The Patient Who Changed the Way I Listen…

She was ninety years old and spent most of her days in the psychiatric ward screaming at the top of her lungs. No words, just pure sound. Her voice echoed through the halls, unsettling the other patients and testing everyone’s patience. The nurses tried speaking to her, redirecting her, even comforting her, but nothing seemed to work.

One afternoon, I decided to go into her room myself. She was sitting on her bed, staring at the wall, still screaming. I tried talking to her, but she only got louder. Her eyes darted around, but there was no recognition in them. I started to wonder if she even understood what I was saying.

She was an Asian woman, and for a moment I assumed she did not know English. But then I noticed a small pad of paper and a pen on her bedside table. I picked them up and wrote, Do you understand English?

She stopped. Looked at me. Then smiled and nodded.

That was the moment everything changed. From then on, we began writing to each other. When she wanted something, she would point to the paper. When we needed to explain something, we wrote it down. Slowly, the ward began to grow quiet. She stopped screaming. She started cooperating.

It turned out she had severe hearing loss. All that time, she had been trapped in silence, surrounded by people who kept talking louder instead of differently.

That experience taught me something I will never forget. We are often quick to assume that elderly or immigrant patients will not understand us, that their silence or agitation means confusion or defiance. But sometimes, the problem is not comprehension. It is communication.

Before that day, I thought listening was about paying attention to what someone said. Now I understand that true listening means being willing to change how we speak.

On one of my last days with her, I wrote a question: Do you like to read? She smiled again and wrote back, Romance novels. The next day, I brought her one. For the first time since I had met her, the only sound coming from her room was laughter.

That was when I realized what equity in care truly means. It is not about treating everyone the same way. It is about finding the way that allows each person to be heard.