How quick judgements of others prevent us from seeing their humanity.
Homeless guy. Single mom. Burn survivor. Wealthy person. Immigrant.
Regardless the intent, our quick judgements and descriptors for others always fall short of fully describing another human being. Several weeks ago, during an overnight shift at a hospital, I witnessed the downside of labels. And yet, minutes later, I saw the healing power that comes when we more fully embrace the humanity of the person in front of us. Let me explain.
Seated next to my dad during yet another hospitalization, I went out to the nurse station to inquire about more medicine. Dad was writhing in pain, shifting awkwardly in his bed with dyskinesia, cognitively confused and unable to verbalize any of his struggle. And so, I went out to hallway, found someone charting, explained the situation and asked if she could track down our nurse. She nodded without really looking up from her work, called into the break room, and shared that, “The old guy in room 606 needs more medicine.”
“The old guy in room 606” has battled a progressive neurological disease called Parkinson’s disease with profound courage for more than three decades. He has never complained as the disease robbed him of his ability to work, earn, drive, ambulate, or speak. He has never complained about the constant, chronic pain he experiences as the result of dozens of falls and broken bones. He has never complained about the struggle his life is.
“The old guy in room 606” celebrated his 80th birthday earlier in the year. He was surrounded by his six children who still idolize him. Seated closest to him that evening was his bride. He loves her more today than he did at any other point in their marriage. He’s grateful in a world that often cheapens the value of his life, that his girlfriend of more than six decades just keeps scooting closer and closer to him.
“The old guy in room 606” coached his daughters in basketball, helped his boys in Scouting, served up at church and was kind to everyone. He never missed a day of grade school, high school, college or law school, and became successful professionally, but never at the expense of missing anything important for his family. He is compassionate, sweet, funny, faithful and brilliant. Even in the oversized hospital bed that engulfed the patient writhing in it, I could see so clearly who this great man actually is.
A little later, the night nurse came in, and introduced herself to Dad who looked helplessly back at her. She brushed his bangs with her fingers, and shared with him, “Denny, I know you are in pain and I’m going to give some medicine to help. You are about to feel better.”
She injected medicine into his IV, looked him in the eyes, and shared that she was sorry he’s struggling, but that everyone there was working to get him feeling better and back to his home.
Shortly after she left, Dad’s pained moments slowed, his eyes closed, and he finally was able to get some peaceful rest.
Best Dad. Loving husband. Tough patient. Parkinson’s fighter. Faithful servant. Dear friend.
Good man. Over a lifetime of loving others, Denny O’Leary has rightly earned many titles. And he’s certainly far more than a room number in a hospital or an adjective describing his age.
My friends, in a world full of quick judgements, increasing tribalism and lessening compassion, strive to see more than the obvious story of others. Seek the far more intricate, nuanced and important story behind the surface. The little bit of compassion to better understand their circumstances will not only change how you see the person in front of you, but it will profoundly shape how you treat them.
And we need that kind of humanity today more than ever.
This is your day. Live Inspired.
29 replies on “The Old Guy in Room 606”
After losing both of my parents this past fall, I witnessed this many times as they were in and out of the hospital the past couple of years. The disregard for the elderly is disturbing and scary, as if they don’t matter anymore.
This story had a profound effect on me. It serves as a moving reminder of the modest lives that individuals lead, although they are sometimes disregarded. The elderly guy in room 606 represents more than simply an individual or a room number; he is a symbol of a lifetime of connections, hardships, and memories that should be recognized and acknowledged. It’s an exhortation for everyone to see past labels and pay attention to the tales that people have to tell.
Probably no individual bears more pejorative labels than Donald Trump. Against the advice of a compassion trainer, I have chosen Trump as the subject of my compassion exercise. Pealing off the labels, justified as they are, there must be a person who has suffered massive trauma to fuel such abundant hate. Only he knows, maybe not consciously, the cause. Whatever it may be, I will stand by him. As pray constantly for the victims of the rage.
I love this. It’s a lesson that most anyone can relate to. I teach medical students and this is a perfect example of empathy. Thank you for sharing.
Hey John:
Thank you for sharing this story. While I have never met your father, your many stories have blessed me to feel as though I have. He has lived and is living a rich life. Your story reminds me how just one interaction can destroy the care, compassion, and hope we strive to provide in healthcare. Our providers are very busy. Our work is very complex and demanding. But, while these things are true, we are called first and foremost to connect and care. Healthcare is a team sport. It was encouraging to hear how the second nurse helped your father. Great teams pick one another up. I do hope that team used this situation to reflect and build their strength. We all make mistakes, we all look past the person in front of us, and we all fail to treat one another with the respect and love we should. I applaud your grace in how you approached this situation. We all need grace and grace can afford us the chance to strive for better. Being more gracious is one of my personal goals for 2025. You sharing stories like your father’s inspire me to keep working to be better.
I am praying for you, your dad, his nurses, and all our healthcare providers.
John,
I’ve known your Dad since Our Lady of Lourdes grade school and always loved his humor and fun. Your Mom and he have been a great example of love to each other and so many others.
Thank You, John. Your story touches close to home this week as my oldest brother was diagnosed with Parkinson’s about 3 years ago. He is now 69 and stays active in retirement. Appreciate you sharing your stories and being the light of faith and positivity that is beneficial to so many of us!
Thank goodness the second nurse was able to see with her heart and not just her eyes! We should all strive to do just that. And how fortunate you all are to have such a loving father and how lucky he is to be receiving your love back! 💝
a great reminder for the need for more empathy in health care. I remember the labels that people were assigned by others when I was a medical student and I vowed not to do the same. I fail somedays, but more often than not remember the humanity of patients by calling them by name and then the disease(s) they have.
Truly an amazing man. And so beautifully written 🙂
Many years ago I worked in a hospital as a ward clerk. Patients were often referred to as the appendix in room 406, the gallbladder in 418 when speaking among themselves. I don’t recall anyone ever using the term in front of family or visitors. A “reform” came out to refer to patients by name. When nurses get busy and stressed they may be forgiven for for forgetting that each patient is a beloved child of God, family and friends. There are a few outstanding nurses who take time to be compassionate. God bless them.
I am also guilty of “labeling” I need to be more sensitive to where I can improve. Thanks for sharing, John.
KC Chuck
I”m grateful the nurse came to your dad with professionalism and empathy. It’s unfortunate you had to deal with the first person, but there is grace knowing she wasn’t patient facing. God bless your dad and your family! 🙂
Your writing is profound and inspiring. Thank you for being a beacon of light in a sometimes dark world. Love your work.
How blessed to have such a roll model in your life. I pray others have ears to hear you lesson today and may we have to ability to always respond with selfless kindness.
The description of your dad put before my mind’s eye my own dad in his end-f-life agony and of our reliance on the care of compassionate nurses who did all they could to keep dad comfortable.
My dad worked as a pharmacist until he was 83. Like your dad, he never missed work, coached us kids, played with us in the evening after long days at work. When he died, my niece began his obituary with the following words: “Bob Dion, perhaps the most loved man in nashua…” Truly, everyone knew, respected, and loved my dad who scarcely had a bad word to say about anyone, had a quiet but uncompromising commitment to his Catholic faith and adored the love of his life, my mom, until he no longer knew who she was.
Thank you for sharing this reflection, John. I pray that all of your dad’s caretakers are compassionate and caring. Praying for your dad and mom and all your family.
You are so lucky to have the father you have and even luckier than you appreciate him so much. Thank goodness for the second nurse who showed so much compassion. And thank you for the reminder to look beyond the moment and appreciate the people around you.
As a retired nurse the first encounter you had was so disappointing to read. The second nurse was inspiring and utmost compassionate. I would hope the first person would see this and get a heads up moment. Prayers for your dad, you and your family.
Simply beautiful piece. Thank you. This is just what I needed to hear today.
Your dad is an incredibly amazing man who is an inspiration to all Always a smile on his suffering face. Prayers for all the O’learys. Your blog was a meaningful reminder to all of us!
Your writings about life never fail to further enlighten me, John. Thank you for these thoughtful reminders!
These are trying times, but your inspirational weekly writings are just what I need to stay positive and help me do my part to see the good that is all around me still! Thank you!!
John, thank you for continuing with your important work. I met you about a decade ago and I still benefit by reading your inspiring messages. Often your comments come at just the right time and you provide the thought that I need to hear that day. Thank you for continuing to make a difference by positively impacting people and making the world a better place. Cheers to you John! RC
John, I don’t think the nurse who referred to your father like that really meant that. Our healthcare system is largely overburdened and understaffed. That nurse was doing the best she could at that time, and unfortunately, she fell short in the area of compassion. That nurse also probably has a far more nuanced and important story to tell.
I’m sorry that your dad is suffering so much at this time of his life and I will say prayers for his comfort and his ease. I feel your own anguish as you witness your dad enduring all of this. My dad also went through similar pain after suffering multiple strokes, and I too sat next to him in a hospital as he endured untold pain and couldn’t verbalize his needs. Your simple presence there with him is what he most cherishes, and I’m happy you’re getting that opportunity with him in his time of need. Thanks for all you do for this community and may God bless you and your family.
As a nurse – it saddens me to think another colleague, a professional, would ever act the way the first nurse in your story did! I applaud the compassion of the second nurse – who thoughtfully helped your dad!
Hey John
Jim Redican, a former Wolters Kluwer sales guy, friend of Bill Kaack and long time admirer of you.
Just wanted to let you l own appreciate you and your work. If you are ever in Philly I would be happy to give you a “nickel tour” of our fair city.
All the best
This brought me to tears. I’m currently helping a friend through a difficult health issue and I’m often saddened by the lack of empathy from hospital staff. Not just of her but of others. It breaks my heart to see so many patience with no one sitting bedside to advocate for them. Bless your beautiful family.
Loved the story. Touched my heart
I’m inspired bu each one of your messages. As I struggle with my own faith and try to recapture the faith of my youth these messages help motivate me to keep moving forward in that quest. Thank you for the words of encouragement you provide in a turbulent world.
John – I used to see your dad and Dick come to 6:30 mass at St. Clement – he always smiled at me – always laughed with Dick – a couple of years ago – I was at Good Friday services – your mom and he came in and as I walked to communion – I touched him and he kissed my hand – he is definitely one of my smiling heroes – God Bless him and all your family – Barb Doering (Jane Corbett’s friend)