I apologize for writing my first blog about field ed when I'm already three weeks into the process, but this semester is just, well, excuse my French--bat-shit crazy. Between taking five classes at three different schools, two of which are online and one of which is Hebrew, field ed, work, homework, trying to have a life and, oh yeah, getting ready to have a BABY, I feel like I'm going insane. I've been juggling everything pretty well, but I hope no one decides to toss an extra ball at me, because things are going to fall apart if that happens.
Anywho, for those of you who have been impatiently awaiting blogs from me or blogs from Wes and me, you'll just have to learn patience. It is a virtue. And also a fruit of the Spirit. Hopefully we'll get everything sorted out and get into a rhythm again pretty soon. I think that's always the hardest part of the beginning of a new school year or job or whatever--finding your equilibrium. I feel like I'm almost there, but please be patient with us. I'm sure that in 10-14 weeks when baby arrives, everything will be all topsy-turvy again and we'll just adjust like we always do!
Field ed has been going pretty well so far. This year, I am working at St. Bartholomew, which is literally about 10 minutes away from St. Mark, and almost the exact same distance from my house. The greatest part going in was knowing that activities don't start until 9:30 at St. B's, vs. having the first service at 8:15 at St. Mark last year. I definitely miss being there, but I'm having a ton of fun so far.
St. B's is in Trenton, which, as you may know, is the capital of New Jersey. It's an inner-city area, and the church has maybe half of the attendance that St. Mark does. It is also a lot more diverse in terms of race, which is pretty cool for me. There is a Spanish congregation that uses the buildings on Sunday afternoons, and I hope I get to hang out with them at some point, before every last bit of my Spanish knowledge escapes me. Basically, it's a very different place from St. Mark, except for one thing: the people have been really welcoming and wonderful to me. Thank goodness for that.
The pastor I'm working with this year is Aaron, who is entering his fourth year of ministry at St. B's. This is his first call, and also his first career, so it is a new setting for me. He and his wife, Sarah, have an 18-month-old, Charlotte, who is adorable, so that's fun. This year, my plan is to learn some new things, and build on some of my learning from last year. When I preach, I'm going to ask some of the congregation members as well as Aaron to evaluate my sermons so I can get a feel for what people besides the pastor think. I'll still be doing a lot of work with the junior/senior high kids, although I feel much more comfortable after last year. One of my big goals is going to be figuring out how to be a mom and a pastor, something I'll be dealing with for the rest of my life.
I'm very excited for how this year will go, and I'll do my best to write more often from now on. :)
14.9.12
5.8.12
The Long Road Home
My reflection for CPE this week pretty much sums up how I feel, but I won't repost the whole thing here. Just the final paragraph:
The problem I am facing, however, is that this was never something I wanted to do. Being myself, I have made the most of it and recognized how valuable the CPE expereince is and will continue to be. But, also being myself, I am starting to get much more concerned abotu what the future holds. The day CPE ends, I'm driving out to Ohio for a candidacy retreat. Then school and field ed start, then a trip to Texas, my Endorsement interview, all the planning that goes into the spring, and, most obviously, the baby coming. I am having a harder time focusing on what is happening here as what WILL be happening soon looms closer and closer. I guess my biggest goal for the next two weeks is to ground myself in the moment, and not lose sight of what I am continuing to learn--while somehow still planning for the future.
So there you have a glimpse into my second-to-last-week-of-CPE brain. I really have learned a lot this summer. I started working on my Endorsement essay this weekend and realized that I was very smart to wait until this point to write it. I knew that a big part of Endorsement was the CPE experience, but I don't think I really understood how much I would grow through CPE (literally and figuratively!). Although I am coming out of it with many of the same convictions--like knowing that chaplaincy is not a part of my current call--I am also coming out with a different view of death, a new appreciation for relationships, and a deeper sense of myself.
Yet I'm kind of at a point where I'm ready to move on. I know I could keep learning about group dynamics, chaplaincy, and pastoral care in general for years to come, but that is not what's dominating my brain right now. First, there is this Endorsement essay. This 10-page paper, plus an interview, are the tools I have to explain myself to a bunch of near-strangers, most of whom will not even be at the interview. That's a terrifying experience in itself.
Then there are the thousands of little things I need to take care of before school starts in three weeks: buying books, talking to my professors about how I'll finish this semester, doing pre-reading, figuring out how to see Wes while we're both taking more classes than ever before, working with three different schools to take five classes, wondering how long I'm going to want to drive myself an hour to school four days a week, finding someone who could drive me to the hospital if I go into labor while I'm at school, etc., etc., etc. I'm worrier...and, more importantly, a planner. I've gotten to a point in my life where I can mostly take my worries and convert them into actions. I'm worried that I might go into labor in the middle of class, so what can I do to be proactive about that so I don't worry about it every minute of every class in November? But there is just SO much to consider right now that something has to go, and I'm afraid that that's my concern for CPE. I want to get the most that I can out of the next two weeks, so I guess being aware of this issue is the first step. And the second is not blinking, because I'm pretty sure next Friday will be here before I know it.
The problem I am facing, however, is that this was never something I wanted to do. Being myself, I have made the most of it and recognized how valuable the CPE expereince is and will continue to be. But, also being myself, I am starting to get much more concerned abotu what the future holds. The day CPE ends, I'm driving out to Ohio for a candidacy retreat. Then school and field ed start, then a trip to Texas, my Endorsement interview, all the planning that goes into the spring, and, most obviously, the baby coming. I am having a harder time focusing on what is happening here as what WILL be happening soon looms closer and closer. I guess my biggest goal for the next two weeks is to ground myself in the moment, and not lose sight of what I am continuing to learn--while somehow still planning for the future.
So there you have a glimpse into my second-to-last-week-of-CPE brain. I really have learned a lot this summer. I started working on my Endorsement essay this weekend and realized that I was very smart to wait until this point to write it. I knew that a big part of Endorsement was the CPE experience, but I don't think I really understood how much I would grow through CPE (literally and figuratively!). Although I am coming out of it with many of the same convictions--like knowing that chaplaincy is not a part of my current call--I am also coming out with a different view of death, a new appreciation for relationships, and a deeper sense of myself.
Yet I'm kind of at a point where I'm ready to move on. I know I could keep learning about group dynamics, chaplaincy, and pastoral care in general for years to come, but that is not what's dominating my brain right now. First, there is this Endorsement essay. This 10-page paper, plus an interview, are the tools I have to explain myself to a bunch of near-strangers, most of whom will not even be at the interview. That's a terrifying experience in itself.
Then there are the thousands of little things I need to take care of before school starts in three weeks: buying books, talking to my professors about how I'll finish this semester, doing pre-reading, figuring out how to see Wes while we're both taking more classes than ever before, working with three different schools to take five classes, wondering how long I'm going to want to drive myself an hour to school four days a week, finding someone who could drive me to the hospital if I go into labor while I'm at school, etc., etc., etc. I'm worrier...and, more importantly, a planner. I've gotten to a point in my life where I can mostly take my worries and convert them into actions. I'm worried that I might go into labor in the middle of class, so what can I do to be proactive about that so I don't worry about it every minute of every class in November? But there is just SO much to consider right now that something has to go, and I'm afraid that that's my concern for CPE. I want to get the most that I can out of the next two weeks, so I guess being aware of this issue is the first step. And the second is not blinking, because I'm pretty sure next Friday will be here before I know it.
25.7.12
A Little About Death
In my last blog, I promised to write more about my feelings about death during this CPE experience. And then to drive home the point a little, I attended another death on Saturday morning.
Last week, when I was called in for the family whose father/husband had just died, I had no idea what I was doing. I have not been present after a death at all this summer. Some of my friends who are doing CPE other places probably think I'm crazy, but that is just how the experience has gone here. Our ICU chaplain was present for at least two deaths in her first week, but the rest of us have been lacking in this experience. I was glad that it took six full weeks of CPE before I had to be the chaplain at a death. I think we've talked a lot about the theory of presence, of what can be done, and when it is our job to just BE with the family. All of this is stuff I may have been able to figure out in the moment, but it was nice to have that in my mind when I headed up to the room.
I did a case study on that visit, and I was able to say that I am pretty proud of how I did with the death. I do not think that my pain at seeing others in grief got in the way of their grieving process. I was able to sense changes in the room that helped me determine my next steps. For example, I could tell when the family was ready to receive a bereavement packet, and I even knew who would be the best family member to receive it. I am much less concerned about my ability to deal with death after that experience. I am sure that it contributed to my confidence on this Saturday when I was with another family whose loved one had died.
But what has truly affected me--beyond my surprise at my own ability to be a presence for those in grief--is how we view death. Our society has taken death and set it aside. No longer do most of us see death as a part of life. Rather, it is THE end, the thing we all try to avoid for as long as possible, whether for ourselves or for our loved ones. In fact, during one seminar we attended, we found out that religious people are actually more likely to seek agressive, sometimes futile treatments and life-sustaining treatments than other people. So our faith--faith that leads us to believe that death is absolutely not the end--is leading us to want to prolong life no matter what the physical, emotional, and fiscal cost.
I think this is the culture that I have become accustomed to. I have had very little death in my own life, and I have never seen the "messy" side of death before working here. I have seen nice, cleaned up bodies that look like they're just sleeping. No tubes, no vents, no nothing but a body that appears to still have life in it. Yet my theology demands that I recognize death as more than that. Death is not necessarily easy or clean. Death can be quite messy and scary. But, more importantly, death is not the end. There is something more. I cannot and will not speculate as to what this "something more" might be. Yet I truly believe that it exists, and that death is simply a part of the wider journey of life, not the end of it.
I think I'm getting more comfortable with death as this summer goes on. Death is not any less sad for me than before. Although I have always believed that something comes after our mortal life and death, I also know that this does not make the grieving process any different. It is still difficult to not be with our loved ones. It is still hard for me to think of my grandmother who never got to see me get married, who will never meet her great-grandchildren, whose family misses her dearly. I also know that some deaths are more traumatic and faith-challenging than others. Life is not fair, and neither is death.
Yet I can see that, especially as people get older, perhaps our goal should not always be to prolong life, especially taking into consideration the quality of said life. Medicine and science are amazing. But so is our God. So if we can do such great things here on earth, what more will we be able to do when we are with God? How much better would our lives be if we were able to see death as part of the process, rather than the end? If you don't remember, Jesus talks about this in John 12:24, "I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds." Let us all produce many seeds...throughout this life and the next.
Last week, when I was called in for the family whose father/husband had just died, I had no idea what I was doing. I have not been present after a death at all this summer. Some of my friends who are doing CPE other places probably think I'm crazy, but that is just how the experience has gone here. Our ICU chaplain was present for at least two deaths in her first week, but the rest of us have been lacking in this experience. I was glad that it took six full weeks of CPE before I had to be the chaplain at a death. I think we've talked a lot about the theory of presence, of what can be done, and when it is our job to just BE with the family. All of this is stuff I may have been able to figure out in the moment, but it was nice to have that in my mind when I headed up to the room.
I did a case study on that visit, and I was able to say that I am pretty proud of how I did with the death. I do not think that my pain at seeing others in grief got in the way of their grieving process. I was able to sense changes in the room that helped me determine my next steps. For example, I could tell when the family was ready to receive a bereavement packet, and I even knew who would be the best family member to receive it. I am much less concerned about my ability to deal with death after that experience. I am sure that it contributed to my confidence on this Saturday when I was with another family whose loved one had died.
But what has truly affected me--beyond my surprise at my own ability to be a presence for those in grief--is how we view death. Our society has taken death and set it aside. No longer do most of us see death as a part of life. Rather, it is THE end, the thing we all try to avoid for as long as possible, whether for ourselves or for our loved ones. In fact, during one seminar we attended, we found out that religious people are actually more likely to seek agressive, sometimes futile treatments and life-sustaining treatments than other people. So our faith--faith that leads us to believe that death is absolutely not the end--is leading us to want to prolong life no matter what the physical, emotional, and fiscal cost.
I think this is the culture that I have become accustomed to. I have had very little death in my own life, and I have never seen the "messy" side of death before working here. I have seen nice, cleaned up bodies that look like they're just sleeping. No tubes, no vents, no nothing but a body that appears to still have life in it. Yet my theology demands that I recognize death as more than that. Death is not necessarily easy or clean. Death can be quite messy and scary. But, more importantly, death is not the end. There is something more. I cannot and will not speculate as to what this "something more" might be. Yet I truly believe that it exists, and that death is simply a part of the wider journey of life, not the end of it.
I think I'm getting more comfortable with death as this summer goes on. Death is not any less sad for me than before. Although I have always believed that something comes after our mortal life and death, I also know that this does not make the grieving process any different. It is still difficult to not be with our loved ones. It is still hard for me to think of my grandmother who never got to see me get married, who will never meet her great-grandchildren, whose family misses her dearly. I also know that some deaths are more traumatic and faith-challenging than others. Life is not fair, and neither is death.
Yet I can see that, especially as people get older, perhaps our goal should not always be to prolong life, especially taking into consideration the quality of said life. Medicine and science are amazing. But so is our God. So if we can do such great things here on earth, what more will we be able to do when we are with God? How much better would our lives be if we were able to see death as part of the process, rather than the end? If you don't remember, Jesus talks about this in John 12:24, "I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds." Let us all produce many seeds...throughout this life and the next.
21.7.12
A big week
I've been pretty remiss about writing my blog during CPE. Most of this is due to my lack of interest in thinking about the hospital when I'm not there. My experience has not been terrible, but that does not mean that I want to go home and write more about what I have been doing.
So, at this point, I have dealt quite a few new experiences. During July, we have really settled into a “normal” routine, and I pretty much know what to expect on any given week. I will have some patients who are appreciative of my visit but don’t want to talk or don’t want any help. I will have some patients who say they need nothing and then talk to me for half an hour. And I will have patients who break down or even call for a chaplain to visit. I don’t have many codes or alerts in my area, so that makes everything fairly routine.
Last Friday, I was on call and I got called into the hospital during the night for the first time—and then the second. The first was a sad case that is still working itself out here in the ICU. We’ll see what happens with that. The second was early on Saturday morning, when a patient died as his body just finally shut down from Parkinson’s. I spent about three hours with the family. I think I did a pretty good job of being a presence with them, and I was able to help them on a number of issues. This was my first experience with death in the hospital, and I was surprised by how well I handled it. Although tears for the family came to my eyes at several points during the meeting, I was able to be “helpful,” if that’s even the right word.
Between my on call shift last night and my 12-hour duty at the hospital today, I have been “in charge” of the pastoral care department for 24 straight hours. Last night proved fairly uneventful, and I got a lot more rest than I did last Friday. Today, however, has been one thing after another. I attended my first alert for a heart attack, and I was just amazed by how much pain someone can be in with no outward signs. I saw two stroke alerts, and what that can do to a family.
And I saw my second death in the hospital. I arrived to be with the family during a 20-minute attempt to resuscitate the patient, which was terrifying in a lot of ways. I could see the heart monitor the whole time (we were waiting a little way from the room, but I could see the main desk’s monitor), and it registered “0” beats per minute for most of that time. I felt like I knew where the situation was going, and maybe the family did too, but I could not tell them that and it was painful. They were actually pretty calm upon hearing the news, although they were obviously in grief. I think one of the things that has struck me most during my time here is people’s attitudes toward death. I will make sure to write more soon on that topic. Until then, we’ll pray that the hospital remains peaceful!
So, at this point, I have dealt quite a few new experiences. During July, we have really settled into a “normal” routine, and I pretty much know what to expect on any given week. I will have some patients who are appreciative of my visit but don’t want to talk or don’t want any help. I will have some patients who say they need nothing and then talk to me for half an hour. And I will have patients who break down or even call for a chaplain to visit. I don’t have many codes or alerts in my area, so that makes everything fairly routine.
Last Friday, I was on call and I got called into the hospital during the night for the first time—and then the second. The first was a sad case that is still working itself out here in the ICU. We’ll see what happens with that. The second was early on Saturday morning, when a patient died as his body just finally shut down from Parkinson’s. I spent about three hours with the family. I think I did a pretty good job of being a presence with them, and I was able to help them on a number of issues. This was my first experience with death in the hospital, and I was surprised by how well I handled it. Although tears for the family came to my eyes at several points during the meeting, I was able to be “helpful,” if that’s even the right word.
Between my on call shift last night and my 12-hour duty at the hospital today, I have been “in charge” of the pastoral care department for 24 straight hours. Last night proved fairly uneventful, and I got a lot more rest than I did last Friday. Today, however, has been one thing after another. I attended my first alert for a heart attack, and I was just amazed by how much pain someone can be in with no outward signs. I saw two stroke alerts, and what that can do to a family.
And I saw my second death in the hospital. I arrived to be with the family during a 20-minute attempt to resuscitate the patient, which was terrifying in a lot of ways. I could see the heart monitor the whole time (we were waiting a little way from the room, but I could see the main desk’s monitor), and it registered “0” beats per minute for most of that time. I felt like I knew where the situation was going, and maybe the family did too, but I could not tell them that and it was painful. They were actually pretty calm upon hearing the news, although they were obviously in grief. I think one of the things that has struck me most during my time here is people’s attitudes toward death. I will make sure to write more soon on that topic. Until then, we’ll pray that the hospital remains peaceful!
30.6.12
Shepherds
One of the many metaphors we use for Jesus is "shepherd." In fact, this is one of the "I am" statements from the Gospel of John: "I am the good shepherd." Unless I'm mistaken, we read this passage every year of the lectionary, hearing again how Jesus is a shepherd to us. Psalm 23 was paired with it this year: "The Lord is my shepherd." It is clear to us that Jesus is the shepherd, even if we are not sure what a shepherd is or what his job really entails.
A fellow CPE chaplain and I were talking yesterday. In Spanish (and, I suspect, several other languages), the word for "pastor" and "shepherd" is the same. So, when I introduced myself to a Spanish-speaking patient the other day, I asid, "Soy una pastora del hospital." In context, I know she understood that I am not, in fact, leading sheep around the hospital. Yet the meanings are intricately linked, something we have lost by having two separate words.
What does it mean to be a shepherd for those to whom we minister?
In my supervision with Ted today, we talked a lot about the amount of work pastors are expected to do, coupled with the amount of advocacy and other voluntary activities that pastors do willingly. There simply is not enough time to do everything. There is no way I can write sermons, visit parishoners, teach classes, lead worship, etc., etc., etc., as well as advocate for environmental issues, humanitarian rights, orphans, starving children in Africa, peace, and the many, many other things that I think God is calling us to do. Not to mention taking care of my house and family, reading a book for fun, and sleeping. I just don't have enough hours in my day--even now.
This led to a discussion about how best to be an advocate for those who are advocating, which led me right back to the discussion with Sarang about shepherding. Although I am certainly no expert on being a shepherd in the strictest sense of the word, I do know a few things. Shepherds don't lead each individual sheep to the water, then help them drink. They don't bring each sheep to green grass, plucking it and hand-feeding them. They don't even worry about sheep who are a little farther away from the herd.
Rather, their job is to bring the sheep to places where they can find the good water, the delicious grass, and the shade tree. They keep an eye on all the sheep at once, but are also able to focus on an individual when she is in need. When one gets lost and needs personal attention, the shepherd will even leave the rest of the herd to find him, trusting that they will be okay on their own. Perhaps I should work to embody this role a little better. I want to recognize my congregants as individuals who have each been blessed with many gifts, but also have several weaknesses to overcome. If their strength is advocating for something I also believe in, perhaps my role is to support them in their advocacy, not necessarily attending meetings and events myself, but encouraging them in their justice-making. If I know of something or someone who can help, perhaps I can lead those people to each other, and then let them figure out the next steps. I can't do everything I want to do. But I can help others achieve whatever is most important to them through my encouragement, support, prayer, and help.
A fellow CPE chaplain and I were talking yesterday. In Spanish (and, I suspect, several other languages), the word for "pastor" and "shepherd" is the same. So, when I introduced myself to a Spanish-speaking patient the other day, I asid, "Soy una pastora del hospital." In context, I know she understood that I am not, in fact, leading sheep around the hospital. Yet the meanings are intricately linked, something we have lost by having two separate words.
What does it mean to be a shepherd for those to whom we minister?
In my supervision with Ted today, we talked a lot about the amount of work pastors are expected to do, coupled with the amount of advocacy and other voluntary activities that pastors do willingly. There simply is not enough time to do everything. There is no way I can write sermons, visit parishoners, teach classes, lead worship, etc., etc., etc., as well as advocate for environmental issues, humanitarian rights, orphans, starving children in Africa, peace, and the many, many other things that I think God is calling us to do. Not to mention taking care of my house and family, reading a book for fun, and sleeping. I just don't have enough hours in my day--even now.
This led to a discussion about how best to be an advocate for those who are advocating, which led me right back to the discussion with Sarang about shepherding. Although I am certainly no expert on being a shepherd in the strictest sense of the word, I do know a few things. Shepherds don't lead each individual sheep to the water, then help them drink. They don't bring each sheep to green grass, plucking it and hand-feeding them. They don't even worry about sheep who are a little farther away from the herd.
Rather, their job is to bring the sheep to places where they can find the good water, the delicious grass, and the shade tree. They keep an eye on all the sheep at once, but are also able to focus on an individual when she is in need. When one gets lost and needs personal attention, the shepherd will even leave the rest of the herd to find him, trusting that they will be okay on their own. Perhaps I should work to embody this role a little better. I want to recognize my congregants as individuals who have each been blessed with many gifts, but also have several weaknesses to overcome. If their strength is advocating for something I also believe in, perhaps my role is to support them in their advocacy, not necessarily attending meetings and events myself, but encouraging them in their justice-making. If I know of something or someone who can help, perhaps I can lead those people to each other, and then let them figure out the next steps. I can't do everything I want to do. But I can help others achieve whatever is most important to them through my encouragement, support, prayer, and help.
22.6.12
Settling in
I'm starting to feel pretty "settled in" at the hospital--at least as settled as one can be at a hospital. I'm getting to know some of the staff, I'm getting more comfortable with "cold call" visits, and I haven't gotten lost or confused while wandering through the maze this week. I DID find Wes lost and confused earlier in the week when he was trying to visit a parishoner and I managed to get him where he belonged. But I'm really starting to feel comfortable with the whole situation. I'm very glad that the nearest hospital to me is a community hospital, not a trauma center. This is a good learning experience, not a terrifying one. Plus, considering how exhausted I've been as is, I can't imagine constant pages, 24-hour on calls, and the other pressures that go along with working in a trauma center.
One of the biggest things I'm trying to do is to really be more aware of myself and my relationships with other people. I've heard over and over that CPE is important to one's development in ministry, and that it's really about learning about yourself. I've been trying to take this to heart while also remembering that I am here to help patients through what is frequently a challenging point in their spiritual lives. I want to make sure that I'm properly caring for others, and not just myself. Yet I know that I have much to learn here.
On my final evaluation from St. Mark, Linda wrote that I have incredibly high standards for myself. Although she pointed I nearly always meet them, it is unfair to me and my sanity to always expect perfection. Linda told me that she is particularly concerned about this part of my personality in light of the soon-to-be-baby. There is absolutely no way I can continue to expect myself to get A's, keep my house perfectly clean, work effectively at field ed, and take care of Daniel while caring for a baby. It's just impossible. So I've been trying to keep that in the back of my mind as I work this summer. Although perfection is nice, it's definitely not necessary. No one else holds me to perfection, so why should I?
One of the biggest things I'm trying to do is to really be more aware of myself and my relationships with other people. I've heard over and over that CPE is important to one's development in ministry, and that it's really about learning about yourself. I've been trying to take this to heart while also remembering that I am here to help patients through what is frequently a challenging point in their spiritual lives. I want to make sure that I'm properly caring for others, and not just myself. Yet I know that I have much to learn here.
On my final evaluation from St. Mark, Linda wrote that I have incredibly high standards for myself. Although she pointed I nearly always meet them, it is unfair to me and my sanity to always expect perfection. Linda told me that she is particularly concerned about this part of my personality in light of the soon-to-be-baby. There is absolutely no way I can continue to expect myself to get A's, keep my house perfectly clean, work effectively at field ed, and take care of Daniel while caring for a baby. It's just impossible. So I've been trying to keep that in the back of my mind as I work this summer. Although perfection is nice, it's definitely not necessary. No one else holds me to perfection, so why should I?
I think one of the great things about being pregnant during this time is that I'm learning how not to push myself too hard. I simply can't work as hard as I used to. I'm doing a pretty good job of walking around and then taking a break. When I walk around the hospital, I try to take the stairs, but I get winded really easily, so I don't beat myself up if I grab the elevator one time. I've gotten my eating schedule down pretty much perfectly at this point, and I feel no shame in eating during our morning sessions, or leaving my floor for 15 minutes or so to take a snack break. I've also been doing a fairly decent job of admitting that I need to go to bed by 10 some nights so that I can make it through the next day. I even asked for help today! I asked Wes to go over and take care of Dan so I can take a nap in anticipation of maybe getting called in tonight. My biggest problem right now is that my body can't/won't do all the things I'm used to it doing, and that's frustrating. I'm going to be terrible at getting old...lol.
I have had some really great conversations this week with patients. We did a didactic last week on reflective listening skills. Ted told us that most pastor-type people are more likely to give moral advice, or be supportive of a person than to employ reflective listening. He pointed out that, although it is not always the best tool, it is important for us to learn how to be the listener in the conversation, not the primary talker. For this reason, we need to learn how to properly respond in each situation so that people will feel free to disclose more information, to tell us their stories, to share their faith struggles. This will not happen if we judge them, tell them what to do, or speak down to them. As someone who loves to talk, I am trying to become a more effective and better listener so that the patients feel heard.
I'm on call again tonight. Last week was very peaceful, although I woke up every 3 hours or so in a blind panic, thinking that I had missed the pager going off at some point. When I woke up at 8:15 and saw no pages, I pleasantly turned it off and slept for a little while longer. We'll see how tonight goes. I'll also be here from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. on Sunday, so that will definitely give me something to think/talk/write about!
I have had some really great conversations this week with patients. We did a didactic last week on reflective listening skills. Ted told us that most pastor-type people are more likely to give moral advice, or be supportive of a person than to employ reflective listening. He pointed out that, although it is not always the best tool, it is important for us to learn how to be the listener in the conversation, not the primary talker. For this reason, we need to learn how to properly respond in each situation so that people will feel free to disclose more information, to tell us their stories, to share their faith struggles. This will not happen if we judge them, tell them what to do, or speak down to them. As someone who loves to talk, I am trying to become a more effective and better listener so that the patients feel heard.
I'm on call again tonight. Last week was very peaceful, although I woke up every 3 hours or so in a blind panic, thinking that I had missed the pager going off at some point. When I woke up at 8:15 and saw no pages, I pleasantly turned it off and slept for a little while longer. We'll see how tonight goes. I'll also be here from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. on Sunday, so that will definitely give me something to think/talk/write about!
15.6.12
Yet Another Beginning
Well, I’ve successfully made it through two weeks of CPE and I’m starting to feel more competent with each passing day. I’m still pretty nervous about what the summer will bring, especially as I am on call tonight and there is no telling what might happen. At the same time, I am starting to feel like this is something I can actually do with grace, and I don’t feel like I’m just surviving each day.
Last week was an interesting, stressful, busy week. We had a full day of hospital orientation that was basically just plain exhausting. Then we spent Tuesday and Wednesday doing a lot of CPE-specific orientation. This, too was quite exhausting but at least it was specific to my situation, rather than just about working at the hospital. By Wednesday afternoon, we spent some time on our floors for the summer, which we continued to do through Friday.
I’m going to be working in telemetry, which basically consists of any long-term patients who are in need of heart monitoring. They are not in serious condition, like those in ICU, but they are in varying need of acute care. Many come in for a day or two before heading back home, to nursing homes, or to some sort of hospice care. Others have more long-term needs, especially certain conditions which cause them to be in isolation, whether contact or airborne.
I have several goals for my time in CPE, and I think they are all reasonable as well as long-term. One came out of my time at St. Mark this past year, which is my goal of creating a better prayer life. Although Wes and I are good about praying over meals and at night, I do not feel like prayer is central to my everyday life, but I would like it to be. If the center of my life is God, then the center of each day should be prayer. One piece of this is also my fear of praying for others aloud. It is one thing to read a pre-written prayer on Sunday morning in worship. It is quite another to pray for someone in physical, emotional, or spiritual distress. I worked on this throughout field education, and I will continue to do so this summer and beyond.
My other two goals are probably not too surprising for anyone who knows me. First, I want to learn how to be with people who are in distress without letting my emotions get the best of me. I want to learn how to express my emotions in a healthy way, rather than bursting into tears because someone else is in some sort of pain. I think there is no better place to learn this than in the hospital. So far, I have not had too many problems, but I also have not been at the bedside of someone who is dying or has died, so we will see how I work toward this goal throughout the summer. Complicating my handle on my emotions, of course, is my pregnancy.
Finally, I am working toward being less…anal…about my agenda. I like to make my plans and have everything figured out. While this in itself is not a problem and almost always an accomplishable goal, I also have a tendency to get frustrated when my agenda is not complete. Therefore, I plan to use this summer to become more aware of what causes frustration. As a pastor, I will have to be available to my parishioners when they are in need—I can’t just get frustrated because of some interruption in my schedule. My job is about people, not about the agenda. I especially want to work on this goal in lightof the baby coming in December. My agenda is definitely not going to be the number one priority when the baby is hungry, and I want to make sure that I deal with this in a healthy way, rather than getting upset.
So there you have it. Plenty of goals and a full summer, but it seems to be going well so far. I’m interested to see what the summer brings and how much I can learn from this experience.
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