Listen to This
For weeks, I tried to get someone to listen. "Look," I'd say, "it isn't working. I'm still fainting. It always happens when my heart rate goes up rapidly, particularly at 115-125." I had data -- granted it was on my smartwatch and those are kinda annoying toys to your average doctor. Yet, the medical community didn't believe me. The ER nurses, the pacemaker tech, the cardiologist. They sent me for tests. Lots and lots of tests. Pictures of the brain, pictures of the heart, a neurology consult, an overnight in a hospital. Next stop would no doubt have been psychiatry.
"It's the pacemaker, doctor. It's not working."
"It looks like from your chart you had these symptoms before we put in the pacemaker. Therefore, it can't be the pacemaker."
Are you f*ing kidding me? Then why did you put it in you colossal, pompous little prick?
Why didn't I say that? Why didn’t I pull a Toast on him? Most of you have dealt worked with me. I'm not a weak flower. Why didn't I stand up for myself? How did I get bullied? Why did I keep going for all those tests that I knew were useless? Why didn't I just dig in my heels and insist?
Because when we engage with 'authority' we are all at a decided disadvantage. Life lesson, here, mostly for those of us who are considered experts. We need to stop assuming our clients, patients, and subordinates don't know as much as we do. I mean in the abstract, it's true. I've been in change now for decades and the leader sitting across from me hasn't so much as read a single article on organisational behaviour. The problem is that our confidence in our experience and our expertise makes it hard for us to just shut up and focus in the present. By confidently striding forward with a solution, we don't actively listen.
There were so many clues in what I was saying to the doctor, but he wasn't listening.
When I finally sat down in front of a doctor who put his own ego aside to focus on what I was saying, the entire situation changed. Immediately.
"I don't know what is happening to you. It sounds unfamiliar, and I can't immediately explain it. But I believe you. I want to see if we can figure this out together."
This doctor looked me in the eye and told me he didn't know, but he trusted me. He then co-designed a path forward. "Let's see if we can recreate this on the treadmill." Fifteen minutes later, the doctor, his tech and my husband chatted with me as the pace increased. They watched the ECG trace with eagle eyes, ready for that transition from 110 to 120, because they believed me. When the trace went to absolute shit, they were ready to pull me off well before I collapsed. Guess what? The pacemaker wasn't working correctly.
"Well, this would definitely cause your symptoms." The three of them all nodded in consensus musing on what could possibly cause the pacemaker and the heart to make such wildly dysfunctional lines. While they talked it over, I cried. By this I don't mean I teared up and sniffled. I mean I broke down in ugly, sloppy sobs. Why? Not because my heart was broken. I already knew that. No, it was sheer relief that finally someone believed me who actually might have within his wheelhouse to identify the next action.
The power of the expert is one of those Spiderman responsibilities. The better we get, the more experienced, the more knowledgeable, the more we can help. Yet that same expertise makes it easier for us to harm, dismiss, bully, and ignore. We can be so confident in our solution, we're not actually listening to the person who has the problem. The power of validation is the other side of the same spid-y coin. Our position of authority and knowledge can also gift another person with confirmation of their thinking, give hope for a path forward, and help the person explore options.
We have so many tools in our toolkit to share, but perhaps the most important is that first step we make to acknowledge the very real need of the person seeking our help.
“Most people do not listen with the intent to understand; they listen with the intent to reply.” ~ Stephen Covey
