Answering a Cry for Help With a Touch of Humanity

"My papers . . . my paaaapers."

I was at a Falls Church superstore checkout counter when I heard her cry. My first reaction to nonthreatening inappropriate sounds is to ignore them and leave the area as soon as possible.

"My papers . . . my paaaapers."

I turned to look and saw three store employees around a sobbing middle-aged woman. I returned to the checkout.

"My papers . . . my paaaapers."

I was tempted to just leave the store with my purchases and go on to the next errand. I walked toward the woman instead.

By now there were four people around her, all looking uncomfortable. Store security had arrived. I said, "I'm a doctor." They looked at me with the tiniest hint of relief.

It had been so long since I was in the doctor role that I took a few minutes to think this through. I am in administrative medicine, so I do not carry malpractice coverage nor am I licensed in Virginia. Fortunately the old training seems to be hard-wired and returned immediately.

Rising above all other thoughts in my mind was that this was a person in trouble. And the folks who would like to help her were at a loss. Mental health issues are still not understood. People with them are not given the same sympathy and patience given to heart attack victims or amputees.

I took stock of her: White female, between 50 and 60 years old, she looked well kept, was wearing clean clothes, gold jewelry -- just enough, not flashy, had a nice haircut and was sitting on the bench at the store's entrance, wailing. Stroke? Maybe, but not anything that affected her physical mobility. Yes, she was using a walker, but did not seem to favor one side. Her facial muscles were intact. She was perseverating, repeating the same phrase over and over. Maybe a mental challenge? Could be. You know how you know when pets are lost and not strays? They have the look that someone cares for and about them. She had that.

I sat on the bench beside her. I looked into her eyes and said: "I'm a doctor. Can I help you?"

I wanted to touch her, to make that human connection. Touching, now there is something that has changed in the last couple of decades. The only safe place to touch someone is on the shoulder and elbow and the upper arm. I took a chance and touched her forearm, then held her hand.