Learning new ways to care
17/04/24 01:35
When I was first ordained and called to serve congregations in two rural towns in North Dakota, it was fairly common for me to receive a phone call from an employee at the local hospital informing me that a member of my congregation had been admitted. Although the congregations I served were very good at keeping their pastor informed about the needs of members of the congregation, there was a sense that the wider community was also exercising care. My congregations were fairly small and it was possible for me to visit those hospitalized every day if the circumstances warranted. Our small hospital, however, did not provide all of the services that members of our congregations needed. Someone needing orthopedic surgery or a heart procedure, chemotherapy, radiation, and a host of other life-saving procedures was required to travel for those treatments. While we lived there, or son required orthopedic surgery and the surgery took place in Rapid City, 175 miles from our home. It was not uncommon for me to drive to Rapid City or to Bismarck (150 miles one way) to visit a member of our congregation receiving treatment. It was not uncommon for me to drive 30,000 work-related miles in a year during that time in our lives.
When we moved to a larger city to serve a congregation in Boise, Idaho, the hospitals did not call us to inform us of members admitted. I could, however, inquire at the front desk of either hospital in our town for a list of persons admitted. Both hospitals kept lists organized by denomination, so I frequently visited members of the United Church of Christ who were in our city from other communities for medical treatment. I remembered the long trips and less common visits I was able to make to members when we lived in a remote location. Boise was a medical center with all services including pediatric intensive care, cardio-vascular surgery, infusion and radiology services available, It served an area with a 150-mile radius.
Eighteen years into my career, about a year after we moved to Rapid City, The Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act of 1996 (HIPA), changed access to information about who was in the hospital. No longer could hospitals legally provide access to lists of people admitted to the hospital. Patients had to designate who was allowed to see their medical information including the fact that they had been admitted for care. We had to develop a network of care within our congregation that encouraged family members to notify the church when there was a desire for a pastoral visit. I was spending as much time as before providing care for members receiving medical treatment, but I spent less time actually visiting people and more time discerning who needed visits. Often I would learn about a member’s hospitalization only after treatment was completed and the patient was released from care.
Despite the limitations imposed by HIPA, I enjoyed access to the hospital and the members of my congregation receiving care there. I had an official identification badge, issued by the hospital, that allowed me access to lists of names of patients who had indicated that they wanted a visit from a pastor of a particular denomination. The name badge required that I take regular instruction into the rules of the hospital, including the specific requirements of HIPA. There were times when I had access to information that I could not share with the wider congregation. This was nothing new to me, however, because I regularly found myself in situations where keeping confidences was part of my role. It is one of the requirements of ministers expressly stated in our code of ethics.
For the last seven years of my career as a pastor, I also carried a law enforcement identification badge. The badge was recognized by hospital employees and gave me access to information within the hospital. Like the hospital badge, it came with strict and careful restrictions on what information could and could not be shared with others.
As a result, I became used to being able to go where I wanted within the hospital. I knew the procedures for visiting in restricted areas such as the Intensive Care Unit and emergency room treatment areas. I knew the proper procedure for donning gowns, face masks and gloves. I knew when I should step out of a room to allow medical procedures to be conducted. Within the guidelines of the law and the hospital, I used my access to provide pastoral care to members of the congregation and law enforcement officers. I became used to being allowed to visit outside of normal visiting hours and having access to those receiving medical treatment.
Then, in the final months before my retirement, everything changed. The Covid-19 pandemic restricted visiting in hospitals and care centers to only the most critically necessary visits. Pastoral care in institutions virtually came to a halt. I was allowed access to provide care in a few critical situations as a patient neared death, but I had to made a quick shift to providing care over the telephone in many cases. I had to learn a new skill of offering prayers over the phone, something that I had rarely done before.
And now, being fully retired, I don’t have any official identification badges. I am a member of the general public. I have a friend who is undergoing a surgical procedure this morning and I know that I will not be able to sit with his spouse in the waiting room as the procedure is conducted. I’ll send a text message with a prayer but it isn’t the same thing. The procedure will be complete and my friend will be back home by the end of the day so face to face visits will be possible, but I realize that there is a difference in access to information.
Regular members of congregations have learned to provide care without special access for as long as there have been restrictions on access. I am no different, and I don’t need to have special status or official identification badges in order to show my care for others. It is just another skill I am learning in my new role in the community.
And always, I trust the power of prayer to transcend physical distance. I continue to include in my prayers those who are far away including those whom I have never met firmly believing that prayer opens me up to recognize God’s presence in the world.
Prayers continue.
When we moved to a larger city to serve a congregation in Boise, Idaho, the hospitals did not call us to inform us of members admitted. I could, however, inquire at the front desk of either hospital in our town for a list of persons admitted. Both hospitals kept lists organized by denomination, so I frequently visited members of the United Church of Christ who were in our city from other communities for medical treatment. I remembered the long trips and less common visits I was able to make to members when we lived in a remote location. Boise was a medical center with all services including pediatric intensive care, cardio-vascular surgery, infusion and radiology services available, It served an area with a 150-mile radius.
Eighteen years into my career, about a year after we moved to Rapid City, The Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act of 1996 (HIPA), changed access to information about who was in the hospital. No longer could hospitals legally provide access to lists of people admitted to the hospital. Patients had to designate who was allowed to see their medical information including the fact that they had been admitted for care. We had to develop a network of care within our congregation that encouraged family members to notify the church when there was a desire for a pastoral visit. I was spending as much time as before providing care for members receiving medical treatment, but I spent less time actually visiting people and more time discerning who needed visits. Often I would learn about a member’s hospitalization only after treatment was completed and the patient was released from care.
Despite the limitations imposed by HIPA, I enjoyed access to the hospital and the members of my congregation receiving care there. I had an official identification badge, issued by the hospital, that allowed me access to lists of names of patients who had indicated that they wanted a visit from a pastor of a particular denomination. The name badge required that I take regular instruction into the rules of the hospital, including the specific requirements of HIPA. There were times when I had access to information that I could not share with the wider congregation. This was nothing new to me, however, because I regularly found myself in situations where keeping confidences was part of my role. It is one of the requirements of ministers expressly stated in our code of ethics.
For the last seven years of my career as a pastor, I also carried a law enforcement identification badge. The badge was recognized by hospital employees and gave me access to information within the hospital. Like the hospital badge, it came with strict and careful restrictions on what information could and could not be shared with others.
As a result, I became used to being able to go where I wanted within the hospital. I knew the procedures for visiting in restricted areas such as the Intensive Care Unit and emergency room treatment areas. I knew the proper procedure for donning gowns, face masks and gloves. I knew when I should step out of a room to allow medical procedures to be conducted. Within the guidelines of the law and the hospital, I used my access to provide pastoral care to members of the congregation and law enforcement officers. I became used to being allowed to visit outside of normal visiting hours and having access to those receiving medical treatment.
Then, in the final months before my retirement, everything changed. The Covid-19 pandemic restricted visiting in hospitals and care centers to only the most critically necessary visits. Pastoral care in institutions virtually came to a halt. I was allowed access to provide care in a few critical situations as a patient neared death, but I had to made a quick shift to providing care over the telephone in many cases. I had to learn a new skill of offering prayers over the phone, something that I had rarely done before.
And now, being fully retired, I don’t have any official identification badges. I am a member of the general public. I have a friend who is undergoing a surgical procedure this morning and I know that I will not be able to sit with his spouse in the waiting room as the procedure is conducted. I’ll send a text message with a prayer but it isn’t the same thing. The procedure will be complete and my friend will be back home by the end of the day so face to face visits will be possible, but I realize that there is a difference in access to information.
Regular members of congregations have learned to provide care without special access for as long as there have been restrictions on access. I am no different, and I don’t need to have special status or official identification badges in order to show my care for others. It is just another skill I am learning in my new role in the community.
And always, I trust the power of prayer to transcend physical distance. I continue to include in my prayers those who are far away including those whom I have never met firmly believing that prayer opens me up to recognize God’s presence in the world.
Prayers continue.
