I"ve been on call all week and it"s been quiet, which is just the way I like it to be since my own dad died last summer. I haven"t looked forward to being in the on-call rotation since then.
Anyway the phone rang today and I was called to the hospital. And while I was there caring for the family, the individual died.
I still know how to care for these people, and indeed I know the things to say. I usually know when to be there and when to be gone. These things I know in my brain.
But my heart isn"t there. My heart is yelling for me to be someplace, anyplace else. My brain yells back that maybe I can sympathize a bit because I"ve been there. Today my heart lost, mostly because of the demands of the day.
I checked it out, and I"ve done this on call rotation for nine years. Maybe it"s not lazy to not do this any more. Maybe nine years is enough.
Enough of telling parents their child has died. Enough of sitting with weeping orphaned teenagers. Enough of holding stillborn babies. Enough of telling nine year olds that their parents are both dead. Enough of sitting with widows who"s husband went out to shovel the driveway. Enough of telling husbands that their wives won"t be coming home. Enough of it.
I think sometimes all I see is the underside of life. The brokenness of it all. Lets face it, I don"t get called for the “Good deaths,”? the people who pass from this life to the next, well.
So maybe it is ok that it is enough.
For now anyway.