Listening
24/09/16 05:21
In his book, “Gone in a Heartbeat,” Neil Spector, M.D. describes an incident in which an advanced pacemaker device implanted in his chest failed and began to issue alert tones exactly as it was designed to do. He called his doctor, but got a nurse because it was after hours. He described the beeping sound he heard, expecting her to confirm that it was a low battery warning. The nurse proceeded to tell him it could have been anything other than the pacemaker beeping. She suggested all kinds of other devices that make tones such as a pager, a phone, a watch. She suggested that perhaps what he heard wasn’t a tone at all, but rather something generated by his imagination. Dr. Spector’s wife got on the phone to report that she also had heard the tone, but the nurse continued to reassure them that there was nothing wrong and nothing to worry about. Eventually the Spectors decided that there was nothing further that they could do and went back to bed. 12 hours later, the beeping recurred and this time Dr. Spector went to his cardiologist who checked and discovered that the pacemaker was not functioning properly. Fortunately, Dr. Spector’s heart was functioning well enough for him to survive the 12 hours without a properly-functioning pacemaker.
There are several incidents in the book where he reports having a hard time convincing medical professionals to take his symptoms seriously. He doesn’t offer any theory about why highly trained medical professionals do not believe patients when they describe their symptoms, but clearly it is an experience that happens to others as well as to him. And he and his wife are both medical professionals themselves. If the doctors and nurses discount the reports of a highly skilled and widely recognized physician scientist who reads all of the information about his devices and medicines, what chance does an average citizen have of being taken seriously in the world of health care?
I don’t have an answer to the questions raised by Dr. Spector’s book, nor do I have a reason to focus my blog on the practice of medicine in today’s world. I do know that people in general aren’t very good at truly listening to one another. In fact, we have developed a great deal of skill at not listening to relevant information in critical situations. There are some good reasons for this. Eyewitness information can be inaccurate. People can be completely convinced that they are right when indeed they are wrong. A police officer responding to a critical incident has to trust his own senses and instincts and tune out some of the information that is being shouted by bystanders in order to discern exactly what is going on. A criminal will provide false and misleading information in an attempt to escape and that false information can be dangerous and even life-threatening.
However, as we have learned, sometimes bystander information is correct and could have been helpful if heeded. In the heat of the moment it is extremely difficult to know what to ignore and what to hear.
People often think of my job in terms of the public speaking that I do. Most people, even those who do not attend church on a regular basis, think of the job of a minister in terms of sermons delivered. Their sense is that the job is mostly preparing and delivering public addresses on religion. When they find out my profession, people often apologize for their language, fearing that I am judgmental about others’ speech. From my point of view, however, public speaking is a relatively minor part of the vocation to which I have been called. More important than delivering sermons is listening.
Yesterday I sat with a grieving family planning a funeral for their father. The death had come much sooner than expected and had caught his loved ones by surprise. As they were adjusting to the reality of their situation a host of decisions had to be made and the process had been overwhelming. Questions about which funeral home, which casket, which cemetery, what clothes, what music, what time and what place were coming at them one after another. They were feeling tired and at a loss for words. Into this mixture of emotions and sensations I came with a need to gather information that would assist in providing a meaningful funeral for their father.
I employed a technique that has proven successful in other similar situations. Instead of beginning with questions and leading an interview, I took a seat and got out my notebook. I informed them that sometimes I write quotes to remind myself of the tone of our conversation rather than to use them in the service. After determining a few specifics to find out what decisions had already been made, I invited them to just take a moment to sit and think. I informed them that I might have specific questions, but those could wait until the end of our time together. I thanked them for the privilege of being invited into this moment of grief in their lives and told them I would just listen while they took a moment to remember.
Then I sat quietly. Within a few moments they were talking with each other, remembering specific incidents and stories about their father. Some of the things they spoke of involved a bit of family short-hand, so I didn’t know the details and why a particular phrase would make them all smile. But the general flow of the conversation trended towards their good members of a beloved father. As my time of being with them ended, most of my questions were already answered. I knew which songs to use. I knew several appropriate scriptures. I had more than enough anecdotes to include in my funeral meditation. There will be some hours of crafting the service and preparing what I will say, but the important work of preparation is accomplished. It wasn’t a product of the questions I asked, but rather the stories they told. Having the right funeral service depends upon the quality of my listening.
Now, if we could just teach a politician to listen . . .
There are several incidents in the book where he reports having a hard time convincing medical professionals to take his symptoms seriously. He doesn’t offer any theory about why highly trained medical professionals do not believe patients when they describe their symptoms, but clearly it is an experience that happens to others as well as to him. And he and his wife are both medical professionals themselves. If the doctors and nurses discount the reports of a highly skilled and widely recognized physician scientist who reads all of the information about his devices and medicines, what chance does an average citizen have of being taken seriously in the world of health care?
I don’t have an answer to the questions raised by Dr. Spector’s book, nor do I have a reason to focus my blog on the practice of medicine in today’s world. I do know that people in general aren’t very good at truly listening to one another. In fact, we have developed a great deal of skill at not listening to relevant information in critical situations. There are some good reasons for this. Eyewitness information can be inaccurate. People can be completely convinced that they are right when indeed they are wrong. A police officer responding to a critical incident has to trust his own senses and instincts and tune out some of the information that is being shouted by bystanders in order to discern exactly what is going on. A criminal will provide false and misleading information in an attempt to escape and that false information can be dangerous and even life-threatening.
However, as we have learned, sometimes bystander information is correct and could have been helpful if heeded. In the heat of the moment it is extremely difficult to know what to ignore and what to hear.
People often think of my job in terms of the public speaking that I do. Most people, even those who do not attend church on a regular basis, think of the job of a minister in terms of sermons delivered. Their sense is that the job is mostly preparing and delivering public addresses on religion. When they find out my profession, people often apologize for their language, fearing that I am judgmental about others’ speech. From my point of view, however, public speaking is a relatively minor part of the vocation to which I have been called. More important than delivering sermons is listening.
Yesterday I sat with a grieving family planning a funeral for their father. The death had come much sooner than expected and had caught his loved ones by surprise. As they were adjusting to the reality of their situation a host of decisions had to be made and the process had been overwhelming. Questions about which funeral home, which casket, which cemetery, what clothes, what music, what time and what place were coming at them one after another. They were feeling tired and at a loss for words. Into this mixture of emotions and sensations I came with a need to gather information that would assist in providing a meaningful funeral for their father.
I employed a technique that has proven successful in other similar situations. Instead of beginning with questions and leading an interview, I took a seat and got out my notebook. I informed them that sometimes I write quotes to remind myself of the tone of our conversation rather than to use them in the service. After determining a few specifics to find out what decisions had already been made, I invited them to just take a moment to sit and think. I informed them that I might have specific questions, but those could wait until the end of our time together. I thanked them for the privilege of being invited into this moment of grief in their lives and told them I would just listen while they took a moment to remember.
Then I sat quietly. Within a few moments they were talking with each other, remembering specific incidents and stories about their father. Some of the things they spoke of involved a bit of family short-hand, so I didn’t know the details and why a particular phrase would make them all smile. But the general flow of the conversation trended towards their good members of a beloved father. As my time of being with them ended, most of my questions were already answered. I knew which songs to use. I knew several appropriate scriptures. I had more than enough anecdotes to include in my funeral meditation. There will be some hours of crafting the service and preparing what I will say, but the important work of preparation is accomplished. It wasn’t a product of the questions I asked, but rather the stories they told. Having the right funeral service depends upon the quality of my listening.
Now, if we could just teach a politician to listen . . .