For those of you that don’t know, I am a medical assistant at a community health and wellness center. The company makes no secret of their liberal/progressive beliefs, and I’ve truly found a home there. We offer a sliding scale for those who don’t have insurance, and we don’t turn anyone away. Most of our patients are low-income, on Medicaid/Medicare (for now, at least). They are all colors and backgrounds, all walks of life. Some are brand new to this country, with the immunization records from the country they fled folded carefully in their hands.
You may ask… what do medical assistants do? Well, I’ll tell you. I don’t know. (LOL sorry I couldn’t resist a little Fiddler on the Roof reference there!)
It’s pretty straightforward. I’m the opening act for the provider. I look over the schedule at the patients that are coming that day, figure out if they needs labs, or forms, or immunizations. My main job is rooming patients: getting the exam room ready, looking over the chart to see what needs attention or questions, and then getting them from the lobby. I check their weight, I barrage them with questions, I take their temperature, pulse, and blood pressure, and leave them in the room to wait for the provider. I give immunizations, Depo shots, whatever is needed. Sounds pretty simple - and it is - most of the time.
One of the things I have to do is go through the PHQ-9 depression screening with any patient who hasn’t done it online - which is many of them. We ask the questions every patient, every time, from age 11 up. It can be tedious and annoying, yes, but depression screening can also open the door to big feelings - I am asking a stranger if they have any thoughts of harming themselves. If they feel bad about themselves or like they are a failure. I honestly don’t feel that medical assistants have enough training to navigate the subtleties of the PHQ-9, but we have to do it, so I fumble along as best I can. People feel safe with me; they open up to me even answering those deeply personal questions - and I consider that a gift. I show them love and respect. I sympathize, I empathize. I can get a smile even from the hardest/coolest of patients. Most of them I can get a read on pretty quickly, and are usually like-minded in most ways.
I also have patients I know are MAGA. I treat them with the same respect and love as I treat all my patients. Why?
They are fellow humans. And genuine kindness feels like genuine kindness, no matter who it’s coming from. And I have yet to meet someone who I don’t have something in common with, even if it’s just talking about getting tattoos in painful places.
I wear a pride flag lanyard, and I know a lot of them know exactly what it is and what I’m about. I can feel their hackles rise, their tense, ready-to-fight energy. I meet that with unwavering love. Unwavering. I mean that.
I can’t say they walk away better human beings, but clearly they are wounded and/or broken, and if I’m the only person in their life who has treated them with love and respect, so be it. I’m not trying to be their friend. I’m not trying to change their mind. I’m just showing them a new way to be. Planting a tiny seed. Here, take this tiny piece of human kindness.
Because seeds can sprout even in the darkest, most arid places.
(Image is me, sitting with my back to the wall. A rainbow cast by a crystal lies across my eyes.)