Milwaukee, Wis., Mar 29, 2008 / 02:00 am
I remember it perfectly, like a snapshot in my mind’s eye. A cold, grey morning in February with a new referral already staring back at me from the top of my desk.
“Now what?” I thought. As a staff psychologist on a hospital rehabilitation floor, there were always more patients to see than there was time in the day. The latest referral was a 44-year-old patient named Madeline who was paralyzed from the neck down. Her doctor felt she was depressed because he often saw tears on her cheeks. As I read the referral more closely I saw that Madeline also couldn’t speak, and it was doubtful that she could even understand what was said to her.
“You’re not going to be able to do much with her,” said my colleague when he saw the referral. “Just go see her a couple times to keep her doctor happy.” I must admit my colleague’s prediction seemed valid. What could I possibly do with a patient who was unable to communicate with me in any way?
My first visit to Madeline furthered my doubts. The only part of her that could move were her eyes, which seemed clear and focused intently on me as I introduced myself. I explained her doctor’s concerns and promised to see her again the next day, but it seemed a waste of the insurance company’s money to pay me to just sit and talk to Madeline each day. I couldn’t have been more wrong.