
And not a small click.
A long pause.
I got sick.
Badly.
It was clear Iād need surgery.
Complex. Long.
Thirteen hours.
When I woke up ā
I was hooked up to tubes.
Machines.
Getting treatments.
I didnāt wake up like a fairy tale princeā¦
More like a rough version of RoboCop on a bad day.
But in the middle of all that?
I felt in control.
From the first moment I was awake ā
I felt I was in charge.
Even though I wasnāt.
Even though I had no strength.
But something in me radiated presence.
The atmosphere around me felt respectful.
I felt authoritative ā without effort.
And then, on the fifth day,
the head nurse came to me with an unusual request:
āThereās a patient here.
Heās afraid to go through the same surgery you had.
Would you talk to him?
Explain?ā
Imagine the scene:
I can barely move.
Tubes coming out of me in every directionā¦
And she wants me
to give someone else strength.
So I talked to him.
Explained.
He went into surgery.
And he made it.
ā
But the truth?
I wasnāt always like that.
That sense of authority ā
so natural in that hospital room ā
didnāt come out of nowhere.
Itās not some inborn trait.
Itās not a āgiftā youāre born with.
It came from years of managing.
Mistakes.
Listening.
Growth.
Moments where I learned
not just to manage ā
but to be present.
ā
So if youāre thinking:
āIām not the authoritative type. Thatās just not meā¦ā
Pause for a second.
Authority isnāt about muscles.
Or rank.
Itās about the quiet you bring with you.
And yes ā
it can be learned.
Even when youāre hooked up
to every monitor in the ward.








