A homeless man named Yellow sat outside the Dunkin’ Donuts. He was asking people if they could treat him to a cup of coffee and muffin. His face and arms were completely covered with tattoos perhaps contributing to the lack of attention he was receiving. While I have walked by and ignored my fair share of homeless people in my time, I chose to treat him to an iced coffee and coffee cake muffin.
How we treat other people and ourselves is a question that perplexes me. Why are we kind at some moments in time and oblivious in others? How can people who have been treated so well, treat others so poorly? And why do we so often treat others with such care while ignoring our own serious and obvious needs?
Some of it might come down to the simple calculus we make about who deserves to be treated. We pass snap judgements on people based on their appearance or identity. These judgements are also clouded by the stories we tell ourselves.
Case in point. For much of my life, I have resisted medical treatment of almost any kind. I prided myself on never getting sick and when it was fairly obvious that I was – ignored my symptoms and opted to suffer in silence instead. I refused treatment for all sorts of ailments – from physical to mental. Even when something as simple as a few ounces of DayQuil would have provided immediate relief.
This refusal was not simply stubborn ignorance. Instead it was presumably influenced by the story I tell myself about independence, self-sufficiency and strength. In other words, “I don’t need help,” or worse yet, “I don’t deserve help.” Years ago, I met the historian Keith Wailoo who spoke about how pervasive these narratives were, how they are often rooted in our childhood experiences and they impact our interactions with every facet of the medical system.
My attitude towards treatment changed around the time I had children. On one level, It’s hard to take care of someone else when you’re sick. So in the short term taking a sip of DayQuil is no biggie if that means I can be more present, patient and helpful for those I love the most.
In the long-term it meant that I could no longer ignore any ailment that potentially could kill me and take me away from them for good. I received regular screenings to ensure that I’d be spared from the colon cancer that killed my father. I went to a neurologist to understand why I was experiencing aphasia at so young an age. I visited a cardiologist to make sure the chest pains I was experiencing weren’t the result of something that could end my life in an instant.
In the beginning, I told myself I was seeking treatment for others. I needed to make sure I was around for my children and wife. This line of thinking was helpful for overcoming the barriers to treatment – fear, uncertainty, inconvenience and pain chief among them. But eventually I realized that the treatment itself was also a treat for me. I was empowered with knowledge about myself, my body and my mind. Understanding more about why I feel the way I feel and where those feelings come from. Recognizing patterns in my behavior so I could take preventative action or discover tools to help me manage different ailments.
It sounds simple, but if you don’t want chest pains, it’s good to understand where those pains are coming from so you can treat them – giving you both physical relief and mental peace.
The stories I told myself about not needing treatment or help have caused me – and perhaps others who love me – untold unnecessary pain.
I still have a long way to go to understand how I treat myself and others. I don’t always make the right choices or decisions. A fact compounded when I’m not feeling well in the first place.
Yet everyday is an opportunity to treat myself or others better. Whether that’s a trip to Dunkin’ with Yellow or a trip to the doctor by myself.
Recommendation for the Week: Give someone a treat. Offering an act of kindness to others or ourselves is also an act of strength and grace.
Consider sharing this note with someone who could use a treat.