Friday, October 29, 2010

Saved by a Receptionist

I read a magazine article lately about how researchers are trying to find a way to "read" minds, determine the validity of memories, to map human consciousness.

Yeah, good luck with that.

How could a computer, though incredibly fast with all of it's zeros and ones, ever, ever, keep up with the wanderings of the mind?

Again, good luck with that.

For example, just a minute ago I was quickly doing the dishes so I could quickly get to painting so I could quickly get it done before Phoebe wakes up from her nap. I had no intention of blogging today. But then the strangest memory popped into my head and I felt like I had to write about it.

When Phoebe was just a few months old, I found myself tearful, desperate, hopeless, panicked, and over-wrought. After suffering in silence for a few weeks, the other part of my brain that was still reasonable finally borrowed it's way into the freaking out side of my mind and not so subtly screamed, "HELLO!!??? Post-partum depression!!!! DUH!!"

Oh, yeah! That explains the constant crying, the bouts of anger, the lack of patience or happiness or love or anything good.

While laying on the floor of my closet in fetal position, crying like a broken baby doll, I called my OB-GYN. The receptionist managed to understand me through my sobs as I choked out, "I can't stop crying. I need help!"

Now, I had only been to that office a few times before having Phoebe due to a last minute change of doctors, so I did not know this receptionist other than a passing hey there and hello. But that didn't matter to her.

While on the phone with me, she broke through my sobs, "Mrs. Reynolds, we have a opening in one hour. Can you make it in? You HAVE to come in. Do you have a babysitter?"


"Mrs. Reynolds, bring the children. I don't care how many you have. Bring them. Wake them up, do whatever, but bring them with you. We have 30 women on staff here who can watch your children."


"Give me directions. I will be there in 15 minutes. I WILL COME AND GET YOU!!!"

That brought me up short. She yelled at me. Not in a bad way like she was mad, but like a slap in the face kind of yell. She knew I needed help. She knew I had to get help immediately. She would make sure I got the help I so desperately needed.

And I believed her. She would have come and picked me up. A stranger. A stranger who cared when I felt careless.

I managed to choke back my tears to tell her yes, I would be there, and one hour later, with all three kids in tow, I walked through those office doors.

The receptionist who saved me? She had just stepped out to do some errands for the doctor.

I never got a chance to thank her.

It's people like that woman, who are so caring and giving of their time and resources that make me hopeful for our future. She didn't have to come and pick me up.

But she did.

In many, many ways.