BLANKETS IN THE ER 2
Picture a crowded neighbourhood emergency room at Thanksgiving. Then imagine having a Merton "4th and Walnut experience" in that ER: a mystical moment, not outside on a busy Louisville street, but inside a busy hospital in the diverse neighbourhood where you live. This happened to me. From the moment I stepped into the hospital it was like my heart got plugged into everybody else's there.
First I met a young woman, Darsheena. Turns out we would go through the whole ER process sitting together. At some point Darsheena asks me to watch her purse and phone when she has to 'pee in a cup.' It's amazing how trust can grow so quickly on vacations and in an ER.
Next.
I would have four pretty amazing, what I'm calling, 'blanket encounters,' before my night in the ER was over:
My first blanket encounter was also with a woman I wound up going all the way through the ER journey with (except this woman was really "out-of-it" when we met). I learned she had likely overdosed. When I saw her again in our final waiting room, she looked a lot better. She had an IV in her arm. I told her she was looking so much better than when I first noticed her at the beginning of the night. She said, "thank you," then she said she was so cold. I remembered being cold in the hospital once too. I asked if she wanted me to find her a blanket? She said, "yes, please." So I did. The blanket hospital staff gave me (to give to her) looked like one of those blue and white 'Mother Teresa' flannel sheets.
The second blanket encounter happened with a woman who was pulling a tall, wobbly, scary looking pole on wheels. On the pole hung an ominous looking bag of blood and some other kind of liquid. I could see blood moving through the tube into her arm. Later I got her a Mother Teresa blanket too. I helped arrange the blanket around her shoulders because it was hard for her to do by herself. I surprised myself by gently moving her long hair out of the way so it wouldn't get tangled in the I-V tubes. Was this the "me" so afraid of hospitals, Covid, and germs? Yes it was.
My third blanket encounter involved a woman sitting by herself across the room in a corner away from everyone else. We made eye contact. I smiled at her and asked, "would you like a blanket too?" She said, "If there's an extra one." So I got her one too.
My fourth and final blanket encounter was with a small skinny boy who seemed to have a broken arm. He was with an angry-looking man I'm assuming was his father. My former social worker radar went off. I'll leave it there.
Continuing. About 4AM the doctor I'd originally flagged down for the first blanket (for the young woman who had overdosed)-- he peeked into the waiting room. We locked eyes for a moment. I could tell he was smiling behind his mask. He said, "Looks like everyone has a blanket now." I looked around the waiting room. It looked like a small community of Mother Teresa's Sisters of Charity with all the blue and white hospital blankets. I loved it.
Finally, about 4:30AM a nurse told me my blood test looked okay and I could go home. I didn't get the ultrasound I was sent for because there was no one there who could operate it at that hour. I did get new hospital memories to replace bad, old traumatic ones. No ultrasound machine could have done that.
When I got home I dug out an old Mother Teresa book and read something I'd underlined while on a plane to Spring Bank (in South Carolina) years before: "Prayer is not asking. Prayer is putting oneself in the hands of God, at His disposition, and listening to His voice in the depth of our hearts (in the ER!).” ― Mother Teresa
Get those women blankets, and the little boy too. And when you get home from the hospital, order Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings from Swiss Chalet (to be delivered!).
Amen
This Mother Teresa blanket is for you, Sue.
