He nodded silently, listening raptly.

“Let’s talk about the physical part first. It’s true the body can become dependent on alcohol. Some people have more of a physical dependency than others. As you detox, you might feel anxious, you might feel sweaty. You might feel your heart racing. In severe cases, people hallucinate—and the list goes on. But we have medication for all that. Honestly, even if you have a seizure, heaven forbid, it’s going to be okay because we can manage the physical part for you while you’re here. This medicine will soothe you and help prevent any of the dangerous complications.

“That will be the easy part. Compared to what invariably follows, this will be the sweet phase of the process. The next phase will be bitter and prolonged; even unpalatable to the point of insufferable when you’re back at home.

“It’s the other parts,” I continued, “the mental, emotional, and spiritual parts, that are harder because these are the parts that you have to do. Not only do you have to begin this healing while you’re here, but you now have to accomplish it without the old crutch of the alcohol. Sure, alcohol can ruin your life in the long run, but it served the purpose of being a pretty powerful coping mechanism for a very long time. It was an aid that helped you survive. Now you take the alcohol away and you deal with your life sober. All that stuff that was drowned out by the alcohol when you were little, before you went to war, when you went to war, when you came back from war—now you face that stuff without the drink. We are here to help, but even with the therapists, social workers, groups, and medications, it will be challenging—but worth it. You’re a strong man, and you’ll get beyond this to be stronger than you’ve ever been, stronger than most people will ever be in their entire lives. You’ll get beyond this so you can be happy, so you can have a job that fulfills you, so you can be the father you want to be to your son, so you can tell the story of your survival and your victory. This is the story that will save your life and the lives of many others, so it is truly all well worth it. And you’ll need to remember this end goal every hour of every day because this will likely be the hardest thing you’ve ever done in your life. And you can do this.”

He drew a deep breath and nodded as he clasped his hands in front of him. He sat upright on the bed, sturdy, preparing himself to win an exacting victory.

“Again, many good people are here to help you,” I continued, “but the most important thing is that you must want this for yourself and that you are willing to do the work to claim it. That’s the only way it happens. This decision to own your life every second, which will turn into every minute, which will turn into every hour, and then into each day, one day at a time. Eventually it’ll be second nature. And one day soon, it won’t be hard anymore. It’ll just be everyday life, like breathing.”

I could see the resolve in his eyes, the move he was making in allegiance to his health.

“Thank you, Doctor. Thank you.”

I extended my hand. “Mr. Wade, one day come back and tell me your stories. Tell me your stories of how good it is. Just remember: First it will be challenging, and then you’ll be free.”

We shook hands. I felt his heartbeat pulsing in my hand. He nodded again. “Thank you. I will.”

All of Ms. Hernandez’s results were back. When I returned to her room, I saw her lying on the stretcher with her head resting back and her eyes closed. I knocked on the door, and she opened her eyes with a smile.

“Welcome back. All good news. Let me just cycle your blood pressure while I give you the update.” I pushed the button to start the measurement again. “As we anticipated, your blood work was all normal—your kidneys, electrolytes, et cetera. Your chest X-ray was normal, and your head CT, too.” The blood pressure cuff stopped cycling, and I regarded the reading. “And,” I stated in the way of all great game show hosts, “your blood pressure is down to one-fifty over eighty-seven!”

She sighed and raised her hands in a little happy dance. “Praise Jesus. Doctor, you know I just sat here and breathed. I meditated like I used to do in martial arts. And it worked!”

It had worked. It worked better than the pill we could have given her, better than the medication we could have pushed into her veins. Sure, it’s always faster in the moment to silence the body’s ailments pharmacologically, to write a script in lieu of having a conversation. When your main goal is to get through each patient encounter as quickly as possible, these approaches will do. But if the goal is patient autonomy, to support patients in achieving long-term self-generated health, it’s better to pay careful and thoughtful attention to the roots of what makes us healthy.

“Of course, follow up with your doctor for a blood pressure check. Best to call them today to arrange it, since they referred you to the ER today. It’s still a little high, so they may need to tweak your medication. I know you’re super busy and you have so much to do for your family, but your body and spirit are calling out to you, asking you to take care of yourself so you can remain the healthy, strong, caring person you are. Know what I mean?”

“I do, I do,” she said, smiling.

“And that’s all you need from us today. This was the universe’s way of tricking you to come in simply so you could be reminded. That’s it, that’s your message.”

As she collected her belongings and prepared to leave, Ms. Hernandez expressed her rejuvenated commitment to self-care.

“I’ll write up your discharge papers so you can get on with your life. Any questions?”

“None at all. Thank you, Doctor.”

I signed my notes for Mr. Wade and then completed discharge papers for Ms. Hernandez. Dale had picked up the two new patients. Five new patients were in fast-track, and it looked like the three patients in the waiting room who had just signed in would be coming over to the main ER—two medical and one psych. Perfect timing, because both Dale and I were just tucking in the patients before them.

As I waited for the new patients to be triaged, I considered the journeys of Mr. Wade and Ms. Hernandez. Mr. Wade’s door to healing had opened in a loud and dramatic way: by armed men who had literally come knocking at his door (before breaking it down). He had been passed out on the floor, a limp heap of a man, and then he had been jolted awake. Ms. Hernandez’s call came quietly—a slow throb at her temples, a dull ache of fatigue that goaded her to get checked out “just in case.” As she was waiting for the results of our tests, she had brought herself to stillness; she had found a way to gather herself into a healing peace.

Both these patients had let go in their own ways as they moved toward health. And isn’t that how healing usually happens? In these ordinary times, in these everyday moments, people open themselves to what serves them most.