Page 37 - PC Issue 14 Summer 2020

Connection
REFLECTIONS
A Day in the Life of a Hospital Chaplain
presbyterian.ca
SUMMER 2020
PRESBYTERIAN
37
By the Rev. Trish Archibald, St. Andrew’s-Knox Presbyterian Church in Fort Erie, Ont.
This awful virus is responsible for changes in plans for many people. I’m sure you know someone whose vacation or wedding or other celebra- tion has been impacted or even post- poned. Part of my work is to serve as a chaplain at St. Catharines Hos- pital in St. Catharines, Ont., where I visit the COVID-19 wards every day. I thought I would give you an idea of what that is like.
First, the donning of PPE (Personal Protective Equipment): I wash my hands and put on a yellow gown that ties at the back and around my mid- dle. It covers me from neck to mid- shin and down to my wrists. Then I wash my hands again and don my face shield overtop of the surgical cap and procedure mask I wear all the time. Because the virus is contained in droplets rather than air, the gear is to protect me from getting wet, rather than what I might breathe in.
However, if I am seeing a COV- ID-19 patient who uses a CPAP ma- chine or is intubated, it means that the virus will likely have become
aerosolised and will remain in the air, becoming a source of contagion. In these cases, I swap out my pink pro- cedure mask for an N-95 cone-style mask that protects me from breath- ing in the virus. I put my face shield on over that mask to protect me from my brow to my neck.
I wash my hands again before I put on my blue nitrile gloves. I write my name on the contact tracing list on the patient’s door. Then I go in.
What I find varies. This virus is so strange. Some people struggle with it awfully, and then, miraculously recover. Some people seem to have very mild symptoms and are tired but cheery; and then, unexpectedly, they die overnight. Honestly, it leaves me stunned. Many of the patients are el- derly, but some are middle-aged and younger.
I often go to see people at the re- quest of their minister who, along with family and friends, cannot visit. I bring the love of the congregation to the ill person. Sometimes, I bring my cellphone, which is wrapped up in a baggie, and put the patient’s minister on speaker so a familiar voice will be heard giving the comfort of a final blessing.
The Rev. Trish Archibald, hospital chaplain.
The story is often heartbreaking. One woman (aged 92) told me she had so much to live for: she and an- other resident at her retirement home had fallen in love after many years being widowed, and they longed for more time together. Another patient’s family was too far away to be able to see their dying father. I held the phone to his ear so he could hear his daughter and grandchildren tell him they love him.
I sing hymns to patients who were
church goers, and English folk songs or Country/Western ballads to those who weren’t. I recite scripture or poetry. I fetch ice chips or warmed blankets for comfort. And I pray and wait. There’s not much else I can do.
Before leaving the patient’s room, I remove the PPE in reverse order. I carefully peel a glove off of one hand, careful to not touch skin, and deposit it in the trash. Running that bare fin- ger under the cuff of the other glove, I slide it off, inside out, and throw it in the trash. I wash my hands. I care- fully untie my gown and, leaning forward, roll it inside out to keep any virus on the gown inside the bundle. The gown goes into the hamper to be washed. I wash my hands. I lean forward and remove my face shield but keep my mask and cap in place. I wash my hands and use my elbow to open the room’s door.
Out in the hall I take an ammonia wipe and wash my face shield front and back, inside and out, and hang it to dry while I wash my hands and make notes in the patient’s chart. As I chart, I chat with the nurses and see how they are holding up. Some have opted to live in a hotel room instead of at home with their kids during this
Caption: Kristine O’Brien, Crieff Hills Re- treat Centre Director, on Easter Sunday.
gardens and asked how we could get connected.
As in so many places, the neces- sary closure of our retreat facilities here at Crieff Hills has been finan- cially devastating. And yet God is at work in new and surprising ways. I find consolation in the unexpected friendships that are emerging and look forward to a future that in- cludes a fresh sense of community for all of us.
time. One nurse set up his trailer in his driveway. Most take off their work clothes as soon as they come in the door and shower before seeing any- one at home, just to be safe.
At the end of my day, I call the families of the patients I have seen and give them the comfort of an ad- ditional check-in with someone who can be there for the people they love. I think about the pale pink tulips I promised one patient I would plant this fall so I would remember her each spring.
Friends, the bottom line is this: please continue to take care to avoid exposure to this virus. We have done well to flatten the curve—our hospital has not been overwhelmed like we’ve seen in other cities. Even once things begin to open up again, the risk will still be there.
Remember, we show the love of God to our neighbours by keeping up good physical distancing practices. And this, too, shall pass. Maybe like a kidney stone, but it will pass!
I look forward to the time when we can be close again. I pray it will be soon. Meanwhile, may the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ abide with you all.
Some of the delicious food provided to locals for take-out Easter supper.
God is At Work
By the Rev. Kristine O’Brien, Director, Crieff Hills Retreat Centre in Puslinch, Ont.
On Easter Sunday at 5:30 p.m., I was standing in the driveway at Crieff Hills Retreat and Conference Centre, where I live and work, wear- ing a sunflower-patterned mask. Car after car arrived—more than 50 of them—and each driver gave me their name so I could give them their take-out Easter supper order. I was very excited to see familiar Presby- terian faces, friends who drove from Toronto, Milton or Paris (it was hard not to share any hugs!). But many were people I didn’t recognize. “Are you local?” I asked them. Most an- swered with an enthusiastic “Yes,” which was followed by the name of the sideroad or concession where they live. One person even said, “I’ve been here for years and I didn’t know this place existed!”
Crieff Hills Community began its work as a retreat centre in 1975— but our version of community has never really been focused on ge- ography. We regularly welcome guests from all over the world who need a place to gather and often stay overnight. World Vision hosted their global water conference here a few years ago, for instance, and the Canadian Council of Churches held a meeting here last year. Ministers drive from all over the province for study leave, and Presbyterians from across the country come for As- sembly Council meetings. Staff and guests create community that is rich in worship, work and shared meals, but that doesn’t often include people who live next door.
The people who live next door have begun to change, too. Families who farmed near here for genera- tions have moved away, and others have sold small parcels of land for
single family homes. Gravel pits have displaced traditional farms and city people seeking a country life are moving into enormous one- of-a-kind mansions. The sense of geographical community is not as strong here as it was generations ago.
There are new connections that are developing around us in this time of COVID-19. Divine power is at work, transforming the pain of isolation into new experiences of community that may not have hap- pened otherwise.
And it’s not just that I’m getting to know a few neighbours in the driveway. This week, we received a message from a family who wanted to surprise their local teacher by paying for her order. Another couple bought dinner for an elderly neigh- bour and left it on their porch. One woman said she had a friend who wanted to help with our perennial