When in Rome…
My last
blog discussed the process of securing a Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) position.
I have now completed seven weeks of my ten week CPE unit, so I believe it is a
good time for a status report.
My title at
Sibley Memorial Hospital is “Chaplain Intern.”
I know this because my official
Sibley name tag says so. I typically introduce myself as “an intern with the
Chaplain’s office.” It seems that either the patients and family don’t pick up
on the name tag or the introduction, or they are diplomatic in their comments,
because only a few have remarked that I must be in the midst of a “second
career.”
CPE has two components to it. 75% of the time is devoted to visits with patients and family. The other 25% is spent in sessions with my supervisor and peers. There are four other seminary students in the Sibley CPE. One is my classmate who was a good friend before CPE started. Two are Brothers with Catholic monasteries and in training to become ordained. One brother is part of a Franciscan Order and the other is in the Carmelite Order. The remaining peer is concluding her studies at Wesley Seminary and will be ordained by the Methodist Church next spring.
At the beginning of the CPE, we
split up various units of the hospital for routine coverage. I cover the ICU,
Same Day Surgery, a wing of the skilled care rehab unit and the Memory Care
Unit. I wanted a broad range of experiences—and I got it. My patients run from
the teenager in the hospital only a few hours undergoing a minor procedure to
patients who are spending their last years at the hospital with varying degrees
of dementia. I have patients who know they will be going home in good health
and with many productive years in the future and I have patients who are
actively dying. While a majority of my patients identify with a Christian
tradition, I see patients from Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist and other faith
traditions as well as agnostics and atheists. Significantly, the chaplain’s
role is to provide emotional support as well as spiritual support, so we seek
meaningful encounters with patients of any faith tradition or even of no faith
tradition.
Most of the patient visits are
“cold calls” in the sense that I am meeting the patient for the first time
armed only with some very basic information that can be gleaned from the
patient’s chart. Somewhat to my surprise, very few patients decline my offer to
spend some time with them. I’ve encountered no one openly hostile to my knock
on the door, but there have been a few who made it clear they have no desire to
speak to a chaplain.
The visits run in length from about
four minutes to over an hour. The visits in Same Day Surgery are typically
relatively brief because they are in a holding room waiting to be transported
to the operating room. Otherwise, as I enter a room, there is no way to predict
whether a visit will be long or short. There is also no way to predict the
direction a conversation will take. These discussions sometimes include only a
passing reference to faith (until the end) and sometimes focus on beliefs and
questions of theology.[1] I always end a visit with
an offer to pray for the patient and/or family. Somewhat to my amazement (with
respect to the patients who have agreed to speak to me) virtually every patient
immediately accepts the offer to pray with them. I am confident that this does
not speak to my pastoral skills, but rather to the almost universal desire to
connect with God during times of stress.
Often, the conversations with
patients are enjoyable and laughter is frequent. There are, however, some
conversations in dire circumstances. I will share only two examples with you.
On one occasion, I responded to a page from the ICU. When I arrived, there were
no family or friends present and the nurses told me that the elderly patient
was actively dying and would probably live only a few more minutes. There was,
of course, nothing I could do but pray. It struck me as I prepared to pray that
it would be a prayer for both the patient and the nurses who were obviously
distraught. I said the prayer and then continued to hold the patient’s hand and
stroke her head until she was pronounced dead about fifteen minutes later. It
was an experience I will never forget.
The second example occurred in the
telemetry unit. I visited a patient who appeared to be healthy, but I could
immediately tell that she was upset and very “down.” After several minutes of
conversation, she disclosed that her cancer had returned and earlier that day
she learned that her situation was “incurable.” She was still waiting news
about how much life expectancy—and quality of life—she might have. This
conversation lasted almost 90 minutes and I have had the privilege of seeing
her several times since.
I do not want to leave the
impression that each day is emotionally draining. To the contrary, there have
been many more visits with patients and family when we celebrated successful
surgeries, good news, or impending release from the hospital. However, no
matter the direction of a visit, every opportunity I’ve had to sit down with a
patient or family has been rewarding and educational.
So, you ask, why is this blog
titled “When in Rome…”? It has to do with my daily commute to and from the
hospital. The Metro D.C. area has the reputation as one of the worst in the
country for traffic congestion—one article I read ranked it as #6. It is a
well-deserved reputation. Driving time to and from Sibley can vary from 35
minutes to well over an hour and there is no rhyme or reason to where you will
fall on the spectrum on any day and…I have yet to encounter the doomsday
scenario of a wreck on the interstate that could easily result in a drive time
of over two hours.
The metro area has an incredible
network of paved pedestrian/bike paths. The combination of the traffic problems
and biking paths has resulted in a huge number of people who commute to and
from work on bicycles—I am now one of them. My next door neighbors bike in and
out of D.C. for work on all but the worst winter days. When I took the position
at Sibley, a bit of research revealed that one of the bike paths runs within
200 yard of the hospital. I have now been regularly biking in and out of Sibley
for almost six weeks. The route is 16.5 miles each way and takes just over an
hour. It has been great fun and a super way of relieving stress after work.
Darla thinks I’m crazy.
God’s Peace to you all,
Randy
[1]
Of note, I do not see my chaplaincy role as “educator” on faith issues.
Instead, I listen to the patient’s views and offer comments about faith only if
the patient asks for my views. Even then, I make it clear in my comments that I
provide only my thoughts and nothing should be taken as the way to approach God.
