Pray with Me

"Here," she motioned to me with tears in her eyes and her arm outstretched over her dear friend's cold body. "Will you pray with me?" She pleaded, tears in her eyes. 

"Of course," I replied quietly. I took her hand and we prayed the Our Father prayer as the whole room stopped what they were doing out of respect for the family and the young patient we had been unsuccessful in resuscitating. 

We finished praying and the room took a pause of silence to acknowledge the life that had passed before us. 

Who was this soul and why was today his time? What was his story? How did he end up in the condition he was in? Was this his fault? Was there anything that could have been done differently on our end? What about his end? Was this the culmination of a lifetime of choices or simply God's will that today was his day? What about his friends? His girlfriend? Why do they have to suffer too? What made this guy different than me? What made him the same?...My mind spun

I have seen many lives pass in the ER and there is always some level of dissociation. I'm not sure if it is a natural coping mechanism or a subconscious way of protecting myself from the hurt that comes with watching death and trying to be present to those who are suffering. Maybe it's denial, or maybe it's the fact that death has not personally been apart of my reality for quite some time. And the last time it was, it was slow and expected, not sudden and traumatic. The fact is, my brain often finds reason to not connect with the person dying for a plethora of reasons. He was older than me, or she had a significant medical history, or his lifestyle put him here, or she was high risk...always some barrier as to why that wouldn't be me or my loved one.

Reflecting on this case made me recognize my quick reflex to guard my fear of becoming that patient, or, heaven forbid one of my family members being such a case. The family and friends on this day broke my guard and shattered it in to a million pieces when they entered the room. The first thing the friend said was "We need a priest for last rites. He's Catholic and that is important to him". 

Guard down and personal barrier shattered. 

This struck at my core. I too am Catholic, and if I were him that is something that would be important to me. Immediately, I felt spiritually connected to this patient and the family and I assured her I understood what she was talking about. Unfortunately time was limited and no priest available, so I offered to pray over him with her as he passed, in hopes that God would hear our prayer and embrace him.

As different as we were, I let myself feel connected with these people through prayer and a shared belief that God was present in the room at that moment and that He heard us. There was a vulnerability and humanness to the situation, but also surprisingly a healing and peace that accompanied the grief. 

He will always remain on my heart, as I felt honored to be invited in to his last moments with his loved ones. As the nurse it is not often that families ask you to pray or invite you in to their grieving space. It is a beautiful gift. Sad, yes, and emotionally draining to an extent. Thankfully not a daily occurrence, but one that offers hope in the midst of sadness and one of those moments that reminds me why I do what I do.