In my last blog I mentioned about blessing a dead baby in my first month of employment as a hospital chaplain. During that same month another woman’s situation touched me. She was terminally ill. She was 61 and a wife and mother. She did her husbands books for the family business. She had been trying to hand things over to him so that he would know what to do when she wasn’t around. The problem was he wasn’t ready to accept the fact that she was dying. The woman was a churchgoer and had been referred by her vicar to the chaplaincy service.

She came into the hospital for symptom control but she was obviously dying and suffering. She was very nauseous and had an NG tube draining yuk from her system. I had chatted with her a few times but the other chaplain was seeing her mainly. Whilst I was stood there one day she just suddenly piped up “What do you think will happen to me when I die?” This woman wanted to be comforted at that point and reassured. How could I do that? I told her that I wasn’t completely sure but that I felt we went into the arms of a loving God. I told her I had a poem/prayer that I felt expressed what it might be like and I offered it to her as something that gave me comfort and I hope it was of some use to her. I gave her Janet Morely’s “And You Held Me” prayer. She told me she found it helpful, and she did seem slightly more at ease. She was moved shortly after that to the hospice.

That whole encounter made me think about what do I really believe about death, dying and heaven. And also how can I express those beliefs. I was struck by the sincerity of her question and the importance that I answered it and didn’t dodge the issue because of my uncomfortableness.

Another learning experience for me was with a Greek speaking family. The patient was a young man who lived in this country. He had been involved in a motorcycle accident and was in our ICU.

Since starting work, one of the things I had taken to doing was wandering through ICU on a regular basis. It’s a hard place for relatives to be and I think being a visible presence helps, so that people, who may not ask for you, will actually have a chat when you’re passing. This way of being has led to several deep encounters with patients and their relatives.

This particular patient was unconscious so I couldn’t build a relationship with him. His Mum came over from Greece to be with her son. She spoke no English but took comfort from my visits. I would just stand with her beside the bed and I would put my arm around her and say a prayer. Her son did get better. When he woke up she wanted to go to a Greek Orthodox church and give thanks for his recovery. This was communicated to me via a sister who had arrived who spoke a little English. I was able to give them a list of churches and they went away very happy.

What struck me about that encounter was the importance of companionable silence and the power of touch as a communicator and healer. That mother was so grateful for my visits yet I did so little!