Navy Seal Wisdom

Today I called my mother’s doctor to inform her I was concerned about my mother’s health. I believed my mother was not getting the rest she needed to heal the radiation burns on her legs and every time I recommended more rest, she said that it didn’t make any difference. So I was taking my case to her doctor, but first, I had to get through the receptionist.

I explained to the receptionist that my mother would respond to a doctor’s order, such as an order for rest in the afternoon or to stay off her feet after a certain number of hours. The receptionist took the message and said she would give it to the doctor.

This call to the doctor’s office was the latest of my attempts to stop the busyness of mother’s life and create time and space for her to rest and heal. I was feeling frustrated and overwhelmed by my mom’s unwillingness to go along with my plan.

I decided to stop by the yacht club to see Barnaby. Instead I found Chuck Pfarrer sitting at a table with his portable office. He was exactly the person I needed to see.

As a cancer survivor, surely he knew the correlation between rest and healing. I thought I would enlist him in my efforts to get my mother to rest more. But the conversation took many turns as he artfully and skillfully and humorously took me down a road toward realization and compassion.

First it was established that my mother is now able to sleep at night with the help of her new medications. This, he said, was crucial. Then he questioned whether her condition was getting worse. Well, no, not exactly, I admitted.

Next he had me consider my mother’s baseline. As an example he asked how many times my mother had taken a nap in her lifetime. Hmmm. Good point. I recall my mother taking a nap in the 70’s when she had 4 young children and was going to school full-time to get a college degree. I conceded she rarely took a nap. That is her baseline he said.

Ok, I get it. My request is unrealistic given her baseline. An unenforceable rule as Dr. Luskin would call it, and it was only causing me grief.

I started crying and Chuck sat across from me, behind an opened steel brief-case. He said, I am holding your hand here. Without actually reaching over the table and taking my hand, I knew he was. Chuck, a big, strong Navy Seal, who had lived through countless military operations and medical procedures, was lovingly walking and laughing me through the grief.

Then he had me consider that everyone deals with recovery in their own way and that for some, like himself, the best way is to stay busy and active and not sit on the couch.

I wanted my mom to read about the law of circulation so that she would slow down and allow herself to receive, but Chuck was telling me about how some people just feel better when they are giving and doing. And, he said, this is her comfort zone.

In the end I knew he was right, my mother was doing the best she could and I was the one who needed to relax! Thanks to Chuck, I left the yacht club without my unenforceable rule. I am so glad I followed my instinct to stop by. I thought I was going to see Barnaby and get help for my mom. Instead I found a Wise Warrior Soul and got help for myself.