We
are dedicated to providing compassionate support
to the
seriously ill, their families and caregivers, and
to being an
educational resource for crisis ministry.
The Summer Intern
Program 2010
Classroom
of The Unexpected
By Karen Yang, Lifeline Summer Intern
I
was once told that there are warm and cold spots in
the hospital. The warm spots are the rooms in which
you feel welcome and needed. The cold spots are the
ones in which you feel unwanted, the ones where you
want to get out as soon as possible. Doing floor visits
always comes with a little apprehension because there
is no way to tell whether a room with a closed door
is going to be a warm or cold one. I have found what
is best is to approach it like one would approach
a dive—just go for it. Yesterday, when I knocked
on a door, I thought I would be plunging into a cold
visit. I opened the door to see a crib which obscured
a woman turned away from
the door, and she seemed to be looking out the window.
Wesley Flach, Rebecca Childers,
Karen Yang and Jessica Schell
When I drew closer,
I found that she was concentrating hard on a large
jigsaw puzzle and I wondered if she was ignoring me.
I asked if it was a good time for a visit, seeing
that she was working hard on a puzzle. She chuckled
and said it was a way to pass the time because it
gets boring in the hospital. Sitting down on the window
bench and patting the sheets that were on it, she
made room for me to sit.
When I asked how she
was doing today, she smiled and told me that things
were much better. Hearing that things were “better”
prompted me to ask how things were before, whether
there had been ups or downs, how long she had been
in the hospital, and whether the journey was a long
one. Usually, when people respond that their journey
was long or that there were ups and downs, they mean
that the nights were long, they were tired, recovery
was taking longer than they were expecting, tests
were not coming back with the results they anticipated,
and the like. For those who have children undergoing
surgery or hospitalization for some
monitoring for a few days, length refers to weariness,
not time.
Her
baby had laughed for the first time!
Unlike other mothers, for this woman,
length meant both weariness and time. Things were
better because her baby had laughed for the first
time and she was able to be present for that. Things
were better because her baby was getting strong enough
for an endoscopy. Things were better because this
came after spending time in the hospital with a high
risk pregnancy and finally giving birth to her miracle
baby. This is a baby who survives despite having Down
syndrome, being born without an esophagus, having
to be fed intravenously, and needing intestinal, stomach,
and open-heart surgery before he can even be taken
home. In the course of this internship, I have met
many young mothers whose babies have chronic medical
conditions that affect their digestive and mental
function, who have seizures, who have fevers that
seem to never leave, who won’t gain weight and
the list goes on. However, I have never met any who
seemed as hopeful, peaceful, and strong as this one
did.
When I asked why her son was her
“miracle baby,” she looked over
at him, then over at me. She gestured emphatically
as she struggled to convey, “He has so many medical
issues. And he… he… He lives.” “He’s
a fighter?” I asked. “Yes, he’s a fighter.
He fights so hard to live. And he teaches me. He has
taught me so much,” she replied.
She went on to say that her son taught
her the value of little things. “Like eating.
Breathing. Things that we don’t usually think
of as valuable.”
Sometimes patients, like this mother,
realize that normal will never be the way it was,
and learn what support and love
means when distance separates her from her family.
She gratefully acknowledged the support her husband
has
continued to provide during the diffcult pregnancy
and beyond. But his physical presence is limited because
of work
demands.
Little
things like eating and breathing are actually big
things!
She finds that the little things like
eating and breathing are actually big things, because
they contribute to winning
skirmishes such as passing tests and gaining weight
before the big battles of surgery. She discovers that
her son’s ability to laugh is a triumph, a sign
that things are better. She grasps that without God,
coping with the implications of her son’s conditions
would not be possible, that He is an unparalleled
source of comfort in this time.
I tell her that she has inspired me, that like her
son, she too is a fighter. For her, being a fighter
is a necessity. “I have to be strong—for
him. Because he is strong, too.” His strength
resonates with the lessons that we chaplain interns
have all been learning this summer about the importance
of supportive relationships. They bring faith in one
another,
hope for positive outcomes, and peace in knowing that
all that could be done to support one another was
done. If God
is part of these relationships, then all the better.
Editor’s Note:
Karen is from San Jose , CA, and is majoring in Psychology
at Pepperdine University. This year’s intern
class also includes Rebekah Childers, from Abilene,
TX, and Wesley Flach, from Dallas, TX, both majoring
in Biblical Text at Abilene Christian University;
and Jessica Schell, from Willow Park, TX, majoring
in Biblical Text and Marriage and Family Ministry
at ACU. Jessica is also the recipient of the 2010
Candace Carter Anderson Endowed Scholarship from ACU,
which provides a stipend for one Lifeline intern each
summer.
