The Holidays were upon us, and the post-Thanksgiving Surge was in full swing. Our Emergency Department was overflowing, with every bed occupied, patients being put in the waiting room even after being admitted, and some patients' location listed as Ambulance 1, 2, etc.
Two other patient floors were now converted into COVID units, in addition to our three "regular" COVID floors. For each patient that passed away from the virus, another 10-15 people were waiting use that bed in the ICU. Our morgue was beyond capacity, and we had extra refrigeration in place.
The vaccine was on its way, and that gave us hope.
I received my first dose of the Pfizer shot on December 19th. In the weeks to come, I would feel slightly safer as I showed up on the COVID units, wearing an N95 mask, a surgical mask on top of it, and a plastic face shield. I always put up my hair, too.
One of my Holiday on-calls was in the wake of a full moon. If I did not believe in "superstition" before, the pandemic has given me full faith that human life cycles are closely connected with larger cosmic forces--full moons are linked with more deaths. Our on-call numbers prove it.
That day, there were 6 code blues. A code blue is a medical emergency, broadcast throughout the hospital system, so that the team can show up with the proper medication and equipment to save a life. Chaplains show up to offer support as well.
It is always a surreal experience to see up to 10 medical personnel inside a room, performing life-saving procedures. During COVID times, this also involves wearing yellow gowns and gloves. Another cluster of staff stands outside the room, ready to hand more supplies, or to relieve the staff inside. Chest compressions are counted, and are physically taxing to the one performing them. There is a strange blend of calm and tension during these times. There is always one point person who informs the family of what is going on. They also call the family to let them know when their loved one is stabilized--or, if their loved one has passed away.
That day, 2 out of the 6 patients who coded passed away. In between the code blues, I was visiting other patients on other floors, carefully compartmentalizing each experience into its own spot, to be processed after I got off my shift, and when I could let my hair down.
The phrase, "ignorance is bliss" really does apply to those patients who receive a chaplain visit, not knowing where we have just come from. Right after one of the code blues, I had a long chat with a female patient who identified as Jehovah's Witness, during which time we discussed her love of the Bible, her conversion to the religion, and the important names of God. As the visit progressed, I became aware that she was trying to proselytize, and to get me to join her church. I kept the visit professional, steering the conversation back to identifying what was important to her, and what brought her strength during difficult times. Even though she was not successful in getting me to join her church, she did say, at the end of the visit, "I'm proud of you!" (for being so familiar with Scripture, and able to follow along with her sharing).
As I charted about the visit afterwards, I just had to chuckle. Even as I was putting our conversation into clinical terms--offering my assessment of the patient's spiritual needs and resources, and documenting the type of care I provided--she was perhaps patting herself on the back for reaching out to a potential convert. That makes two of us who were sincerely doing our best to fulfill our spiritual roles!
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