Journal of Sacred Work

   A hospital front desk is a place for greetings and the provision of information, but it can also be a place where unusual questions arise. My younger sister, Martha, has been dealing with these encounters for more than thirty years. 

   Most entertaining for her have been some of the funny questions and comments that have arisen from those understandbly confused with the bewildering range of hospital terminology.

   A woman appeared at the desk one day, her husband in tow. "How may I help you," my sister asked. "My husband is here for his autopsy," the woman answered. It took awhile for Martha to discern that he was actually there for an endoscopy.

   "Can you tell me the way to the paternity unit?" a man asked one day.

   A prospective employee appeared at the front desk to ask where "the human remains" department was located. Another woman looking for the Infertility Center asked Martha the location of "The Infidelity Department"

   Visitors have frequently asked my sister to help identify a patient they want to visit whose name they can't recall. "I think her name is Sue," one woman said one day. "Could you just look up all the patients named Sue and read them to me?"

   After a patient finished filling out paperwork for an admission, her doctor told her to be sure and bring in the pink sheets. Sure enough, the patient showed up at the front desk with pink sheets for her bed.

   One morning Martha gave the usual instructions on how to find the Emergency department to two young men. "Walk down this hall to my left, go down the ten steps and the ER will be on your right," she advised. She learned later that the two men were seen counting out ten paces in the hall.

   "I have pancreatitis," a patient told Martha. "That must be hard," she answered. "Well, it only hurts in my knees and elbows," the patient said.

   A woman called to ask about visiting hours. "They are from 9:00 a.m. to 8:30 p.m.," Martha informed her. "Oh, honey, I can't visit that long," the caller said.

   Amid all the hard situations caregivers handle at the front desks of America's hospitals, veterans are bound to have come across situations that brings smiles. Perhaps, absent that, the repetitive nature of the work might become intolerable.

   What counts in the case of my younger sister is that she never once laughed at anyone for their odd questions. Instead, she has always treated each visitor with a dignity grounded in Love.

   This is why Martha, just a month from retirement, can look back on her thirty years of caregiving with a sense of joy and appreciation. She is grateful for the opportunity she has had to bring moments of light into the lives of people trying to navigate the bewildering world of health care in general and hospitals in particular.

-Rev. Erie Chapman