A Newer Testament

Friday Afternoon in a nursing home.

Lots of activity for most, but not for her.

She had said often, maybe too often, because of her vascular dementia, that she was an old clock with not many ticks left.

It seemed on this Friday afternoon, she was right.

I received a call mid-afternoon from her Hospice Nurse telling me that she was actively dying; that she was mottled on her hands and feet and up her legs to her knees. She reported that she was having periods of apnea as well, up to fifteen seconds of not breathing at a time.

She called me because she knew that we had a special relationship over the past eight months and felt that the patient would have liked to have me there.

I let the nurse know that I was on my way, but still about a half and hour to forty-five minutes away. She told me that she would stay with the patient until I got there and that she already had set up for a Vigil Volunteer to be there later in the evening if necessary.

The nurse and I had worked together with many previous patients. She was good. She was very competent, caring, compassionate and ATHEIST.

I didn’t think that believing or not believing or anything in between made a difference when it came to bringing compassionate care.

We had many discussions about “The whole God thing,” mostly brought up by her. I never forced those discussions or any of my beliefs. I had much admiration and respect for her and knew the care she brought to the bedside.

But, but this Friday afternoon, it was a newer testament I was about to experience–from her.

When I arrived at the Nursing Facility I went right to the the patient’s room. It was down a distant hall and around the corner where only a few secluded rooms were. It was quiet–far away from the busy, phone-ringing Nurses Station.

That’s when I first heard it. It was faint but still, audible. I stopped a room short of the patient’s room as I heard the Hospice nurse’s voice. She was just talking. . .she was reading.

“. . .yeah though I walk through the valley of death, I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies. Thy anointest my head with oil, my cup over runneth. Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwelleth in the house of the Lord, forever. . . .”

She must of sensed my presence in the doorway. I never made a sound, but she looked up, sitting there, opened Bible in hand, reading.

She closed the Bible when I came in and held the patient’s hand as I held the patient’s other hand. We were both silent as we just provided this sacred, silent presence.

The nurse, got up and rinsed out a wash cloth and placed it on the patient’s head and kissed her on the cheek. She gathered up her nursing bag and began leaving.

I followed her out in the hall.

As soon as we got out of there, she turned around and said, “If you tell anyone what happened in there, I’ll deny it.”

We were both smiling. I told her I appreciated her waiting with the patient until I got there and more, how much I admire the good work she does.

She must have took it the wrong way. She said defensively, “I was reading her the Bible, because that’s where her bookmark was and I knew it was something she would have liked. It doesn’t mean I’m going religious.”

“I know, I know,” I reassured her, “but I know what I heard and what I saw.”

“What?”

“Someone being compassionate to someone who needed it the most…looked liked pretty religious stuff to me.”

We both gave each other a hug and wished one another a good weekend.

She left and I went back and sat with the patient…with my thoughts…with a newer testament:

Why be a Lamp when a Life Boat is needed? It’s not enough to illuminate a way when you can BE The Way….

A Newer (L I V I N G) Testament. . . .