Tuesday, June 29, 2004
Strange Days Have Found Us
To explain a little bit from last night's posting:
I think the two day advance of the switch of power in Iraq was probably a good idea; maybe even the best move in this whole dumb operation. Though, perhaps if one thought about it hard enough, one could have presumed something like that would happen, but it definitely threw the insurgents for a loop. I also think the decision to transfer legal custody of Saddam to the Iraqis is a good idea, but to maintain physical custody of him until such time as the Iraqi defenses are up and running in good order.
Jaws, one of my favorite movies from my childhood, is apparently playing tomorrow night at an outdoor theater and Myra and I are going.
"Group" annoys me I think. I just want to have feeling without analyzing it. Can't I just be sad, or mad, or glad, or afraid, or whatever, without dissecting it? That takes away from the power of the emotion I think. But, there I go again, thinking instead of feeling...and we all know that's just bad.
My novel reading has picked up now that school is done and I'm almost finished with Neal Stephenson's tome, which is quite good. I always get excited towards the end of a book because that means I get to start a new one soon.
I keep seeing people commenting on my blog and I've no idea how they found it. On top of that, I get little hints and clues that others are reading but not commenting, which is also pretty exciting. People I never knew would take such an interest in the things I do, say or think about are reading. That makes me feel good, and no, I do not want to talk about it.
Laundry is done. Shirts are ironed.
Today, at CPE, was difficult. No, not because I had to do my second verbatim in which I betrayed weakness (mark down the date and time), but because of two other things. The first came when I made a visit to a new patient in one of the ICU's. I always like to go by new patient's rooms to introduce myself and say hello. That connection with the family also really helps in the event of the patient's death, so it's not like I'm a totally new person stepping into the room. Anyway, I went to say hi to this new guy and I ended up really liking him. He is an older man with a host of health problems, and not good ones either. But, they are such so that he is awake, aware, and talkative. We chatted for about a half hour. After he told me about all the health problems, I said, "That must make you feel something. Does it?" He said, "It makes you want to cry." And then he did. A trucker for all his life and here he is crying in a hospital room to a chaplain he just met. I decided to stick with that pain, with that suffering, even though it made me hurt too. Perhaps that is part of the chaplain's job, to not just be with the patient in their pain, but to enter into that scary place with them. We prayed together and he wept again as he told me about all the things he wants to do yet, but may never get to do. I felt an emotional connection to this man. I don't know. It's weird, but, in an odd way, still fulfilling. Holy Spirit, work through my fumbling.
Then, after that visit, I went down to the mail room to take a breather and get a drink of water. While down there, one of my chaplain colleagues who works in OB/Peds entered the room bearing a tiny basket laden with swaddling blankets. My mouth sort of fell open as I realized what the basket likely contained. See, I knew at some point in that day, she was going to do a late viewing for a couple who just miscarried their baby girl at an extremely early gestational age. I got up to leave when she said, "Don't you want to see her, Ryan. She's a beautiful baby." She knows my aversion and fear of this subject. I said, walking out the door, "No thank you. I'm sure she is, but she is most certainly dead." I got halfway down the hallway when I paused. Something was telling me it was important I turn around, against my better judgment, and go back to look upon that innocent child. I walked back and was greeted warmly by my colleague's words of, "Good for you." We closed the door and she unwrapped the blanket. The smallest person I have ever seen lay peacefully amidst those blankets, clothed in a white baptismal gown. It looked just like a little baby girl, only much, much, much smaller proportioned. A sorrow too deep for words washed over me at all the dashed hopes of those two people waiting in the chapel, who never quite got to be the parents they had hoped to become. Peacefully, she lay in those blankets, not demanding a word, not asking for a tear. But, they came. I do not even remember what I said. Perhaps it was, "Hello." Perhaps it was something else. After seeing that girl, so small and so human, I went back to my daily business, which never quite seems "daily" in the sense of regular. I was changed today by these two experiences. And no, I don't want to talk about it.
-R
To explain a little bit from last night's posting:
I think the two day advance of the switch of power in Iraq was probably a good idea; maybe even the best move in this whole dumb operation. Though, perhaps if one thought about it hard enough, one could have presumed something like that would happen, but it definitely threw the insurgents for a loop. I also think the decision to transfer legal custody of Saddam to the Iraqis is a good idea, but to maintain physical custody of him until such time as the Iraqi defenses are up and running in good order.
Jaws, one of my favorite movies from my childhood, is apparently playing tomorrow night at an outdoor theater and Myra and I are going.
"Group" annoys me I think. I just want to have feeling without analyzing it. Can't I just be sad, or mad, or glad, or afraid, or whatever, without dissecting it? That takes away from the power of the emotion I think. But, there I go again, thinking instead of feeling...and we all know that's just bad.
My novel reading has picked up now that school is done and I'm almost finished with Neal Stephenson's tome, which is quite good. I always get excited towards the end of a book because that means I get to start a new one soon.
I keep seeing people commenting on my blog and I've no idea how they found it. On top of that, I get little hints and clues that others are reading but not commenting, which is also pretty exciting. People I never knew would take such an interest in the things I do, say or think about are reading. That makes me feel good, and no, I do not want to talk about it.
Laundry is done. Shirts are ironed.
Today, at CPE, was difficult. No, not because I had to do my second verbatim in which I betrayed weakness (mark down the date and time), but because of two other things. The first came when I made a visit to a new patient in one of the ICU's. I always like to go by new patient's rooms to introduce myself and say hello. That connection with the family also really helps in the event of the patient's death, so it's not like I'm a totally new person stepping into the room. Anyway, I went to say hi to this new guy and I ended up really liking him. He is an older man with a host of health problems, and not good ones either. But, they are such so that he is awake, aware, and talkative. We chatted for about a half hour. After he told me about all the health problems, I said, "That must make you feel something. Does it?" He said, "It makes you want to cry." And then he did. A trucker for all his life and here he is crying in a hospital room to a chaplain he just met. I decided to stick with that pain, with that suffering, even though it made me hurt too. Perhaps that is part of the chaplain's job, to not just be with the patient in their pain, but to enter into that scary place with them. We prayed together and he wept again as he told me about all the things he wants to do yet, but may never get to do. I felt an emotional connection to this man. I don't know. It's weird, but, in an odd way, still fulfilling. Holy Spirit, work through my fumbling.
Then, after that visit, I went down to the mail room to take a breather and get a drink of water. While down there, one of my chaplain colleagues who works in OB/Peds entered the room bearing a tiny basket laden with swaddling blankets. My mouth sort of fell open as I realized what the basket likely contained. See, I knew at some point in that day, she was going to do a late viewing for a couple who just miscarried their baby girl at an extremely early gestational age. I got up to leave when she said, "Don't you want to see her, Ryan. She's a beautiful baby." She knows my aversion and fear of this subject. I said, walking out the door, "No thank you. I'm sure she is, but she is most certainly dead." I got halfway down the hallway when I paused. Something was telling me it was important I turn around, against my better judgment, and go back to look upon that innocent child. I walked back and was greeted warmly by my colleague's words of, "Good for you." We closed the door and she unwrapped the blanket. The smallest person I have ever seen lay peacefully amidst those blankets, clothed in a white baptismal gown. It looked just like a little baby girl, only much, much, much smaller proportioned. A sorrow too deep for words washed over me at all the dashed hopes of those two people waiting in the chapel, who never quite got to be the parents they had hoped to become. Peacefully, she lay in those blankets, not demanding a word, not asking for a tear. But, they came. I do not even remember what I said. Perhaps it was, "Hello." Perhaps it was something else. After seeing that girl, so small and so human, I went back to my daily business, which never quite seems "daily" in the sense of regular. I was changed today by these two experiences. And no, I don't want to talk about it.
-R
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