The Mirror
“This could be my son in fifty years.”
Three years ago, while working as a patient experience coordinator at a nearby hospital, I was sitting in the nurse manager's office chitchatting about some patient issues when I heard the patient next door yelling at the top of his lungs. At that time, I was studying for my MDiv. in chaplaincy, so I always liked to take on challenging cases in the hospital for learning purposes.
When I asked the nurse manager about the patient, he told me that the patient had been yelling all morning and that He was a high-attention patient who had been disabled his entire life. He was battling an infection, and he was brought in from a nearby nursing home. His caretakers were his brother and sister. His parents had passed away years before. The nurses were doing their best, but he was demanding, and they needed a break. So, I asked the nurse manager if I could go in and talk to the patient.
When I saw him in bed—how he moved, talked, and was vulnerable—I immediately thought, “This is a mirror image of my son in fifty years.”
At the time, I had been working in the hospital system for two years and began to recognize my triggers. One of them was seeing adult patients who reminded me of my son. Whenever that happened, I began to have a panic attack. I would have to step aside and take some deep breaths so it wouldn't turn into a full-blown attack. So when I saw this man in the bed, I immediately thought of walking away.
Instead, I walked up to the bed. The similarities between how his body was positioned and how he was moving compared to my son were startling to me. I took a couple of deep breaths and just looked at him. I saw this very vulnerable man, and I couldn't walk away.
Instead, I said, “Hi, my name is Mel. I'm with a patient experience. Why are you yelling?” He answered slowly and loudly, "I don't want to watch Michigan! I want to watch OSU!" I replied, “Well, OK. I can change the channel for you.”
That's when I noticed that his mouth was messy. My first thought was to wipe his mouth, change his channel, and then I’d be free to leave.
But as I looked at him so vulnerable, laying there in the bed, this thought popped into my mind that this guy doesn't have a mother anymore, and the fact that if his mother were there, she would wipe his mouth. If my son were in the same position, I would want somebody to come by and wipe his mouth. I felt it was the Holy Spirit that moved in my heart and asked me, "Mel, if you were his mom, how would you want someone to treat him?”
I asked him, "Sir, would it be OK if I wiped your mouth first?" He mumbled something, so I took that as a yes. I got a wet washcloth and gently wiped his mouth until it was clean. He complained again about the channel being on a Michigan sport, so I kept changing the channel. We sat there for about 10 minutes trying to figure out something he would watch.
Then he pointed to his pudding cup on his tray and opened his mouth. I said, "Oh, you want something to eat? Let's see. Can you feed yourself?" He nodded, “No.” So we watched some TV as I fed him pudding.
Then I filled his water cup, gave him a few sips, and said, “OK, well, I'm going to go." He began to yell as I approached the door, so I turned around and said, “Do you want me to stay?" He nodded yes. And my heart just felt like it fell into my stomach, and I thought, "Oh, he's lonely.”
I sat with him again, and because he did not talk much, I just chitchatted with him about some random things. I prayed for him, and he started drifting to sleep, so I got up again. I tiptoed to the door, and he began to yell. He wasn't ready for me to go yet.
I sat back down again, and this time, I waited a half hour before I knew he was definitely asleep. I looked at him, said a silent prayer in my head, and slipped out of the room.
I left the hospital crying that day. I couldn't stop thinking about that man. I couldn't stop thinking about his loneliness, and I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that it could be my son one day. It was so hard to set that case aside and go home. Part of me wanted to return to the room, scoop up that almost sixty-year-old man, and hold him. I thought I would visit him the following day, but honestly, I couldn't do it, and he was discharged soon after. I think knowing your limits is important when doing any ministry like that.
As difficult as that day was, and as much as I didn't want to get involved, I am so glad I did. And friends, isn't that what it's all about? Reaching out to people, offering them sustenance and physical care, praying over them, loving them even when it is tough? Though I wanted to escape that situation, I am glad that the Holy Spirit inside me was active and prompted me to take the time to care for the patient. I had ignored the Holy Spirit's promptings before and deeply regretted it. This one was not going to be one of them.
My husband and I worked with and cared for many people when we served on the mission field. Still, this holy moment in the hospital is the one that truly taught me the meaning of the heart of Matthew 25:35-40, "For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty, and you gave me drink, I was a stranger, and you welcomed me, I was naked, and you clothed me, I was sick, and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me." Please, God, have mercy and grace on me as I move toward a chaplain career. This will be my heart, and may this be all of yours, too.
Extra Sauce
Since the election, I have noticed an increase in Christians expressing their discomfort and displeasure over other Christians being angry about the current administration. There have been calls for these angry Christians to focus on peace and beauty. I believe it's okay to feel angry. You can be both angry and also focus on peace and beauty. However, telling people not to be angry is like suggesting there's nothing to be angry about. For those facing job loss, children losing benefits, and fears about potentially losing Social Security, these are indeed frightening issues, and it’s understandable for them to express their fear, frustration, and anger. Anger can be misplaced and misused, but it is not inherently negative. When rightly directed, it can motivate people to take action. My suggestion is that instead of saying, "I wish more Christians would focus on peace and beauty and not on anger,” — ask them about their feelings of anger, listen to them, and then see if there's a way you can help.
- who writes the newsletter , gives her readers a writing prompt once a month. This month’s prompt is “Use the title: ‘A Son’s Request,’ in whatever way you interpret it.” I like writing haiku, so here is my try:
“A Son’s Request”
Son, choose food, choose toy:
“Chicken tenders and french fries,
Peter Panda, too.”
Below is a pic of Malachi with Peter Panda.
Thank you for staying with that lonely and frustrated man. He didn't have any tool but yelling, but you listened for the heart behind it. You have the heart for chaplaincy. 💜
This was hard to read and so good to read. At almost 60, I have a severely autistic and probably intellectually disabled 21 year old son. We worry sometimes about someday, but the I pray again that all will be well. All I can do is try to make it better later on. Oh, and try not to ever die, but that doesn't usually work...