- On those busy days, the ones where it’s pure insanity, you can forget. When you’re running your legs off, developing cramps in your calves, and testing the boundaries of bladder capacity, you can become complacent in your empathy. When you feel like your unit is a drive-thru at McDonald’s, and the patients just keep coming, complete with long orders, and you wonder if your patient rooms have a revolving door, you can somehow miss the mark, and forget how to walk in someone else’s shoes.
- Imagine if you came into the hospital voluntarily for an elective procedure, a simple one that’s been preformed countless times on just about everyone you know, but with you things went terribly wrong. What if all the “less than 2%” complications listed on the consent form happened to you? Then imagine a lengthy recovery. Try to comprehend how it must feel to still be in intensive care a month after your minor procedure, with tubes and lines everywhere, not being able to eat, suffering pain at simply rolling onto your side. What if you just weren’t really sure if you were going to get better? What if this was your mom or your dad, or maybe your spouse? Imagine the worry, the bone-tired aches from sleeping in waiting rooms, the fear lurking under the surface that you might just lose them. What happens when you stop rushing to pass meds on time, or catch up on charting, or try to grab lunch before the cafeteria closes, and stop for a few moments to really see what is going on in that hospital bed besides what the labs and monitor tell you? You see hope. You see strength personified. You see the human spirit reaching for God. And it’s beautiful.
- I walked into the room and the daughter was talking to her mom. Well, I thought she was talking at first. But then I realized, no, she’s praying. I had a IV antibiotic to hang, and quietly crept to the computer to chart its administration. I paused. I had to. She wasn’t simply praying. She was warfaring. She was speaking the name of Jesus with an honest intensity that almost bled the words. She believed every thing that she was petitioning would come to pass. It was evident in her voice somehow, the faith she carried. I could barely cross the room for the air was so thick. I could feel the presence of the Holy Spirit, and it invigorated me. I could see I wasn’t the only one feeling His power, and the daughter’s prayers intensified. I was witness to faith in healing, and praise. I watched my patient’s countenance change and her mood improve as she drew strength from her Savior. I saw hope and peace shining somehow in her cataract-ridden eyes, and it was beautiful. I felt my own heart racing with the joy and intensity of communion with the King, and somehow walked a little lighter, as if on air, as I finally backed out of the room to complete other duties requiring my attention. I was energized, just as she had been, and I felt honored to be witness to such a wonderful display of character in the face of adversity, enduring faith in the most difficult of situations. It was belief in physical healing, but also an instantaneous emotional healing in a time of difficult trial. I shall not easily forget my presence at the intercession held today, nor how it strengthened us all.
That is all 🙂