Dinner Party

Yesterday I was invited over to a dinner thrown by the parents of Curtis, a friend of mine in the CPE program. I had an amazing time with Curtis’ family: getting to meet his wife, his mother and father, his sister, his son and his wife and child, and a couple whom I wasn’t sure if they were neighbors or close friends. In any case, for two hours, I shared a dinner with them and got to know their family and how they interacted with one another. It completely reminded me of my own family back home and things that I miss.




Here’s an example: they have a dog named Buttons who is full of energy. Totally reminds me of my sister’s dogs, Kobe and Roxy…Mika’s dog Suki…and even Kyle’s dogs Nike and Radar.



This has been the first time in 9 weeks that I’ve felt some taste of home. I liked it. And because of that, I miss it. Aside from those feelings, what I felt most is sense of belonging that I haven’t felt since I’ve been back. I now feel like I belong in the CPE program – like I sorta know what I’m doing and won’t panic if I make a mistake. But what I’m talking about is a sense of belonging for being “Jon”. And although I do connect with people very intimately and personally every day in the hospital, I’ve been missing the connections and relationships with people outside of work. Luckily we live in a modern age of cell phones and Facebook/Google+/Skype, you can’t take them to movies or to burger king or even just to get gas across the street.



So, I just wanted to say, thank you to Curtis and his parents, Ron and Joyce (sorry if I'm spelling this wrong!) for allowing me into your home for a dinner that was well appreciated. Not just for the food (BECAUSE I AM A MAN WHO LIVES TO EAT), but also because of the company, the warmth, and the acceptance.

Week 7 part 2

Although the title is named after Harry Potter, that's as far as it goes.

For me this week, I feel like I have been at a crossroads of many things.  For me, this is the ending of my 7th week in the CPE program.  Homesickness hit me a little bit.  Getting in the groove of being a chaplain a little bit.  I was asked today by Frances, one of my mentor staff chaplains, "what's something that you are going to take back with you when you're done with the program?" 

I answered, but eventually boiled it down to this:

"I'm going to take home the people." 

I'm  changed by listening to the lives of others, by hearing joys, fears, frustrations, and anger in their hearts from the past and present.  I looked in the mirror and did not recognize myself.  This week I have felt homesick, saddened, empathetic, frustrated (driving...), and confused.  This week I was told I was the "cute chaplain" by another patient, I felt respected and now recognized by the nurses, and I was complimented by the other chaplains. 

I am happy that I'm doing well.  I am sad that I'm not home.  I'm frustrated that my calling seems to be more and more complex.  I'm humbled by seeing God work wonders in people's lives both physically and spiritually. 

Aside from all this, God's presence is in me and also in others.  The interactions that I've had with patients and family members...nurses and doctors, mentors and peers... all of them were interactions with the Spirit working in the room. 

Call me insightful, confused, enlightened, humbled, right, wrong, a leader, a follower, a servant, a listener, a storyteller.  I am all of them.  I am whatever God will work best through.  I am who I am.

Week 7

Week 7...crazy eh? 

I've been in this CPE program for 6 weeks, been gone from LA for the past 8 weeks...

24 days until I drive home but who's counting?  :)

I'm trying to figure out what I need to do to get home.  I think i'll mail back my books and clothes...and now i'm in non-food purchases until everything is gone. 

BTW, to everyone who's sent me letters and packages, thank you very much :)  I jump up and down in the post office like a little school girl every time I get something.

Harry Potter

So I got out of my shell and went to go watch Harry Potter by myself. I didn't want to sit with huge crowds, so I forked out the extra dough to go watch it in 3D. It was good, as it ended the Harry Potter series, and now feel inspired to actually go and read the books.



But as I left the theater, I was not exactly thinking to myself, "wow that was an epic movie" or "why does Hermoine keep hugging Harry Potter if she likes Ron?" I left the theater kinda sad, probably from a combination of watching the movie and reflecting on my work. You see a person die in the movie, it reminded me of seeing a person die in real life. In essense, I felt the same emotions I did when I'm called into patients rooms to talk about a crisis.



It happens to everyone within their own context. When I was in HS in band, I could take any song and put notes to it. When I started being a camp counselor in college, I would be able to make games from junk. When I became a youth advisor, I would be able to make youth lessons from cartoons and TV. When I started to learn how to be a pastor, I could imagine sermons, prayers, and talks.



As I enter into this new context, I see that it makes sense to feel these things and associate them together. A death is a death, a loss is a loss, and grief in the movie is still grief.

Gratitude for Nurses

I sat with a patient today watching her give medicine to a patient through a feeding tube directly to his stomach.

I was in awe...for the fact that the nurse knew exactly how to measure, and stick the syringe in the patient, but the fact that she did not once squirm, flinch, make faces, or say any awkward comments.

Stereotypically considered to be a "women's" profession, I clearly doubt any understanding of knowing this. Not only I have seen many male nurses (I know at least three off the top of my head who I consider to be family, and one who is family) who are good at what they do.  I have also seen many of the tasks that nurses do...many of which I would never ever categorize it as a "women's" chore.

To anyone reading this who is NOT a nurse or a med tech for that matter...

I dare you to try to clean up "foreign matter" off the ground.
I dare you to try to stick a needle into people over, and over, and over.
I dare you to not get freaked out by sticking your hand into the crotch of a 300lb patient to see if they have a pulse. 
I dare you to wash a stranger.
I dare you to convince a patient for a life-saving technique when not only the patient, but the patient's family says no.
I dare you to do chest compressions/CPR on a person by yourself for 10 min.
I dare you to try to put up with doctors, family members, and anyone else while still trying to keep a smile for the patient.

So thank you nurses in hospitals, ambulances, senior homes, military branches, homes, and other places.  Thank you for dealing with obnoxious patients.  Thank you for cheering us up when we don't want to go to the hospital.  Thank you for taking care of us, even if we do meet on bad circumstances.  Thank you for giving us meds when we need them, and running to our rescue, even if that means we need a pillow or a blanket.  Thank you for being there when we needed you most, even if that means bringing us back from the dead. 

Charlie Brown Syndrome

haha, what a ironic world...

So about the 1-2 week here, I bought a mailbox, just to separate my mail from the rest of the house, and to just to make sure that my mail was safe since I wouldn't be home most of the day.  I paid an amt for about twice the length I was going to be here, because 6 months was the shortest length of time.  It was fine. 

I've been telling everyone...everyone not to mail me any packages.  I appreciate all the love and everything, but there's two things I possibly could need over here.  First is food, and I have access to food and it would cost way too much to send me food, so yeah, that doesn't make too much sense.  The second is that eventually in about a month, I will be driving back home, and I will have to figure out a way how to get everything back to LA.  It was cramped already driving back home...

But I have charlie brown syndrome.  If you have no idea what I'm talking about, watch the old cartoons when Charlie brown is looking in his mailbox for a valentines care or a christmas card...nothing is ever found in the mail box.  I only check my mailbox twice a week, and I don't expect anything in my mail box...and when I drive up to the post office, look for box 7813, I get out my key, turn the lock, and.........

nothing.

I go home.

I shouldn't say that I haven't gotten anything, Mika has sent me a package from Minnesota that cracked me up.  I'm just saying that Charlie Brown Syndrome comes from two major factors.  One is just missing home.  The other is paying almost $40 for a PO box.  haha...I don't know exactly what to say other than the fact that I put this on myself, and just thought you would get a kick out of it.  And don't get me wrong, no one did anything wrong, i'm not forgotten, lot of ppl have been in contact with me.

It's just this stupid mail box is something that raises up my hopes and crushes it every time I get there!

:)

Exhale

So last Friday on my usual overnighter at the hospital, I experienced the hardest on-call night I ever had to deal with.  I was called to 4 code blues (situations where a patient has gone into cardiac arrest) for three different people.  I only got 2.5 hours of sleep that night. 

It is the spiritual care dept. policy for every chaplain to go to every death in the hospital and every code blue on your units assigned.  On nights you are staying overnight, you go to every death and code blue in the entire hospital.  Most of the time it's good, but some times the nights are rough, as it was this past Friday.

I say this because the last two code blues, the patients were put on ventilators (breathing assistance).  When their family finally came to the hospital, they explained to the doctors and nurses that the patients never wanted to be placed on life-saving machines, including ventilators. 

So that morning, after the 4 code blues, I was there to witness 2 deaths.  But this morning was much different as well, because I stood there with the family as one of the patients were extubated (ventilator tubes pulled out), and the patient's breathing slowly stopped on their own.  I have been present during a code blue to witness a death, but never in the room to actually watch a person die.  It was every emotion that you could think of: joy in celebrating the life of the patient, sorrow in seeing the end of a life, anger of the abruptness of losing a loved one and not being able to do anything, grateful to hold their hands in their last few moments of life, and just shock due to the reality of the situation.  It was beautiful.  It was frustrating.  It was a moment in which God could only be present, acting in the situation, feeling all of these emotions, and supporting everyone. 

One of the philosophies I teach to everyone is just to breathe.  I realize that it holds more weight than I could ever expect.

Suffering

So, with chaplaincy comes a few topics that you have to explore and wrestle with.  One of those topics is suffering.  No body likes it, and if you do, please see a psychiatrist. 

But seriously, in a hospital, you see a lot of people in pain and with pain comes suffering.  Whether it is physical or emotional.  As a chaplain, I will tell you first and foremost that you cannot make the pain go away.  But as a chaplain, you can be with them to show them that they are not alone.  In a more religious understanding, you cannot tell a patient that God WILL perform a miracle in the next 5 min.  But you can tell them that God is with them and suffering with them and is trying to help them through the darkest moment of their lives. 

Why?

Because even though God is capable of performing miracles, God has always been a God of relationships, which includes being there when you need God most.  And when it comes to suffering, no one else understands it better than God.

You wish you can do everything for the patient.  You wish you could make all the pain go away.  To some extent, it is possible...not in a flash or a miracle (please let God do what God does best)...but through smiles...and jokes... and memories of loved ones and good times...and prayer...and holding hands while praying...and hugs...and tears...and reminding them that God is still present at the bed side and in the waiting room.