So, a few months ago, I went to see "The Help" with a friend I hadn't seen in a while. One of the things that struck me about the story is the fact that in certain working situations, it's impossible not to develop bonds with people, even if those bonds are not in our own political interest.
The African American women working in the homes of the Southern elite developed strong bonds with the children they cared for. In many cases, these care givers also provided the core foundation of values, self-worth and nurturing their biological mothers would not or could not. The terrible thing--as they reached adulthood, those bonds unraveled in favor of what was deemed appropriate within that societal construct.
It seemed to me a cruel injustice on top of equally cruel treatment on a day-to-day basis.
There were many elements of "The Help" that triggered feelings within me. It's a powerful story. Sometimes, I think, some stories are so powerful, it's impossible to know what to do with them because there are too many messages there for us to process at once.
I work in a field that can be very emotionally charged. One moment, I'm saying goodbye to a patient I have known for many years, and in the next moment, I am meeting a new patient that I hope to know for many years. And every place in between, I am filling the gaps and holes that providing care to all of these patients creates--always in support of my doctors.
We do all of these things together, and everything I do is in support of them. I am not a doctor. I thought I wanted to be for about half a day around twelve years ago, but I looked at the list of classes I didn't want to take and decided that it was definitely not for me. It doesn't matter how many people tell me that I could do it, I choose not to. I prefer to be part of the mortar that holds everything together, because it affords me the opportunity to help communicate and put into action how much the doctors I work with really care.
In my field, doctors are always considered leaders, even if I worked with them while they were still in school, learning their practice--even if I was there the first time they saw a patient with a broken toenail and didn't know what to do. In my field, I help bring new doctors up right, and I do my best to step away into the background when they find their own way. I usually come to love them, like they are "my own." The lines of leadership and friendship blur.
I'm guessing it works much the same way in human medicine and in fields where people rely on each other for the kind of support that can save or change a life. I don't want to diminish the relationships coworkers form in other kinds of work, but I just don't think it's the same.
In "The Help," Skeeter comes home from college to find that the African American maid in her household has been let go because her visiting daughter is impetuous enough to ignore decorum and walks in through the front door of the house, instead of the back. Skeeter and Constantine's shared bond was so strong, that Constantine presumably dies from a broken heart over the loss.
Skeeter unwittingly becomes the champion of all of the African American maids in her Southern community when she decides to tell their stories and shine a light on the inequities of the culture. She breaks the mold. She befriends these ladies, even though she knows doing so will only garner her ostracization within her social circle and community.
What makes Skeeter a hero is the recognition of the power of the relationships these women build, and the critical role they often play in the lives of the children they help to raise. She recognizes their humanity in a culture that lives under the doily covered table of inhumanity. Through the course of watching these women suffer through their lives being turned upside down by Skeeter's book about them, the true revelation is the value of these lives, and the value they impart to the lives they touch. It's clear that those tightly woven bonds serve a purpose--they are integral to creating trust, independence, and a sense of shared destiny.
Sometimes, as I am supporting my doctors, and even my coworkers, it occurs to me that we are all going through the same horrible and wonderful things together. We are all impacted--sometimes in different ways, and sometimes at different times. Yesterday, for example, was my first day back at work after ten days away. I was horribly inefficient and by mid-day, my back hurt so bad I just wanted us all to get through. My doctor's back was horrible too. We had to say goodbye to a patient way too soon--a crushing blow to my doctor, who was heartbroken. At the time, I couldn't think about it. I was busy filling any holes I could. This morning, as I met a new patient with the same name as the one we lost yesterday, the loss hit me like a freight train.
I was really glad my friend--my doctor--was there today.
"With a Little Help From My Friends" The Beatles
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