Do you Care?

 If you read my blog, you might know that it is usually my weekly newspaper column.  After it is in The Daily Times on Sunday, I put it onto my blog and then share it through Twitter and Facebook.  I’m not much into social media but I use those two because of the distribution.  It’s about the only way to let folks know that I’ve posted something new.

Sometimes, I am compelled to write something that might not be totally appropriate for my newspaper column. It’s not that I avoid anything controversial—I just see my newspaper column as a tool to teach, a vessel to be uplifting and positive. To talk about sports and athletes and health and fitness.

Leaving the clinic today, I just had a realization that is highly personal and probably not OK for the newspaper.  Not because it’s controversial or anything and it’s not about politics or religion, two of the topics that I faithfully avoid. I do have (strong) opinions on both of those and if we are ever together and sharing an adult beverage, ask me and I’ll tell you.

It’s just too personal and maybe someone would even see it as self-serving if it is published and distributed to roughly 120,000 people.  This way, you can choose to read it or simply turn the page (as it may be).

Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think my opinion on those things will influence anyone. Now, if I’m talking about sports and injuries and those sorts of things, folks might listen.  They might even listen if I’m pontificating on how to be healthy and happy.

Republican/Democrat, Conservative/Liberal---you really don’t want my opinion.  You might want to know what my opinion is so that you can convince me that I’m right/wrong.  Same thing with religion. What I think is unlikely to change who you vote for, what you believe, or how you live your life.

So back to the story that started this whole train of thought.  I had seen two patients at one of the ancillary clinics that we operate, this one in a drug/alcohol rehabilitation center.  Two really good guys but with really crappy insurance. 

Let me step back just a bit. I’m doing this thing called StoryWorth for my daughter.  Each week, I get a question to answer, mostly about my life. It gives you the chance to look ahead at coming questions (and create your own) so I know that in a couple of weeks, those folks are going to ask me “what is the meaning of life?”

I don’t know…to love, to serve, to live a life that is a single drop in the ocean of life’s millennium? I’m not sure how I’m going to answer that question. Maybe, like my column, when the deadline looms I’ll come up with something, although I doubt that a realization of what is truly the meaning of life will arrive quite so on demand.

But today, after seeing a pair of patients that had tons of problems of their own and which I maybe didn’t have a lot to offer to, I realized that I care.

That’s it.  It really can be that simple.

I’ve been a physical therapist for over 43 years and an athletic trainer for most of that same time. And despite 4+ decades of clinical practice, I am probably a pretty decent physical therapist.

Oh, if you don’t know what’s wrong with you, I’m probably the guy you need to see. And if you’re injured in a sporting event, I’m probably the person you want to see next.

As far as a physical therapy skillset, I’m about like everybody else. No better, no worse. But there is that one difference—I care.

Theodore Roosevelt has been quoted as saying “people don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care.” I think I am the personification of that.

So, here’s the message, young PT’s:  Make sure that they know that you are committed to understanding where they are. Make sure that they know that you are an active participant in why they showed up on your doorstep. Make sure that they know that they are going to get everything that you have-your best every moment of every day. Make sure that the patient in front of you knows that you care.

If you do that…if you genuinely care for them as a person…then the rest of this stuff is easy.

And maybe that’s the meaning of life. Maybe that’s why we were put here. To care for others. To genuinely, deeply be concerned for the wellbeing of everyone that you encounter.