Culture of Callousness

 

Several years ago I saw a documentary of some of the stuff that went down at Abu Ghraib prison.  It involved the soldiers there treating the POWs inhumanely and taking pictures of them in humiliating positions while themselves posing with smiles, pointing, or thumbs up.  When the pictures came out, the general public was appalled and the soldiers faced serious consequences.  They interviewed a couple of them, and I remember one of them just shaking her head in the interview and saying, "I don't know why I did that". And she really seemed like she meant that.

I was reminded of this story recently after a situation at work.  I can't go into any details without totally violating HIPAA, so sorry, I must be vague.  But it involved a type of person whose life circumstances can be difficult to understand and who can be very much repugnant to the average citizen.  We laughed and joked and shook our collective head about this person and it ended it up causing concern with our management.  Truth be told, it wasn't really something I thought much about until it was addressed from someone else's perspective.  And that's when I saw the link.

People in certain professions (like healthcare) or in certain situations (like war) sometimes develop their own little sub universe. Their day to day experiences are so far removed from what the average person experiences, sometimes so harsh and unglamorous, that as time goes on amongst themselves they develop a different sense of morality.  We as people are much less firm in our values than we often think.  If we are surrounded by people who are acting, talking, and thinking a certain way we will often begin to behave the same way.  Even though the wrongness of something doesn't change, it stops feeling wrong.  The social pressure isn't there, and unless you appeal to a moral standard that's higher and are committed to it, people can find themselves behaving in ways they never thought possible.  But then when the curtain lifts and your actions are exposed to the greater world, suddenly the light comes on.  You feel their disgust and judgement and are suddenly truly aware of the wrongness in your behavior.

A certain callousness forms in professions that are constantly dealing with the baser sides of humanity, and constantly exposed to death and dying.  Partially it's a defense mechanism, but also I think it's a culture.  Sheer repetitiveness starts to take the emotional edge off of things that are very sad.  The constant tide of needy humanity starts to wear down your empathy.  We often (quite accidentally, I think) start to dehumanize people in healthcare.  People become bodies that we work on, suffering becomes an "interesting case", and valuable human souls become benign objects for our discussion and humor.  Everyone around us is thinking and talking and acting the same way, so it just doesn't feel wrong.  It feels normal.  But every now and then the curtain gets pulled back, and the light floods in.  And with it comes a sense of shame.

All That Entangles

  "Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, 

let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. 

 And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.."

This verse has been running through my head a lot lately.  Maybe because for some reason I'm feeling those words and the tension they represent more acutely.  When I read this verse I picture someone running full speed ahead, ripping off things that would slow them down.  That's how I want to be.  I want to run a good race. I want to come pounding across the finish line on the other side of eternity to cheers and high fives from that cloud of witnesses.

What I mean is, I want to live a good life.  I want to bring love where there is hatred, peace where there is war, help where there is suffering, food where there is hunger, friendship where there is loneliness. I want to speak in wisdom, act in kindness, and live with purpose.  I want to be a light in the darkness and a hand reaching out to help reconcile people with their Creator. I want to leave it all on the field, so to speak.  At the end of it all I want to show that I not only put to use all the gifts my Master gave me but that I gained interest. 

But then there are those things that hinder and entangle. That sin that distracts me and sets me back and takes my eyes off the finish line and off of Christ. The offense that I want to let ferment.  My own desire to be important and to stand out.  I find myself wanting to be intriguing instead of wise, alluring instead of purposeful.  My impatience and my laziness and my want for instant gratification, my callousness and my self centeredness.  I'm afraid that I'll see something that tempts me, sitting there on the side of my path, and that time will go by and I'll find that not only have I stopped running, but I've tripped a couple other people too.  I fear that I'll test myself with sin because I think myself strong enough to wriggle out when I need to.

I don't want to be entangled. I don't want to waste my life on momentary pleasures and superficial things that boast much and deliver little.  I want to leaves grooves in the road that I wouldn't be ashamed for my children to follow.  And I don't want to come across that finish line ashamed, realizing that I forgot there was even a race at all.

Charge!

I've been spending more of my ER shifts lately in the role of charge nurse.  I'm not really sure who came up with that label, it kind of conjures an image of someone charging into battle at the head of a cavalry, war cry ringing loud, blade held high.  So maybe the term isn't too far off. Minus the war cry. And blade.  There are days however, I could use both.

It isn't really a role I sought out.  Someone somewhere got the crazy idea that I was an acceptable pick, and I started showing up to work to the surprise of seeing my name at the top of the dang white board.  At least one or two people were as surprised as I was - I saw a least one good eyebrow lift from across the room.  But there's this one skill I've learned to pick up the last few years of nursing- that is to pretend to be confident while working like crazy to become competent.  In other words, sometimes you have to pretend to know what you're doing, even when you don't, but make sure you know who to ask questions behind the scenes.

As time has gone on it's actually become a position I enjoy, mostly.  Being a charge nurse is kind of like a high stakes game of Tetras.  You're watching the screen and doing your best to get the right shapes in the right spots in the right timing before all the little pieces start piling up and something explodes. Or you end up with three ambulances pulling in with no where to put their patients or someone starts a riot  (or tries to die) in the waiting room.  I like puzzles and I like that part of the job.

But there's other parts I'm not wild about.  It turns out I lack a certain quality called "assertiveness".  I can smell confrontation a mile away and know how to dive for the nearest fox hole.  The problem is the ER seems to attract a lot of type A personalities, particularly in the doctor area, and they all want to tell you how to run the show. And they can smell weakness a mile away. Oh yes they can. No fox hole is safe.  I've had to learn to stand my ground and make statements that don't go up like a question at the end. I've had to make phone calls to different departments on behalf of my staff to confront issues or inappropriate interactions.  I've had to say "sorry, I can't do that" to the looming form of an opinionated MD. Through it all, I can feel my backbone hardening a little bit, but I've still got a ways to go on that front.

All that said, sometimes it's good to find ourselves in roles we aren't quite ready for. It puts pressure on us to grow, and forces us into situations that confront our weaknesses.  And Lord knows I've got plenty of those.

Holding Dynamite

We do things in life sometimes that are a little like holding lighted dynamite.  We know if we hold on too long it'll explode and destroy us. But we are pretty confident we can let it go just in time, before the damage can be done.  Something about watching that fuse shrink.... something about that thrill of destructive potential. Tempting fate and all that.  But take care lest you hold on too long.

From the Ashes

The world is such a beautiful, broken place.  I've been thinking a lot lately about pain and loss.  A month ago I watched my aunt grieve the death of her son, and presently I'm grieving the loss of my own unborn child.  But through this lens of my own present sadness, I feel humbled. Loss is all around, not always in the form of death. Besides the loss of loved ones, many suffer the loss of dreams and expectations.  The dream of having children. The dream of being happily  married.  The expectation of health.  Some people have to grieve and struggle with maybe not having the life they thought they would when they were young and dreams seemed only certain to come true.

Infertility is a death. Divorce is a death. Never finding that right someone is a death. Living with chronic illness is a death. Death of what we have deeply hoped and desired, death of our expectations for our lives. And each death brings it's own special form of grief.

A sweet friend of mine sent me a little silver necklace after my miscarriage with a little pendant with the word hope engraved on it.  A card accompanying this gift was filled with Bible verses about hope. Hope in the face of suffering, hope as an anchor for the soul, hope that does not disappoint.  And what is our hope in the midst of this world of loss and sadness?

Redemption. That is our hope.  That sadness and grief will be bought back from death and transformed into something new.  That beauty will spring from the ashes of loss, the proceeding devastation fertilizing the soil in which new life will grow.   And this hope is truly  my anchor.  It keeps me still when the waves of fear and depression threaten to overwhelm me. It sets my eyes before me on the Author of my faith, the One who endured loss, suffering, and death to identify with our own, and then overcame them.

Little Eyes

Little eyes, you never opened,

Little voice, you never cried.

Would your eyes been blue like Daddy's?

Or would they have been green like mine?

Little hand, I never grasped you,

Never held your little body tight.

But in my heart I hold the hope that

You rest in my Father's arms tonight.

Little life,

 Not mine to save.

My womb your home

And too your grave.

Little eyes, you never opened,

Little voice, you never cried.

Would your eyes been blue like Daddy's?

Or would they have been green like mine?

Death's Shadow

We live in a world that is constantly under the shadow of death.  It's so easy to forget this sentence hanging over us, which I suppose is a grace.  I go about my life, worrying about silly things and desiring silly things as though this startling and awe inspiring existence I have as a rational creature will stretch on forever.  But every now and then it catches me. The brevity of it all. The fragility.

I spent the weekend intimately acquainted with this reality, as I flew home to spend the weekend with my family and mourn the untimely and unexpected death of a cousin who was just shy of 30.  The afternoon that my plane took off from Seattle was as gloomy and foggy as ever a January day in Seattle. As my plane lifted however, we broke out of the clouds to reveal a glorious sun kissed landscape of mountain ranges and volcano peaks, snow caps glistening in the sunlight. A glory that was hard to believe existed when I was below. Not many hours later I would stand in the viewing room at the funeral home, holding my sister's hand and looking down at a familiar face - a face that was somehow no longer so familiar.  

Death feels so wrong.  It doesn't fit.  It's like credits running in the middle of a film that obviously had more story to tell.  It rarely seems to come when it should or in a manner that people find comforting.  And yet this shadow hangs over all of existence.  I have no way to be sure that I won't myself be a grieving mother someday, or a grieving wife.  Even if all life runs a predictable course the day will come when I have to say goodbye to people I love deeply - my grandparents. My parents.  The only way to avoid it is to leave early myself. An option I don't favor.

But into these dark thoughts come words spoken thousands of years ago, and echoed by my grandmother at my cousin's memorial. "O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?" My grandma could speak these words with emotion and conviction in the face of the deep loss of her grandson, almost as a taunt to that which hovers ever over us, because death - like a shadow - doesn't end the light. It only obscures it for a time.  And above the shadow of death the Light of life shines unobstructed.

My non religious friends may roll their eyes at the idea of resurrection, but resurrection is all around us.  Every time you admire a tree you see life that came from death. Hold some seeds in your hand and you'll see that they are dead. And yet from these dead seeds comes abundant life.  And so I believe that the Author of life can call from the dead seeds of our bodies new and abundant life. So maybe the credits didn't roll early on my cousin's story after all. Maybe Act I just finished and we'll have to wait until our own intermission comes to see what Act II holds.  For the family it will feel a long wait indeed - but we're waiting with hearts full of hope.

In the words of a wise man (or hobbit):

"Though here at jouney's end I lie

In darkness buried deep

Beyond all towers strong and high

Beyond all mountains steep...

Above all shadows rides the sun

And stars forever dwell.

I will not say the day is done

Nor bid the stars farewell."