Interactions

For some reason yesterday, I was thinking of all the people whose lives I've crossed paths with over the years. And I'm not talking about friends, but all those people whom I have come into contact with. My years at school, boarding school, nursing, as a young mother, farmer, journalist and massage therapist, while travelling; thousands of people everywhere. I was part of a nursing class, a journalism and massage class - these people I probably had more interaction with but what about all the patients at the hospital, the people I interviewed and wrote stories about, my clients while massaging, the people I worked with in the shearing gangs and the farmers who owned the sheep, my bosses and colleagues at my various jobs; fruit picking, strawberry picking, working on an archaeological dig, as a family support worker, digging calla lilies. The neighbours and members of the various communities I have been part of, my aunts, uncles and cousins, friend's parents, teachers, sporting team members, my children's friends and their parents, and team and class members. There have been thousands of interactions. I consider myself a reasonably quiet, shy person, but I wonder how many of these people remember me or if I touched any of their lives unknowingly. I know I certainly don't remember many of the patients I nursed in hospital, for example but some people and experiences do stand out and not necessarily in a good way. There was one old gentleman who used to pick up his walking stick and swear away at us in Maori. I remember him. And the man who'd had a heart attack and refused to let us shower him. I think I eventually let him be, waiting outside instead, as the stress it caused was the very thing we were trying to avoid.
I remember rushing through the paediatric ward to grab an intubation tube from another ward - that baby died, and attempting to resuscitate a gentleman who arrived in A and E. He died too. I don't remember either of those last two names, just the shock they both induced.

And then there was the woman who'd fallen into the hot pools. She'd burnt herself so badly that she felt no pain as all her nerve endings were destroyed. She died the next day. And the woman who had swallowed paraquat in a suicide attempt. She regained consciousness and regretted her actions, but the chemical had infiltrated her system and there was no turning back. She died too.

And fresh out of school, as a nurse aid, my first dealings with cancer patients. Seeing a once bulky man, whom I knew, now reduced to skin and bone, and addicted to the pain killers that were used to help relieve his discomfort. He'd watch the clock above him and as soon as the time was up, his finger was on that bell, crying for more morphine.

I remember the big, burly gang members, bedridden with broken bones, who cowered at the sight of an injection - not so tough now, and the little girl with cigarette burns on her arms. I remember lots of happy occasions too, the boxes of chocolates from grateful patients, the tears of joy with a new-born in a mother’s arms.

I have forgotten names and meetings along the way but there continue to be numerous interactions - the postwoman who delivers the parcel, the checkout woman at the supermarket, the person I smile at on the beach, the neighbour who offers a friendly hello from the other side of the fence - perhaps none of these encounters will hold any significance for either of us. But perhaps they will.

Perhaps that smile was exactly what was needed at that time, or a friendly word at the checkout uplifted that woman that day, or uplifted me in that moment. 

We will never know how our actions impacted another, but it would be nice to think, that with all those thousands of interactions, maybe one or two did somehow, leave the other person feeling better off.