Today I went to see my Primary dimwit. Unfortunately I got into one of my stupid crying jags while I was waiting for her in the exam room. She came in, looked me in the eye (they rarely do that) and said, "I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry." She took the wet and totally gross snot rag out of my hand - about 4 or 5 kleenexes I had been holding, trying to stem the tide - threw it away and handed me a whole box of them. Then she put her arm around me and just stood next to me for a minute or so, saying nothing else.
The point is, she didn't say anything stupid like, "You're going to be ok!" or "We can fix that!" or "You're so fucked!" and she didn't try to paint a happy face on a dire situation. She said exactly the right thing at exactly the right time, and that alone made me feel a little bit better.
I guess I'll be keeping her on as my Primary dimwit. She may be a little slow when it comes to diagnosing or prescribing stuff, but dammit, she has compassion. I have specialists for everything else. She can be my compassion specialist.
That makes me smile. You actually touched the warm spot in me with this one. Thank you.
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