Blue night

I don't know what it was last night, but it seemed that every single patient on my ward wanted to use the bedpan at least once. Not that I mind- I am a full supporter of maintaining a person's dignity when they are sick by immediately helping them. But last night I was tired, having been up the whole day before, which probably explains why I reacted the way I did.
One lady called for a bedpan and I brought it to her and helped position it under her. I returned a few minutes later to remove it. I swear, she must have peed an entire liter inside the tiny pan. It was stuck to her and as I tried to wiggle it out, it sloshed out onto her bed. Then it sloshed out onto the floor. So I changed her to make her dry and went and disposed of things, and then happened to look down at my brand new white shoes. Horror of horrors! A yellow splotch! It must have sloshed down on my shoes. I decided magnanimously to ignore it. After all, what could I do?
Later another lady called. This time I was ready. When the bedpan came out there was no sloshing. I went to dispose of it and tried to rinse it out but what was in it was stuck to it and didn't want to come out. I don't normally do this, but I started to gag. Not only that, but I forgot the cardinal rule of nursing: always always always mouth breathe. Just when I thought I was going to lose control and throw the freaking bedpan on the floor and run out of the hospital, I remembered to mouth breathe and suddenly everything was okay again.
Later it was not a bedpan, it was a catheter. The poor guy was delerious and confused and although he was nonverbal, I'm pretty sure he tried to pull the catheter out which was why he was moaning and groaning. For those of you who don't know what that would feel like, try googling a picture of an inflated catheter and you'll see. He was dehydrated and of course everything was fairly concentrated, on top of being infected, and leaning down to check things I almost gagged again. Thank God for all those times I practiced being a ventriloquist and consequently can keep my face composed.
This morning driving home I felt particularily blue. It wasn't a great night. I didn't save any lives, I didn't have any opportunities to pray with any patients or go that extra mile to show them compassion. There were no exciting procedures or dramas to deal with. What do you do with those days? The days you wonder if the rest of your life will really be like this?
Last night in the staff room at some wee hour of the morning I took a break and slept on the couch. While I was sleeping, I dreamt.... I dreamt that I was working in that hospital and a very sick young man came in. I went into his room and began to talk to him. He was dying, and suddenly I felt the urgency of the situation. I started telling him about Jesus. I told him many things, and I finished with, "Inside of every person is a hole, that only Jesus can fill. Without Jesus, we have no meaning and purpose in life. With Jesus, we have both meaning and direction."
I learned a phrase in Swahili when I was in africa: "Bila Yesu, Kila Kita Kutupu" (Without Jesus, everything is empty). And I guess that pretty much sums up my night. In a search for meaning in what we do, there is only way, and that is to do it for Jesus.
So in that sense, I suppose my night was very meaningful indeed, even if it didn't feel like it.