Man to Man

The hours slowly creep by and the day winds on. Interaction after interaction, I am met with rejection. The people don't seem to need me. I'm not wanted. I wander the halls of the sick, trying to bring comfort to people in excruciating pain.

The frustration mounts. I doubt more and more why I'm spending my time in this learning environment.

I prepare for the big quit. I run through the contingency plans in my head. It's over. I'm done imposing this on the patients. I'm only making things worse.

But I hold on, and hold out. I open up to my supervisor, let him know all the mishegas I am feeling. Let him know how anxiety-building it is, how frustrated I am. I let him know I feel like I'm just wasting hours.

So he gives me suggestions on how to make things better. He helps me devise an action plan. Try making visits on a non-pediatric floor, he says. I do. And again, rejection. No thanks, they say.

And at the lowest of my depth, I go for a walk down the halls, I waste a few minutes, and try to make sense of it all. What am I doing? I cry out.

No answer.

I head to the restroom, and step up to the urinal. Relief, for the moment. And from beside me, I hear a voice.

"I'm Jewish like you." He says. Great. "Is there a Temple in this building?"

Yes. We'll be sacrificing the next load of sheep at 4:30. I hold back.

"Yes. There's an interfaith chapel down the hall." I finish my business, and zip up. I move to the sink. He does the same. There are tears in his eyes.

"My father's in surgery. I want to go say a prayer." Opportunity on a platter. I make my move.

"Hi, I'm David. I'm a chaplain intern here. I'd love to walk you down to the chapel, if you're interested."

A half-hour later, prayers recited, tears shed, and stories told, we part our ways. I walk back down the same halls, trying to hold back the smirk on my lips.

Ironic God; ironic life. Time to get back moving.

Comments

[Jesse]

Further evidence that some of the greatest moments in life happen in rooms full of shit.