There’s something about having to entrust your personal wellbeing into the hands of others, of feeling helpless when you have tubes stuck into your hands and wires attached to your chest. When you need the help of nurses to even go to the toilet.
It is at times like this that one is reminded of one’s humanity and also of the humanity of others sharing the same hospital ward that despite whatever achievements we have accomplished and whatever status we have gained in life, we are all but frail flesh and blood.
This is something that I have become increasingly aware of during my stays in hospital over the past two years for issues such as chest pains and limb weakness. Thank God that tests proved that these incidents were not serious. However, they served to remind me that at the end of the day, we are all part of the same human family.
During a hospital stay at a mixed ward last year for chest pains (which eventually proved to be of gastroenteritis origin), my bed was beside a woman who appeared to have special needs. There were times when she kept crying and shrieking, and refused to take her medicine.
At one point, as the nurses were tending to her, she apparently soiled herself. The unmistakable stench filled the room as the nurses closed the curtain around her bed to clean her up. One male nurse hurriedly sprayed air freshener around her bed to remove the smell.
I was having my dinner at the time and I did my best not to let the situation bother me. I was impressed at the swift and efficient work of the nurses, and my respect for them rose as I realised that this was probably what they had to do on a daily basis
On another occasion, when I was in a holding area waiting to be given a bed, an elderly woman, apparently suffering from dementia, was groaning in pain and shouted at the top of her voice demanding to be allowed to return home. The doctors and nurses spoke to her patiently and did their best to calm her fears.
These incidents showed me the extent of people’s sufferings, which I would not have witnessed if I had not been in hospital with them, and they certainly gave me a lesson in compassion.
There’s also something about the camaraderie that emerges among patients in a hospital when we realise that our well-being rests in the hands of the physician and his/her team, and the only thing to do is to recognise that, as patients, we are all on a journey together, towards better health we hope.
This is when the masks of self-sufficiency and pride in one’s own capabilities are set aside and we see each other as fellow human beings on the same journey of life.
Sometimes, I feel that it is precisely in these moments of helplessness that God reminds us of who we are His vulnerable children totally dependent on His kindness and providence.
It is also at these times, that one feels the need to ask for the prayers of others for healing and recovery, thus reminding one of the need for community. And I believe that it is precisely in sharing one’s vulnerabilities with others that true communal bonds are forged.
I remember the late American Jesuit priest and writer, Father John Powell, saying something along these lines, “It is easy to forget the people we have laughed with, but it is impossible to forget those we have cried with.”
No one enjoys having to go to the hospital. But as a Christian, I am beginning to see that it is perhaps one of God’s ways of reminding us who we are that we are not invulnerable, that we need the support of our religious communities, and that at the end of the day, our lives here are but a journey towards our real home.
