I've been working at Evanston Hospital this summer as a chaplain. To be honest, it's been exhausting in a way I've never really experienced. I see the 5% of people's lives that sometimes even their best friends don't see: the sickness and sadness, the doubt and death. It's strange and unsettling and oddly numbing. I'm learning and I don't always like it. I try to focus on the moments of light: hearing good news about a patient's biopsy, seeing a smile break through the anesthesia after a successful surgery, peering in a room to see the empty bed of a patient who has gone home. It's tough to remember these things, though, and sometimes my days seem to support the pessimistic philosophy of "Life sucks and then you die."
I have been deeply affected by what I see each day, but not in the ways I imagined I would be. I don't sit and cry with patients. I don't always have encouraging words that bring comfort and peace to those in pain. It's not like Grey's Anatomy or Tuesdays with Morrie...it's not picturesque, there is no swelling soundtrack of stringed instruments, and the lessons I am learning are not always uplifting ones. A lot of the time I get really nervous and I can't wait to get out of the room. Sometimes I feel terrible when I pray for patients because I don't really believe they will get better. I look forward to 5:00pm when I can go home and walk into an empty room that holds no surprises or sad news.
I'm not sure why I'm posting this. I usually try to avoid making my blog a therapy session that I release onto the internets, but I guess every rule gets broken once in a while. I suppose this is kind of a confession. Maybe, more accurately, it's the best I can do to answer the question I've been getting a lot: "How's your chaplaincy going?"
Two weeks left. I can't believe it's almost August. It seems like just yesterday I was frantically finishing papers with nothing more than a good caffeine buzz and the hope of a summer free from homework. Time flies when...
2 comments:
Those are some pretty profound reflections, J.R. I know it's been a testing summer in many ways - I don't mean to sound trite at all here, but it seems to me like you *are* in fact learning a whole lot. Maybe just how you're writing it too - not like Grey's, more like messy real life. Anyway - I thought it pretty cool. :) See you soon...
(Just re-read, sorry this is so long...)
I agree with Liz that it appears you are, in fact, learning a lot.
This is a completely trite and inappropriate metaphor, given the subject matter, but hang in there for a second while I explain:
When I was in high school, my job was selling appliances at Best Buy. Convincing a 55 year-old farmer that you can help him pick out a washing machine at age 16 is difficult, so I had to know a bunch of junk about the merchandise to be able to help anyone. As a high-schooler, knowing why Maytag is better than Frigidaire is not helpful, especially when your friends stop by and go talk to their other friends selling car stereo equipment, but now I know what aspects to look for when I have to drop serious quantities of my own money on home appliances.
My point is simply that God has put you in an environment of spiritual, intellectual, and experiential growth. There is no substitute for experience and you're smart, so you're likely to get more wisdom out of this than most. One of the things brought up in a sermon I heard recently was how crucial verses 34 to 37 of the story of David and Goliath (1 Sam 17) are to the end result. We remember that David trusted in God to deliver Goliath into his hands, but we forget why: experience.
You don't know how this is preparing you for the future, but I would encourage you by saying that God is not afraid of your fears or your honesty. Later on, you will look back on this experience and see growth.
Great to see you posting again, I always enjoy reading your stuff!
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