The balm of care

“Oh my G*d!” It was the fall 2020, and I had just been taken by ambulance to a New York City hospital. Without a doubt, the paramedics thought I was wasting their time and was merely having a panic attack. (If that was an element, the 9-1-1 dispatcher yelling at me may have had something to do with it.) They all but got out their smelling salts so the silly woman would drop her drama and not faint. As they rolled me into the hospital, a male nurse uttered the above blasphemous exclamation in reaction to my blood pressure. Needless to say, his response only heightened it.

After a long day of inattention, it was confirmed that I was, in fact sick, and in need of medication. By some miracle, the next day I was still able to deliver a meditation at the vespers service for a dear friend and religious-freedom hero.

Mercifully, I had not been in a hospital for myself since then, until just after Memorial Day, when I was admitted. I won’t bore you with the details, other than to give thanks for the people who helped me. This includes the men who transport patients, the housekeeping staff, the people who deliver food, and, of course, aides and nurses and doctors. I actually had two hospital stays in the last two weeks, one involving 22 hours in an emergency room because of lack of beds in the hospital. People were on stretchers everywhere, and I may have cried, thinking I had made a terrible mistake coming back, just waiting and waiting on a stretcher.

And then a little boy appeared, sitting up on his stretcher, seemingly awaiting a new adventure. Children shouldn’t have to be in hospitals. I prayed for him and his father, who was following along. Parenting is the most important work in the world. It’s such an act of trust and vulnerability, even as mothers and fathers work to provide all the love in the world for their precious ones. That little boy reminded me to pray for all the families suffering health scares and to remember that there can even be gratitude found in spending 22 hours in an emergency room.

In the ER, the second time, there wasn’t a ton of human interaction, save for vital-sign checks. But throughout my two recent hospital stays, I thought of a quote from the late Pope Benedict XVI in 2010: “[L] ook at the face of the other and … discover that he has a soul, a history and a life, that he is a person and that God loves this person as much as he loves themselves.”

What a difference a nurse who cares about the unique person in their care makes! That nurse can make the patient smile, laugh and become less concerned with what’s next. Even in times of pain and uncertainty, moments of grace can be found.

My arms became bruised from blood draws, as happens when in a hospital.

Toward the end of the second stay, a nurse showed me quick videos of his daughter. He inadvertently had it on repeat. I watched as his adorable child licked an ice cream cone, and it was better than any medicine. There we were, two people who didn’t know each other and yet recognized our common humanity and desire to build a world where children can thrive.

Pope Francis often talks about the Beatitudes as the Christian’s calling card. As nurses and doctors helped me with tremendous generosity and patience, I would often notice a crucifix or medal honoring Mary, and even doves representing the Holy Spirit around may of their necks. If you encounter medical workers who look at you with compassion, say “thank you” and take the time to put in a good word for them to their employers. People tend to give feedback only when they are angry. We need more gratitude.

We should be a community of support in our common humanity. We truly all need to be.

We can give thanks to God, rather than do further injury by taking His name in vain and scaring patients in the process. Dei gratia!

Kathryn Jean Lopez is senior fellow at the National Review Institute, editor-at-large of National Review magazine and author of the new book “A Year With the Mystics: Visionary Wisdom for Daily Living.” She is also chair of Cardinal Dolan’s pro-life commission in New York, and is on the board of the University of Mary. She can be contacted at klopez@nationalreview. com.