I was running late.
I came directly from work to meet my orthopaedic oncologist, Dr. B, to discuss some biopsy results. We had met multiple times previously and were on very good terms. Typically, we joked a bit before we got into things, but today, he ushered me into his office quickly.
When I walked into his office, another nurse was waiting, Gun, whom I had met a few times previously. She offered to take my briefcase, at which time I knew this wouldn't be an easy conversation.
Dr B. explained carefully that the analysis of my biopsy indicated that I had an unusual type of bone cancer and that to treat this, my knee would need to be surgically replaced with a prosthetic unit so that the leg could be saved.
He waited a bit before he spoke again and asked if I had any questions.
"So you will save the leg then?" I confirmed.
"Yes, we will do our very best," he said.
I noticed he said "very best".
He continued explaining things, adding more details as he went.
After a while, he suggested we take a break, during which I went into the bathroom and promptly started to cry.
"I have fucking cancer. This cannot be happening to me," I thought.
When I returned to the room, we continued the conversation. Adding new details as he went, and then he asked me:
"How will you explain this to your parents?"
I thought this was a weird question. Over time, I realised this conversation only had my best intentions in mind.
He knew I was recently divorced and single in Sweden, and my parents had previously been involved in cancer discussions with him.
I summarised things, and he added some clarifications to the story and said I should contact them very soon.
When I left, I called my parents.
I have thought of this conversation through the years, but what struck me was the kindness and gentleness of the dialogue. I was in control of receiving this information on my terms, which allowed me to process this effectively.
A book
I often thought of this story as I read Kathryn Mannix's beautiful book "Listen - How to Find the Words for Tender Conversations".
This book is a must-read for anyone seeking guidance on how to have more compassionate and tender conversations. She uses storytelling to help us understand the skills and principles required to enable ourselves and others to share our stories and heal through being heard, believed and supported.
This book greatly impacted me, and there are so many incredibly helpful nuggets in it that I wish I could share them all. My Kindle is full of highlights, and I have picked out the ones I found most striking and helpful below.
Mannix breaks these conversations down into several "moments":
Opening the box
"To offer somebody support, we must start where the person is and understand their situation from their perspective." Mannix warns us to resist the urge to dive straight in and offer helpful solutions before we understand their context and ‘story so far!.
Listening to understand
"Careful listening helps us to understand the perspective of the person we are talking to. Our understanding helps us to pace the conversation: not too much at once, taking their view into account, hearing their thoughts, and noticing their emotions. We are keeping in step, dancing with care."
Curiosity
"Curiosity helps us frame questions that explore and clarify complicated information." Key skills:
Open-mindedness
Humility, including tolerating not knowing.
"In answering our curious questions, people choose how much to say, reveal only what feels safe to them and they often gain new insights that they might previously have overlooked."
Getting alongside: Being with distress
"What if we come not as a problem solver, but as a person prepared to share their uncertainty and support their distress?"
"Being a companion in suffering requires us to hold a space for them where suffering is not judged, discouraged or minimised."
"Instead of focusing on 'doing something', empathy offers to be with someone in their suffering."
Using silence
"By listening and allowing the heartache, a compassionate listener helps us to create a container strong enough to hold it. Often their best contribution is in accepting silence."
"Silence is where we ponder, where we bring together different ideas and assemble new possibilities, where we reach new understanding, where we make a decision or change our minds. In other words, silence is where the real work happens."
Finishing safely
"By managing the way we close the discussion, we can ensure that everyone involved is able to move back from any strong emotions raised without feeling rushed, damaged or raw."
We can start by clarifying how much time is available up front, then share responsibility for timekeeping so neither has to feel embarrassed checking the clock.
"If we close well, we reach a shared agreement that we can leave the conversation for now, put it somewhere safe and pick it up again together at another time."
Although this book isn't specifically about coaching, I thought about it almost daily in my coaching sessions.
I liked this book so much that it made it onto my Reading List: Coaching Skills for Leaders.