I walked up to the MICU nurses’ desk and introduced myself. I was told where my dad’s room was and that the staff would be there shortly. My rather extensive hospital experience told me to get settled in, no one would show up for awhile.
My dad was asleep and knowing how important sleep is, I didn’t disturb him. I just sat in the chair and waited.
Within 5 minutes, there was the staff doctor, then the comfort care nurse, the floor nurse and two cardiologists. I listened intently to what they each had to say. They were compassionate, interesting, humorous, thorough and gentle.
At one point the cardiologist, a young man with blue eyes looking over his masked face, asked me if I understood everything he had told me. I had told them all that I can do numbers all day long, critique your monologue, and even discuss the law with you, but medical issues were not my strong point.
When the cardiologist asked so sincerely if he had been clear enough, I asked him why he asked me that? Had others told him he was not clear?
He looked at me with a twinkle in his eye and and seemed taken aback that I questioned his question. I assured him that although medical jargon was definitely not my love language, I had completely understood every word he had said. He seemed relieved.
After an unhurried, long session of ideas and opinions I felt equipped to weigh the options and return the next day with a plan.
I also left with the feeling that I had been a part of something extraordinary. I felt that what I had been a part of would never ever happen again in the history of mankind.
My experiences in the past had been that when asking to see a doctor, you wait for hours and never actually get to see them. I am used to calling for the nurse that eventually shows up and then isn’t the one who needs to handle the issue I present.
At the end of this historic meeting, one of the nurses said “Tomorrow? Same bat time? Same bat channel??”
Everyone nodded as they left the room.
I vowed to be back at the same time the next day holding out zero hope that all of those professionals would gather again.
When I got home that afternoon, I texted my son Jon to give him an update. When I told him about my experience he said that he had actually just recorded a commercial for his radio group about this very hospital. He was glad to know that the words he had recorded had proven true in the life of his grandfather.
When I went to the nurses station the next day, I was again greeted with kindness and compassion. I was told that the people involved would be notified that I had arrived. I went to my father’s room to find his situation had changed. I was upset.
While sitting there waiting, I told myself that I knew the day before had been a fluke. It had already been almost 10 minutes and no one was there to tell me what the hell was going on.
And then the GI doctor showed up. About the time I finished talking to her, I realized the comfort care nurse had quietly slipped into the room. Soon the cardiologist and two of his associates were there, then the hospital doctor, then the floor nurse. Seven people stood in the room, ready to console, explain and listen. They never acted in a hurry. They asked who my dad had been before he showed up in their ER, they asked about his life, his experiences, his passions.
Once we made the big life decisions, they told me that they were praying for me and they each spoke words of comfort to me personally. I have never had an experience quite like it in my life, seven medical professionals all together asking me what my father would say and want, asking me what I wanted and felt, listening, caring, praying.
After I signed a ton of papers I left, knowing that my father was surrounded by people who were lots smarter than me and who cared about what happened to him, how he felt and about his dignity.
Before I left, I felt they knew him and cared about him.
None of this is ever easy, but feeling confident in the people around you, feeling loved and understood, is invaluable.
Since my father died, each person who has called me, offered to help and been consulted, has been incredible.
From friends I have known for decades, to the new lady at the funeral home, to the woman at the city pension office, each one has been compassionate, helpful and respectful. They have done all that they could to make things easy for me and to let me know that I am loved and cared for.
I have not known any of their religious backgrounds. I have not questioned their politics. I have not asked about their stance on issues or their life history. All I know is that as one human to another, they have cared for me, helped me and loved me.
I do not know what else we can ask from strangers and friends. I do know that there are more good people than bad out there. I do know that the people who think differently than I do on some issues are a lot like me in other ways. I know that I have been held up by people who aren’t perfect, but who are trying.
When life hits you with times of grief and struggle, the angels around us seem to show up. When catastrophe and tragedy hit, the helpers are always there to look towards. Thank God that when it counts, we can all share our common humanity, can step up to comfort each other, no questions asked.
Feeling supported, sustained by those around me has been a lesson in grace and love. What a lovely thing to experience in the midst of grief.
