The first day I met Karen, it was a dreary, overcast day, typical of late spring and early summer near the lake. She brought a friend both because she needed someone at the time, and because she was about to journey down a path she had never considered before.
A lifelong English teacher, her husband’s deteriorating health threatened to make her first year away from diagramming sentence structures and book reports the antithesis of retirement.
Although nervous on that exact day, Karen’s unassuming and cheery smile didn’t reveal a single hint about her new day job. She will never tell you about her struggle unless you ask, and even then she dismisses the questions with a tired, lazy tone that seems to suggest she’s just doing what any other loving wife or spouse would do too.
For over three years, Karen and I have worked together on building, at face value, a golf swing that would allow her to meet new people, enjoy a new hobby and maybe someday play on the intimidating 18-hole golf course. Little did I know at the time, had any of those missions gone unaccomplished it wouldn’t have mattered at all.
Karen could care less how much I know about golf. As a retired teacher she is undoubtedly more interested in my communication style, grammar proficiency and availability than my high tech computer and camera system. She is much more interested in finding out whether or not I can provide her with a release, an escape from the rigors of her new job. She needed a way to feel rewarded for her efforts off the course and at home.
Her husband is finally on the road to recovery after three spinal fusion surgeries, the most recent of which completely fused his spine top to bottom, and three years of unrelenting rehabilitation. Although he will never be able to tie his own shoes again, doctors are cautiously optimistic that he will one day wake up with less pain or the fear of permanent nerve damage. 8 hours a day, five days a week for five more weeks of intense therapy and rehabilitation is all that separates Karen from a new husband and her husband from playing with his grandson Ben with relative freedom.
Of course, doctors are not the only ones responsible for this miraculous turn of fate. Karen’s tireless care and patience for the past three years, during which she was able to use the game of golf to cope with the stress of living with and providing around-the-clock care for a live-in “patient”, has undoubtedly taken its toll. Hospital doctors have even required that she spend time with a hospital psychologist to relearn how to communicate with a healthy, functioning spouse.
As rehabilitation nears an end, Karen took the last five minutes of a short game lesson recently to reflect on the past three years, the unsuspecting and monumental role of the sport of golf, and the relationships it has provided.
She was at a loss for words when she asked what she would have done with herself if that dreary overcast day three years ago hadn’t worked out as planned.
I ask myself what the effect would have been had I chosen to train a client instead of forge a relationship.
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