Eeew!.....Oooh!

I have had many amazing opportunities in my life. I have jumped out of an airplane! I sat front row to watch my team (Tar Heels) win the NCAA basketball chamionship! I married the perfect girl!!! I once caught a 65lb King Salmon in an Alaskan river (2nd biggest non-commercial catch!). I have sat with a mother in the hospital as we watched the heart monitor slowly count down to zero as her son took his last breaths of life; heart wrentching, humbling, sacred. I have done many things. Two days ago I added another to this list.

I observed an autopsy...

As much as I didn't want to see it, given the opportunity to view one while working in a hospital, I couldn't pass this one up.

The process was shocking, grotesque, fascinating, and inspired in me a sense of wonder at the complexity of the human body. Those preforming the procedure took great care in what they did and gave respect to the deceased. They also worked with efficience as if it were just another day in the office. They talked about grocery shopping and coupons, the night before, and how their day had been.


I watched from several feet away, at first not able to watch, while my body strongly considered nausia as it's chief reaction. However, these feelings fleeted as my curiosity took over. "Liver," one announced as she put it on a scale for another to record the weight. Then out came one lung, then two, a stomach, and kidneys. The intestines seemed never ending, other organs and finally the heart was removed.

By this time I had gowned up and was standing in the thick of it asking the doctor, "Need any help?" He chuckled but paid no mind to the silly bamboozled chaplain in awe at his side. How emty. There was but a shell left formed by the ribs, an opening and the spinal column. Nothing left over...nothing.

Perhaps the most interesting was the brain. Yes, you read it right, they went after the brain. I'll spare you the details, but this process involved a knife, a power saw and a pair of strong hands.

The experience will go down into the hall of fame into my memory's corridors for sure. Look how God so intricately put together our bodies, it is nothing but inspiring.

For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. Psalm 139:13-14

Lesson Learned

I visited a patient in the Coronary Care Unit during my regular rounds one day. As I entered the room I noticed that Jane Doe, an elderly patient, was intubated (breathing tube down her throat) yet also awake, which is unusual. Her hands were covered with large mittens like hospitalized boxing gloves except for one thumb and index finger with a monitor attached. The mittens were to restrict her from pulling on the incredibly uncomfortable breathing tube. She was unable to speak, use her hands or communicate her needs. Her face was so sad. It was a pitiful sight.


Not knowing exacly how to be a chaplain for her, I introduced myself, said a few other words and tried to understand her facial expression crying out to be heard. I stood in silence with her doing my best to meet her on her level.


After some time of silence with a few words sprinkled here and there she reached out her weak mitten covered hand gesturing toward something on my shirt. As I tried to identify what she wanted her two exposed fingers finally caught mine and grasped them. Then her hand, gently holding mine, lowered and rested on the bed.


I finally got the point.


I stayed with Jane for 45 minutes saying little, holding her hand much. Before I left, I placed my hand on her head to brush the hair out of her eyes. Her face fell into my hand as if it had not been touched in days. Her entire body calmed and for that brief moment she finally looked peaceful.

Some days later I returned and met Jane’s family. Upon introductions I was met by her daughter saying, “So you’re the chaplain. She said she wouldn’t have made it without you.” Floored by the comment, my lesson had been learned.


I learned that Jane needed someone to care, to be with her, to touch her and to be recognized as a person while lying rather inhumanely in a hospital bed. This taught me about the gentle power that the pastor can wield: the power to go to people where they are as Jesus did, the power to acknowledge a person's struggle and worth at the same time.


Jane did not need a sermon or religious ritual, she needed me. She needed touched and cared for, and the beauty is these are things I can do out of who I am rather than something I’ve learned.

Good Samaritans

The sputtering of the engine and lurging of the motorcle could only mean one thing...I was out of gas. This happened once, while riding my motorcyle on a long highway trip. As I pulled into the emergency lane and coasted to a hault I watched my wife's car right in front of my drive drive away as she didn't notice my distress. Dang!


Remembering that motorcylces have reserve gas tanks I flipped the switch on the side of the bike, and to my surprise, it started up! "Whew, I'll be alright," I thought. There was enough gas to get me to the next exit where the bike died again at the end of the exit ramp.


One problem: no gas stations in sight.


To my fortune, a man and wife, heading home to take a ride on their motorcylce had pitty on me and stopped their old pick-up truck full of seemingly junk in the back. "We'll fix ya'up," he said enthusiastically and as country as humanly possible. "I got sum'hose in m'truck...an' we can use 'at bottle," he slurred as he ran to pick up a discarded, dented, empty two-liter sprite bottle from the grass. Inserting the hose into his gas tank, he looked at me, said with a worried look on his face, "I always 'ate dis part," and began to suck gas up through the hose."


I found myself wondering, "How many times has he done this? He'll probably have some motor oil for dessert later."


Seeing the gas approaching through the clear hose, his eyes bulged out and he spit the hose out just before he received a mouth full of Exxon's finest unleaded. But he filled the sprite bottle and then put it in my tank. Plenty to get me to a fill station.


I thanked them repeditively and offered money to pay for their gas. They declined and happily wished me a good day before they went on their merry way to help others stranded by the way side.

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Just the other day as my car pool buddy (or should it be "buddy-ey"?) and I got to the car to begin the trek up the mountian, we found the neighboring car and fellow employee driver with a dead battery. She had called secrurity to come and jump her battery but didn't know when they'd arrive.


So, thinking of my own side of the road rescuers, I offered to jump start her car with my cables. Moments later her car started, and she thanked me before mosying on her merry way.


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It seems to me that this world could use more stories like these. Simple ways in which regular people can leave a lasting impact by helping. Out of our own abundance can we give to those in need?


Too often do I pass by cars on the side of the highway and moments later someone walking with a gas can. I think I'll stop next time. Maybe I'll even keep with me a spare hose and sprite bottle.

Has you helped anyone lately? Has anyone helped you?

Shared stories welcome.

Self Care

One theme that contunually pops up during a residency and becomes even more important during the stressful seasons (such as holidays) is self care. The demands of a residency can easily consume our lives if we neglect to take some needed and periodic personal time. The point is we need to fill our own needs too.

Well, today I recieved a lesson on self care in an unexpected place and in a most unexpected way.

The common area of the Behavioral Health unit is one of my favorite places to visit. Most often there are several patients just sitting around talking or watching the large, loud, flat screen enclosed in a glass case. As a chaplain I enjoy walking in and engaging a number of patients in this casual setting.

A very quiet man sat in his chair just beside another patient and I while we talked about regular everyday things in her life. After about 10 minutes this man decided he had a need. He filled this need after slowing climbing from his chair and fraily limping around behind it so he was next to me by covertly pulling down his pants and urinating on the floor!

I went to the nearest nurse, and unable to speak in fear of letting out some of my laughter I was only able to poke her for her attention and point. "Ooh, not again," she blurted out as she s curried his direction. As the man finished he simply pulled up his pants and proceeded to sit back down.

Self care, at its best, I think.

This is actually pretty biblical. As far as I can tell there are at least 8 different verses in the KJV that use the word piss. 1 Sam. 25:22; 1 Kings 14:10, 16:11; Isaiah 36:12 are a few. Most of these references use the phrase "any that pisseth against the wall" as a way of denoting males. I guess this patient was simply excercising his right to pisseth against the floor.


So while I'll be making efforts to do some self care this year, I think I will stick to pissething against the urinals.

They like me, they really like me!

Being a somewhat novice chaplain, there are times when I have questioned my effectiveness and whether or not what I'm doing makes any difference. The fruits of my job are mostly intangible and often unseen by me in the moment. Often times the results of a spiritual conversation or discussion about EOL (end of life) issues are seen later when a patient is discharged or only evidenced internally.

Not so with a recent visit I had to the Emergency Center Psychiatric Ward.

I was called to visit with a patient who refused to eat or drink due to the fact that God had commanded him to carry out a 10 day fast. The medical staff had tried everything short of strapping him down and tube feeding him (which was the plan should I prove unseccesful). Just before I entered the room a nurse informed me that the patient was "hyper-religious" and suffered from schizophrenia.

"What am I going to do?" I thought as I entered the room which felt more like a cell block. Long story short, after a pleasant hour long visit I walked with the patient to the nurses station, because he just wanted them to know that he'd like to eat some dinner.

"Young man! Young man!" I heard as I turned to face a large, burley, stern looking nurse weighing nearly 275lbs standing over me. "You don't know how much money you just saved this department!" (Whew, feelings of relief after being scared half out of my chaplain.)

The nurse proceeded to fill out a form for employees who preform well titled, "Caught you caring," which is passed to my boss. It's a pleasant honor to recieve, and working in a position that returns few tangible affirmations it makes me feel a bit like Sally Field when in 1985 she accepted an Oscar Award saying, "You like me, you really like me!"

What Hospital?

The more I visit it the more I am beginning to enjoy the Geryatric Behavioral Health (that means elderly crazy people to those of you who don't get to work in a hospital and use our secret terminology) unit at the hospital.

Like Forrest Gump's life, the Gery-Psyc ward is much like a box of chocolates. Swiping my key card to open the security locked door with a one way mirror in it and entering covertly is always like sliding the top off a box of assorted mystery candies. When I meet a new patient I never know what I'm getting/biting into.

Many patients are sweet people, grandparents just in need of some help so they can get back to seeing their grandchildren. Others may require a different adjective than "sweet." Some are scared, apprehensive and only occasionally rude or just plain mean.

Some of the things that have been said to me in this unit were surprising, funny or concerning. But one will stick with me, I imagine, for a little while.

As I approached a patient with whom I had spoke before, she greeted me kindly with a smile. I returned the salutation, but quickly noticed her facial expression saying she did not seem to recognize me. Asking if she remembered me, I introduced myself once more as, "Nathan, one of the chaplains here in the hospital."

"What hospital!?" she replied, now with a very concerned look on her face.

Renovating & Renewing

Since I began my residency as a hospital chaplain recently I have been very busy working very hard. However, someone close to me has been working harder: my wife.

Awaiting the fourth and final year of Pharmacy School, you'd think a worn out over-tested student of medications would do well to take some time off, relax and kick back. Not this little rosy Rapunzel of radical renovations. She has spent days and nights working on, fixing up, repairing, cleaning, painting, flooring, and all around improving various parts of her mother's house.

Let's start with the bathroom. There's no completely "before" picture. But the floor was unfinished, uneven concrete, and the sheet rock walls were unmudded and had a number of sizely holes in them. In March we began the lengthy process of mudding the many corners and seems.

After several layers of sheet rock mud she was ready to prime. Accompanied by a friend and fellow pharmacy student they went to work, and before I got home from work one day it looked quite different. (see below)

I'll let the pictures speak for themselves, but you'll see that from there they painted, replaced the shower doors with a tasteful curtain and painstakingly laid laminate flooring. Wow! Put all that together and you've got yourself a new room in the house increasing your property value!




(Happy mother-in-law on right.)

The basement of the house has for some time been mostly unfinished save one cluttered bedroom with an unfinished concrete floor. Again there's no "before" picture, but after a lot of de-cluttering, and some much needed area rugs the basement has become a cozy, 1 bed/1 bath suite with French doors. Not bad for a basement.


The next post will show the outside of the house.