#Nursing Home in Brockham

[southwarkcofe]

Hands, Hope and Oxygen

Jacqueline Dean, Reader in the United Benefice of Christ Church Brockham Green & St Bartholomew’s Leigh and a Hospital Chaplain writes…

He reached for my hand and I took it.  Despite my goggles and mask across my face, I smiled with my eyes. As he closed his own eyes then, for him my mask and goggles and gown disappeared; my voice became the voice of those he wished to be there from times past, and times present.  I held his hand as he pressed it to his cheek, his eyes still closed, and held it there a long time. In that moment, my blue gloved hand became the hand of all those he loved and remembered, who could not be physically present with him at the last. When it came, that last letting go of breath, it was as if Christ had become his oxygen, and a moment of almost sacred stillness.

OXYGEN & HOPE

I am part of the hospital chaplaincy team at East Surrey Hospital run by Surrey and Sussex Healthcare NHS Trust (SASH), where, as a Lay Chaplain I have ministered for the past four years to both patients, staff and their families. Sometimes, we are there to hold the space, and sometimes simply to dissolve into the background……

Chaplaincy is a very distinct Ministry; by its nature we are called to walk with people of faith, different faiths, some faith, and no faith at all.  It is a ministry of presence, where we are called to meet people as they are and, in their need - being alongside people who are often in stress, in difficult and challenging situations and asking the question, “how can I help you?” In a way, to bring the hands, the voice and face of Christ into our stricken communities, even when sometimes one is constrained from speaking His name.

It is a ministry to be a presence of hope, whatever the situation or outcome may be. It is a ministry of holding and of letting go; of conversation and silence; of memories of the past and what may lie ahead. Most significantly, a ministry of being in the moment for those around and in need. Sometimes connections drill down deep and are built over a long period of time. Sometimes they are transitory in nature and powerfully intense.

The arrival of the coronavirus and the response to it in the hospital setting has been a challenge for us in hospital chaplaincy with circumstances that we would have found unimaginable only a few weeks before.

The Trust provided support for the chaplaincy team to ensure that we would be comfortable with seeing patients with Covid-19. For us, spiritual care could still be offered, even from behind masks, goggles or visors, and cold blue rubber gloves. To avoid the use of books or paper, I needed to learn more scripture and liturgy off by heart than usual. The 23rd 121, 139 Psalms, the Nunc Dimittis, the Prayer to the Ephesian’s, the Lord’s Prayer became my refrain.

In line with Government advice visitor restrictions were put in place at the hospital, which meant that friends and relatives could not always see their loved ones. This was heart wrenching for us, that in some cases patients could not be reassured by their physical presence, and their loved ones could not be reassured by being with them.

In cases, where possible, the hospital let immediate family members in to visit their loved one at the end of their life. They had to follow guidelines and wear PPE, yet even so, these moments together, where they could touch, hold, see and say goodbye were very precious. After leaving the ward sometimes the only support I could offer was to let them cry, and yes, sometimes to cry with them.

Many of our elderly patients were confused and fearful….. Protective equipment turned familiar faces into strange ones, so trying to create, a safe and comforting place was a challenge. We became practised at smiling with eyes only, while trying to make raised voices to the hard of hearing seem gentle and reassuring.  

I trained to be a singer and I never thought this would become part of my hospital ministry, but in these last weeks I found myself singing with and to patients hymns, modern worship songs, monastic chants, popular songs from the thirties and forties- even singing ‘smile, though your heart is breaking’ with the nursing staff on one of the wards late one night.  On one occasion I was singing Amazing Grace to one patient in a ward when two of the other patients joined in and as our voices softly filled the air, so it seemed the still peaceful presence of The Holy Spirit filled the ward…

I have so many memories from the last intense weeks. Holding the phone to a patient’s ear, while their loved one said goodbye, or so their Minister could pray with them. Quietly reading Compline to a priest who was reaching the end of his life. Offering prayers, as life support ended or just sitting quietly holding a patient’s hand.

Then there were the times, when those little personal treats mean so much.

I recall one elderly patient, who not only missed her family, but also missed eating, of all things, a KitKat bar. When I spoke with staff, to bring a few in, she took a gleeful delight in according them the status of elicit contraband and hiding them from the ward staff, even though they had given permission for her to have them! Such small pleasures as these, usually taken for granted, assumed a joyful and surprising significance; witnessing these simple joys for some, gladdened the heart as we walked the valley of shadows with others…  

Along with my colleagues I have given out rosaries, holding crosses, Bibles, Qur’ans, knitted hearts and prayer cards, anything that would bring comfort and healing to those in need of it.  Sometimes such little things, given to patients and also to their families, could bridge distances in unexpected ways; though held in separate hands, apart in different places, they became tokens of love and assurance between them and symbolically brought people together. The children in a family whose grandad was at the end of his life, and who could not visit, had been given little knitted hearts as tokens of comfort. After he died, I have since been told they have become very treasured possessions, kept beneath their pillows at night, a connection with the person that had meant so much to them.  

Hearts that were apart are reunited

COVID-19 is such a cruel disease. It deprives us of contact and touch with those we love, limiting how we say good-bye at funerals, leaving us standing in the loneliness of our loss. Our team have been contacting families whose loved one sadly died at the hospital from coronavirus and other illnesses to offer pastoral care and support, inviting them, when we are able to gather again, to a ‘Time to Remember Service’. Their stories are often heart breaking. One bereaved husband, sitting in self isolation at home, grieving the loss of his beloved wife, from whom he had never been apart for 55 years, simply said “I just want someone to hold me.”

As I spoke with nursing staff it was evident that they were facing situations they had never experienced. Nursing teams drafted in from different areas of the hospital, found themselves learning to adapt to the different needs and circumstances in the face of this pandemic. The dedication of the medical staff continued to shine through despite this unpreceded situation. As a chaplaincy team we do a lot of work in the background and are called not just to be alongside patients and families but also to care for and support staff.  Walking the wards in the evening, and called upon to be that listening ear, I heard the staff’s stories. Some who have families who are far away in other countries. Some staff moved out of their family homes into hotels, so they could protect their families, patients. One paramedic recently confided to me that he had not been able to hold his children for two months. I saw staff anxious, often emotionally and physically exhausted, but still resiliently continuing to put their own fears, concerns, and comfort to one side, to care for others.

In fact, it was humbling to continually witness the tenderness and care that medical staff gave to patients. One of my most privileged moments was at the height of the crisis, in a ward where tragically many had died that day. I was sitting and praying at one bedside, and hearing the voice of a nurse speaking softly, sitting with another patient nearby… “Don’t worry ... you are safe… Keep drinking in the oxygen. Do not be afraid.” Then there was tragic loss of much-loved colleagues and friends among the staff. The Chapel become a haven for remembrance with condolence books to write in, candles to light, little knitted mementoes, and other tokens to place on the altar or to take away. It became a space to seek peace, and a safe place for tears to be shed.

Yet, amid all this, there were also moments of grace…where the chaplaincy team sensed the ever-present movement of the Spirit across the hospital.  Receiving requests for prayer from matrons and nurses at shift handovers, setting up a spirituality resource table where we found that the free bibles, Quran’s, rosaries, prayer cards constantly needed replenishing throughout the day. And there were moments of joy, giving thanks in prayer with one of our cleaners, for the birth of a grandchild - remembering the gift of life, in the midst of mortality.

Putting on PPE in ICU

As my niece, who is an anaesthetist working in Intensive care in a London Hospital said, sometimes all we can offer is OXYGEN AND HOPE.  Her words confirmed to me that chaplaincy is fundamentally about going into the heart of the community to be and bring the oxygen of hope.

As I walk the wards of the hospital, I pray my Christian presence is of some comfort to those around, a hopeful presence, even in the darkest of times. The words from a familiar hymn runs through my mind… ‘I will hold the Christ light for you in the night time of your fear I will hold my hand out to you, speak the peace you long to hear. I will weep when you are weeping; when you laugh, I’ll laugh with you; I will share your joy and sorrow, till we see this journey through’.

From a personal perspective, I feel incredibly grateful for the rainbow of love and hope this ministry offers. I give daily thanks to God that he has enabled me to have the opportunity to share in this work, alongside such dedicated and caring chaplaincy colleagues.

My prayer life has become a precious solace as I processed the grief and rawness of emotions. Familiar verses of scripture have taken on a greater significance, and I find that I live more deeply connected to them …” Nothing can separate us from the love of God…”     “How wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ…Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us” ….  “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. …… “Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace”.

These, and others, have resonated throughout my daily experience – to encourage, embrace, comfort, uplift and strengthen for the tasks that will lie ahead. Challenging though the last weeks have been, it has also been a time of immense and intense privilege. It continues to stretch, widen, and deepen my understanding of the nature of service.

Children's pictures lining the wall of Emergency Department

Thus, when leading prayer for the medical staff just before a shift handover in the Intensive Care Unit and Emergency Department, I have used words from a familiar prayer - adapted so that it is inclusive for all, in the hospital’s multi faith setting.

God has no body but yours, No hands, no feet on earth but yours, Yours are the eyes with which He looks Compassion on this world, Yours are the feet with which He walks to do good, Yours are the hands, with which He blesses all the world. Yours are the hands, yours are the feet, Yours are the eyes,

You are His body.

God has no body now, but yours.

May God bless our compassionate service today/tonight may He keep us and our love ones safe and hold us all in the palm of His hands.

Amen

Adapted from words attributed to Teresa of Avila (1515–1582)

Jacqueline Dean came to East Surrey Hospital on placement as part of a post Graduate Certificate in Chaplaincy and stayed on as a Voluntary Chaplain where pre prior to the pandemic she provided spiritual care in the Stroke ward and Acute Medical Unit. She is currently employed by SASH as a Bank and On Call Chaplain and studying for an MA in Chaplaincy.