I used to ask my clients if I could be “honest” with them, believing that they needed to be told what I thought and not what they wanted to hear. But honesty isn’t just about telling the truth.
The answers that I was looking for appeared in an odd location: the pickleball court. It was there that I spotted Sam , the physician I had seen shortly after my finger had become infected. Naturally, my reaction to seeing Sam on the pickleball court was visceral. He was a trigger for the trauma of my near-death experience. Whenever I saw him I felt like my blood pressure was going through the roof and I couldn’t concentrate on the game. Not only did we play at the same pickleball level, but we also played at the same two locations. I began thinking that I needed an apology from Sam if I was ever going to begin to put my medical nightmare behind me.
But I am a believer that apologies can benefit both the receiver and the giver. One day, while waiting for a court to open up, I found myself standing near Sam. I ruminated and obsessed about his presence and finally decided to speak up and ask him what he thought about this recent complaint decision.
But I pointed out the overwhelming evidence that he had incorrectly diagnosed and treated me. I highlighted that 11 days after seeing him I ended up almost dying, spending a week in a coma and three weeks in the ICU. As well, I emphasized the devastating impact that my near-death experience had on my wife and two young adult sons.To Sam’s credit, he followed me and eventually offered an apology. He said he was sorry and wouldn’t wish what happened to me on anyone.