We had made it to the end of January. As I stepped onto my non-COVID floor for "routine, self-initiated" visits, I checked in with the unit secretary, as was my practice. "How are things on the unit today? Any patient who would benefit from a chaplain visit?"
When we are not on-call or responding to crisis situations, chaplains make "cold calls" to each patient on their assigned floors, who have not yet been visited by a chaplain. We also visit patients who have been referred to us by other medical staff.
Today, the unit secretary told me about one particular patient, who was recovering from COVID, no longer contagious, but still psychologically scarred from her experience, seemingly. She refused to speak, and only communicated through writing.
Having "done my homework" before coming onto the floor, I recalled that this patient had passed through 2 of our COVID ICUs. As is my practice, I had written down basic information for each patient, while going through the eCharting system, and this case had stood out to me.
It took three tries over two days to be able to have a visit with this patient. The first time, she was asleep, and the second time, she was being attended to by nursing staff. I spoke with the nurse outside, and he encouraged me to keep trying.
Third time was the charm. The patient was resting with her eyes closed, but she opened her eyes in response to my greeting at the bedside. Knowing she was tired, and unable to speak, I kept my introduction very brief.
She nodded to indicate that it was okay to stay for a bit, and also motioned for a pen and paper. She wrote: "Then COVID-19 got me sick." Simple, yet profound. After all she had been through, there was so much behind that sentence.
The unit secretary had told me a bit about her vocational background (she was infected while working as a LVN in nursing homes during the most recent COVID surge); her family system (she had strong support from her adult children); and that she was Catholic.
Normally, these would be questions that chaplains ask of their patients in a visit. However, for patients who are unable to speak, this information would be obtained through calling family members listed as their emergency contact, or through conversations with nursing staff.
When I visit patients on the ICU, who cannot speak, I refer to conversations I have had with their loved ones. "Hi ___, I spoke with your daughter today. She wishes she could be here, and she send her love. She also wanted me to tell you not to worry about your cat. She is taking care of her."
With this patient, I saw from her chart that she had already been seen by other chaplains while in the ICU. So, I said, "I am so glad you have been getting care from your team here at the hospital. I also wanted to visit you today and see how you were doing."
I always ask Spirit to guide my words, to make my visit helpful to the patient, and free from my limitations. "I can only imagine what you have gone through during this time, as you cared for others at your work, and then got the virus yourself. You have come through a long fight, and you made it until today."
I put on gloves and held the patient's hand, which was warm and strong. The patient began to shake, and I wondered if she needed to cry and release her feelings. I squeezed her hand and gave her empathetic eye contact until her shaking ceased.
Knowing from her chart that she had been open to receiving prayer in the past, I offered: "I don't know everything that you feel right now, and I'm sorry that it's still hard for you to speak. But I see you now and I am with you. You are not alone."
I saw nursing staff preparing to come in, and I nodded to them to signal that I would wrap up my visit. "May I pray a blessing for you as you continue to recover?" The patient nodded. I prayed, the way I always do: from the heart, and allowing the words to flow intuitively.
We had seen so many patients pass away from COVID. Here was a survivor, bearing the physical and psychological scars of a virus that kills and robs humans of life and quality of life. I got chills as I walked away. The fragility and resilience of life, embodied in those telling words:
"Then COVID-19 got me sick" -- but COVID did not have the final say, at least not yet. What happened tomorrow was out of my control. My job as a chaplain was simply to be present to what was. If pandemic has taught me anything, it is that.
Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own...(Matthew 6:34)
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