Hospital chaplains embrace new role during pandemic: caring for caregivers
Before entering the room of a COVID-19 patient, the Rev. Peggy Kelley dons personal protective gear — both physical and spiritual.
She pulls on a sterile gown and places a face shield over her mask. She pumps Purell into her gloved hands and holds them over her chest, checking in with her heart. With a few deep breaths, the hospital chaplain at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center sends some words heavenward:
"God, be with me. Walk with me in this room, use me, help me serve your people. Guide me. Guide my work, my hands, my eyes."
Then she walks into the quarantine zone, hoping to provide some solace or sense of self to the suffering stranger in bed.
On a recent visit, Kelley met with a despondent patient who greeted her as she entered his room. He hadn't spoken much to his nurse, Jillian Katz, other than to ask for a priest.
Though she isn't Catholic, Kelley offered to pray with the man, calling on God's strength. The moment left the Catholic patient, Jewish nurse and Protestant chaplain all in tears.
"She was saying things that applied to me," Katz said. "I was sad for him, but I was also like, 'Please give me strength; I need all the help I can get.' I was like, 'Wow, I actually felt God — that was crazy!' "
Although hospital chaplains are primarily tasked with supporting the sick and their loved ones, the pandemic has thrust them into new territory: caring for the caregivers.
Kelley, a minister in the Congregational Church, said she is devoting more time than ever in her 15 years as a chaplain to serving burned-out healthcare workers. The holiday surge in coronavirus cases — and the ensuing record-high hospitalizations and deaths — especially weakened morale, she said.
"They're working so hard, and they're not forgetting what we need to do to get through this. And then when they see people not complying … they get so, 'Oh come on, you guys, we can't step away from this reality,'" Kelley said. "It's very disheartening."
For Katz and other medical staff, each day is a balancing act in clinical practice and empathy.
The 28-year-old tries to channel the mantra of her grandfather, who served as a hospital chaplain before he died two years ago: "Be a caring presence." But to keep a distance from the life-and-death conditions she faces in the COVID-19 unit, Katz said she usually builds an emotional wall as she works.
Still, Katz often carries work home with her after long shifts, lying awake mulling over her patients and their families. A layer of guilt blankets her thoughts.
"We help the patients, but we leave at the end of the day. We're still breathing. How can we complain?" she said.
At both Cedars-Sinai and Children's Hospital Los Angeles, chaplains offer hospital workers a respite from the bustling, beeping backdrop. They roll up to cordoned-off areas in different wards with "Tea for the Soul."
Two by two, to accommodate social distancing, hospital staff trickle in, greeted by warm smiles and hot cups of tea. The chaplains may dim the lights or diffuse lavenderscented oils. Sometimes they set up a jar for workers to deposit their stressors, which are written on slips of paper.
"When we see that there's a lot of stress on the unit — maybe there has been a critical case, or a lot of them — sometimes we'll just bring up the tea cart," said Dagmar Grefe, manager of spiritual care at Children's Hospital. "It has become so popular that people will call us and say, 'We have a lot going on, can you come up?' It's an expression of care for people who usually always care for others."
Sue Martinez, a nurse manager at Children's Hospital, said the presence of the chaplains is "invaluable."
"Sometimes I'm not sure that we all recognize the magnitude that they have within the hospital walls," she said.
Martinez recalled learning on a recent evening about the death of a longtime colleague from the medical surgical unit, where Martinez has worked for 29 years. Grefe arrived the next day at 6 a.m. with the tea cart, she said, and later organized a virtual memorial for the late nurse.
"We could use it any day here, to be honest," Martinez said. "This work is hard, and oftentimes we don't take breaks — a real proper break where we could unplug.
"We all love it," she continued, noting that she usually chooses chamomile. "I don't think there's anyone who would turn down a cup of tea."