Sometimes it’s hard to trust that “still small voice within.” In the ’80’s, while driving down Harvard St. on my way to work at a Boston rehab hospital, an inner voice said out of the blue “Buy Mike a white rose.” Huh? A white rose? For Mike? “Mike” was the most difficult, resistant patient on the pain unit at that time, and all the patients and staff were fed up with his angry outbursts. The medical director was on the verge of discharging him for non-compliance. In fact, he had just stormed out of my relaxation workshop the night before, slamming the door behind himself but not before shouting “…and the rest of you patients should leave this lousy group, too!”
“Buy a white rose for Mike,” the inner voice nudged again.
I quickly made a U-turn back to a florist, and bought a white rose. When I got to the unit, Mike was in a physical therapy session. I put the rose in a small vase and left it in his room with a note that said “Dear Mike, it seems like you’re having a hard time and in a lot of pain. We’re not sure what you’re so angry about, but we wish you peace.”
An hour later I was chatting with a few nurses and rehab associates in the back room behind the nursing station. The charge nurse, Kim, stuck her head in and said “Mike is at the counter and wants to know who gave him the rose.” Everyone looked quizzically at each other, then at me. Flushed, heart beating louder, I got up to go face the music with Mike.
I’ll always remember the sight of him there. The grizzly bear I had expected to growl at me, had transformed into a teddy bear—a trembling, gentle man.
“Did you give this rose and note to me?” he asked, eyes glistening with tears.
“Yes, I did.”
“I don’t think you know how much this means to me. I’ve never been seen…or understood like this before.”
He paused, looking into my eyes from a tender, vulnerable place inside. “Is it OK if I give you a hug?” he asked.
We embraced, and in that moment, we both experienced healing and gratitude—Mike for having had his anger seen and met with compassion, and I for seeing with regret how judgmental I could be. In a way, we were each receiving love and forgiveness from the other.
That night, Mike was willing to participate in guided imagery into his chronic pain, where to his surprise, he discovered repressed memories of childhood abuse. He was finally able to open up, see what lay beneath the anger, and grieve.
The following morning, the day shift staff kept asking “Who gave Mike the happy pill?” Mike was transformed—he became the star of the unit, welcoming new patients, participating in all the groups, even leading a chronic pain support group. His pain level went down dramatically. Even his sense of humor was restored, as he laughed himself silly over his own corny jokes.
A few words of intuitive guidance, a white rose…we never know where our “gut instinct” will lead us…but it’s worth trusting and listening to! A Presence, deep within ourselves, that has vision and wisdom far beyond our limited mental capacities, KNOWS.
