Irony . . .

Last week I got a call from a guy who shows up at church every now and then who had obviously been drinking too much.  He was out walking his cat and "just following wherever Fido wants to go" and didn't quite know where he was.

I managed to pinpoint his location, threw on my swim trunks (because they were handy) and a clerical shirt and collar and met him where he was.  I then spent from about Midnight to 1:15 listening to him ramble about everything from drinking to other . . . unhealthy topics.  He calmed down and I took him home.

The next morning a friend of his showed up in my office.  After a lengthy conversation, and a phone call to a counselor, we did a voluntary intervention and took him to the hospital.  The whole ordeal lasted until about 4 p.m.

Last night he called me saying that he had called the police because he was afraid he was going to "do something stupid."  I talked to him with the cops in the background just as the ambulance was pulling up to take him to the ER.  I told him I would meet him there, and did.

Oh . . . and this was AFTER I spent a couple of hours with him earlier in the day at a counselling appointment.

Long story short, I spent about an hour and a half with him and another of his friends at the ER last night.  While we were waiting for the hospital to do their thing, we talked a bunch of stuff out, he called a psychiatrist for an appointment, and it was decided that I could go home, leaving him and the other friend at the ER.

When I got into the car to go home, Margarittaville was playing on the radio.

Annoyed

This morning I went in for a small medical procedure designed to help my ailing shoulder.  It's called a PRP (platelet-rich plasma) and is supposed to help heal damaged areas of the body such as shoulders, elbows, knees and ankles; in other words, joints.

I had some blood drawn (which was slightly uncomfortable), then it was spun down and re-injected into my right shoulder.

And now I'm in a sling to minimize the risk of over-using the shoulder before everything has a chance to work like it's supposed to.

And now I'm annoyed.  Life in a sling is just simply annoying.  But I'm hoping this works.  It would be nice to not have shoulder pain every day.  And it would be nice to not worry about my shoulder every time I throw a flag during the season (which is the REAL reason I had this done).

Happy Epiphany

What?  Your kids don't wake you up at 5:30 in the predawn morning eager to see what the Wise Men left under the Epiphany tree?

Yeah, well, neither do mine.

We held our annual 12th Night/Epiphany Party last night at the church.  It was advertised as "Potluck dinner at 5:30 followed by a gift exchange ($20 limit) for those who want to participate."

At 5:30 we had maybe eight people.

Between 5:31 and 5:42, maybe another 25+ showed up.  Everyone had a good time (the ring, dime and thimble were all found) and the gift exchange was also fun.  In years past we did the "everyone draws a number then pick a gift or steal from the person in front of you" thing.  This year Mrs. Ref suggested that we put everybody in a circle with a gift while I read the Epiphany story, and every time I paused during the reading, people would pass their gift to the left.

It was something new and it was fun.

Today was spent cleaning up the last of the decorations, storing the Christmas figures back downstairs and taking down the tree.

We are slowly returning to normal -- whatever that is.

This afternoon I spent time at the hospital visiting a parishioner who just had hip replacement surgery.  He is in fine form and hopefully not trying the patience of the nursing staff too much.  On my way out, I ran into a couple who have attended off and on.  He was getting a blood draw, so nothing serious.  But we talked for quite awhile in the hospital lobby about everything from Corvette's to becoming a member of the parish.

It's been a good day.

Happy Epiphany.  May the Spirit of God lead you down unknown roads.

Back in the saddle

So I get back into the office this morning at 10 a.m. after picking Mrs. Ref up from the local airport, and I find a note from my secretary on my door:  "Please call J.  Her mother is in the hospital with 'the worst kind of brain tumor' and would like to receive communion from the local priest."

Seriously?  In the words of Vince Lombardi, "What the hell is going on out there??"

I will be making a hospital call this afternoon.

Some humor

I spent a good chunk of today at the hospital in the big city.

One of my parishioners is lying in great weakness of body as he fights a pneumonia infection and all the complications that has brought.  He was transferred from the local hospital to the larger hospital last night.

As I got to his room, I saw his wife talking with a nurse.  The nurse turned around, saw me, and immediately said, "Well speak of the devil! . . . I mean . . . Oh no . . . I didn't mean that . . . it's just . . . we were just talking about you."

Yep.  I was wishing I had worn my blue clerical shirt.

Devil with a blue shirt, blue shirt, blue shirt, devil with a blue shirt on . . .

Even in difficult times, it's good to have something to smile about.

02:10

Haven't I been here before?

When the phone rings when it's not supposed to, it's generally not happy news. Two weeks ago I got the call that a parishioner's father died. He was 89.

Today I got a call that the daughter of a fellow firefighter had died. She was 2 months, if that.

The hardest part, for me, isn't the death. It isn't seeing a beloved father laying unresponsive in a hospital bed. It isn't even seeing a lifeless infant in the ER surrounded by things made for much older people.

The hardest part is dealing with a family who has no relationship with God or the Church but who know that calling the priest is the "right thing to do."

Haven't I been here before?

Yes, and I will be again. Because that's what we do.

Up early

The home phone rang at 0-Dark:30. In normal circumstances, you figure that someone dialed the wrong number and let it go at that.

I'm not normal.

The first thing we did was count hours to see if maybe possibly it might be The Kid.
The second thing I did was wait for the cell phone to ring.

The cell phone rang.

One of my parishioners called to say that her dad died during the night and could I come up to the hospital.

It was expected, but it's still always hard.

The good news: I was up, hair washed, teeth brushed, dressed and out of the house in ten minutes. I love being a guy.

The week in review

Last weekend we dropped The Kid off with her grandparents before she heads off to Germany. On the way over, we discovered that the oil cap had not been put on the car; so we eventually got that little emergency taken care of.

On the way back home, we stopped in Missoula so I could check up on a parishioner who had major surgery. Turns out she was discharged two days after her surgery, which surprised . . . and about which nobody told me. Is it just me, or do other priests have a problem getting information from their parishioners?

Anyway, so we left Missoula and stopped in Butte at American Car Care. They gave me a coupon for a free oil change and steamed cleaned the engine after the oil cap fiasco.

While on the road, I got a call from my friend who told me about local residents (who stopped in at church every so often) who had been in a motorcycle accident; seems they hit a deer. It killed her and he's currently in the hospital.

When I got home, I got a call from The Kid who told me that she and her grandparents were in a car accident, but "everybody is fine ... just a little shaken."

And today is a regular day in the office finishing up bulletins and the sermon.

So that's been my week.

Where's the line?

I made rounds at the hospital yesterday. Pretty much everybody was asleep, all but one guy. He's in the hospital with a severe case of M.S. and basically can't move anything below his shoulders. It's a nasty disease.

I stop in and visit with him whenever I pass through.

Yesterday we were talking and he told me about an experience he had recently in which he was absolutely convinced that Jesus visited him and told him he would walk again.

Do I believe him? Yes.
Do I believe Jesus could heal him of his disease and he would walk again? Yes.

But, as I left the hospital, knowing that he's been battling this disease for 20 some years, and that the disease has been slowly winning, and that he can't even lift a finger or move a toe, much less walk, I couldn't help but wonder . . .

Where's the line between a committed, unshakable faith and outright denial?

And I don't have the answer to that one.

That was pretty much a big suck

So said one of the ambulance crew members to me after everything had slowed down.

I got a call from home as I was getting ready for the monthly fire department meeting. "You need to get up to the hospital -- there's been an accident."

I swung by home, picked up a shirt & collar and headed to the hospital.

One of my parishioners and her husband were in an accident. A deer jumped out in front of their motorcycle.

Yeah . . . it was as bad as it sounds.

He was doa -- she was life flighted to the big city.

One of the dynamics you don't learn about as a chaplain at the big hospitals is that in a community this size, everyone is related to everyone in some way. There is no such thing as a nameless patient. The people we work on here -- from the First Responders ambulance crew to the volunteer firefighters to the nurses, PA's, doctors, clergy and cops -- all know each other. And the line that says, "Only family members allowed," becomes very blurry, if not non-existent.

Yeah . . . that was pretty much a big suck.

SOME GOOD NEWS

So, after all the reports of parishes leaving TEC, war and rumors of war, priests thinking nothing of embracing other faiths or being accused of denying the Trinity, and reports of porn stars joining TEC and placed on an ordination track, here is some good news (you may have to register).

In short, it's a nifty article about hospital chaplains, this one an Episcopal priest in particular.

It brought back memories of my own stint as a chaplain during CPE and some of the good, hard work that was done there.

FUNERALS

Yesterday, Mrs. Ref and I attended the funeral of the daughter of one of her friends. She was about 24, I think. She suffered from spina bifida, and had multiple complications recently.

She was over in the hospital in Missoula last week while we were up at Family Camp. Mrs. Ref had been keeping in touch with her friend throughout the week. It had seemed like she was improving after her most recent surgery, which kept her in the hospital in the first place. And we decided to stop by on our way home, since we had to drive right by anyway.

We got there just in time to be told that life support had been pulled.

The funeral was yesterday. It was held in the school gym. There was a eulogy, which went well as far as eulogies go. The service was officiated by a Lutheran pastor who gave a very good sermon. There was a slide show from her life which was actually well done. And there was a local trio who sang three "old time gospel songs" interspersed throughout the service. At least none of the songs were "Born Free."

All in all, it was a good service. My only complaint was that we weren't able to go out for the graveside service, so we missed the reception afterwards and mingling with the people there.

And now, life goes on. Which includes adventures in church carpet, about which I will fill you in later.

PIECE BY PIECE

I drove over to the hospital today to visit a neighbor who was admitted just before Christmas. We met this lady while she was working at the library shortly after we arrived in town. She was in a wheel chair, only had one leg, and was one of the most upbeat people you could ever meet.

I found out that she has diabetes and lost her leg after a spider bite.

After awhile, she began having trouble with her other leg. The infection started in her foot and slowly began moving up her leg. At one point, she finally told the doctor, "Just take everything below my knee and get it over with."

He did.

She was in the hospital and the nursing home for darn near close to a year it seems. She's been home for some time, learning to walk again with her spiffy-new titanium prostheses, and has been making good progress.

Then, just before Christmas, she had to go back to the hospital because she had developed a sore on her arm from resting it on the corner of the table too long and had to have corrective surgery for that. With her penchant for developing infections that require amputation, I found myself wondering just how long she would have her right arm. I hope it doesn't go that far.

Piece by piece, diabetes sucks.