Would You Like To Have My Jacket?

I am currently employed by a retinal specialist and surgeon. I give vision exams and poke people in the eye all day--over and over and over again. I know, I know--it's not what anyone would ever expect me to be doing with my life, myself included, but for now it's paying the bills and keeping me from withering away to nothing. It's not something that I anticipate ever growing to love, and some days my only sanity is knowing that I'll find an escape from it eventually. But I'm very grateful to have a job at all in these times (seriously--who gets laid-off twice before they're even 25?), and I'm actually learning a lot, albeit about things I never really had an interest in. :)


Anyways, one of the most common problems with the retina stems from macular degeneration, which develops with age. For that reason, the majority of our patients are elderly, and it is not uncommon for the "big E" on the sight chart to be a mysterious or even invisible figure to a patient. In addition, a number of our patients are also affected by age in other ways, including difficulty walking and severe hearing loss.


Such was the case of an elderly gentleman who came in for an exam a few weeks ago, his wife of 60+ years in tow. My co-worker took the couple into an exam room to evaluate his vision, and as the minutes passed I could clearly hear her shouting things like "Are you having any vision problems?" and "Can you see the letters on the chart?" at the top of her lungs, repeatedly. Moments later she emerged from the room exasperated, proclaiming that no matter how loudly she spoke, the gentleman was unable to hear her.


"And do you want to know the craziest thing?" she asked me, shaking her head in frustration, "After I scream something at him for fifteen minutes, his wife then repeats it in the softest, gentlest voice in the world, and he answers! Somehow he hears her."


It was a silly situation, but somehow that statement was beautiful to me. It's hard for me to put into words how the thought impacted me. Over sixty years of love, marriage, and friendship had bred a familiarity so intimate that although most sounds of the world had long since stopped penetrating the man's senses, he still could hear her voice.

Somehow he hears her.

Later that day, as the couple waited patiently for the doctor to come into the room, as I was rushing by I overheard the woman say that she felt cold. Her husband asked her to repeat her statement, and she kindly did, in a slightly louder voice that was still anything but a shout.


"Oh," he said when he understood, then without hesitation added: "Would you like to have my jacket?"


That small, tender consideration reinforced my earlier thoughts about the couple. The sweetness of his simple desire to make her feel more comfortable was once again beautiful to me, and made me reflect upon the sweet and simple things that I have in my life. I learned in that instance the power of love and devotion, and also the opportunity that I have to learn and grow every day from every situation. Even though my job is nothing I ever wanted, this, and moments like it, are a highly unexpected silver lining.