The other day I had the opportunity to work with a patient who, literally a couple of minutes before our meeting, was informed that she had a very serious illness and would face very difficult lifelong treatment. She, of course, knew before that she was sick, but only now was she able to appreciate the scale of the tragedy.* I tried to get acquainted, to establish contact, because it was necessary to carry out a diagnosis. But the patient couldn’t even say her name right away, because she was depressed, scared, and crying. Then she tried to hold back her crying, from which she began to shake, stronger and stronger, and now her whole body was trembling. No matter how hard she tried, she could not calm down. All she could say at that moment was: “Why did this happen to me?” It was incredibly sad and difficult to be around. *I realized that now it is more important to support a person than to carry out a diagnosis. She sat down next to her and took the patient’s hand, firmly, but not too tightly. I noticed that she was holding back not only crying, but also breathing in and out. Breathing is very shallow, the chest and stomach practically do not move. I asked her to breathe, stretch out the inhalation and exhalation, make them smooth, slow, breathe with me. I noticed that when I concentrated on breathing, the tremors in my body gradually subsided. And vice versa, when the patient again mentally “jumped” into the future and forgot about breathing, the tremor intensified. I had to constantly bring her back to the “here and now”, talk about how important it is to breathe, ask her to look into my eyes, remind me where we are and what’s around. At the same time, I inserted phrases that the situation was really quite serious, but I was ready to help her and I believed that she would cope, just as she was coping with her current condition. *After about an hour, the patient was able to calm down a little, began to communicate more, and the trembling stopped. I left only when I was sure that she could stay alone and have someone to discuss her experiences with. My condition at that time can be compared to a fruit after a juicer - all the juices have been squeezed out. It seems to me that I have begun to understand a little about surgeons who come out after an operation and fall exhausted. *No, I don’t feel sorry for the wasted energy at all, I know that it was not in vain, and strength can be restored. After this work, I remembered how I found myself in a similar situation, although it is very difficult to compare here. Once I was scheduled for emergency surgery, I was emotionally broken and found myself completely alone, without loved ones. How I wish that at that moment there was a person nearby who just held my hand and breathed with me. That's why it was so important for me to help this patient..