Look Me in the Eyes

After returning from a lively Thanksgiving vacation with family and friends in Washington, I was reluctant to return to the rigorous routine of cardiac nursing. As I was walking into work on Sunday night, I quickly prayed for wisdom... more out of habit than my pride would admit. The first hour after report saw me rushing between two unstable people; one with severe bradycardia, the other in system failure just one day after open-heart surgery. It took three hours to stabilize one of them and get her shipped off to ICU. I found myself placing that ever-so-helpful vial of Atropine in the other patient's med drawer, (you know, just in case). The next two days proved equally as busy; one day I was a resource nurse and picked up a team at half-shift. I was feeling pretty down that night and I finally concluded that I was just too busy. I needed to slow down and actually "see" my patients. Its so easy to move quickly and to give the obligatory "uh-huh" without really listening. In doing this, I lose the opportunity to share Christ's saving love; I'm distracted by treating a mortal being's temporary illness. So last night with my group of heart-failure and dialysis patients, I was determined to care for them as Jesus would.

I find that, no-matter how challenging the group of patients, the night is redeemed if I simply try to see them as individuals. After settling in a very arthritic and diminutive elderly lady for the night, I realized that she spoke with an adorable southern accent. When asking her about her family, she said that her physician had told her that she wouldn't be able to have children. With coy smiling eyes, she said, "I had eight, though. I sure showed those doctors." It was hard to image the tiny 80-lb lady having been the mother of eight, but her spunk spoke volumes.

Another dialysis patient had done surprisingly well after his heart surgery, and was looking to discharge soon. After helping with breathing exercises, I asked him about work he had done prior to retirement. "I was in the CIA," he stated. The gentleman mused, "I liked working under Eisenhower, but Reagan was the best."

Often, Christ's love can be shared in simply giving a little back rub, making eye contact, and carrying the conversation further than "yes and no" responses. I thought about how the lady felt who was left incontinent following a hemorrhagic stroke. And how the man who manages his diabetes and daily peritoneal dialysis treatments all alone must feel... and how being lonely must contribute to his frequent hospitalizations. How much better accountability and support is for the healing process. I wondered what I could say or do that could support these people who have such difficulty. Where would I be in that situation? And how would I cope without Christ? I could enter all the consults, provide the most expert care, but until I take into account the spiritual aspect, I'm not making any lasting benefit.

How special and what a privilege to have the opportunity to care for people. In the whole of society, health care workers are truly afforded a rare privilege of becoming quickly familiar with people in their most vulnerable moments. John 15 speaks to me the most today because I cannot love people without the Spirit of Christ working through me. Jesus stated, "I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in Me, and I in him, bears much fruit; for without Me you can do nothing," (vs. 5). May I never get caught in the grind and lose track of my purpose: sharing Christ with people and caring for the person, not simply treating an illness.