Dare to be kind

FOR most of us, it’s not second nature to be kind. We are, whether we admit it or not, all selfish -- in varying degrees. But there are some of us who are kind. There are some of us who fight valiantly to subdue our innate selfishness. There are some of us who DARE to be kind. And one of the kindest people I know is my husband. Many people tell me the same thing.

My husband turned 60 last September. Five years ago, while he was giving a talk, he suffered a stroke. But by God’s grace, he wasn’t paralyzed. His motor skills were intact. All his five senses were preserved. He didn’t slur. He didn’t drool. His face didn’t wilt to one side. But what got affected was his word retrieval system. He couldn’t find the right words for things -- for example, if you asked him what he was drinking, he would say "citrus" instead of "kalamansi." (The stroke re-wired his brain from Pinoy to Continental! That was our private joke.) But his physical recovery was fast. In six months, he was able to play tennis again.

Dr. Alran Bengzon, my husband’s neurologist at the time, was so kind to my husband. Both Ateneans, they somehow spoke a kindred language. They shared this wry, Ateneo sense of humor that was both cerebral and homespun. When Dr. Bengzon asked my husband some diagnostic questions, I couldn’t help but laugh:

The way Dr. Bengzon handled that first interview was crucial to my husband, to me, to our family. From a deep, dark abyss of uncertainty, foreboding and dread, he gave us hope. He was just so kind. His bedside manner was perfect -- paternal, professional, warm -- with just enough humor to lighten up a very tense situation. After talking to my husband and sharing a few more laughs with him, the good doctor gently led me to one side. He showed me Ito’s brain scans. He patiently and unhurriedly explained what had happened inside my husband’s brain, and what probably caused the stroke. All of a sudden, my fears died down. I felt this doctor’s kindness, his concern for my husband was palpable and real.

To all the doctors out there, I make this plea: Dare to be kind to your patients. Your sincere concern makes a whole world of difference to our emotional well-being in the midst of a medical crisis. Treat your patients as people, not just numbers or "cases." Don’t be cold or curt. Don’t be in such a hurry when you talk to us, skipping important details that you think we might not understand. I can’t forget how Dr. Bengzon explained things to me patiently, unhurriedly, in word pictures I could understand. Just as a father would to his daughter. And you know what? It was his first time to meet Ito and me. We weren’t VIPs. But he treated us like we were. A very dear friend, Tess, called Dr. Bengzon and asked him to be Ito’s attending physician. Our family will never, ever forget their kindness to us -- at a time when we needed it most. They dared to be kind.

When my husband was cleared to go back to work, I bought him a new office ref so he could have fruits within easy reach whenever he got hungry. One of our friends filled his ref with fresh fruits and juices. She did that for some time, so I didn’t even have to restock my husband’s ref. She dared to be kind. Another person put an air purifier right in front of my husband’s desk, and asked if there was anything else he needed. That person dared to be kind. Friends sent lots of food, books, DVDs, lent their drivers, offered to get our test results, recommended their doctors, texted me incessantly to ask how Ito was, prayed without ceasing for his fast recovery. We were inundated with kindness in all forms, shapes and sizes.

I particularly remember a dear friend who gave Ito six huge workbooks . She ordered the books from abroad. When we showed the workbooks to Ito’s therapist, she was in AWE. She said that these were very expensive, state-of-the-art workbooks which any therapist would die to have in her library! Along with the workbooks were two video iPods which our friend also gave us -- she had loaded it with Ito’s favorite TV series so that he wouldn’t get bored while waiting in doctors’ offices. She also gave me a video iPod for myself, to keep me entertained while waiting with Ito. Mine was loaded with thousands of songs, a couple of movies, and lots of TV shows that will probably last me till I’m 90! How thoughtful of her. How kind. Our friend knew that Ito and I are Jurassic, so she took the trouble of loading the iPods for us. She DARED to be kind.

When my husband went back to work, one of the things I was observing was how his colleagues would treat him when he went back to the office. Well, there were people who were kind (God bless their hearts.) And there were people who were very, very unkind. It was a shock to me how some stayed away from him like he was a social pariah. Before his stroke, my husband held a responsible position, so people would often crowd around his office, waiting to talk to him with documents and checks and what-nots that needed his perusal or approval. But all of a sudden, after his stroke, Ito’s office was like a barren, desolate wasteland. In his absence, his things were transferred. He was relocated to a smaller space. When I checked what he was going back to, I was flabbergasted: his things were in boxes, in total disarray. So I fixed my husband’s office to make it look presentable, welcoming, a pleasant work environment for him.

Unfortunately, more bad things were waiting for him at work. Much worse than the stroke, a series of "unfortunate incidents" hit him from left field. My husband was slowly but surely stripped of his responsibilities, his authority, and people were removed from his supervision without any explanation. Never mind about showing kindness. All that the situation called for was a semblance of professionalism -- especially since my husband had served with a sterling record for more than a decade. All it took was a modicum of decency to tell him, "Hey, Ito, we don’t want to stress you out with lots of work right now. We want you to rest for a while. You deserve a good rest, after all your hard work. So we decided to divide your work among us. Hope you won’t mind if we come to you for advice now and then!" (Or words to that effect.) It would’ve taken only 20 minutes to sit down with him in a meeting, to show him a little kindness. But, alas, no such kindness was shown to him.

By God’s grace, my husband is a fighter by nature. Maybe it’s because he has played in tennis tournaments since he was twelve. That way, he developed nerves of steel. He was one of Ateneo’s youngest varsity tennis captains. He was trained to show grace under pressure, to hang tough, to keep on playing against all odds, and not to choke when it was finally Match Point. It’s one of the reasons why I really look up to him.

So, when my husband was summarily shelved aside with no explanation, his nerves of steel and innate calmness surfaced . Instead of wallowing in self-pity or bitterness or frustration, he thought of other things to do for the organization -- without being asked. In a way, he reinvented himself. He said, "Well, I will do what I can do to contribute whatever good I can. There’s always something useful to do." Fighting words, all right. And a lot of it, I believe, comes from an Atenean’s indomitable spirit. After all, every blue-blooded Atenean’s rallying cry is "ONE BIG FIGHT!!!" But more than that, I know that Ito’s vast reserve of strength, his tenacity to overcome, came from one limitless source of hope, strength, and kindness: GOD.

I am writing this not because I’m bitter. Not to pillory those people who were unkind to my husband in his time of need. Maybe they just weren’t equipped to respond with compassion. Maybe they grew up not receiving any kindness. Maybe they were going through their own trials at the time. Or maybe they were just too dense and insensitive (as I am at times). At the end of the day, whatever our reasons are for being unkind, we are all answerable to God.

I’m writing this to remind myself (and you, as you’re reading this) that it takes so little to be kind. It takes so little to prop up someone’s sagging spirits. It takes so little to make people feel they’re valuable human beings. It takes so little to assure a person: "Hey, it’s going to be okay. We can do this together. We’re right here with you!" Well, thank goodness, there were many people who rallied around us and constantly showed us kindness, over the long haul. Many of our friends surprised us that way!

Now that our lives have gone back to normal, it doesn’t hurt anymore to recall such a disturbing lack of compassion. In fact, one of my best life lessons came out of that traumatic situation: in any circumstance, each of us has a choice -- to be kind, or to be unkind. Our family survived one of the worst crises in our lives because many, many people dared to be kind.