No miracle cures

Summer was in full swing when one of our regular patients with cystic fibrosis took a turn for the worse. He had reach 27 years old and was now dying. His mum worked in the hospital. The extended family gathered around him in the side room of our specialist CF ward. There were about 14 people who all took turns to be at his side. Most of them were unable to speak and felt useless at varying times.

 

The nurses were also greatly affected by what was going on. They nurse these young people over a number of years and it must be hard for them. I think specialist units like that should run regular supervision sessions for the staff because of the blurred boundaries that occur in these situations. Staff also need a place where they can safely express their own grief as they get to know these patients and their families in much greater depth than the ordinary run of the mill patients.

 

During those last few hours, the young man was able to say what he wanted to happen to some of his possessions and what music he wanted for his funeral. I was so impressed by the way he was facing his imminent death. His family coped with this but had to leave the room to weep when it got too much. I would just follow each of them out in turn and hold onto them, or stand beside them, until they felt able to carry on. When he stopped breathing, his dad started to shout my name. He wanted me to do something, but what could I do? I also felt useless. I reassured them that it was OK and that the young man was at peace now and no longer struggling with the things that were so difficult for him. I said a prayer and told them to all come and give him a kiss and give him a message to take with him as hearing is the last sense to go. It was all so poignant.

I felt the poignancy more so because the young woman that I had been supporting over the years was also there. I had to take special care of her because I was acutely aware that she was staring into her own future. Life is so tough sometimes.

I was in the privileged position of being able to take this young man’s funeral. It was a grand occasion with lots of laughter as well as tears. I felt it was a very fitting end to a young man who had lived the best life he could despite the awful hand he had been dealt.

A funeral visit with a difference that left me smiling

On this particular day I met a young mother of 4 children. She had gone into labour at 23 weeks with her 5^th child. The baby had lived for 8 hours. What impressed me was the honesty of the encounter. The day I met the woman, she was raw with emotion. She had a friend with her and they were both visibly upset. I blessed the baby and spent time talking to them both. The woman didn’t have much faith in her partner but knew she could rely on her friends. I told her to contact me if she needed anything further.

The next I heard was from a funeral director, who asked me if I would take the baby’s funeral at the mum’s request. I said I would and so contacted the mum to arrange a time to visit her and plan the funeral.

When I arrived at the house all the other children were present, aged 13, 11, 9 and 2. There was also a friend present with a small child. It was the most interesting funeral visit I have ever done. The children were so naturally honest and inquisitive. I was asked questions like “How will the baby get to heaven if he’s body is burnt?” “Will the baby recognise us when we get to heaven?” “What is heaven really like?” The questions went on and on. In between answering these profound and theological questions I was talking to the mum about what she wanted included in the funeral. The whole family decided on what music and reading to have. When I suggested the children write a letter to their baby brother they seemed really pleased.

When I left the house I had a crowd of kids around me and my motorbike asking me questions like “Do I live in a church?” and “Could they have a ride on my bike?” I don’t usually leave funeral visits smiling but I did on that day.

When it came to the funeral all the children had written a letter to their brother and or drawn a picture.

The day of the funeral came. At the beginning of the service the mum broke down and started to weep. The oldest child went and got my colleague from the mortuary, who had also been working closely with the family, and brought him down to sit with her mum. I was touched by the daughter’s thoughtfulness. When it came to it she then read her letter beautifully. The younger children were overwhelmed by the event and gave me their letters to read out. If I’m normally reading a child’s words I read it through with them first just to make sure I get it right. In this instance I had no preparation. I think I managed to work out the spelling and grammar well enough, but it tested me. Afterwards the letters and drawings were put on the tiny coffin.

After the service, as we gathered around outside, my colleague beckoned me over. The children were asking him questions and he said he needed my help to answer. They wanted to know how all the dead people fitted into heaven and was there still enough room for everyone. The look that exchanged between me and my colleague said it all. He was mightily relived that I seemed more qualified to answer the question. The children seemed satisfied with my answer about not needing our bodies, so not taking up so much space.

I love kids and their directness. They often ask questions that adults would really like to know the answers to if only they were brave enough to ask.

A story of perseverence

I can’t believe that I had already entered into my fourth year of hospital chaplaincy. It doesn’t seem like five minutes ago that I was so new and inexperienced and didn’t even know how to find my way around the hospital.

A patient that I had met in my first year was re-admitted. I met her initially when she was in ICU. I was called because she had been told there was nothing more that could be done for her and she was going to die. It just shows you that it’s not always possible to predict what will happen. Some patients do defy the odds and this woman fell into that category.

This patient amazes me and is a testament to my belief that the human spirit can endure much given the right kind of support. When I first me her she was petrified she was going to die. She was not overly religious but was desperately wanting to cling on to something. She asked me to pray with her. What I ended up doing was an Iona healing anointing which she seemed to take great comfort from. As she physically plateaued and hung between that place of death and life, she emotionally deteriorated and sank into despair and depression. Her world shrunk to the size of her bed. She became obsessed with the times that her drugs were due and what doses she was being given. She had lost any perspective on the outside world. She was extremely demanding of the medical staff and they were at a loss as to how to help her. She was on a ventilator for a long time so communication was difficult, but not impossible. What was  important was that neither side got frustrated in the difficult communication process. As she physically got stronger, her anxiety levels increased. She was afraid of her fragility and that she would end up going backwards.

When she was moved out of ICU and into an ordinary ward her depression was at its height. I started visiting her on a daily basis and every day I would take a positive thought with me, which I would print and stick up on the wall which she spent so much time staring at. Part of her problem was that she was an elegant woman, who had a good job and was always immaculately presented. Because of her illness she no longer had a working bowel and had been fitted with a bag, which unfortunately made awful noises. Due to her not being able to maintain any nutrition her hair fell out. Now she was so physically debilitated that instead of getting up and going to work everyday and being in control of her life, she couldn’t even get out of bed or wash herself. No wonder she was depressed!

After a year of being in the hospital she was transferred to a specialist unit, from which she eventually went home.

I got to know her quite well during that year and admired the way she struggled to make herself eat. I watched and encouraged her as she set goals of sitting up and then getting out of bed and then staying out of bed. Sometimes it was a question of 1 step forward and 2 steps backwards. To me what was important was that I continued to journey with her no matter what direction she was going in.

After she left I had a few updates from the nurses about how she was doing at the other hospital but eventually there was no news.

When I saw her back in our hospital I was keen to see how she was after such a gap. She was remarkable. She had adjusted her life to live within the boundaries she now occupied. She knew she would never work again and would not be able to do long haul travel but that didn’t mean she had nothing to live for. It was great to renew our acquaintance and see how far she had come. 

I fed this back to her and said how well I thought she had done. She was much more serene and philosophical. She told me that she wanted me to do her funeral and that she had told her brother what she wanted. It seems that not even the fear of death had kept its hold over her. Even though she was still enduring horrible physical illnesses, emotionally she was on an even keel. She was back with us for a few months before she went back to the specialist unit and then back home.

It’s stories like this that keep me going in the face of such adversity.

Grim Reaper or Allied Health Care Professional? You decide

My 3^rd year as a chaplain gave me lots of new experiences. I also enjoyed getting to know the staff better and doing some innovative things with them. The thing that seems to have born much fruition was something I started at the beginning of the year. I had been talking to the Resus Officer. We both thought it’d be a good idea if I attended crash calls (where someone's heart has stopped or is about to). My role would be one of a skilled communicator.

When the team turn up to a cardiac arrest they all have their roles and their focus is totally on the patient. My focus was to be something different. I was to look after any relatives that were present. The intention was not to offer anything religious, unless asked for, but to answer any medical questions and explain what the medics were doing and act as a conduit between the medics and the family. If no family were present then my focus was to be the staff and to observe and offer a debrief after the arrest.

I had been attending these emergencies for a year now. Many staff understand what I am doing and appreciate me being there. Some staff were sceptical and thought I was just pushing religion. I have gradually broken down most barriers. There are still some who have a more old school opinion and think it’s not right for the “grim reaper” to show up until officially called for. They are in the minority though and this new initiative has been well received. In fact when I go on holiday people are now noticing my absence.

This year has shown me that the modern NHS is a place of change. It should certainly be a transforming place. I know I have been changed by some of the encounters. I wonder what the next year will bring?

Reaping the rewards of a life well lived

As I’ve mused before, sometimes life just doesn’t seem fair. A much loved and liked member of staff had a serious heart condition. He had come through several major heart operations, including one where he was on by-pass for 11 hours! I was called in one night by this man and his wife. He had just been told he had terminal cancer. They were both inconsolable. They sat linked together on the couch in the quiet room and just cried and cried. I was at a loss as to what to say to them. They were both very committed Christian’s of strong faith and that helped. I was able to read some bible passages with them and say some prayers. I sat with them for a couple of hours until the tears subsided and they started to feel a little calmer. Then they tried to spring into action and come up with a plan of how to handle things. I had to gently tell them it was too early for that and what they had to do more than anything was just get through that night. They saw the sense in that and I was able to help them plan to say goodbye that night and start again the next morning. I promised I would come back to the ward early.

The next day they were both putting on brave faces but the pain was there just below the surface. I spent quite a bit of time with them over that admission. It made a difference that they were both people of faith. We were able to have some frank conversations. The man was able to plan some things for when he was discharged. One of which was to take his wife away for a lovely weekend for their anniversary. They were able to do this and some other things before the man suddenly and peacefully slipped away a couple of months ago.

I got to take his memorial service at the hospital. I knew many people would want to come to say goodbye to this treasured man. The small chapel was packed and many people spoke movingly of how he had touched their lives. I guess we all want in the end to just touch and enrich lives, to be loved and to give love. This was certainly the case with this man. What helps me get through things like this is I know he is now reaping the rewards of a life well lived.

Was this Orthodox? What is Orthodoxy?

Sometimes as a hospital chaplain when the bleep goes off you never know what you are being called to. In this respect it can be hard to prepare yourself. This day was no exception. I was bleeped by A&E resus to say they had a 63 year old woman who was on holiday in this country, and had a massive stroke while she was talking to her son. When I got to the bedside I found 2 distressed young men. They were both her sons. The family were Russian Orthodox and were a bit perplexed to be met with a woman priest. I sensed their unease and checked their religion. Once I found out I said I would go back to my office and try and get them an orthodox priest. The staff in resus were apologetic. I find that many staff do not understand the different varieties and flavours within the same faith. In the main it’s not a problem but I was relieved I had not been disturbed in the middle of the night for this one.

I’d been back in my office 10 minutes trying to find an orthodox priest, when the bleep went again. The nurse in A&E asked me to come quickly as the patient was deteriorating and would last much longer. The family in these circumstances wanted anybody. I ran back to resus and puffed my way breathlessly through a traditional last rites and anointing. Throughout the whole of this the anaesthetist bagged the woman so that the prayers were done while she was still “alive” As soon as I finished he stopped and all the staff stepped back and let the family have a private moment with their mother.

The family came out to me and were very grateful that I had come back so quickly. They told me that it meant a lot that a priest had been with their mum when she died.

I’m not sure what God would make of all of this. I bet s/he has a good laugh as we try to make sense of things in such a confusing world. I’m sure God is not fussed by the religion of the people or the flavour of the priest. It’s more important what we each carry in our hearts and minds as we live our lives.

Rebel Rev would like a magic wand again!

(Sorry for the long delay in posting. This was due to unforeseen circumstances)

Some ICU situations are hopeless from the start. This situation was around a young man who had been in an horrendous motorcycle accident. I had spoken to the A&E consultant who felt sure he was brain dead and thought the patient would potentially be an organ donor.

As the medical staff waited the few days for additional scans to be carried out, the mum started to say that her son was communicating to her with his eyes. She was utterly convinced of this and wouldn’t have it any other way.

When I spoke to the staff they told me this was impossible. The patient had an extremely high neck fracture as well as a severe brain injury. The problem was because he was only 26, fit and young his muscles were contracting and he would occasionally twitch. His mum took this to mean he was getting better and that he was communicating with her.

It took 3 weeks of hard work to get the family to the point of accepting their son’s fate. During this time I had to support the staff, who were finding the situation really tough. The patient’s mum was really rude to them most of the time in her distress and would scream at them that they wanted “to kill her boy” It was a terribly sad situation but there was relief all around when we were able to remove life support and let this young man be at peace. I suspect it will be a long time until his mother finds peace again. If only I had that magic wand!