Helpful session today. I said to R that I wanted to start by apologising, and I was going to explain.
‘As I came to the door, your e-mail came back to me, and I got the sense that you were reaching out for something you needed.'
'The simplest way of putting it is that family ructions have nobbled my chances of having any further contact with my niece.'
'I'm sorry to hear that, Lost. You mentioned her before, was she someone you saw regularly?'
'Not often enough, but…'
'Is it that someone you value has now been removed from your life?’

‘Yes, the latest in a long line of good things given and taken away. But what I need to talk about more happened last Wednesday.’
[Aside, to Critic: ‘I see you’re here already. Piss off.’]
‘I have got into a routine of going to the same café every week for lunch before watercolour class…that is the definition of a routine.’
‘I went in, ordered and sat down with the person supporting me. It soon became apparent that the person at the table to the side of us was having some kind of medical emergency. Pained noises, sobbing, ‘Stay with me, so and so…’’

I began to have trouble speaking, and grabbed R’s hand. She apologised…’I’m sorry, my hands are cold.’
‘We were sitting right by the door, and I was glancing over at it, trying to communicate to the support worker that I needed to get out of there. She then began telling me about something that had happened to her son or something that he had helped with, and I said “I am going to need you to stop right there, medical stuff is really triggering for me.’

‘I bet you wanted to tell her to shut up.’

R noted that whilst I was talking, it was almost as though I was reliving the experience, and asked me what I felt. She said she felt fear, and also freeze.
‘The fear precipitates the freeze response.’
She asked me what I am afraid of in those kind of medical situations, and said that I may want to reflect on that. ‘Obviously, it brings up horrible memories, that is a given.’
‘In the situation, I am having one experience, and then plunged into another…that doesn’t make sense.’
‘If I need clarification, I can ask.’

I went on to explain that telling people about Chris is a sign of trust. I had just got to that point with this support worker a few weeks ago, but hadn’t told her anything more. R said that she imagined me in that situation ‘Perhaps trying to convey the image to the support worker that everything is Ok, but you’re suppressing so much.’
‘I’m like a duck…calm on the surface, but when you look under the water…’
‘Their feet are going…’
‘I wonder whether the poem says it better.’
‘You’ve written something? Do you want me to read it?’

I passed R the piece of paper.
‘The line that sticks out to me is ‘This isn’t my emergency, but it may as well be.’
‘Yes, I tried to explain to Mum afterwards as much as possible. For three days that followed, it was a longer version of what happened when I found out Chris was…you know. My abiding memory of that experience – not on the same level as the bathroom scene - is being handed a hot drink and not being able to hold it because my hands were shaking so much.’
‘Off the back of what happened, I sent an email to the care company requesting that something be added to the plan they use.’
I told R that I never realised it was possible to sit with somebody and feel so alone. We talked more about the amount of energy I expend in trying to rationalise my emotions, and R offered that I might try to accept them.
‘I survived, but it isn’t that simple – at what cost?’

R mentioned that she had been reading a book by a Holocaust survivor who had said something similar.
‘Surviving is easy, it’s just…and then you deal with the aftermath.’
I noted the person’s name, but R said the book is quite descriptive. She offered that I might make my request to the care company more specific by mentioning that I struggle with medical matters. She told me that it is understandable that I would struggle in such a situation, and she thought she would also find it difficult to eat her lunch in that environment.