Greg, my CPE supervisor, was right. The on-call nights were never as dramatic and stressful than that very first night. One night, I was called to support the family whose aunt was slowly passing.
«Her window on the world is getting smaller…» commented the nurse when I asked him his prognosis in a whisper. Still, she survived through the night while a code blue was happening in the cancer unit – I ran over there. This patient could not be revived.
As I joined the group of nurses and technicians gathered by the patient’s room as they always do in those moments of crisis, they looked at me suspiciously. My badge only mentioned I was a volunteer and they were wondering what was bringing me up here – some sort of morbid voyeurism? “«I am a chaplain intern – on call tonight » I explained and immediately their attitudes changed. “Oh good! Her husband is on his way… He does not know yet his wife passed away. Would you welcome him ?»
Later that same night, a 91 year old woman expired by her daughter and son-in-law. The nurses had called me as her death was becoming imminent. As we were waiting for the people from the University of Washington (the patient had donated her body to science) the daughter told me about her mother, who had come to live with her in Tacoma a few months earlier. “I know she was 91 but still, she is leaving too early, she said. I threw a “welcome to the Northwest Party” for her when she moved in with us. She was still doing fine last week… This summer, I wanted to take her to the Pacific coast for a day trip. She was such a good Mom..." She left two hours later with her husband. I told her as I hugged her “I did not get to meet your mom but I won’t forget her”.
All those on-call referrals were not always that dramatic. One night, I was called by a patient who was unconscious in the critical care unit. His daughter was here, a small jar of oil in her hand. “I would like you to baptize my dad” she said. “I am a Catholic. My Dad does not belong to any church. I don’t want him to die without baptism. I am afraid he would get lost… I know for a fact he believes in God.”
«Her window on the world is getting smaller…» commented the nurse when I asked him his prognosis in a whisper. Still, she survived through the night while a code blue was happening in the cancer unit – I ran over there. This patient could not be revived.
As I joined the group of nurses and technicians gathered by the patient’s room as they always do in those moments of crisis, they looked at me suspiciously. My badge only mentioned I was a volunteer and they were wondering what was bringing me up here – some sort of morbid voyeurism? “«I am a chaplain intern – on call tonight » I explained and immediately their attitudes changed. “Oh good! Her husband is on his way… He does not know yet his wife passed away. Would you welcome him ?»
Later that same night, a 91 year old woman expired by her daughter and son-in-law. The nurses had called me as her death was becoming imminent. As we were waiting for the people from the University of Washington (the patient had donated her body to science) the daughter told me about her mother, who had come to live with her in Tacoma a few months earlier. “I know she was 91 but still, she is leaving too early, she said. I threw a “welcome to the Northwest Party” for her when she moved in with us. She was still doing fine last week… This summer, I wanted to take her to the Pacific coast for a day trip. She was such a good Mom..." She left two hours later with her husband. I told her as I hugged her “I did not get to meet your mom but I won’t forget her”.
All those on-call referrals were not always that dramatic. One night, I was called by a patient who was unconscious in the critical care unit. His daughter was here, a small jar of oil in her hand. “I would like you to baptize my dad” she said. “I am a Catholic. My Dad does not belong to any church. I don’t want him to die without baptism. I am afraid he would get lost… I know for a fact he believes in God.”
However, when her mom and sister joined us in the room, they disagreed. They did not want him to be baptized while in a coma. “He must choose for himself, we should not impose that on him when he is not aware of what is going on” said the mom. Her daughter accepted their decision. I prayed with them then left.
The next day, I went back to the room of the patient. I was hoping to see again the daughter and be able to explore with her the fear she expressed that her father would be lost without baptism. She was not there but I had the good surprise to see the patient, awake and sitting in his chair, talking with the nurses.
The last code blue of my internship took place during the day. A patient passed out during his dialysis and was able to be revived fast. His daughter, overwhelmed with relief and retrospective fear went out in the hallway and started crying. I had just arrived. I introduced myself and asked permission to hug her. She was a foot taller than me and she sobbed in my arms for several minutes before she was able to talk again.
“ You are a chaplain?”
“I am. A chaplain intern.”
“You are the prettiest chaplain I have ever seen.”
I guess not two Cold Blue are alike…
