A doctor rarely imagines becoming a victim of workplace violence leading to chronic pain. I was a young, idealistic geriatrician fresh out of my training when I began working in a memory care facility. It was a high-turnover unit, with residents dying or moving and new patients with dementia admitting almost daily.
One Monday, I was briefed about Mr. C, a tall man who arrived in full cowboy attire. He refused to leave his room without his boots, his hat, and his belt with a large silver buckle. He even insisted on wearing them into the shower! The nurses wanted me to convince him otherwise—a difficult task.
I approached gently, waiting until he finished his steak. “Good enough for a cowboy,” he told me. Then I asked about removing his cowboy gear before showering. He protested, fearing theft, but reluctantly agreed when I promised we would lock them up. As I rose to leave, he extended his hand for what seemed a friendly handshake. In an instant, he crushed and twisted my petite hand. Gleefully. I yelped in utter disbelief.
Embarrassed, I hesitated to report, but when swelling and wrist movement became unbearable, I notified my employer. After endless forms and visits to occupational health, I was left with chronic pain and little support. My medical career had been built on years of sacrifice. The thought that it might end was devastating.
What good was a doctor who couldn’t document notes? “If you didn’t chart, it didn’t happen.” My twelve-hour days stretched to sixteen, and my employer, though sympathetic, offered no solution. There were no scribes or AI to rely on, only constant pain and exhaustion.
But even the darkest night ends, and the sun rises. My husband, ever the problem solver, suggested trying a new dictation software from Dragon: “If you cannot handwrite or type, why not dictate notes?” My employer refused to pay for it, so my husband bought it and installed it himself. Creating geriatrics-oriented templates was painstaking, but perseverance paid off. I returned to ten-hour days, with less pain and renewed hope. This happened twenty-five years ago!
Perhaps every dark cloud does have a silver lining. Today I thank Mr. C. He knew not what he was doing, yet saved me from burnout. “No mud, no lotus”—a Buddhist proverb that reminds us that even from the swamp, beauty can bloom.
Neeta Nayak
Richardson, Texas
4 thoughts on “No Mud, No Lotus”
Beautiful story with a positive message!!
Never give up!! ‼️
It would have been wonderful if the hospital provided the support, but I am glad you have a smart and supportive spouse !!
At the end it all worked out and it was as it was meant to be!!
“Life is lived forward and understood backward” is a famous quote by the philosopher Søren Kierkegaard that highlights the contrast between experiencing life in the present and understanding its meaning in retrospect.
“No pain no gain!!”
This is a story of resilience, dedication, the vagaries of life and how love always finds a way to ease burdens.
Our professional life is built so much on the intellectual gifts, but dependent on our serving hands as well. Even for an old time country doctor who would not have had to chart as much, the hands that perform the physical examination are the bridging intimacy between doctor and patient. To have that violated and yet to continue to move on without it impacting future interactions is also a mark of resilience and letting go – no pun intended.
Beautiful , touching story that brings back memories, evokes anger , pain and sympathy. Neeta you write very soul stirring stories of adversity, yet manage to see a silver lining every time. So proud of you and your husband for always finding ways to improve a bad situation. I believe that the person involved did not know what he was doing , by forgiving him , you have also been able to move forward and blossom into a successful, brave, compassionate physician.Keep writing and giving laughter and hope in these dismal times.
Captivating writing Neeta- you are such a gifted story teller! Every reader could experience the suddenness and pain of that unexpected “handshake”. Kudos to you and hubby for finding an innovative solution and for choosing to turn this painful situation into a positive experience.