If you can't stand the heat

I would assume the news is out now. Heidi’s colon cancer has re appeared. The technical term is “recurred” although I wonder if statistically they would term it a new case since the 5 year mark is considered “cured”. So much for that.

I always thought it would come back. That some little cell was out there lurking in the darkness waiting for it’s time. I have to give it some human characteristics because otherwise I can’t hate it as much. Biblically if you name something, it gives it power. I am willing cede power to cancer. It has it. It wields it in curious and uncontrolled ways. It lurks in blood cells in the kids in the hospital. My little friends and I have had a tough time with it. It makes us cry and cry out. It brings 40 year olds to their knees in their dining rooms.

I hate it. With every fiber of my being, I hate it.

But the news isn’t always so grim. I have been amazed, shocked, and downright appalled at the reactions we have gotten. I understand folks react in different ways. I really do understand. It is scary and people care. And we appreciate that. Those of you who may read this I apologize ahead of time. You may be offended but this is my blog and you need to work with that.

There are those who have indeed felt the shit hit the fan with us. Who have called it like it is. The unfairness of it and the anger we have felt. Alongside the hope we have. Thank you for standing in the line of fire.

There are those who seem to see nothing but pity. And don’t think we can’t hear it or see it in your eyes. The eyes that seem to have us six feet under before we get started. And I know the look because I have had it too. But I am done with that now. That is not to say I won’t cry. That is not to say I won’t be afraid. But as a wise woman once told me (last week!), fearing something will happen does not make it a forgone conclusion. We will get through this. We were never promised a rose garden in the first place. I don’t know why it happened. So don’t ask me again.

The funniest name I have heard it called is a “colon problem”. Well, yeah it is that. Just a slight one. I think that statement was followed by a plea for a miracle. That was helpful let me tell you. There are miracles everyday. And we are one whether we have colon CANCER or not.

So don’t go freaking out on us. Don’t go selling us down the river. Just stand in there with us and if it gets too hot, then get the hell out of the kitchen.

It’s small in there anyway.

Enough Already

She had had enough already.

I stepped into a little friend’s room today after hearing her cry. I thought it was another little friend but it wasn’t.

My little buddy isn’t one to cry. Or at least that I have seen. She was to have a CAT scan of her chest and stomach. I don’t know if it was scheduled or not. I asked her if she was scared and she said she was. I asked her what she was afraid of and she said she has to have a shot to make her go to sleep so they can do the test. She has had enough of those already too. She wants to go home.

My little friend has cancer. I am not sure what kind and it really doesn’t matter much. There are so damn many these days. They can name it whatever they want to, ALL, AML, MLL; all sorts of alphabet names that designate the types and the cells that keep dividing and conquering. The treatment is the same no matter what. A body is betrayed by whatever is in it and so we invade the same body with stuff that requires a shot or a port or an IV. As if that makes it all better. It may make it better. Or it may not.

So we cry because sometimes, there is nothing else to do.

CPE and Me

My summer “job” has been something called CPE. CPE is Clinical Pastoral Education. Perhaps I should have mentioned this at the beginning of the summer, thus preventing a ton of questions and odd looks from people who have no clue. For many of us who are seeking a career in ministry, CPE is a requirement. This requirement is often done for one unit of credit although if one wants to go on and do chaplaincy as a career then one has to do upwards of 4 units of credit.

There are 4 hospitals that support this program. Common knowledge seems to say that these hospitals (Baptist, St. Thomas, Vanderbilt, and McKendree Village) fight like cats and dogs. Apparently they seem to see the need for pastoral care in “clinical” settings. Clinical meaning hospital or nursing home/assisted living settings.

There are 7 of us who participate in this summer program. We meet every Monday and Wednesday from 8-12 and the rest of the time we are working in our clinical settings. 5 of us are from Vanderbilt Divinity School and 2 fellas (and they are fellas) are from New Orleans attending a Catholic Seminary there. We get along pretty well and it has been good to see each other in “work” situations and not just in class. We struggle with our theology and how to best discuss how suffering affects the people we see every day. We struggle with our own “stuff”. I seem to be continuing to fight with my mother this summer. She has been dead now for 6 years. I love her but I am tired of her. : ) My classmates have been incredible. Some of us knew each other before. Now we know each other a lot. And we are safe with each other. There is a sense of having been through the fire. We have watched folks die before us. We have held people in their grief and we have laughed (really hard) at our incredible ability to step back and analyze what in the world we are doing.

I don’t want to go back to school. I have found what I want to do. But in usual catch 22 fashion, I have to go to school to do this. So I will. But I am not sure I will see things the same way now. I already hear scripture read (the Good Samaritan for instance) differently. The beatitudes have faces now. Mercy seems to have a name. I have enough fodder for a few sermons or more. And I have 4 more weeks to squeeze the life out of a program that I hope to be able to do more of…..although it will certainly be in a different setting.

We talked about the meaning of “shibboleth” in the office on Friday. Where else can I do that?! Or have a nurse cuss at you because you ASK them to do so.

Maybe one of these days.

I am sitting here awaiting Heidi’s arrival from Omaha (yes!) Nebraska. She is traveling quite a bit this week and next and I still don’t like it. I can’t do anything about it but I can at least state that much. Summitt is asleep in the chair beside me. I have had coffee and now couldn’t sleep anyway.

Fun fact of the day: nerves grow one inch a month. One never knows what you will hear in a hospital elevator. Who knew?! I had to laugh as the resident who was privy to this factoid as she looked at the neurosurgeon with this “oh yeah, I knew that” look. Knowing full well of course that she had NO clue of such things.

There are residents all over the hospital these days. Nurse residents, doctor residents, CPE residents (that is me!). All very wide eyed and trying to do the cool doc thing. Or whatever it is that they do. I forget sometimes that the docs are real people. To stand behind one in the lunch line or the conveyor belt hallway to Children’s is amusing to say the least. They have to pay bills, break up with boyfriends or girlfriends, fix their cars, or make plans to hang out after work. I forget that.

Maybe that is a good thing. I would want them to know nerves grew an inch a month.

Monday After

Ok, so CPE is turning me into an amatuer poet. Which I am not. Some things can't really be told in prose. I am amazed and blessed to be part of this hospital, if only for a while. It will be a lifetime of reflection I am certain. And hard to leave. What I haven't said is that I am responsible (assigned to really) for 2 main parts of the hospital: the children's oncology floor and the emergency department. I have manged to tentatively name a place for myself on the oncology floor. I am unable to describe my experience there but I am working on it. To say it is amazing is impossibly difficult. Words can't describe the spirit there..the "ethos" if you will. Words like "brave" and "courageous" just don't cut it. It is so much more than that. This 6th floor. The work done there is nothing short of a miracle each day. Difficult work to be sure, but oh such incredibly gentle work.

So for today, here is the latest post. This one is a bit cheesy (I think) to begin but it will get worked over I am sure. Just bear with me. Something else will come out for certain. Heaven help us when it does but...

Monday
A fortress against fear
Never far away
A mission sometimes impossible to know
Hearts strong in faith
Spirits rail against the sure foe
The bustle of morning gives way to quieter times
Laughter breaking over bacon
Care in confusion and chaos
Steady hand and hearts
That break sometimes
When they come in.
The little ones and their smiles and their pink rides in the hall
Stopping to “honk”
Echoing each other in chorus
Necessary laughter
Naming, life claiming, love

10:12 AM June 23, 2007

Tender hands on tiny feet
Blue ink stains
Beautiful, beautiful boy
Snuggle deep into Grandma’s folds; sleep tight
Fussy response of the unspoken yet
Never unheard
“A.Donor” is unnamed
Not you.
You are named
Named with God’s hand imprinted on our hearts

England and More

So we have been to England and worshipped in Salisbury Cathedral and Westminster Abby. How incredible it was. I am amazed –still- that these incredible buildings were built in ages when cranes and bulldozers and heavy equipment were not there. People literally lived and died while building Salisbury Cathedral. And often with in the walls of the building. When the spire (don’t call it a steeple!) was added the stones that held it literally bent inward. So the architect at the time – in the 1200’s or so—decided that flying buttresses would hold up. And they did. And the spire stands.

Two world wars spared this cathedral. I have no idea how as it was possible that the Germans used it as a landmark for their bombing runs over the city. The British army training grounds were not but 8 miles from there. Right next to Stonehenge. Again an incredible feat albeit a disappointing site. But how did the cathedral survive? How is it that in May of 2007 a forty year old woman from East Tennessee could awesomely worship every morning for 8 days in a 700 year old chapel? A blessing.

One of the more incredible stories (and there are many) of the Cathedral is the story of the stonemasons. They were asked to carve faces for one of the chapels. So, they looked around and saw each other! All along the walls of one of the chapels and throughout the Cathedral really, are little faces. 700 year old faces frozen in time. Jolly faces to be sure. Still there. Some with noses rubbed off. Most with curly curly hair. And they watch over us these many years later.

We build megachurches and churches in coffee houses. Built of steel and glass and concerns over the parlor seating. Yet these sites of stone are indeed built to the glory of God. I wonder what we are thinking when we hire architects and planners. Millions of dollars and fundraising efforts. And it is nothing compared.