Apprehension and Holy Spirit

How will that day go? Who will I meet ? Will a patient die? Which one? Will I be up to it? When I drive to the Hospice house, those questions turn in my mind. On the first days, they were like upset bees, fast and restless. After three months, the bees have slowed down. It is winter time; they go from one place to another, chilled and quiet. In other words I am calmer.

Apprehension is still here but only as a feature in the landscape of my mind, not an overwhelming emotion. I cannot foresee the meetings to come, or get ready for difficult question or unexpected situations. Serenity comes with accepting myself and trusting that I will face whatever is on my way – and that I will not be alone.  

In the heavy binder that we received during orientation, I found this before-visit prayer, written by Chaplain Ray Kelleher:

“Something  important is about to happen to me. Somebody important is waiting for me. I am walking onto Holy Ground, stepping into Sacred Space, going to meet, in a vulnerable human being, the beloved of God. I will be receptive. I do not know what words to say, what thoughts to think, or what actions might be necessary, so I trust in the Holy Spirit, who will guide me from the inside. In that mood of confidence I open the door, to offer my truest and best self in the time that I have.”

There is no other way. I notice that I find myself regularly at the right place at the right moment. I see a patient’s loved one in tears in the hallway just when I come up so I am able to suggest we talk in the little chapel. Another day, I sit down with a husband by the patient’s bedside and he suddenly realizes with a scream that she just passed. Later on, he will tell me “Fortunately, I was not alone in the room when she died…”

I recommend a blanket to a patient whose sadness is perceptible. His cancer is spreading and at any time so this older emaciated gentleman can fall and get hurt. He would like to go home. His wife and doctors have a hard time explaining this can’t happen. He is sitting in an armchair in the semidarkness of the room – he refuses to lay down in the bed – and he can’t get warm. He is pleased to receive the blanket which was heated in a special oven. He does not like to talk about his feelings nor religion. I lay the blanket on his laps and put my hands on his – they are so cold. We spend long minutes that way, without talking. He is the beloved of God. 

A bridge to the unknown.

The hospice house is a homey place that receives patients whose life expectancy does not exceed 6 months.

Usually patients are close to their last days when they are admitted. They need intensive care so they can be as comfortable as possible: getting their pain under control, helping with their breathing… Most patients expire in the days following their admission.

There are many things I cannot accomplish here – and realizing it has been instrumental to lighten the initial apprehension.  

What I cannot do: I cannot cure those patients. I cannot dissipate the sorrow of their loved ones. What I can do: be with them. Listen to their stories, if they want to share it. Reflect with them on the meaning of their journey. Pray with them if they so wish. And be there for those two most important moments there is, two moments mentioned in the “Hail Mary” prayer that I learned as a Catholic child: “pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death”.  This is not much – and yet it is essential.

Sometimes, I am reminded of an airport when I think of the hospice house. “the passenger for the destination to beyond is expected for immediate departure…”

Sometimes, I think of a bridge. A bridge toward a place so often imagined and yet totally unfamiliar. We help the travelers to cross the bridge, we support their families.   

One afternoon, I was helping the son of a patient who had passed in our presence a few hours earlier – we were carrying his belonging to his car. He had slept in his father’s room for the few last nights. While walking by him, I suddenly realized that this was like the work I was doing here: accompany the patients and their loved ones and help them carry their baggage.

This is not much – and yet essential. 

Thanksgiving – already ??

The fourth Thursday of November is a special day in the US : a day where everyone traditionally gather with family around a turkey meal. I had the opportunity to mention this unparalleled tradition before.

This break in the middle of the very rainy Fall season happens right at the end of the first unit of the residency. The whole residency will actually be 4 units back to back. It is time to evaluate the weeks that went by with such disconcerting speed. Yesterday it seems, I was being oriented like any new employee of Franciscan Health. And here we are, November is here.

Weeks went by fast : 24 hours of the week take place at the Hospice house. I also have classes (“didactics” actually) at St Joe. I am also on call at St Joe one night every 10 days.

I was apprehensive when I got to the Hospice house on that first Monday. I was thinking of the hours to come. One of patients was probably going to die… Would I be able to face those situations?

I parked on the employees parking lot, on the side and under the trees. I was not alone: a deer was standing by the cars. She allowed me to look at her and even take pictures, before jumping out of sight. On that first day, this welcoming deer uplifted my spirit…

AC gets oriented

Once my identity and my non-addiction established, I received a badge that will prove who I am when I will be going from one place to another in the hospital and the hospice house.

The security person who took my (very unflattering) picture stumbled when she tried to say my name. This happens often – my name is not very easy to pronounce (Annacicill? Anncelice?) and I suggested to only list my initials. Many friends and my in-laws already call me AC.

AC, pronounced by French people sounds like “assez” which means “enough”. Not very welcoming. But the American way is much more opened.

The next step was the orientation day. I was with Su, my Korean friend, also selected for this residency, as well as 60 others new employees from all departments.

The orientation was taking place from 8 to 4. Most of those hours were dedicated to describe the values of the new employer. I confess I sometimes dozed off… Some of the new employees had to try some isolating suits, which suddenly created an impression of science-fiction. This energized me.

On the afternoon, it was all about patients safety. We were taught to handle a fire extinguisher and to carry out patients in emergency situations. In an earthquake prone area shadowed by a volcano, this can be handy.

Good, I am not a felon!

Not a single drop of rain fell the month of August! It’s a record beaten and in our region, known for it’s humidity, everyone tends to look up at the sky, disoriented and almost worried.

If the change is in the air, it is not the weather, but in the work department. It’s time for me to get ready and begin my residency— for one year,  in the department of Pastoral Care of the Franciscans Group Health Hospital . I will be Chaplain Resident from September 2012 until August, 2013.

As the internship is a paid position, I follow the requirements of any new employee. At the beginning of the week, I was called to St. Joseph Hospital of Tacoma by the Department of Human Resources to show my identity papers, which  they copied, and give my consent to verify my background.

The hospital resembles a beehive, a large while building with windows like ovals, and the view of Puget Sound is beautiful.

I also promised that I do not smoke cigarettes. I was surprised to learn that my new employer won’t hire any smoker anymore. If you smoke, they offer you a class to help you stop. If you are not ready, resubmit your application when you are.

Next stop the same day, a drug test. Producing urine in a narrow plastic cup is anatomically acrobatic. “Above all, do not flush .” said the technician. “Why?” I asked with the innocence of never having undertaken the Tour de France. “We do not want anyone to use the water from the toilet to dilute the contents of the cup.”

Some days later, the results reached me. Good! I am not a felon. I do not smoke. Nicotine is absent from my system.

And what relief that caffeine and chocolate do not appear on the list of illegal substances...

(thank you, Phyllis Smith, for the great translation! J)

Children of the Promise

«He is not here» said the angel to the women on this very first Easter Sunday. Those words are the heart of our faith – and an invitation to adventure, said Raphaël Picon in his Easter predication. He concluded with those words:

“Christianity was born on this Easter Sunday. We were born on this Easter Sunday. We are the children of the promise. We are the children of a foolish promise… Nobody, nothing can condemn us anymore to failure or despair. Christ stated the infinite worth of each of us. His predication makes up the whole flavor of the Christianity we love and we are part of. This Christianity transforms us into adventurous pilgrims, walking alongside the poet to roll away every stones of the tombs, ripping away the fascination of death and make life possible again”.

Life is given back to us, beyond death. “He is not here” – those words resonate in my mind as I remember Hugues Madesclaire, who left us two years ago this week. His life did not end at the doorstep of his unsolved untimely death.  The memories he left, the influence he had on those who got to know him mysteriously keep on nurturing the world of the livings. His tomb is empty as well. We will find his presence in the light of the Risen one.

Resurrection at Work

Resurrection will always be a mystery.  But, we know it when it happens. This is what Bruce Epperly wrote and if this was about Easter, Bruce was also reflecting on the resurrection that takes place in our daily lives.

The women who first witnessed the resurrection were left stunned and speechless. Still the empty grave offers new perspectives of hope and life. “the empty tomb portends an open future in which the Risen One goes ahead us as companion, guide, and inspiration,  wrote Epperly. I have seen resurrection in unexpected courage and surprising love; …in willingness to sacrifice for a great cause; and in the persistent quest for justice despite the odds”

Where did I see the resurrection at work this week of Easter ? During the service where we commemorated the Last supper and Jesus’ promise that our remembering Him would bring us closer to God.

When I shared a Seder meal on Passover night on Friday, with my Seattle family. I enjoy spending time with my loved ones! And I felt inspired by the exploration of the Exodus story, revisited with depth and significance. The Exodus story invites us to ponder on our freedom and the state of the world around us. That night gave me energy and joy in the midst of a marathon-week.

In a very full church on Sunday morning – the church is an old house built in 1949 that did not age that well, located on the Puyallup tribe cemetery. This church almost closed several times. But on that Easter morning 2012, families gathered and remembered a friend who just passed away, witnessed two baptisms, watched their children look for Easter eggs in the flowery ground, and prayed and worshiped together, celebrating the victory over death that keeps give meaning to our life.