Ode to the PT

So Quincy saw a new PT this week. She was so kind and so smart and all together my favorite kind of people. And it felt even deeper than someone who was just really, really good at her job.

I've been unpacking it the last couple days in my head...how can something so ordinary feel so profound...why can I not shake this or talk about it without tearing up.

Here's my best guess...

For 15 years, Quincy has been to a million appointments. He has had highly qualified and educated and brilliant people work on him and care for him in the hospital. He doesn't use his voice much in the hospital even though we all have desperately tried to give him choices along the way. But in the end we all know...what needs to be done will be done. They were treating his disease. His defect. They were giving him a chance at survival. We remain forever grateful for the skill and education and experience required to give Quincy the best chance at life.

But this was a totally different experience. One I didn't realize we needed so much.

The office was quiet. No beeping sounds and alarms. Lori wore slacks and a silk shirt. She moved slowly and she worked on Quincy's body with ungloved hands. Before now, I couldn't articulate the rising unspoken shame that develops when your body is constantly and consistently handled by people wearing gloves and sterile gowns. There was something so profound about the natural touch of another human. Skilled and professional and gentle and warm...and human.

Quincy will begin to learn with her how to pay attention to his body. What is it saying to you? How does it feel? And here in this office...when it hurts, you stop. Here. You have to pay attention. You get to pay attention. Because you are an active participant in this part of the healing. She is working with him...not on him.

And the fact that she not only had read every minute of the OR charts from his surgeon, but also the Facebook ramblings of his mother....she was prepared and willing and able to treat the whole person of Quincy. She understood all the many dynamics that make up this kiddo...who at the end of day just really wants to play basketball with his friends.

No big deal, right? It's just physical therapy.

But it was.

It is.

And every now and then I am just so incredibly grateful for people who do their jobs with such excellence and tenderness. It feels holy to me.