Good Grief! Pandemic Parables From a Hospice Chaplain. Holy Fools

Good Grief! Pandemic Parables from a Hospice Chaplain 

January 3rd 2021 

Holy Fools 

As many of you already know, I have started a new job as a Hospice Chaplain at a hospital 50 minutes from my home in Frederick, Maryland. It is in a fairly rural area adjacent to the outer fringes of Baltimore.

My first day was Monday December 28th, the Feast of the Holy Innocents. That is when, in Christian tradition, King Herod sent soldiers to kill all the male babies under two years of age in Bethlehem in an attempt to exterminate the Messiah, who wasn’t there. Thanks to an angel warning his adoptive dad, the Light of the World was a helpless new refugee fleeing in the care of His parents towards the relative safety of Egypt.

In Spain, where my parents moved when I was eleven, December 28th is known as the Feast of the Holy Fools, the equivalent of our April 1st All Fools Day. Like here tricks are played on the unwary.

I thought it was a fitting day to start my new assignment. (And I’m glad to report no tricks were played on me my first day!)

I’m happy to be a somewhat holy fool, starting to climb a steep learning curve into an area of chaplaincy that is new to me, including visiting patients in their homes, in a time when the pandemic is still ranging. My much loved sister-in-law Nancy, has always said (as she has watched me lurch from one adventure to the next in various parts of the world including working in a Canadian Christian retreat center and a Maryland and New Zealand men’s prison,) that I go where angels fear to tread. I’m hoping that is only partly true as I’d like some angels to accompany me on this stage of the journey.

During my fifteen months training for chaplaincy I worked as a Hospital Chaplain - the past year of that as a full time Resident - in my local hospital. I am now on the “Home Team” based in a Hospice House and will be visiting with people in their homes, who are, for the most part, within six months of dying, as well as deeply listening to their family and caregivers. I consider it a great honor to be allowed into people’s lives at such an intensely private, emotion-filled time.

This particular Hospice program is excellent in many ways. For a start they recognize that people are made up of body, soul, and spirit, and they have teams of people meld their specialties to ensure that overlapping care is given to all parts of the patient. So I will be working with nurses, social workers, a doctor, and others, to ensure each patient and their family get the maximum possible, all-encompassing care. Everyone I have met so far on the Hospice staff have been deep, loving, caring, highly competent people. It will be a joy to get to know them better, and to work with them.

Before starting at the hospice I had only visited the attached hospital once. All the interviews were done from my favorite living room chair either by phone or a Zoom equivalent. I was beginning to wonder if the hospital building really existed. I discovered it did when I had to go in for a pre-employment physical. That included being fitted for a mask. I already knew that N95s don’t fit me well, but the hospital also uses N100s, which look like they could be a gas mask. (Which I suppose, in a way they are.)

I distinguished myself at that physical. Unfortunately not because of my sleek, healthy physique (ha!) No! I was told that I was the only person in the whole hospital who failed the test for fitting an N100! Apparently the men of the hospital have all been shaving off their facial hair to ensure a close fit. It worked for them. I wax and I failed.

The injustice of it all!

The first few days of my employment were official orientation for all new staff to the hospital/hospice. Some of this was virtual. Then for the first month I will shadow the other Hospice Chaplains to see how they do things before being launched with my own roster of patients. I’m glad of the thorough initiation as there is so much to learn!

Unlike the Hospice that is part of the hospital where I trained, chaplains are still going into homes and nursing homes to see patients. (At my former facility Hospice visits are only done by phone.) That means we have to have twice weekly COVID tests - one is the quick test, and the other is the one that goes to a lab for analysis. In addition, I will get the vaccine as soon as possible- many staff have already had their first dose. That is one injection that will be a delight to have administered!

On Wednesday and Thursday I went with another chaplain to see my first patients. In preparation, on Tuesday night I was ushered into the store room and issued a large assortment of PPE to be kept in my car. If the patient does not have Covid we have to wear masks, face shields, and gloves. If they have Covid, plastic gowns, a second pair of gloves, and disposable booties are added to the mix.

Chaplains, of course, have to travel to the same destination in separate cars because of distancing. Which means missing out on a lot of bonding and information swapping. But needs must.

I felt like a swaddled alien seeing my first, non-Covid patient wearing protective gear. Going from the bitterly cold outside to cozy homes, not only did my glasses fog up, my shield did also. And it seemed to stay that way for much of the time before we left. It wasn’t any easier by the third visit. But I’m sure I’ll get into the swing of the extra safety layers soon. What incredibly odd times we live in!

Already I’ve learned such a lot - especially in the three visits. Such different circumstances with deep love, filial devotion, and understandable frustration and burnout clearly demonstrated in each separate place - and all three intermingling in less obvious, more subtle ways in every household. Love, bravery, fear, anger, faith, and anxiety all jostling for attention as families take their last journeys together.

It was good to have three days off for the New Year weekend to take in and absorb all that had happened in the four days since I started the job – as well as looking back on the extraordinary past twelve months.

We have all changed such a lot in the virus-soaked last year. We had to! The fabric of our lives was dramatically transformed. Together with so many others I was glad to see the end of 2020. Indeed for the first time since being an adult I didn’t celebrate at midnight. My Fitbit assures me I was asleep ten minutes before the countdown ended. My psyche had clearly given up on the old and was wanting to begin the new as quickly as possible. And well rested at that!

But I know that in this next year, as I have the privilege of being part of a loving professional team that enters people’s homes and cares for those close to death and their loved ones, I shall be changed. In deep ways I will grasp hold of the true essentials of life, learn profound lessons, and come away with transformative stories.

And as for being a Holy Fool...

Holy - I don’t know about that.

A fool - certainly. But a grateful one - thankful that my odd life has taken this unlikely twist. Looking forward to seeing how this latest adventure unfolds.

In some ways we are all in the same position. Perched on the edge of the unknown. Holding our breaths. Hoping that the vaccine works. Praying the Pandemic’s roiling waters are calmed and stilled. Wondering what life will be like after this great virus storm is over.

At this year’s ending may we look back on 2021 and see that in our lives incredible miracles, both domestic and dramatic, have taken place. That there was protection, provision, relief at endings, and joy at beginnings. In new ways may we remember who we were created to be and be brave enough to take steps to let that true self emerge. May the good outweigh the bad, the joy outweigh the sorrow. And as the chimes ring in 2022 may we truly be able to say that in the past year we have learned, deepened, and that it was good.

May that be true for all of us.

Dear Lord, let it be so. Amen.