I wonder what it is like being a doctor. By definition, you are in the company of people who hurt. One of my toddlers once had a health issue that brought us back for several visits, and by the third time she began to associate this man with pain. She eyed him suspiciously and clung to my leg like an invasive ground cover. I worried that when he came closer she would take a swipe at him. 

Probably in an intellectual way physicians are clear that they are not the source of suffering, even when the procedures they perform involve sharp tools. But do they need to remind themselves? Maybe they stick a sign in their offices. 

"I am not the cause of this pain."

Sometimes the people we care about blur the lines around the source of their own discomfort. Once a friend described a conversation between him and his wife. 

"What do you think the long term consequences of your decision will be?"

"You think I am stupid!" she hurled. 

He was, barely, able to realize that she was hurting, and was lashing out at the nearest target. 

A few years ago a friend described her spouse's knee jerk accusations of her. Yet she was able to rise above the churning water just enough to see that he was aching from within. She was not the cause of his angst. Unresolved events that happened long ago were. 

This would all be monumentally unjust except for one slight factor. 

We may not always be responsible for what our loved one is afraid of. But it is possible that we can be part of the healing.