"Whatsoever you do, to the least of my people, that you do unto me"

April 6, 2009

I'm starting my Monday with a range of emotions (imagine that). But this Monday morning, they feel legitimate. I feel angry and taken advantage of and used. I feel duped and deceived and stupid. I feel sad and tired. Patient X is the cause. Patient X was one of my first patients in 2006. He was sick and lonely and tired of living his life in a non-productive way. He told me he would take whatever help I offered. I offered, and for a year, he affirmed my calling as a social worker. All the text book interventions worked. I told him that he should always work twice as hard as I was working for him, and if he did, he'd always have my assistance. And he did, for awhile. I definitely learned some rookie social worker lessons along the way about boundaries and distance. But I stayed in touch with patient X, through some very difficult bumps in his road. I answered his many calls where he told me how grateful he was, not because it was necessary, but because he seemed to just need to have someone to call on a good day or a bad day. While exhausting, I felt it was important. So, for 2 1/2 years, I have spoken with or written to or stood at the bedside of patient X.

Last week, we realized patient X is nearing the end of his life. I spent countless hours helping him filter through the medical information to make decisions about his end of life plans. I assured him that we would try to keep him out of pain. And when he grew angry and belligerent because of the increasing pain, I let him lash out at me. I absorbed the blows and promised him for the 200 millionth time that he could not push me away despite how difficult he was becoming.

I got an order for some additional pain meds and had a nurse admister them. I let him sleep and gave him time for the medicine to soften his anger. It worked. Or so it seemed. Friday afternoon, after some pain relief, he seemed to be back to his old self, talkative, sweet, repetitive but good. A good man. I believed him when he agreed to let me send him to hospice and I believed him when he said he wanted one last chance to invest in people they ways he felt people had invested in him. I called for the ambulance worn out but satisfied.

But this morning, I find that I was wrong. My judgement was wrong. My instincts were wrong. My assessments and evaluations were wrong. And I want to cry a little. Patient X did leave the hospital but convinced the ambulance to drop him off near his previous home. He picked up his check and very likely is feeding his lifelong addiction. I worked so hard with this man, for sooo long. No one patient exhausted me more and yet I probably invested more in him than any other. And I feel so ridiculous. I've gotten my share of 'I told you so's' from the ever present naysayers. And I have to hang my head and realize maybe they were right. Every time they shook their head when I'd try yet another intervention, I trudged forward. But the little devil tells me they were right.

Walking off my need to hit a wall with my scrawny knuckles, I heard the words to a common refrain sung at Mass. 'What so ever you do, to the the least of my people, that you do unto me". I am trying to rest in the fact that maybe the work wasn't done for Patient X, but for Jesus? Maybe. And I'm thinking about my own life. How many years (27 1/2) has God invested in me, poured His whole self into me, only for me to turn away from Him. I wonder how many days He has sat feeling what I feel right now. I have goosebumps from the realization. Just as Patient X gave me hope again and again that he would make the right choices, I have given that same hope to God over and over again, getting just so close to doing right, only to take a sharp left turn into the wrong path. But the solace is that every.single.time, He keeps His arms wide open for me to run back into saying again, 'Sorry God. I'm an idiot. Let's try again.' I think they call that Grace.

So, I'll start my day now with other patients, knowing that like me, they are flawed and prone to making stupid decisions. And like me, they are loved and cherished by a God that has a much bigger capacity to forgive and to love than I do. And I'll know that it's okay if Patient X comes back into the ER for a thousanth time. Because I'm not caring for him just for Him. I'm caring for Him because in the face of this man, homeless, addicted, scarred, wounded, sick, and lonely, is my God.


Whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers;
That you do unto me.
When I was hungry, you gave me to eat;
When I was thirsty, you gave me to drink.
Now enter into the home of My Father.
Whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers;
That you do unto me.
When I was homeless, you opened your door;
When I was naked, you gave me your coat.
Now enter into the home of My Father.
Whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers;
That you do unto me.
When I was weary, you helped me find rest.
When I was anxious, you calmed all my fears.
Now enter into the home of My Father.
Whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers
That you do unto me.

Matthew 25: 35-40

Peace during this Holy Week



By KeriS4 at 10:47am