibility. I had to hustle calling the local residency programs in town to tell them I wanted to go into psychiatry and do you have an opening? All of them declined, probably because they got wind of my failure and wouldn’t try me.

My lucky break came via The University of Chicago. The psychiatrist in charge of the interview process called me one morning as I was contemplating what would happen to me to say they are going to accept me. The reception was not a warm one. I remember him bluntly telling me:

You aren’t qualified but we are going to give you a chance.

I joined five others residents who had been accepted in the usual way through stiff competition to get a slot at one of the top universities. My class consisted of five brilliant interns and Urs Truly. Initially psychiatry was a struggle for me; one professor had serious doubts of me being there and she was ready to oust me within six months. I daresay I wasn’t as they needed a warm body to work the long hours. I like to think there were a few professors who liked me enough to stand up for me; they saw in me potential. By the end of the residency I was as good as the others and in some ways better. Indeed one professor gave me ‘The poky little puppy award’ for being the most skeptical at first but the one who went the furthest.*

You aren’t qualified but we are going to give you a chance.

That was thirty years ago and I can say without bragging I am excellent in my field; I have a reputation as being one of the best in the valley. One element I have that perhaps others lack is compassion for someone struggling to make it. In my own way I have lots of patients for whom I have said I am going to give you a chance.

The perception from my youth about America faded long ago. We seem to have now an approach more like The Hunger Games. Winners to good schools and jobs lead a remarkable life and for the losers it is too darned bad. People only want the best, the most experienced; the other 99% are on their own.

Your aren’t qualified but we are going to give you a chance.

Give someone a chance today; it may be the best thing you can give to someone.

*this award still hangs in my office where I see it every day.