Diatribe No. 3

Almost 5 months have gone by since my last - and second - post, and yet a lot has happened that I would consider "blogworthy."  I'll revive my posting while reminiscing on a humorous event:

As usual, I'll withhold names as this involves a resident.  

I make hospital visits.  I leave little notes when people are asleep, and I sing when they're sick. However, a few months ago I wasn't really sure what to do...

Many of the hospitals I visit are close to Pittsburgh and, thus, far from the main campus where I work, so I call ahead to make sure the resident I intend to visit has not been discharged before I get there.  This fall day was like any other.  After lunch, I called ahead about the resident in the hospital, and the receptionist confirmed his room number.  A couple of hours later, I pulled into the hospital parking lot.

Decked out in full diaconal regalia, I reached the floor where my resident was and found he was in an "intensive care" unit.  There was a receptionist at the entrance.  I gave her the name of the resident and she looked at me, specifically, at my left arm, where the gold cross was.

"Clergy?" she asked.

"Deaconess," I reply.  (No, I'm not "clergy," but if I say "no" you won't let me through the door, so I'll avoid the question with my proper title which you don't understand, but satisfies HIPPA protocols.)

"Well, I guess I can let you in."

The woman's hesitation was not due to the word "deaconess," but to something else... something on her computer screen.  Odd.

I found the resident's room, but his curtain was pulled shut.  Not a problem, I'll just check with the nurses first:

"I noticed Mr. so-and-sos curtain was pulled, is it alright if I go in?"

"Well, the family's gone, but I guess, since you're clergy, sure."

"Deaconess," I think to myself... "still something odd about how she said that."

I pull back the curtain and walk in the room.  My thoughts:

"Wow, he must be going home soon, he's not hooked up to any machines.  I don't visit too many people who aren't hooked up...  wait a minute, that's an odd look for a healthy guy. Whoa... is he breathing?" 

Complete stillness as I stare at the man's chest for a full 60 seconds.  Nope, he didn't breathe.  Pretty sure I didn't either.  More thoughts:

"Our Father, who art...  Wait a minute, what am I doing?  Do I pray?  I'm not going to sing... Holy... I'm in a room with a dead guy."

It wasn't necessarily the most professional moment of my deaconess career.  I left the room, after standing in it for 3 or so minutes... awkwardly.  I went back to the nurse's station:

"So, when did Mr. so-and-so pass away?"

"About 2:15" (Only 45 minutes after I had called!! It was now after 3.) "Wait, they didn't tell you?" The nurse looked kind of surprised, kind of amused.  I don't really blame her, I was almost in tears, definitely surprised, but also aware of the humor.... sort of.

The nurse apologized, I forgave and then gladly left the hospital.  

Don't get me wrong, seeing bodies is not a problem for me.  It's just the shell.  But to expect someone to be alive and then to find them not... well that can be slightly troubling.  

This experience did teach me a couple things, though.  Like, if a nurse or receptionist looks at you funny, it might be good to ask why.  Or, if a resident is unhooked from all life support, that's not necessarily a good thing.  Although, given his religious background, this particular resident may think it's a very good thing.  :-)

Diaconal Diatribe No.2

It would help if I posted on the blog I've created...

The problem is not a lack of things about which to post. The problem is, in actuality, the overwhelming number of things running through my head which refuse to pass through my fingers in an orderly manner. It's an issue of bottlenecked traffic, really.

With the recent departure of an ordained "coworker," (or should that be "co-called" person?) I have been asked to focus a majority of my time visiting hospice patients. This is done during the time which I would normally use to make hospital visits or rounding on the main campus. In a strange way, I enjoy these hospice visits. On second thought, it's not strange why I like them, really. The hospice patients have been blatantly confronted with their mortality and are therefore usually up for a visit with someone wearing a cross on her shoulder.

There is one hospice patient in particular with whom I look forward to visiting. We'll call her Henrietta (due to HIPAA regulations, names are, of course, changed). Henrietta has been struggling with her decision to go on hospice. I have visited with her three times (maybe 4...), and during each visit she asks me to pray that God take her to heaven. Her request always ends in tears. She wants to die, she says, and she wants God to take her. All the while she cries.

Consequently, we pray things like "if it be Your will Father, take Henrietta to be with You. But if it be Your will that her life be sustained, please continue to strengthen her faith..." Today, before the prayer that she knew was coming, she stopped me. She said, "I want to tell you something. I've been thinking, and I want God to take me when He wants to take me. Not when I want to go." And then the tears came...

I couldn't help but rejoice with her. Of course (and we talked about this), whether she wants it or not the Lord will take her Home in His time. But Henrietta has been confronted with her mortality, has been frustrated that the Lord has kept her alive, and is now not necessarily rejoicing in her life but certainly recognizing that God is at work there - where she is. Yes, she still cried, and yes, we still prayed for our Father's Will to be done, but she has the assurance that the Lord has not forgotten her. (Something she was not so sure of only a few weeks ago.)

Hopefully Henrietta has this same confidence next week when I see her again. Better yet, maybe the Lord will have taken her Home by then. But if not, we will continue to look to God's Word - to the Cross - for her comfort. We'll continue to sing hymns. And we'll continue to pray that the Will of Henrietta's Heavenly Father - our Heavenly Father - is done.

Diatribe No. 1

Venturing into the world of blogging... a result of vanity and narcissism, both of which it would appear I am embracing. My rationale? An opportunity to unwind, debrief, and seek feedback. Now...to find something constructive to say...

There is something delightful about seeing the red "message" light blink on my phone at work. It means someone has thought of me. (See "vanity and narcissism" above) Today, much to my delight, there was a message waiting for me after lunch. It was a co-worker calling about a resident she wanted me to visit. Seeing as this is the first time someone has called me (they usually stop me in the hall if they remember) I was quite thrilled. I left this co-worker a message promising to stop by.

One small concert rehearsal and two Bible studies later, I stopped by her office to find out the name and location of the resident. Possibly even more delightful than the voicemail she left was the reason my co-worker called in the first place. She had started to call a "Stephen's Minister" from off-campus when, in her words, she "realized, wait! We have a Deaconess!" At which point she called me.

Joy of joys! I'm of use! I have another opportunity to share the Gospel with a resident!
...and I have a blog post.