dying waiting only for the soul’s asking. Sister Jonathan believed that teaching with her whole heart and without hesitating climbed up on the bed, pulled back the oxygen tent and cradled Mrs. Kerrigan in her arms. She whispered into her ear.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I give you my heart and my soul.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph, assist me in my last agony.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I breathe forth my soul in peace with you.”
And Mrs. Kerrigan died. And Sister Jonathan, still cradling the lifeless body, wept like a babe.
The hospital Chaplain, who usually seemed so distant, arrived at the bedside after the last breath. He anointed Mrs. Kerrigan with oil and pronounced the last absolution and final blessing. He told Sister Jonathan in an unusual burst of kindness, that she had done well.
During the supper hour, she was grateful for the closeness of the other nuns with their unspoken understanding of her pain. They walked back to the residence together and she allowed the quiet conversation and gentle banter wash over her. Her small room held a new hint of what was to come since she had a second farewell to perform. She knew for sure that she would part with Winston forever. That night, as she blew the final clouds of smoke out of her window, Sister Jonathan decided to become a nurse.
Sister Catherine Faces Death
Sister Catherine had wanted to be a nurse as long as she could remember. In nursing school she had no trouble memorizing. Everything stuck the first time. She got A’s in all her courses and easily transferred her knowledge into practice. She was good at it. She was able to understand complex issues that bewildered other students. The upper class students forgot that she was new and often asked her for help. She was funny and smart and the doctors often complimented her work.
By the time she was a regular on the unit, she was noticed by the attending physicians. “I’ll bet you’re good with all your patients,” Dr. Livoti had said watching her with an elderly patient of his. She blushed and reveled in the compliment. She was so good even as a second year student that the interns were known to ask her advice about dosage and treatment outcomes. She talked to the interns as though they were naughty boys.
On her third day of work on a new unit, one of her patients went into anaphylactic shock. She quickly dialed the intern on duty as she was drawing up the medication.
“Sister, what do you think we should do?” he queried into the phone.
“Well, how about one cc. of Epinephrine sub-cu. Stat,” she said as she was injecting the patient, holding the phone up to her ear with her shoulder.
“This is good idea. Yes. Stat.”
Since the hospital was a teaching center for doctors as well as nurses, interns and residents arrived from all over the world. The new crop of residents came at the end of the summer. Most of them had been attending physicians in their home country and were completing a second residency so that they could practice in the United States. They all had a fair amount of experience in their field, yet in this situation they were regarded as students. In this, they felt akin to the nursing students who at least had the benefit of knowing the culture.
The new doctors came from all parts of the globe, but the ones with the most curiosity about nuns were the ones from Turkey. The Turkish doctors had no experience with nuns and they were overtly, unreservedly curious. They regarded the student nuns as remarkable oddities and made no effort to conceal their disregard. Dr. Soysal was the smartest of the lot and very quickly became Chief Medical Resident. He also had the most questions.
“Your name is Catherine?” he asked one afternoon as he waited behind her on the cafeteria line. “Are you everyone’s sister?” He was mocking her but his words held a tone of feigned respect. Sister Catherine decided to respond to the words and leave the undercurrent alone.
“In a way, yes.” And she moved quickly past the pudding and cookies to gain some distance. She was disturbed to find that she needed it. As she sat with the other student sisters, she could watch him out of the corner of her eye. He was talking to one of her classmates. Was he asking about her, she wondered.
Early one Monday, Dr. Soysal went up to Four West to assist with bone marrow aspiration and found Sister Catherine at the patient’s bedside, setting up the tray for the test. He sat with the patient for awhile explaining the procedure, then as the patient closed his eyes, he focussed on Sister Catherine and with poorly hidden amusement asked her about her life of dedication to this ‘mythical’ Jesus.
“So you are married to this Jesus?” he whispered with a vicious twinkle in his blue, blue eyes. “Blue, the color of the evening sky,” she had thought when she first met him.
“Yes,” she replied wishing he was somewhere far away.
Unfortunately, he was way too close. She needed to focus on the the test as she realized that the patient was too frightened to care about the conversation that was happening so inappropriately above his head. She rechecked the tray with the sterile equipment, praying that her hand did not shake too much. Dr. Soysal was clearly loving her discomfort, laughing at her behind his eyes.
“So, can you see him?”
“No.”
“Such a marriage? This fulfills you?”
“Yes. Of course.” She knew that she would mess up the sterile field if he did not stop his banter. She mentally reviewed the contents of the tray.
“I need to get some saline,” she said and moved toward the door.
“You stay with the patient. He is frightened,” he said quietly changing his demeanor. “I’ll get the saline.”
She moved back to the bedside and held the man’s hand. He was indeed frightened. He didn’t need to say so. He was thin, frail, sickly, his eyes darting, not resting on anything. It was clear that his need for comfort and assurance was the pressing issue, not the saline.
“This test does not take long,” she said, cradling his hand in both of hers. “Dr. Soysal is very good. I’ll stay with you while the test is being completed. Dr. Soysal has done many, many of these. He uses a local anesthetic which will take most of the pain away. You’ll still feel a poke but I’ll be here to help you with it.”
Dr. Soysal had returned with the saline and was watching her. She flushed when she realized he had been listening. He smiled his approval.
He explained to the patient, “I will not be doing the procedure. Dr. Ryan will be here in just a few minutes.”
“Then, why are you here?” she asked quietly over the patient’s head.
“This is a difficult test. It’s not hard but it’s frightening for the patient. I’m here to hold his hand.”
Their eyes met for just a moment. She was sure she had blushed but busied herself with the tray repositioning it for the tenth time as Dr. Ryan blustered into the room.
He was a large presence and very much in charge. His demeanor cast a huge net of confidence about the room and as the patient became more calm, Sister Catherine left to complete her charting.
The Charge Nurse gave her another patient who was also very sick and also very frightened. The doctors seemed to think that her habit calmed the patients so Sister Catherine kept finding herself in difficult situations. She knew it was unfair but she held her peace.
They did not know for sure what was wrong with this patient. The tests were all inconclusive but they suspected a large mass in the stomach and they needed one more test to justify surgery. The patient, Dan Walden, was refusing. The doctors were insisting. By the end of the shift it was still a stalemate. In the last few minutes of her shift, Sister Catherine finally talked Mr. Walden