A Sip of Flava

Making Room

This week, my body reminded me that pain comes in waves.

Mine was loud — achy, persistent, humbling — but it wasn’t urgent.

That distinction mattered.

I had a follow-up appointment scheduled with a doctor I trust. With how my body has been feeling, I knew I could wait. I wasn’t at my best, but I was safe. I was steady enough to pause.

Then I thought about an 88-year-old woman who had called in pain.

Her discomfort wasn’t theoretical. It wasn’t something she could “push through.” It was interfering with her ability to move, rest, and simply exist without suffering. And suddenly, the question wasn’t about my appointment anymore.

It became about making room.

I asked if they could offer my appointment time to her instead.

Not because my pain didn’t matter — it did.

Not because I wanted credit — I didn’t.

But because perspective changes things.

Sometimes care looks like advocating loudly.

Sometimes it looks like stepping back quietly.

This wasn’t favoritism. It wasn’t bending rules. It was recognizing that urgency isn’t measured by who speaks first — it’s measured by who needs relief now.

As someone who has spent years listening to patients and families, I’ve learned this:

Pain asks different things of us at different stages of life.

In our later years, waiting can be heavier.

Time moves differently.

Bodies recover differently.

So I waited.

And in that waiting, I felt peace.

Because there’s something grounding about knowing when your role isn’t to take space — but to offer it.

When compassion doesn’t require explanation. When the right choice feels quiet, not heroic.

We live in a world that often asks us to hold our place at all costs.

But sometimes the most human thing we can do is loosen our grip and say:

You go first.

— Lady Flava

Some weeks call for endurance. Others call for perspective. This one asked for room.