Abstract
When you came into my office, I remember how distraught you looked.
Fear in your eyes. Pain in your heart. I felt for you.
Recently, you were given three to six months to live and your biggest concern was for your family to be taken care of during this process. You discussed how cancer was impacting your life, mobility, and emotional state. You expressed feeling like a burden to your loved ones when they took you places because you're in a wheel chair. I saw and felt the luminating fear in your eyes radiating in the room of not knowing what could happen next. We discussed living life to the fullest and not holding back your true emotions and desires, to be expressive, be unapologetic, because this was your life.
As I wheeled you out of the office, there was a glow in your eye and we joked about my beginner driving skills right before we parted. In session, we made an appointment for you to come back in a week. You cancelled, and we made another appointment, and you cancelled again because you started treatment.
Since our meeting, I felt a shift within myself. I started to have more gratitude and acceptance in my life for myself and others around me. Three months before I met you, my grandmother passed away from cancer and in that session with you I know my grandmother was right by my side saying all the things she told me she wanted to do and helping me be strong for the both of us.
Two months later, I ran into your husband in the building and he stopped me to tell me the positive impact I had on your life after that first meeting. A fellow therapist once told me, sometimes it only takes one meeting to give a person the motivation to live again; this was one of those moments.