Wednesday, November 19, 2014 I had a chance to look at the faces of our medical future this morning. Not all of those faces, but some. A group of nursing students came to the church for a time to talk about the reality of death and dying. We spoke of the mystery of death, and of the greater mystery of life. We talked about as ‘professionals’ not becoming ‘used’ to death to the point that we overlook its tremendous effect on those who die, as well as those who have lost someone near and dear to them; not to mention that death always underlines our own mortality. We even discussed a little physics. The concept that holds that ‘matter cannot be created or destroyed, only changed.’ That would have been a good time to ‘quick-preach,’ but you could see it ‘register’ on some of those bright faces which sat before me. Mystery will absent itself from the human or divine experience. These young women and men are heading for a profession that they believe will make some kind of positive difference to the people they come to know as patients. Some of their ‘ideal’ will be swallowed up in the actual of personalities, bureaucracy, and endless reporting either on paper or electronically. Some will encounter the results of sin or human depravity—call it what you will. Still, in it all, through it all, those who learn and care and dare to be good nurses will make life long differences in the lives they touch. I was one of the first groups of patients to receive atomic medicine in the late 1950s. I remember the big truck coming to the hospital, standing at the window seeing them unload the radio-active material in special suits, them bringing it into a lead lined room, placing it with long tongs, behind a lead lined shield on the day of ‘delivery,’ and saying to me, “Go ahead, step around the shield, and drink it.” I must have looked at the radiologist in a strange way, because he looked away. I took a deep breath, moved toward the shield, and swallowed. The I-131 isotope was in a tiny glass container that looked like those old cream holders for coffee drinkers. Some people got out of the hallway as I walked toward my room dressed in a green outfit with the radioactive symbol on it. One of the sisters blessed me, but got off the elevator as I got on, “I’ll catch the next one,” she said smiling. Later, I learned that none of the nursing staff was particularly anxious to do the nursing thing with me. Like giving shots and all. There was even discussion, which was concluded by asking me, “If I thought I could administer my own shots.” An older nurse named Winnie saved me from saying, “No.” “I’ll do it,” she said, and she did. One evening when I was brought supper and then given a shot, Winnie said to me, “Son, this is all new medicine to us. The reason people are slow to want to do for some patients is that we simply don’t know the real dangers.” (As with Ebola even now) “But you came on and did my stuff,” I said, “Why did you decide to do that?” She didn’t hesitate, “Because I’m a nurse and took an oath to care for the sick, and because I’m a Christian and that sometimes calls for sacrifice, and because I’m not young and my kids are grown, and because…” She stopped. “Hey,” she started to speak again, “No need to explain. I’m a nurse, you’re an patient, and I’m happy to help.” I’ve often wondered if she was ever affected in any negative way, and how her life went after I left the hospital and went on to seminary.* I know this: Winnie affected my course of treatment and blessed my life with her nursing and her sweet, strong, kind spirit. Just now, our whole country is dealing with the very difficult and complex issue of health care. Huge differences have grown up and challenged physicians and nurses, institutions, politicians, and all the rest of us. And deal with it we will, because we have to. We are the United States of America, and somehow we will find or make a way. I always pray that we will make that way with strength and good will instead of some of the other stuff we’ve seen and are seeing. In the meantime, there they are. Those faces out there listening carefully, some taking notes, all learning to deal with elements of their vocation. Death and dying is one part of what each of those students with deal with. But life and health is the other side of it, and we can pray that they will be a part of those who nurse well, will help solve some of our health issues, and continue to make a difference in the lives of many. Like Winnie, and Helen and lots of other names I could give (and so could you), names of those who made nursing ministry. May their tribe increase. Always love, always, Keith *The ‘off to seminary’ is a whole other story…
Posted on: Wed, 19 Nov 2014 04:10:39 +0000
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