Striving For Normal

Working in a hospital is like traipsing through a Salvador Dali painting.

Everyone there knows something is wrong but they can't quite put their finger on it. They walk through the halls convincing themselves that what they see at every turn is normal. It is most certainly not normal. When I first started working I thought I was going to need to prepare myself ala Dave Chapelle when he describes preparing himself for going to the ghetto: "I'm gonna see some loud shit, I need to prepare myself. I'm gonna see something crazy". And crazy is there, don't get me wrong. But by the time the crazy comes you've already been lulled into a stupor by the constant state of sickness, of the unknown, anxiousness, shattered hopes, the 5th last straw. The way it sneaks up on you is sinister. Soon all of that becomes what we call "normal". If you aren't tracking with me, let me describe a recent situation.

A person codes, which is hospital talk for drops dead, in the middle of a hall surrounded by children and myself. During all this a fellow chaplain who was there asked me if I wouldn't mind terribly grabbing his lunch that was left in the cafeteria when he came up. I happily obliged him. It was around that time, when shouts of: "Eppy now!" rang through the unit, life hung in the balance, and with children screaming that the San Diego Chargers cheerleaders came prancing into the unit heading directly into this divine comedy. They waved their pom poms as if cheering death toward the goal line. He must have been inspired that day, it was 1st and inches. Sadly, I had to leave the game, I had plans of my own. I was late to play video games with a patient before he went to surgery. I won, 4-0. Not sure how well Death rounded out the day but I know of 1 victory for sure. You keep telling yourself this can't possibly be real, can it?

I now see part of my job is to be a remembrance to the patients and families of what normal actually is, standing as an effigy of what life is for most and ought to be for them as well. The only problem is that effigies have a tendency of getting burned.

A song always comes to mind when I'm trying to describe this feeling: Pearl Jam - Elderly Woman Behind The Counter In A Small Town << right click and listen in a new tab

I seem to recognize your face.
Haunting familiar, yet I can't seem to place it.
Cannot find the candle of thought to light your name.
Lifetimes are catching up with me.
All these changes taking place.
I wish I'd seen the place but no one's ever taken me.

Hearts and thoughts they fade, fade away.

I swear I recognize your breath.
Memories, like fingerprints, are slowly raising.
Me you wouldn't recall for I'm not my former.
It's hard when your stuck upon the shelf.
I changed by not changing at all.
Small town predicts my fate.
Perhaps that's what no one wants to see.
I just want to scream, "Hello."
My god its been so long.
Never dreamed you'd return.
But now here you are and here I am.
Hearts and thoughts they fade away.

Hearts and thoughts they fade, fade away.
Hearts and thoughts they fade away. Yeah.
Hearts and thoughts they fade, fade away.
Hearts and thoughts they fade...