People

I rolled out of bed the other morning feeling like a truck had run over me. I knew that this was one of those mornings that even a pot of coffee couldn't do the trick.
I showered and read the bible and prayed. Help me to love my patients the way you love them, Lord. I dressed for work and then rushed through breakfast and made a lunch. Maybe today would be a super slow day at work, I thought, so I threw my knitting needles and a couple of magazines in my purse as I went out the door.
Work started with a bang and didn't let up all day. I had ten patients and they were almost all nuts. One older guy approached the nurses quite distressed; he couldn't sleep at night, he said, because he was a cross-dresser and didn't have any ladies clothes to wear, and could we please find him some ladies underwear so he could sleep at night? I hardly knew what to say.
As I was getting ready to give some morning pills I noticed one of my patients was very drowsy, more than normal. He looked like he was going to pack it in and I elected not to give him his usual sedative. He has long flowing hair, glow-in-the-dark barcodes tattooed under his eyes, and blue barcodes tattooed on his chin and forehead. In his ears he had rolls of tape instead of earrings. At first glance he wierded me right out. But later I found him sitting in front of the tv and I talked with him about his childhood, how he had a muscle disease that prevent him from gaining weight and he was so insecure about his looks that he did anything to fit in- including taking drugs and drinking- but even then, he could never fill the hole in his heart.
One very disturbed young lady kept repeatedly vomiting and asking me for medication to stop it. After giving her two rounds of anti-nausea injections and she was still vomiting, I sat down on the end of her bed and asked her, "Laura, are you making yourself throw up?"
"Of course I'm not! What do you think, I'd do something stupid like that?"
Yes, I did think that. She was manipulative, angry, and so desperate for attention that she was capable of just about anything. I told her not to eat any more and just to stick with fluids until we could get the issue settled. Later she came by the nursing station with a shirt showing her belly. Rules are rules; I told her graciously to go change her shirt. She yelled and swore at me and said she wanted to go slash her wrists but she went off anyway. She came into the nursing station later doubled over in pain and almost crying. Her abdominal pain was a repeat issue and she'd been to the hospital and they were hesitant to operate because was there really a problem?
I'd already given her pain medication not too long before and I lay her down and examined her and then sat down next to her.
"Laura, I believe that the body and emotions and spirit are all intimately connected. What goes on in your body affects your emotions, and what goes on in your emotions can really affect your body."
She nodded understandingly.
"I think it's possible that what's going on with your stomach is less physical, but may instead have it's root in the stuff that's going on in your emotions. And unless you deal with what's going on in your heart, your body is not going to get better."
We talked about it for awhile and she gradually sat up and stopped crying and finally went out, not complaining about the pain at all.
Later I heard her clattering down the hall and she appeared wearing a skirt that barely covered her behind.
"Laura, go change into some pants." I told her firmly.
"They're all in the laundry."
"Well, I'll give you some pajama bottoms, then, but you can't wear that in here. There are other people with all sorts of addictions and we need to be considerate of everyone."
She cursed me as she went away but I stood my ground, feeling frustrated and annoyed. I did my other work and thought, she's not going to get any sympathy from me.
And then as I sat there at the desk God began to change my heart. I got up and went out past all my other patients to where Laura sat on the patio alone, a cigarette between her shaking fingers. I sat down next to her.
"This is not okay." I told her. "I am not trying to make things difficult for you. I am on your side and I want to see you get well. I can try, but really there is only so much I can do for you unless we work together."
She began to cry and I put my arm around her.
"I just feel so all alone. I just want someone to love me."
She began to pour out her heart, about the boyfriend who was cheating on her and the mom who taught her to shoot heroin, and the little brother who was on the streets, and all the pain that was like a deep black pit. But deep inside she wanted someone to notice her, and love her, and take care of her. I talked to her about Jesus and about him being a friend that never leaves you and sticks by you through it all. I talked to her about letting go and asking for help.
"I can't ask for help." She said. "I have to do it on my own...."
"But you can't do it on your own." I told her. "None of us can."
We walked back inside together.
Later that evening I sat with another woman whose husband didn't want her to stay in treatment and I tried to convince her to tell him no and to stay.
"You need to decide for yourself what you want." I told her.
She was like a shy little mouse; she couldn't bring herself to look me in the eye. I wondered if she had ever said no to anyone in her life, let alone the angry husband who was trying to keep her from getting well. She held the phone in her shaking hand and cried as she tried to tell him that she wasn't coming home yet.
It's a long journey, I thought. All these people are desperately suffering. If I only hung out with people whose lives seemed together I might have an easy life. But I would lose sight of the thread of suffering that runs through all of us, and of the truth that it is only by the love of God that there is hope. A perfect life forgets that it needs God. Suffering people help us see every day what it means to need God, and what it means to love God by loving each other in our frailty.