Chapter 1: The First Few Weeks of Chaplaincy Residency

We started Orientation with masks on, and seated 6 feet apart.  What a strange thing to meet new colleagues for the first time and not know what their full face looked like until lunch time.  We learned about hospital policy during a pandemic: no visitors were allowed, except at time of death, for 15 minutes each, and no more than 2 at a time at the bedside.  The Viewing Room, which was normally used to allow grieving families to be with their deceased loved one, away from the hospital floors, had strict limitations as well.  Whereas families as large as 30 would come for a Viewing the past, the limit was 9 people now.  

Some of the hospital floors were dedicated to COVID cases, and would require phone visits.  On our "regular" floors, chaplains would only visit patients who had had 2 negative COVID tests.  In addition to our surgical masks, we would also wear goggle or a face shield when visiting patients.  And so it began.

My first few patient visits seemed "normal" enough.  One was with a lady with severe and chronic back pain, who was questioning whether God was angry with her, and who simultaneously felt guilty about her condition keeping her from making more of a difference in the world.  She requested that I bring her a Bible, and on my follow-up visit, I made sure to deliver one.  Another delivery was to a patient who wanted to fill out and sign an Advance Directive, in order to prepare for a time when she would be unable to make medical decisions for herself.  

We had our share of compassionate extubations, when "life support" (in laymen's terms) would be removed from a patient, and the family could come to say goodbye.  Those goodbyes are sad but meaningful.  As chaplains, we often meet the family in the hospital lobby and escort them up to the Critical Care Unit.  We are quiet enough to give the family space to process the situation, but also present enough to make conversation that might help diffuse the anticipatory anxiety.  While the family is at bedside, we stay outside and remain available to answer any questions about mortuary arrangements, bring in water or tissue for the family, and ultimately to escort the family out.  

I have noticed, from my experiences of Extubations and Viewings, that the release of emotions often has families feeling relieved, and is one step in the healing process.  Tears are a wonderful and necessary part of goodbyes.  I have seen grown men cry, and I have held back my own tears as I've seen families process grief.  

There are always humorous moments as well.  Many a grown man has flirted with me on the way out, which seems completely understandable, in the wake of such an emotional moment.  I call it the "testosterone boost" that helps them feel ready to step outside the hospital, ready to "face the world" outside again.  These were all situations I had encountered in my first unit of chaplaincy training, and which come to mind as I think of the first few weeks of my residency.