musingsonwomenshealth.com

Reflections on 40 years as a doctor in Women's Health

Blinkers


“You never listen, do you, G?” She might as well just point to her ear -Jillie does it every time. I’m not sure why she’s so insistent on my hearing what she says: it’s usually a criticism, seldom a compliment. I mean I often think of her as a conditional friend; certainly not one with whom I feel safe in confiding something that troubles me, something which I just have to test on someone other than myself.

Of course, there are times -most times, actually- when there’s no Jillie around who is willing to hear me out without interrupting with a “Didn’t you talk to me about this a week or so ago?” or worse, “Don’t you think you should see a professional about it, G? You never seem to hear my advice.”Jillie with a Y chromosome.

I’m beginning to think it’s not that I don’t listen to advice, or hear criticism: I usually just don’t believe most people know me well enough to advise. So why do I ask people like that…?

Well, I don’t have many people whom I can ask: I’m retired now and live alone. I mention that not to solicit sympathy, but because I often see it like a kid bouncing a ball again and again off a wall: most walls will do; some are better than others, but you still have to look for the best one. Jillie, at least, is a well-tested wall if and when she’s around…

The problem with her, though, is that she thinks I don’t listen to her advice, when it’s simply that I don’t agree with it. The more I think about my disagreements, the more I wonder if she really understands me but insists on pinching one of my many sore points. She thinks I’m wearing blinkers like the old city horses used to wear so they didn’t become distracted: so they would keep going in the same direction in spite of the ‘curses not loud but deep’, the mouth-honour notwithstanding.

But I wonder if Jillie really understands that I can only see myself from inside out; without her as a mirror I cannot hope to see how I actually look to others. I’m sure I miss a great deal of what they say; it’s too easy to ignore them… Or, to hear them but disagree because it hurts my vanity if nothing else.

“You ask me my advice on something, and then argue with me before even taking the time to process it.” Jillie has a way of scrunching her face up whenever I react that way; or rolling her eyes at my immediate rejection. “Why do you even ask me if you think you already have the answer, G?” She thought about that for a moment. “No, not the answer: an answer,” she added, shaking her head in frustration.

After hearing this usual reaction, I usually try to hide under whatever metaphor pops into my head; I don’t really have answers to her objections -just responses to them.

The other day, I resorted to one in my already well-known catalogue: “When a child on a swing is demanding to be pushed higher and higher despite the chain holding the seat buckling with each push, the duty of any responsible adult is to stop pushing.”

She wrinkled her nose at my example. “So you mean I shouldn’t accede to your requests, even if you already know you are wrong?”

I shrugged; I’ve never really understood that metaphor. “I suppose the reason I ask is because I don’t actually know if I’m wrong; but I don’t know if the answer you give is the one I need either…”

“Bouncing another ball at me again?” she asked, and then issued an exasperated sigh. Jillie is so predictable.

“So tell me what you really think,” I said, italicizing the ‘really’ for effect.

By now she was used to this retort as well, and she mounted a matronizing smile and stared at me. “I think that you are self–blind, G. You are offended when someone answers you honestly with something you don’t want to hear: you have an unrealistic opinion of yourself which won’t change by repeatedly canvassing opinions about it…”

I was unexpectedly quiet for a moment; I suspected that Jillie was finally on to something: the truth that neither I, nor the bathroom mirror that I canvas every morning as I shave, had been willing to accept. Well, I have noticed that it sometimes pretends to roll its eyes when it thinks I’m not looking… But Jillie is the best friend I have -not the mirror. She, at least, is willing to confront me with more than a reflection.

“So, why do you say that, Jil? I mean have I been rude, or patronizing?”

She smiled and shook her head.

“Do I pretend I’m always right, and know more than whoever I’m talking to…?”

Her smile expanded. “You’re getting close, G…”

“Is it a respect thing, then…?

Her eyes twinkled at that and she nodded her head as if she were excited; as if I’d finally hit the nail on the head; as if, at last, I’d listened to her. Heard her. She sighed and looked into my eyes with a tenderness I think I’d ignored -or hadn’t seen all this time. “Instead of immediately refuting the answers you receive when you’ve asked a question, it is important to show that you really are listening, even if you disagree.

“We’re all entitled to our opinions, G. Remember the rules of a debate: first listen to the opposing arguments, then try to restate them as you understand them, and then -and only then- attempt to rebut them.

“If you don’t agree with their assessment of you, try to consider their merits for a moment; they may have noticed something that you’ve missed. And even if you don’t agree, at least you will have given them the respect of listening…

“After all, isn’t that what we all need…?”

I thought about it for a moment and then reached over and hugged her. In that moment, I realized something I’d never considered before: sometimes Jillie makes a lot of sense.

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gozzter

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