I just drew today’s Four Agreements card from Don Miguel Ruiz. Anyone who has read yesterday’s post will know that for several days, I have been drawing cards from the Agreement Don’t Make Assumptions. Today is more of the same. Not only a card from the assumptions agreement, but the assumptions card:
In any kind of relationship, we can make the assumption that others know what we think, and we don’t have to say what we want. We assume they are going to do what we want because they know us so well. If they don’t do what we want, we feel hurt. How could you do that? You should know.
So, who besides me thinks that maybe I still have some work to do on making assumptions? I think today, I’m going to look at my assumptions with my doctors. I have made enough of those!
Most of these don’t happen anymore, though some do. The worst one I made, (and I made it several times,) was not telling my doctor all of my symptoms. I absolutely expected him to figure out from the information I did give. When I was in my teens, my attitude toward diabetes was a mixture of rejection, anger, fear, sadness, and confusion. Not only did I not tell my doctor how this felt; I didn’t even tell my parents. I assumed that all of these people, who claimed to be acting in my best interests, were not, if they couldn’t tell how unhappy I was.
When I was living in Bangor, in the late eighties, insulin pumps had just gotten to the market, and my doctor just couldn’t understand why I didn’t want one. I assumed that he remembered I was in the waiting room, when a friend of mine with an insulin pump came staggering in, in an absurdly serious insulin reaction. That was all I needed to see. But I didn’t tell the doctor this; I simply said No, they’re too dangerous. And I resented him for not knowing why I felt that way. How ridiculous is that, looking back.
Through my ten-year withdrawal from the world, after heart surgery, I assumed that my GP would know that I was just lazy, and needed a fire lit under my butt to get moving again. He always asked if I was walking, and I always said no. Why couldn’t he figure out the rest of it. Probably because if he had, I’d have told him he was full of shit, my legs really did hurt, and I wanted another doctor. I guess, like everything else, I had to come to it in my own mind.
Next time I’m going to talk about assumptions in my FAMILY, (Duh, duh, daaaaaaaaa!) but that isn’t for today. I still catch myself making assumptions with my caregivers at the Diabetes Center, but fortunately, my nurse educator is a very smart woman, and she always catches me, and makes me say what I really mean. I’ve finally learned that it’s easier on me just to come out and say whatever it is I’m assuming she knows. Saves a lot of time, and hurt feelings that needn’t happen at all.
I can see where I need to do some work around this. More soon.