Revisiting the Past

Many weeks ago I was asked to speak at a meeting of accountants associated with the hospital where Neal spent so many months, beginning on October 9, 2005 and ultimately where he spent his last days.  My topic was to share my perspective of the hospital with employees who may not see a patient for a year at a time. 
I had a general outline of what I wanted to say but never did write a talk because I felt like what I wanted to share had to come from the heart.  I didn't think I was stressed about it but I must have felt a little anxiety because this past week I have awakened during the night and thought about it and obsessed about what to wear.
Today was the day.
After the usual corporate registration and a rainy walk to another building, I learned I would be the first speaker on their program.  There were about 45-50 people in the room.
I don't remember what I said but these are the points I believe I covered.
Since Providence Cherry Hill is a faith-based organization I knew I could talk about God so I wanted to include at least part of the scripture in Mosiah 18:8-9 that describes our responsibilities if we are going to take upon us the name of Christ:

8 ... and now, as ye are desirous to come into the fold of God, and to be called his people, and are willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light;

9 Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort...

I explained what happened to Neal, shared the scripture and then gave some examples we had witnessed of those scriptural qualities.  The first one I mentioned was in the early days of his hospitalization when a medical team would regularly come into the room, examine my husband and use pens to make X's on his body to mark the increasing progression of his paralysis.  Because each day the X's moved further up his body I was terrified that it would eventually reach his heart and he would suffocate. I didn't know who to ask about it.  Then one day a staff doctor was visiting with me about his treatment and I said something about the moving X's.  She looked me in the eye and said, "The damage was at T-10. The paralysis cannot go any higher." I think that was the first time I took a deep breath since it happened.
The second example was Neal's opportunity to "pay it forward" when the Rehab unit called Neal and asked him to return to talk with a frightened young man who was newly paralyzed, to help him see that life could go on, that he could learn to drive or work or travel.  They talked for a long time and he even stayed in touch over the years.
The last example I shared was at the end, when the doctor had told us there was no hope and that it was time to call in the Palliative Care team.  Neal and I, Neal's daughters, and the doctor jointly made the decision to suspend medical treatment and start morphine to make his final days easier.  Neal asked for one day to say goodbye to family and friends before they started the drug.  My job was to let the nurse know when he was ready.  When I made the call I tried to be very strong, but as soon as I told her who I was and why I was calling, SHE cried.  Then we cried together.  The sweet young nurse who came into his room to start the morphine also had tears in her eyes.  She wasn't just someone putting in her hours at work - she was filled with compassion.
I have never seen a mission statement for Cherry Hill but I am sure that it includes concepts that help their doctors and staff view patients as individuals and helps them show compassion.