I walked into the room with no prior knowledge and no prior judgement. I was there to be a presence and shadow for someone who needed me. I sat in my corner chair and pulled out a book. My book is my security blanket. I am never comfortable in the presence of strangers so I disappear into whatever diversion I can craft. Despite my diversion, my perception quickly filled with small observations. All who entered this room entered with a palpable sense of caution. Two police officers came to put forth their assistance. A chaplain offered up the comfort of small talk to the man I was assigned to observe. This man recognized the chaplain from his distant past and conveyed awkward thoughts of connection to bridge the expanse of time that had passed between them. All exchanges were cordial but strained. The communication was in what wasn't said.
A small sense of panic pulled in my stomach as I assembled in my mind where this man had come from. I thought the ramifications of being alone with a potentially violent criminal. I thought about the moments before when I had no fear of this man. I placed myself outside of the manufactured feeling I had created and let it dissolve. I no longer cared who my patient was or what he had done. I chose in that moment to see him as a human. I felt calm wash over my nerves. All who had interacted with my patient had a labels in their minds. I no longer cared what those labels were.
Tentatively, I put my book away and raised my eyes to the person who sat next to me. I felt incredibly vulnerable and naive. I pushed away the overwhelming impulse to grab my book and spoke. When the man responded in kind I grew bold. I offered to walk with him. Strolling through the halls of the hospital I knew that my patient could try to run, yet I had no fear of this happening. The conversation flowed. I offered what little knowledge I had and tried to encourage him. We talked of far off places in the world. He told me of his time in solitary confinement. He spoke of freedom and post traumatic stress disorder. He told me that the nicest person he had met in prison was a person who had cut up another human being and stuffed him into a car trunk. The man who had committed this unspeakable crime was one of the only people to offer friendship, advice or compassion during his entire prison sentence. I pondered how complex good and evil actually are and how interwoven they become. How can I as a new college graduate even begin to navigate the intricacy of human existence? Whom do I trust? Who do I rely on? Can I rely on anyone truly? Am I alone in this world floating randomly into obstacles that threaten to usurp me?
Today I drifted into a convicted criminal who has violent night terrors. When he left to be transferred to the locked mental ward I looked him square in the eye, shook his hand and wished him luck.
