Secular cathedrals of humanist spirit
I’VE been in a hospital now for more than 12 months and never felt better! The time that I have appreciated the place most of all is right now, around Christmas.
I know there are all sorts of incredible organisations and institutions in our community, but in the past year I have really gained an appreciation of the remarkable nature of a hospital. In a relatively small footprint you have so many people in the most diverse range of roles, all focused on the care of one person, the patient. And patient is a well-chosen word.
In the Christian calendar the weeks leading up to Christmas are called Advent, a time of waiting. And that’s what a patient does. She waits for test results; she waits for family to visit; she waits for the doctor to visit her; she waits to find out when she can go home.
Witnessing and sitting with a close family member over Christmas in an Intensive Care Unit a decade ago was strangely one of the most poignant Christmases I have ever celebrated.
Social scientist Robert Manne wrote a beautiful essay describing his time in hospital after being diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer. The essay titled, On Borrowed Time, described the hospitals he encountered as “secular cathedrals of the humanist spirit, worthy of celebration”.
A few weeks back, I was privileged enough to witness how the moving parts of a hospital work together. As St Vincent’s Private Hospital joined with other places to offer space for bushfire evacuees from a Crows Nest
Nursing Home, I received a crash course in the admission process.
I learnt exactly how somebody gets to enter a hospital and what needs to be done to bring this about. From the cleaners to the admission staff, to the kitchen staff, to the wardies, to the nurses, to the doctors – all play such a crucial role in creating a place of safety and healing.
But there is so much more behind the scenes that happens. In this same geographical block that hosts the hospital, you will find educators, painters, tradespeople, pastoral carers, volunteers, supply staff, just to name a few. If a hospital doesn’t have a well-functioning central sterile services department, everything that happens in an operating theatre grinds to a halt. And then there are the ones who work on things we can’t even see: the infection control nurses.
Hospitals are places of profound meaning. For most of us this is where we enter the world, completely vulnerable and dependent on others just to stay alive. Many of us may also leave this world in the same way, completely vulnerable and dependent on others.
Hospitals are also places of trust, where we literally put our lives in somebody else’s hands.
I can’t quite put my finger on why Christmas is such a special time in a hospital, but it just is. So many people go out of their way to make the place seem to sparkle with a little bit of Christmas joy.
Maybe it is because everything is stripped back to what matters most. Nobody is using Christmas carols to try to sell you something in a hospital. Nobody is trying to outdo you with the best tasty morsel for the Christmas banquet table.
So a shout out to everybody who works in our hospitals at this time of year. May they, along with you, dear reader, have a peace filled and safe Christmas and a great 2020.