Mortality

Last night I wrote a fairly long and detailed blog post, mostly about being aware of one's own emotional state, and communicating that to others around us - that's important in relationships. (I wrote out one fairly detailed illustration from my first marriage.) But by the end of the post, I came around to having healthy boundaries; so you get this instead.

I will tell you about my weekend at a big hospital where I work as a chaplain. We get a lot of bad accidents. I was called to the Emergency Department because we were about to get an accident victim, multiple fatalities, and this was the only survivor that we knew of. My job is mostly to stand at the ready, help deal with family as they come in, and maybe help with the staff if they start feeling overwhelmed. I got there, we're all waiting for the ambulance, and the only thing we know about the victim is age and sex.

Those two pieces of information happened to correspond with someone I care about a lot, but haven't had much contact with recently - and who might plausible have been in the area. What are the odds? Practically zero. But there's a nervousness that built up that I didn't know what to do with. If I ended up talking with the patient, or dealing with the patient's family, I would have had confirmation: this is not my friend (unless of course it is, in which case I would have immediately called for backup).

So: patient comes in, surrounded by EMTs with a neck brace on and I don't actually get to see much of anything except the flurry of activity. I stand outside the room (with curtain drawn) until a nurse tells me that, as far as they know, no one is on the way and I can leave, they'll call me back if they need me. I walk out of Emergency, into the hallway, and slowly feel myself fall apart. Halfway down the stairs (and I always take the stairs), I have to sit down and just start sobbing. Pull myself together, get back to the office, break down again.

I hadn't gotten much sleep the night before (because of other Cat 1 trauma victims), and I'd like to think I would have held it together better if I had. But really, have you ever seriously contemplated the mortality of those around you? Even working in a hospital, even working as a hospice chaplain, I can't say that I really thought about what it would mean for this person to die: there's something very specific about it, and it was very immediate yesterday afternoon.

Now I'm listening to Eric Revis' tribute to Kenny Kirkland (and my laundry go 'round and 'round in the dryer), and wondering how you're doing.