Summer continued a pace and with it came a
little lad on our PICU. He was 12 years old. He had a very big operation and
lived somewhere in the Home Counties but had come because of UHL children’s surgery
specialism. I had been chatting to his mum for a while about all sorts of
things and I discovered that this young boy liked motorbikes. I started
chatting to him about the various bikes I had ridden over the years.
Before I left I asked if there was anything
that I could do. Mum said no but thanks for the chat, the young lad said there
was something. I told him to spit it out, but he was a bit reluctant. In the
end he said the one thing that he wanted was to be able to talk to his dad on
the phone. I was slightly perplexed as to why this was a problem. Then he told
me that his dad was in prison. I said I would do my best to see what I could
arrange but no promises.
I phoned the prison and spoke to the
chaplain there. He told me that he was aware of the situation but without
external verification they had no been able to do anything about it. As I had
phoned that was all the confirmation they needed. They then were able to get
the boys dad and he had several chats on the phone despite the expense of
patientline. The little lad was made up. He was so pleased to have spoken to
his dad. He astounded the medical staff with the speed of his recovery. I’m
sure some of that was down to him being content and feeling listened to and
valued.
A few weeks later I got a card from this
young man. In it he wrote:
“Thank you for your help so I was able to
speak to my Dad at Elmley prison. Keep enjoying your bike. I hope to ride my
mini moto very soon”
It’s so important, as far as I’m concerned,
to be approachable so that people feel they can ask you anything and that you
won’t sit in judgement over them.
Around this time I also got to meet a
family whose premature baby was in NICU. This family had already had two other
premature babies. One had lived and one had died.
I gradually got to know the family better
and was able to support them through the roller coaster ride of the ups and
downs that their baby son was taking them on. This family had no faith or
religious affinities but I was able to support them despite our differences.
At one point it looked like they had turned
the corner. The baby had moved further down the unit to the area where there is
less intensive care and things were looking up. Then the baby worsened and
started to go downhill again.
One very hot evening just as I was
preparing to go home I came around the corner and literally bumped into the
parents. They were extremely upset. I brought them into the office. Over a
cuppa they told me that there was no hope for their now 4 month old baby. It
had been decided to withdraw treatment. They had come away from the unit to try
and get themselves together and to wait for their daughter to arrive with her
grandparents.
One of the things about dealing with a
religious family is that it gives room and a framework for a ritual. When
dealing with a non-religious family you have to create your own ritual. Rituals
are quite important to mark endings. I encouraged these parents to think about
what they wanted to do or say to honour their son and wish him well in his
death. They decided to think about it and go for a walk while they were
waiting. At the door the mum asked me if it was right to bring their 4 year old
in and let her be part of what was going on. I said I thought it was really
important and that she had been visiting him and was looking forward to having
a baby brother at home. She needed to be allowed to say goodbye. At this point
the mum started crying again. I hugged her and she just sobbed, then her knees
buckled and she sank to the floor. I sank to the floor and continued to hold
her. She just kept crying out “I can’t do this again, I just can’t do this
again” When I pressed her as to what she couldn’t do again she said she just
couldn’t hold another baby while he died, that she had done that once before
and she couldn’t go through that again. The dad also said he couldn’t do it. I
was still holding her and trying to reassure her and she said to me “ You give
such good hugs. Will you cuddle my baby while he dies?”
Inwardly I gulped, but outwardly I
reassured these parents that I would do anything that they wanted that they
thought would be helpful.
I went to the unit when all the family had
arrived. I encouraged all of them to say their own individual goodbyes as well
as a joint family goodbye. I encouraged them to tell the baby what they were
going to miss about what they had wanted to do with him. I then stepped behind
the curtains and allowed mum and dad to spend some private time with the baby.
During that time I hugged a few of the nurses who were finding it all very sad,
as they had nursed this little boy for four months, as well as the doctors who
were present. After a while Mum came out and she left and went to the relatives
room. Dad then held the baby as they started to withdraw and then when he
couldn’t take it anymore he handed the baby to me.
I looked at this tiny baby who was the most
precious thing to his parents and I thought about the amazing trust that this
couple had put in me. I sang to him and gentle rocked him while he slipped
peacefully from this world. What an amazing privilege!
What did I learn from all that? I learned
that chaplaincy is a complex role. When I came out from behind the screens to
give the parents some private time I wasn’t able to take a breather because my
attention was then on the staff of the unit who were finding the situation
tough. I also learned the importance of being around and being part of popular
culture. My conversations with parents inevitably start with chats about “Big
Brother” or the football or Eastenders, or Harry Potter or the Da Vinci Code.
These are not necessarily things, except the football, that would have been
part of my life before. They have value though. As I build a relationship based
on these chats people begin to see me as a person. The clerical collar stops
being a barrier. From there the relationship can deepen if necessary and I’m
not a stranger who comes in and says a few prayers and goes in their hour of
need.
I also learned the importance of looking
after myself and having good and regular supervision. It was an immense
privilege to be asked to hold this little baby and an enormous position of
trust, but it wasn’t without its cost to me. I needed to go home from the
hospital and be very gentle with myself and begin the task of processing the
experience.
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