Pastoral Counselor Loris Buccola,
AAPC Diplomate, talks about being wounded but
still healing, and how shared vulnerability
leads to a deeper connection
with clients
"Wounded and
Still Healing"
Four years ago at age 58, just
as I had become convinced that I was immortal
and indestructible, I was diagnosed with ALS
("Lou Gehrig's Disease"), an incurable
disease of the nervous system which leaves
victims paralyzed from head to toe and unable
to speak, swallow, or breathe on their own.
Most people with this disease die within two
to five years from a combination of malnutrition
and loss of respiration, unless they are accommodated
with a feeding tube and respiratory assist.
My family, friends and I were at first in a
state of shock and terror. Only gradually have
we come to accept—even embrace—the changes
in our lives required by this unexpected circumstance.
I am currently nearly completely paralyzed
from the neck down but mercifully have retained
all of my speaking and swallowing functions,
although my breathing is somewhat diminished.
I navigate the computer, compose documents,
send and respond to e-mails, call out and answer
the phone, and switch channels on the TV, all
with the aid of voice-activated software.
Aside from the many personal
and spiritual changes in my life, there have
also been professional adjustments. My pastoral
counseling has become more clearly "pastoral".
Like many colleagues of my generation, I learned
how to be an excellent clinician, and neglected
many of my spiritually-oriented instincts.
I must now see people in my home
office, something I said I would "never" do.
During my initial brief screening on the phone
prior to a first appointment, I mention that
I am confined to a power wheelchair which I
operate with my head and ask if that will bother
them. So far, no one has said "yes." Once
we have met and are able to initially discuss
my physical condition, and they are assured
that I am "okay," clients continue
on with their own issues, refocusing on the
problem at hand. I very seldom encounter client
avoidance because "your problems are so
much bigger than mine."
Clients seem to feel safer, perhaps
because it is impossible for me to hide my
physical vulnerability and helplessness. My
physical paralysis has often become a metaphor
for my clients' emotional and spiritual state
of being. We sometimes discuss parallels, as
well as differences, between my situation and
theirs. This seems to be particularly true
when addressing issues of denial and acceptance.
Sometimes I briefly recount my own journey
from fear, anger and denial to acceptance.
I now often accept small gestures of help from
clients ("could you adjust my arm for
me?"). I think this may put us on a more
equal footing. We both need help in our own
ways.
What I have experienced overall
is that my clients and I are able to safely
draw closer to each other, where the real spiritual
and emotional healing can take place. In fact,
my wheelchair home has perhaps increased people's
ability to experience the sacred space with
me. We are on a shared journey where neither
of us has been able to avoid the pains and
losses of life, the mystery of death and resurrection.
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