Rebel Rev's last blog as a hospital chaplain is particularly gut wrenching

The same weekend when I was having the discussion with the 93 year old of my last blog I was also bleeped to deal with the tragic and unexpected death of a 6 year old. The child had come in the day before which was Boxing Day, the day after Christmas Day for international readers. The child had come in just generally unwell but was usually fit and healthy. The medics had observed the her overnight as she had come up late to the ward and had then decided to do a lumbar puncture before lunch. Within half an hour of this procedure the child arrested (her heart stopped) and unfortunately the resuscitation attempt was unsuccessful.

The ward manager bleeped me. She was relieved to get me and explained what had happened. I said I’d be there as quickly as I could.

As it was nearly lunchtime I went back to the office to grab my oil and prayer book and I also quickly ate some fruit as I now know from experience that these things take time. When I arrived on the ward I was met by a frazzled deputy ward manager who told me they were behind in getting pain relief to the other children because of what had happened and so many nurses being tied up with it. She showed me to the room. I went in and the ward manager looked at me with eyes that were struggling to hold back the tears and immediately left me to it. Up till this point I had still not heard the story of what had been going on with the child so was going into the situation blindly. 

Mum was sitting in a chair one side of the bed, dad was pacing the other side. Their older daughter, who looked around 13 was stroking her sisters hair. They were all crying. Dad was saying he didn’t want to live. He was also pleading with God to take him instead and give his daughter back. Mum just looked at me with these huge disbelieving eyes and said “How can I leave her here. I promised I’d take her home to her Christmas presents and now you tell me that I can never take her home. You tell me how I am supposed to do that?” I took a deep breath in the face of such raw emotion and went and stood beside mum and placed my hand on her should and just said how so so sorry I was for her pain and I could not imagine how awful she must be feeling. She then grabbed onto me firmly and poured her heart out. Dad was still pleading with God and telling me he didn’t want to live. He also kept wailing. With my one free hand I reached out to their daughter who then snuggled under my arm and wept. I asked her if she had a friend or someone that she could ring who could be there for her. Her mum then said that was a good idea and encouraged her to ring her best friend. I was concerned for her and could not physically or emotionally effectively look after all 3 of them.

After about an hour of really intense emotion the dad reached out for my prayer book and placed it on the child. I asked the family if they wanted me to say some prayers. They said they did. I’m not sure what I prayed, as adrenaline takes over because your mind is screaming what on earth can you say in such an awful situation. Words just seem completely inadequate. I did anoint the little girl and got the family to participate in this ritual as I think action often communicates where words fail us. When this was finished the family seemed slightly more settled and were able to tell me what had happened.

Eventually other family members began to arrive. Also the friend for the older daughter arrived with her mum, which I thought was really good of them. Each time a new family member appeared the raw grief would come spurting out at force like a volcano erupting.

Another hour went by. The mum was still hanging on to me most of the time. She then told me she needed to phone her parents in Europe as they were meant to be travelling out to them the next day. I arranged for mum to use the phone in the ward office. She asked me to come with her. Even though I didn’t understand the words being used in the phone conversation because of the language barrier I could still clearly hear the pain and grief as it tumbled out.

We went back into the room. By now the child’s body was fairly cool and stiff. Blood was also trickling out of her nose. None of this seemed to be outwardly causing the family anymore distress than they were already feeling. All they would do is gently wipe her nose. I explained that this was all a natural part of the death process. They then started to ask me if they could take the child home. I then had the delicate job of explaining that this beautiful little girl would need to have a post mortem because of the unexpected way in which she had died. I explained that they would also want answers and this was the only way to get them. The uncle was distressed at this and asked to talk to me outside. He said he didn’t want this to happen as he had heard about doctors keeping children’s organs. I explained that the law had changed and that this couldn’t happen and I promised the family that anything that was looked at during the post-mortem process would be returned to the child’s body before she was buried or cremated. I then had to explain the legalities of the coroner’s office and that the child was now under their care until they felt it was ok to release her to an undertaker for the parents to make the arrangements.

It’s an awful lot for a family to take in and there is a booklet that explains all this for families to refer back to which I would give to them when they were ready to leave.

Another hour had gone by and I started to talk to the family about how they were going to say goodbye for now. Dad said he wanted some pictures so another family member started to take pictures of dad and mum and sisters.

I’ve noticed the taking of pictures is beginning to creep into these situations more often. This is mainly due to mobile technology and the fact that people often have a camera with them on their phone. I must admit it’s a new phenomenon that leaves me slightly uncomfortable but that’s my hang up.

After the pictures were taken I asked the extended family if they also wanted to anoint the child like the immediate family had done earlier then leave the family for a more private goodbye.

This seemed to work to enable people to leave the room until only myself and the parents and older daughter were left. I reassured them that they could come back to the mortuary anytime to be with their daughter and to arrange this through the ward as it was the weekend. They told me they’d be back the next day and asked if they could see me again. I reassured them I was around all over the weekend.

Every time I thought they had left the room for good one of them would go back in again. All I could do was be there with them until they felt able to leave their daughter for the last time in an ordinary ward. From now on they’d only see their precious little girl in the mortuary or an undertakers chapel.

I walked them to the end of the ward when they were finally ready to go. I can’t imagine how awful and gut wrenching that must feel. As I turned to walk back down the ward I sighed heavily and stretched out my tired stiff shoulders that had absorbed so much over the last few hours. I now needed to spend a bit of time with the staff who were still looking traumatised.

When I got home eventually that night it was like I had used up all my words. I found it quite difficult to talk to my family. It felt like I just needed a bit of space and solitude and nothing too demanding.

Refreshed by that space I went in the next morning. At some point I was contacted by the nurse in charge of the children’s ward who told me that the family would be arriving in half and hour and was I free to be with her and them in the mortuary. She then told me she was about to bleep the porters to get the child’s body out and ready. I told her not to bleep the porters and I would do it. I know the porters find dealing with children difficult. I also wanted to make sure the little girl looked as good as she possibly could for her family. I took her out of the fridge and placed her in the viewing room. I removed the gauze from her nose and gently washed her face. I brushed her hair and placed teddies around her.

Just as I was finishing off the family arrived. They greeted me like a long lost relative. Again there were lots of photo’s taken. The aunt asked to have a word with me outside and then asked if I could spend time with the mum because she was saying she wouldn’t have got through the previous day without me. She also asked if I could help with the funeral. I had to tell her that I only had one more day at work and then I was leaving. I felt awful as I usually like to travel with a family for as long as they need me. I knew I needed to draw a line but it felt horrible.

When the family left their little girl this time it felt different. They were already calmer. The only strange thing that happened was dad asked me if there was any way of preserving the body so that they could keep coming to see her. He said he’d seen something on the tele about people being frozen forever. I explained as best I could about cyrogenics and why that wasn’t an option. He accepted this and took more pictures. He obviously wanted to preserve his daughter for as long as he could and was worried that he’d forget her or forget what she looked like. I guess I can understand this, even though I believe that death only separates us from the body but for me importantly the heart and mind of the living keep the memories.

The last 2 weeks that I worked as a hospital chaplain were pretty full on but reinforced to me how diverse hospital chaplaincy is. I was also reminded that even though the day might have been full of awful things and horrendous trauma’s, it is still possible to go home satisfied that you’ve done a good job. It may seem weird to say that you get job satisfaction in the face of such adversity but I know that these last two weeks and over near enough four years, I have in a small way made a difference to some people. I’m grateful that I’ve been blessed with a temperament that makes it possible for me to go where angels fear to tread. I know without a shadow of a doubt that all those patients, relatives and staff that have shared their stories with me over the last few years will continue to inform my future ministry and add to the rich tapestry that is my life. Thank you to each and everyone of you. This blog is dedicated to all those memories.

A 93 year old wants to die

On my last weekend as this hospitals chaplain, I was bleeped to a ward where I met a very sad 93 year old. Her mind was obviously very sprightly but her body was extremely frail. She held out a really boney hand for me to shake. 

After I had put her at her ease with some small talk she told me that she had fallen out with her husband because he wouldn’t take her to Switzerland to die. She then asked me what I thought about euthanasia. I said I thought it was very sad that we couldn't have an open debate on this subject to see if in certain situations we could help ease someones death. The problem is the subject is so emotive that a rational discussion is difficult. I also said that some people have to suffer terrible and that was hard to endure and witness. The woman nodded and smiled a sad smile and looked at me through watery eyes. I held her boney hand.

Chaplaincy never ceases to amaze me with the surprises that greet me around the various corners I’ve travelled. I asked the woman if she had spoken to her daughter and she told me there was no point because she was her father’s daughter and would always side with him. She told me that her husband had always been selfish. I thought it’d be really sad for her to die with this row unresolved between her and her husband. I told her what her rights were in this country and that she could refuse active treatment but that she would not be able to get someone to help her end her life. She said it was awful to live too long. I sympathised with her but also encouraged her to think about what she loved about her husband and what had kept them together for the last 69 years. I also encouraged her to talk to her doctors about her wishes.

As a society it feels to me like death is the final taboo. We often leave it too late to discuss what we want with our families and friends. In the end this doesn’t help. I wish I could wave a magic wand sometimes and make it possible for people to speak frankly about this. We’ve all got to face it sooner or later after all.

I was sorry not to see this one through. I'd love to know what this forward thinking woman did in the end. I'd also have liked to know whether she resolved her differences with her "old man" Sometimes I just have to hand situations over to God and say "up to you now mate"

Should Rebel Rev remain in the Church of England?

This is a very different blog from Rebel Rev and is in response to the House of Bishops Statement issued today which can be read by copying and pasting the following link: http://www.thinkinganglicans.org.uk/archives/006450.html

I read the statement this morning while lounging in bed and wished I hadn't. It made me want to hang my head in shame and stay under the duvet. How can "thinking Anglicans" come out with such rubbish? They say about the importance of treating people with pastoral sensitivity and that there is no room for homophobia and yet the whole statement is homophobic.
We all know deacons, priests and bishops who are in committed and loving and faithful same sex relationships. The “don't ask and don't tell” culture is very much alive and kicking. Maybe though it's time to kick back? Maybe now enough is enough of being marginalised and kept at arm’s length or not "seen".

This is lifted directly from the statement "The House is not, therefore, willing for those who are in a same sex marriage to be ordained to any of the three orders of ministry. In addition it considers that it would not be appropriate conduct for someone in holy orders to enter into a same sex marriage, given the need for clergy to model the Church’s teaching in their lives."

Don't these "thinking Anglicans" realise the hurt and upset they are causing? Don't they realise how many of their clergy are already in Civil Partnerships? If all clergy who were in loving and committed same sex relationships came out and boldly proclaimed it, it would rightfully bring the Church of England to its knees and that’s where it should be in repentance.

I came into the church at an unusual time. I was a teenager. So many people of my age who had been church goers, at that time were getting disillusioned and leaving. I came from a fractured upbringing. Alcohol was part of my daily routine. I had to work out how much had been consumed by the adults around me and what the likely affect of that would be on me and my younger sister. I had to keep her safe in that volatile environment. There was no security to my upbringing. I went to 5 primary schools. I got used to moving into different homeless families places. I got used to coming home from school to find the gas or electricity was cut off. Money for alcohol was more important than paying the rent or keeping us warm or even fed. Violence was virtually an everyday occurrence. Just because my parents were heterosexual meant their marriage was acceptable to the church.
I now work in a school where many of the students also come from such fractured homes where love is not central, yet because their relationship is between a man and a woman they can have the blessing of the church.

Well I am at the point where I am heartily sick of it. Who ever heard of a same sex couple having a baby by “accident?” Children in loving and faithful same sex relationships are much wanted, much loved and much planned. Most abuse of children is by heterosexual men whose relationships the church approves of. Isn’t it about time we starting judging the sanctity of relationships based on the love that is shown rather than the fact that it is between a man and a woman. Marriage as was defined by the Book of Common prayer and set out in Canon Law as ‘The Church of England affirms, according to our Lord’s teaching, that marriage is in its nature a union permanent and lifelong, for better for worse, till death them do part, of one man with one woman, to the exclusion of all others on either side, for the procreation and nurture of children, for the hallowing and right direction of the natural instincts and affections, and for the mutual society, help and comfort which the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity.’

I am not an academic I am an ordinary working class priest trying to work at the point where the love of God meets the mess of the world but to my eyes marriage has already been redefined by the Church. We marry people who are too old to have children. We marry people who don’t want children. We marry people who have been married before. Why can’t we take this next step and marry people of the same sex?

I find myself in a very tough spot. The church that showed me how to love by loving me unconditionally as an abused teenager is now inflicting pain on my brothers and sisters in Christ who are LGBT and all of us who think this is wrong. Should I stand by and watch this car crash and wait for more inept statements from the bishops? Should I leave? Should I continue to throw stones from the inside? It’s very hard to know. At this point in time I’m not sure what would be more painful to stay or to go. I can really understand why the shortest verse in the Bible is “And Jesus wept!”

The church in its history has propped up slavery. It took 200 years before it apologised for that one. The church was out of step at times with the civil rights movement. They didn’t protest at segregation for black and white people. The church didn’t condemn the persecution of the Jews. There were a few exceptions along the way. Wilberforce was an Anglican from Southwark Diocese and there was Niemöller and Bonheoffer as well as the liberation theologians. History has shown who was right. These individual priests contributed so much, despite the lack of backing from their institutions. Which side will history judge House of Bishop’s Statement to be on? As for me I will always be on the side of love.

Why is it so easy to fall through the cracks?

A few months ago I had been called to a situation where a 93 year old was dying. The staff called me because they were concerned about the woman’s daughter. She appeared to be in her 50’s but had an obvious learning difficulty and/or a mental health problem. 

This became very apparent when I had the unenviable job of trying to explain to the daughter that her mum was about to die. It was clear to me that the daughter wasn’t taking it all in despite my best efforts. I stayed with them both till mum died. The daughter without showing that she understood the significance of what had just happened then said she wanted to go home. 

Earlier I had spoken to an elderly aunt and cousin who lived some distance away and were the only living relatives. They told me the daughter had always been simple and that the mum had done everything for her. The daughter could go shopping and could cook but they were worried how she would cope in the long term. They told me they would come up. I kept the daughter occupied until they arrived and took her away. I then asked the nurse in charge to refer the daughter to our social workers as a vulnerable adult. She told me that the ward staff were planning to do this.

Two months later I bumped into this woman wandering around the hospital corridors. She was dirty and smelly. People were giving her a really wide birth. I asked her if she remembered me. She told me she did. I asked if anyone had been to see her at home since mum had died and she told me no-one had been around. I asked her why she was at the hospital and she told me that she was a bit depressed and liked to come here for a walk. I asked her if she’d been eating and drinking ok and managing to get to the shops and she told me she had. I then said it must be hard since mum had died and that it seemed to me that she wasn’t looking after herself. I told her that she needed to have a bath and wash her clothes. I also told her to could come and talk to me or one of the other chaplains any time she wanted. I then offered to take her for a cuppa but she decided to go.

It was a tough conversation and not one that I wanted in full public view in a hospital corridor. The woman obviously took comfort from being back at the last place she had seen her mum.

When I got back to the office I checked the vulnerable adults policy and realised it wasn’t any good for these circumstances as the woman wasn’t a patient. I decided to talk it over with a colleague but wasn’t successful in meeting up due to being so busy. While I was wandering the hospital carrying out my usual duties I kept thinking about the situation and wandering what was the best thing to do. I eventually hit upon the idea of looking up the mothers details and finding out who the GP was. I then rang the GP. They told me that a referral had been made in November. I explained that the mum had been dead 6 weeks by then and that the woman needed an urgent assessment. The GP asked me what was wrong with her as they had no records. I said I wasn’t medically qualified to answer but it was clear there were significant problems and she was very vulnerable. The GP assured me she would take action so therefore I felt I’d done the right thing and handed her over to someone who could make a difference.

It never ceases to amaze me how easy it is for people to slip through the net, even in a supposedly civilised world. How many thinking and feeling people walked passed that woman as she wandered the hospital corridors or the local community and did nothing? I hope I never get to the point where I am so intimidated by a situation that I turn into a bystander!

A woman see's the light!

The 3^rd woman to cross my horizon in that short time and have an impact on me was an 88 year old. I was bleeped to her bedside one night. When I arrived the nurse ushered me in quite quickly but didn’t give me much info. Behind the closed curtains was a frail woman lying quite still in bed. She had oxygen prongs up her nose and she was struggling to breathe. Her eyes were closed and she was motionless. At her side was her only daughter and son-in-law. I was told that their only son was on his way and there was no one else in their small but close family.

When I arrive in a situation like that I always get the family to tell me what’s been happening, even if the staff have already told me. This helps me know if the family have grasped the reality of the situation. The family told me that mum had been ill for a while but always fiercely independent. She’d taken a turn for the worse and had been in hospital for 3 weeks. She had pulled out her feeding tube on 2 occasions and refused to have it placed back in. They felt that was mum’s way of saying she’d had enough.

I asked them if mum was religious and they said she wasn’t but that she did believe. I explained that people of their mothers age often had a belief system because it was common for that generation to have gone to Sunday school and church. I explained that I wasn’t asking in order to make judgements but just so that I could know what words might be appropriate and familiar. I then asked the family if they believed and they told me they didn’t. I asked them what they would like me to do and they asked me if I could say a few words of comfort to mum.

I went to the bedside. When a patient is still breathing I always introduce myself and explain what I’m doing just in case they can still hear me. I said that I was the chaplain and I hoped it was ok to talk to her. She said “Yes dear” I smiled as you would not have thought she was conscious. I explained that her family were at the other side of the bed. Again she said “Yes dear” I asked her if she knew why they were there. She said “Yes dear, to see the end” This really made me smile as it’s uncommon for people to be so frank during a death bed scene. I gently told the woman that as well as that I thought they were there because they loved her and they wanted to say thank you to her for being such a fantastic mum and grandmother. The daughter agreed with me. I then asked the patient if she wanted me to say a prayer. She said she did. I read psalm 23. As I got to the bit about “The valley of the shadow of death” the woman stopped breathing. It’s beautiful when that happens but very disconcerting. It’s also hard being the only professional present to hold the tension of the moment. After about 20 seconds, which seemed an eternity, the woman started to breath again. 

At the end of the psalm I did a general prayer of thanksgiving for a long life well lived and the continuing bonds which would exist between those who love each other even though separated by death. I also said that death could not remove the love which remains in the heart. The woman joined in with the amen at the end. 

I asked her if she wanted me to do anything else. She then asked me how long it would be before the end. I told her that no-one ever knows that and that was difficult for me to answer, but in my experience I didn’t think it was to be very much longer. I also reassured her that she was surrounded by a family that loved her and when she started her last journey she would be accompanied by a loving God who would welcome her with open arms. She thanked me. 

The family were then asking some medical questions. I told them I’d go and get that info and come back. When I came back the daughter told me that mum had just seen the light so how much longer was it likely to be now. This was a new one on me and I was thinking on my feet. I explained that mum was having difficulty getting oxygen in and that this affects the brain and can cause people to see things but it could also be a spiritual thing and that some things remain a mystery until we experience them and that one day we’d get the answer to all these questions. Until then I explained that we had to live with not knowing anything for definite accept that mum was coming to the end of her struggling and going to a place of peace. I asked mum if she was afraid and she told me she wasn’t. I thanked her for being an inspiration to me and her family in the way she was facing her death and wished her well for her final journey. She died 45 minutes later.

Wow, ain't there some fantastic people in the world? What a way to go. May she rest in peace and rise in glory. Amen