I was at dinner a few nights ago with a dear friend who is a nurse. Just off her shift, she was still wearing her scrubs. We were having a delightful time getting caught up. There are few things more precious than a childhood friendship that has weathered the ever-changing ebbs and flows of life. In the middle of laughing about a funny anecdote, an unfamiliar figure joined us at our table and asked in a stuttering voice if my friend was a nurse. The woman, in her early thirties, had special needs and had noticed my friend was wearing scrubs, so she wanted to know if she could ask a few questions about a surgery she was scheduled to have.

With childlike sincerity, the woman proceeded to go through a series of questions regarding pre and post-op practices. Then, I went through every concern she had, at least twice, each time replying to my friend’s gentle and professional response with “Are you sure?” and then once my friend confirmed, she would say, “Oh, good!” with deep relief.

After she had all her pressing questions answered, she rubbed her eyes and said, “I’m scared,” and smiled in a resigned way. We both took turns to reassure her that we believed all would be well and reminded her it was normal to be nervous. Once she seemed put at ease, we bade our farewells.

The interaction has stayed with me all week.

The woman’s willingness to be vulnerable and approach a stranger for help was truly beautiful and humbling. It made me think about how, even in my most desperate hour, I often flail around trying to look self-sustaining and calm when inside- I am also scared.

I remember when I was about 12, being in the ocean when the tide was getting strong. I was out pretty far, and I realized I was having a hard time getting back. A kind man noted I was struggling and asked if I needed help. Embarrassed by my need, I thanked him but said I was fine and proceeded to do somersaults into the waves to prove the point.

Ultimately a lifeguard had to come out and bring me back in so any attempt to save face was pretty much killed at that point.

As I sat on the shore catching my breath as the crowds headed back into the then calmed water I thought to myself if I had drowned out there amid my gymnastic facade I really had that one coming.

Frequently throughout my life, I have elected to do backflips into riptides over asking for a hand to shore.

What is it that makes us self-protective to the point of death? In my case, it is arrogance. Arrogance and fear.

Having spent a lot of time with the special needs community, the trait I enjoy most about many of them is their childlike freedom to express their needs and emotions without shame. The woman’s request for help was like a window being cracked in the stale attic, which is my pride. A reminder that I am not a stronger person for attempting to be self-sufficient, but a weaker one.

Today, that woman was scheduled to have her surgery. I assume it went well. But if you think of her, send up a prayer that she has a good day and feels no fear.