Prepare Ye

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This guy's walkin' down a street when he falls in a hole. The walls are so steep he can't get out. A doctor passes by and the guy shouts up, "Hey you! Can you help me out?" The doctor writes a prescription, throws it down in the hole, and moves on. Then a priest comes along and the guy shouts up, "Father, I'm down in this hole; can you help me out?" The priest writes out a prayer, throws it down in the hole and moves on. Then a friend walks by. "Hey, Joe, it's me. Can ya help me out?" And the friend jumps in the hole. Our guy says, "Are ya stupid? Now we're both down here." The friend says, "Yeah, but I've been down here before and I know the way out." - Leo McGarry to Josh Lyman, The West Wing "Noel" At my CPE site, we've had a lively discussion about how much sharing about ourselves we should do when visiting patients. Given my recent experiences, I find I'm empathizing with patients &

Well, I realize it has been quite a while since I've had a significant post. Hopefully, this will be the dying quail (baseball term) that ends the slump. I'm on call at my CPE hospital tonight and am hoping a warm first day of Summer evening, with a bonus of a full moon, will be quiet. Yeah, right. So far, CPE has been what I thought, heard and feared it would be. It has made me confront some of the nasty boogymen who live under my mental bed. (I never liked the monster's in the closet; under the bed was much scarier.) I posted about having a hard time getting the flatline tone out of my head when a patient passed away. I've had to deal with a couple of other families who have been dealing with a loved one passing away. In my mind, I was remembering being on the other end of the conversation and not hearing anything useful or helpful. So since my expectatitions were low, I think I met them. I knowingly chose an area of the hospital that would cause me to confront the mo

I may not like it, but it's the truth. From Political Graffiti by Donar

from MoveOn.Org

The second rite of passage for ELCA wanna-be pastors in The LTS class of 2011 is under way. The first, of course, is the survival of the Summer Greek Death March err Boot Camp Session. The second is the Clinical Pastoral Education. I am three weeks in, 40 week days to go. Given everything that I've experienced in hospitals over the past year, I think that you, dear reader, could understand my hesitance to sign up to spend the summer going to a hospital and talking to patients. But I was encouraged to complete a unit. "It would be good for you." And so far it had been. I talked with patients who were going through near-identical procedures that my parents had. Mentally, I noted the similarity, but it didn't hit me emotionally. Until today. Yesterday, I was paged to talk to a patient and family who just found out his condition was inoperable and would soon take his life. In the hour I spent with them, I thought I might have brought just a little peace. Maybe not

One week into CPE. One week back in the 'burg. One week of commuting to the hospital. I've been trying to process what I am supposed to do. What I'm supposed to say. Where I'm supposed to go. But I'm still processing the previous two weeks of being in the hospital, but on the other side of the equation. And I'm not sure how I'm doing. I'm just trying to get to the next day. I'm sure I made the right decision to come back. BTW, the support from the middle of the mitten, other than Mom (who is doing pretty well, thanks for asking.) = zero, nada, nil, zilch. Somewhere Out There - Our Lady Peace I know you'll come back someday, o n a bed of nails awake. I'm praying that you don't burn out, o r fade away. All we are is all so far