Tweet of the Day: On consent and sesitivity
Family members of terminally ill patients usually express relief when they pass away. Almost always done with a heavy sigh and profuse apologies. It seems callous to celebrate the death of another human being, specially when that human being is your parent, child, spouse or sibling. The very people we should care the most. But it is that caring for another that wears so heavily on the soul.
I’m talking about empathy, the ability to, if not feel someone else pain, at least feel pain on their behalf and the fervent need to relieve that pain.
Every cry for help, every cringe, every agonizing shout, every supplication for relief.
You don’t feel their pain, but it drains you none the less.
It certainly drains me. I walked in a daze these past couple of weeks. Trying desperately to be as patient as possible. Keeping my anger in check and failing miserably, at the worst possible moment. Trying to accommodate what refuses accommodation. Yet I am not in pain. I am not the one suffering. My travails are trivial. I do what needs to be done without a second thought.
My own relief can wait.
I take comfort in one thing, not the proof that I am a good human being, for to even consider that is to make it patently untrue, but in the idea that I still have some empathy left.
Some humanity left.