Sunday, November 11, 2018

Reunited with my Republican Friend

Early in October I received the unwelcome news that my boss at my paying job has decided to leave her position. Our relationship has, surprisingly, grown to be excellent, so I am sorry she is leaving because I will miss her, but I’m also sorry because she has been very supportive of me as a chaplain and of course I don’t know what the new boss will think of me. (I seem to recall from my corporate career that I tend not to have very good luck with a boss who replaces my former boss. I think both times I was laid off, I had a fairly new boss.)

I had lunch with one of my CPE peers at the Pork Store on 16th St. on a weekday morning and found the restaurant pleasantly empty. I had a delicious breakfast for $10. I had to run around that day doing stuff for my annual flu shot and TB test, which needed to be done at County Hospital with documentation provided to my paying job, or vice versa, plus there were some extra steps at County Hospital in order to get my badge renewed.

On the bus from downtown to County Hospital, I was sitting in a seat reserved for people who are elderly or disabled, which I offered to a woman with a baby in a stroller. She declined the offer, but there was a little chorus of stunned responses around me. Someone said, “That was nice,” as if it were the most astounding thing he’d ever witnessed. Are things as bad as that in civic life? Aren’t you supposed to offer your seat to someone pushing a stroller?

One Saturday at work I felt unusually weary, and by that evening it was clear that I had a cold, which proved to be a drippy one that existed mainly in my head—in my cranium, not my imagination. I had had the aforementioned flu shot about six days earlier, and remembered that a relative of mine was extremely unwell for a month after having a flu shot several years ago, but I concluded that the culprit was having stopped drinking green tea three days beforehand. I thought that maybe it would improve my sleep to take in no caffeine whatsoever, and replaced it with green rooibos, which is also loaded with antioxidants, so I didn’t expect to suffer any ill effects, but the internet says that green tea interferes with six different phases of the creation of a cold virus. I started drinking green tea again immediately, but the cold lasted for about ten days.

I had to go to work slightly sick the following Saturday, because I thought I’d be better by then, and by the time I realized I wasn’t, it was too late to ask my boss to find someone to take a 24-hour weekend shift. I felt guilty going to the hospital, even though I knew I was well past the contagious phase, and was surprised (and sort of relieved, though also shocked) to hear other workers freely coughing. What mainly made me feel terrible that day was the three Benadryl I’d taken in the preceding 24 hours. I felt dizzy, disoriented and generally lousy. (The internet says Benadryl is not good for you, and that you should take it only if you are having a major allergic reaction.) Fortunately, the Benadryl wore off by the afternoon, and I was able to see a patient or two, and even without having a coughing fit.

I saw a patient on the oncology ward, and then I talked a bit with a nurse who said he was near the beginning of a shift that was probably going to be especially difficult, with many mentally ill cancer patients. I asked how he copes with an extra-difficult shift and he said, “Spiritual care would actually help. It’s great to talk to someone who looks you right in the eye—like you’re doing.” I was pleased by that, and he was pleased when I told him that we are there to care for staff as well as patients and family members. I told him that on our stats-tracking spreadsheets, there is a column for staff.

It made me remember a day at school when Fleet Maull led us in an exercise that involved staring into the eyes of one peer or another for what at first seemed like a long, long time. After lunch that day, my little subgroup met, and our mentor, who is wonderful, suggested that we start by “looking around the circle and taking a moment to see each person.” Then she said, sounding surprised, “Wow! You guys are good at this,” and we explained about our class. Ever since then, I’ve found it easier and more natural to look people right in the eye. I think in the past I felt it might be intrusive in some way, or that I wasn’t worthy of non-verbally asking for that kind of connection, but now it feels quite nice. Of course, if the other person doesn’t want eye contact, then he or she can easily break it.

Mid-October, I talked to my Republican friend on the phone for the first time since Trump was elected. We spoke for a full two hours, one hour for me and one for her. I was keeping in mind some things we learned in another class at school, from a guy who is a mediator. He had a lot of great things to say, but what I was particularly remembering was that he said not to “argue about facts.” He suggested that we have coffee monthly with someone whose views are very different from ours: “Have an improbable dialogue.” He said to stay in relationship and to avoid the temptation to shy away from those who challenge us. My conversation with my friend was very satisfying, though I noticed that when I said something in my chaplaincy was going well, as I did a couple of times, this was met with a cool silence, and I remembered that one of the several things that led to our taking a break from each other—for two years—was her getting the feeling that I was talking to her as a chaplain would, rather than just being myself.

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