Different Sides Of A Coin

This week, I witnessed a situation that was easy to have an opinion on, but hard to stand by that opinion for too long.

I was waiting to catch a bus that was delayed. As we all glanced at our watches nervously, I saw people’s impatience. There was a young couple who had their suitcases and it was obvious they had a train or flight to catch.

There were office workers and school children waiting and fretting that they would be late. I resigned myself to arriving at work a few minutes late. At a point, I glanced back and saw a young girl who looked anxious. Initially I thought it might have been because she was worried about being late for school. I was a tad worried about her.

After a few minutes, I realised it was more than the level of anxiety I would expect given the valid reason of the bus being late. Then I realised I was seeing discomfort written all over her face so I continued to monitor her. Soon the discomfort took another turn and she was double over holding her stomach. After a few minutes, I could see that she was now in tears. I couldn’t stand back and watch any longer so I walked over to her to ask what was wrong.

She said she had stomach pain so I asked if she was hungry as I considered the possibility of that being the reason for her stomach discomfort. That would have been an easy problem for me to solve. She said she wasn’t hungry so I asked if she lived close by and suggested she go back home to be looked after by her parents. Another lady who was waiting for the bus and sat next to the girl pointed to another woman and said, ‘that’s her mum’.

I was stunned to realise her mum was nearby all along. I had my hand, lightly, on her shoulder because I felt the need to comfort her. Her mum who had intentionally distanced herself from her daughter now realising that others were paying attention to her daughter, walked over. I then walked away to wait for the bus.

The mum lashed out in frustration and asked the child if she wanted to go to the hospital, and what she expected her to do about work. It came across like the child’s pain was nothing more than an inconvenience to her. The child didn’t know what to say; I saw that she was being made to feel guilty as the mum spelt out all the implications of her needing attention at a time when she needed to be at work. The only response the mother wanted was for the girl to say she was fine enough to go to school even when it was clear that she wasn’t.

I felt sick to my stomach and immediately wondered how sad the situation was, how unkind and negligent the mother appeared to be when her daughter was in severe pains. For a split second, I wondered what kind of mother she was that the sight of her daughter doubled over in pain did not seem to move her enough to elicit the right response.

After that split second analysis, I found myself in her shoes and wondered what kind of desperation would make a mother to be so concerned about work that her daughter’s health had to take second place. What was the implication of her not turning up at work? What impact would that have on her ability to provide food, heating or even a roof over their heads. What kind of job did she do that she couldn’t afford to or didn’t dare to tell them there was a medical emergency with her daughter?

Was this a long standing condition with the child and she knew the pain would pass with time or did she know what the doctors would do? Did she think the child was faking it and didn’t want to go to school. Was she a single parent frustrated at the fact that she’s the sole carer for the child? Is the child one of many that had already pushed her buttons enough for the day?

I wondered if she would mourn the child or feel responsible if things went awry. Would people comfort or blame her if something terrible happened to the child? Would reactions to her previous requests for support be different if people and organisations saw what I was seeing?

A part of me yearned to step in and make the situation better, I briefly considered offering to go with them to the hospital so I could stay with her while her mum made other arrangements.

As the mum continued to berate the child, she mentioned relatives that the girl could stay with but still referred to the inconvenience of getting the child to them. I realised she had other support system and I didn’t need to be the stranger offering to look after her sick daughter especially because she looked scary enough even to me.

As I got on the bus, I realised I had seen both sides of the coin and the edges too. Depending on what we are looking at when we judge a situation, we only really see the side we want to see. I was glad to see the situating from many perspectives – the child’s, mother’s, employer’s, economic crisis, public systems, family, societal pressures etc.

I could only walk away grateful for my life – grateful that I had worked for supportive companies and bosses who I could boldly call and knew they would understand the need for me to prioritise a family crisis over work.

I was grateful that I was a problem solver who found it easy to come up with solutions when faced with challenges. I was grateful to have friends and neighbours that I could call on when my children were young even though I didn’t have my family around.

Finally I was grateful for the lessons from seeing the situations through multiple lens that helped me to walk away knowing there were no winners on that day and no judgements could be passed.

The possible losers included a sick child going to school, a damaged parent-child relationship that could have future consequences, a school teacher having to manage the situation if it didn’t get better, an ambulance service that could be called in to take the child to hospital, other children who could be traumatised if that happened, risk of infectious stomach bug being spread, a worried mother at work, colleagues and customers feeling the impact of her anxiety and an employer who is not getting the best version of their employee.

I left praying for the child, hoping things would take a turn for the better and feeling compassion for a mother that I wasn’t even sure deserved it. And I left counting and grateful for my blessings.

Thanks for reading and sharing my post. Until next week, keep shining.