Dear Doctor,
I am writing to you today, at 6 AM in the morning, because yesterday was hard, and I am starting my day feeling both depleted and discouraged. For the record, I do not feel the need to justify why yesterday was hard, but I would like discuss the happenings, in list form, as I believe it will be relevant as we return to our “let’s take two weeks to think about it” medication-addition-conversation, while allowing you a brief snapshot into my day-to- day life.
Yesterday was hard because, 1) My daughter had a seizure for the fourth day in a row, and while this is not unusual, her lips and face have started turning blue. This new feature frightens me even though I understand it, and despite thorough emergency/care plans from her doctors. 2) My daughter’s 3-day-a-week homecare nurse is out for the next two weeks due to a COVID exposure. This compounds my responsibilities at home. 3) As part of my daughter’s new SCIG (formally IVIG) treatment, I stuck two needles in her legs, and while this placement and therapy actually went incredibly well, I still hate needles, and I wrestled deep into the evening with the reality that I’m not sure I ever wanted this type of treatment for her, or for me.
When it comes to processing this list of events, I am well aware that there are thousands of ways to reframe, or literally rewrite these experiences from yesterday, and more often than not, I opt to do this. However, this morning, I am choosing to accept exactly where I am, and how I feel. Based on our initial time together, you seem to be the type of person who might choose to validate or support this stance. I can’t know for sure, but during our limited time, it seemed you were working very hard to imagine yourself in my circumstance — you even put a word to it: empathy. I’m sure you are well aware, but this translates into a very comfortable clinical space.
Despite my comfort, and your kindness, our initial appointment was hard for me. It is hard to have fresh eyes on the most vulnerable pieces of my life and story, but fresh eyes like yours are necessary and important, because they look deeply into hard, and ask the question, what can we make easier? Thank you for taking the time to schedule a follow up appointment and allowing us time to think through medication additions.
As of this morning, I don’t have any concrete thoughts on your medication addition ideas, or action items for you going into our appointment, but you should know, I prefer less medication to more. I also want you to know, I am inclined to trust you. Because, 1) you seem to care very deeply about your clients and the work you do, and 2) you believe there is room to improve my day-to-day life. Thank you again for allowing margin around these conversations — our appointment was an excellent change of pace from my prior experiences with psychiatrists, and I appreciate being able to take some time and space around your suggestions. I am looking forward to chatting next week.
Kind Regards,
Jesse Van Leeuwen
Flowers by: Annaliese Hoyle
6 Comments
Wow. Your transparency is admirable. I don’t know if you know this but you have given me the courage to realize I cannot always function without help. Also it’s okay to seek help!! Love you Jesse. There’s courage in weakness.
It hasn’t been like you to express such frustration with your difficulties. It’s ok, beautiful. My prayers are with you to get through this difficult time. Jesus loves you.
❤️
We all experience times of frailty, weakness, and powerlessness.
Knowing that, however, doesn’t make it any easier to get through those very hard times.
My son, who is 46 years old, has been overheard to tell his young nieces and nephews that “Grandma is the strongest person he knows!” (G-ma would be me.)
I would wonder why he told them this…I’m a older lady who is beset by more than a few physical ailments. I walk slow, and move around with difficulty. My hands and spine are testament to the ravages of arthritis. I lean on my son more and more each day.
But he persists in telling the young ones that his mom is the strongest person he knows.
Once, I asked him why he did that and he explained that he doesn’t want them to think that real strength lies in the physical power of the body. Bullies are weak. The person with the ability to stay calm, be kind, love and share, smile and laugh…those are the strong.
I pray that you will accept the weakness of your own mind and body, and know that you will still be the strongest person your daughter and son will ever know.
Maggie
1) i miss you! 2) you love your family fiercely 3) I’ll pray for less needles 4) sounds like your doctor wants to hear you. What a gift.
Jesse! Your honesty along with eloquence is the thing I most admire about your writing! You speak hard truths, share deep vulnerabilities, balance apologies when needed equally with a “no holds barred, this is me” attitude where appropriate! You manage to exude love for your life and your family in the face of struggles to maintain order. You are YOU! And that is THE most beautiful thing!
Sending love and hugs to you and your beautiful family always!! Miss you all!!