Last night I was taking a young man (hmm… about 35? no older than 40) home from dialysis, to the government supported housing complex in Palolo valley. It was late in my ten-hour shift and I was a bit tired, not bad but I was looking forward to taking the short break I would just be able to fit in between dropping off this guy, and my next pick up at Rehab hospital some fifteen minutes away..
Most residential areas on Oahu are packed with parked cars at night and the lower income areas are especially so. The streets are narrow and my wide para-transit van often barely makes it with not even a few inches for the mirrors on both sides. Ahe street in Palolo valley is among the worst for this. One quickly learns the unwritten rules for yielding, and moving with intentional authority, in order to successfully navigate this motor vehicle morass. All the while one must be always on guard for the random teenager in black clothes on a skateboard, old woman or small child (even late at night) suddenly crossing at random, quickly appearing from between cars, and the the over-sized monster pickup trucks favored by the men of these large families.
I needed to turn up into one of the packed parking lots between the many buildings and I thought I knew which one I needed based upon the man’s address on my manifest. But when I started my turn and began to verbally confirm (as I always do) with him that I had the right one before committing to the turn, he quickly said, “No no, the next one”. I straightened my vehicle and went on. The next lot a was a bit up the hill and although the address’s were not what was shown as where this man was going, I assumed that he may have wanted to approach his place from there. I had never transported him so I was queuing off him for the details of how to drop him off.
He made no indication that anything was awry and after I took him off the lift, he said he was fine from there. So I got back in my vehicle to depart.
Well that didn’t last long. As I began to go through the multi-point turn required to exit the lot, I was flagged down by another man who said I’d dropped my passenger in the wrong spot. To be honest, in that moment, I really wanted to just get going. I had done everything required of me for my passenger and was now being held up by someone I didn’t know and didn’t legally have to listen to. Of course there was no way I was going to just ignore the guy, drive on and take my break. But… MAN! I could feel the internal conflict fighting to take me in that direction. Or to at least to show my contempt for being forced to do, what I knew I would have to do.
I stopped as my passenger in his wheelchair rounded the van to the side with the lift. As I loaded him, we spoke of what had just happened. He made it clear that he couldn’t see very well and that was why he’d told me to go to this lot. As I took a new, closer look at him, I could see the clouded eyes that go with advanced diabetes. Before dropping him off (although I was aware of his amputated left leg) his youth, and the strength in which he navigated his chair, allowed me to under-estimate his fragility.
Now… I’m not making excuses here. I know that my internal state was still on the edge of showing a real annoyance for having to go through the safety procedures of loading, locking down the chair, belting the man and squeaking my van around and into the lot I had already known was the one we should have been in from the start. But what I must also acknowledge, is my ability to get passed all this and show up for this man in the way I always intend. For everyone.
With awareness and compassion, driving my service with wisdom and love. (a tall order, I know)
And what I’m affirming here is how occurrences within moments of stress like these, are when the opportunities for showing up that way, are greatest.
As I brought the man to the correct drop off point, he asked me a few times if I’d heard him say it was the second lot that he needed to be at. His tone, while not accusatory, was in this all-too-familiar language of blame avoidance/attachment. In my still (to be completely honest) somewhat annoyed state, I could feel my desire to respond in kind. And in some ways I did. As he reminded me of the posted addresses on the buildings, I repeated that I had intended to turn into the correct lot until he had told me to do otherwise. To which he again reminded me that he couldn’t see very well.
But as all this mutual defensive posturing was going on, I heard myself include repeated declarations of my desire to get him where he needed to go safely, that my job was to take care of him, that I cared about his well-being and finally, that he need not feel bad for making a mistake. Yes, my tired and annoyed ego was still functioning more than I would have liked, but my loving/service-driven practice had won out in the end.
I drove on to my next pick up. On task and on time. I would only have time to just make it there, and I would now have to wait till the end of my shift to have respite from the stresses of my blessed job.
In service…
B.
