Life in Jeopardy

When I was younger, my friends were often of the opinion that my dad only worked one day per week. He’s a pastor, and has been for most of my life, so it was understandable for them to think that Sunday was his work day and the rest of the week my dad did whatever dad’s do when they’re not working…usually they asked me what that was and I had to describe to them what I thought my dad’s job really entailed and clarify that it did in fact involve more than one day per week…what I wouldn’t give to go back and be a fly on the wall during one of those conversations…Anyways, along with this peculiarity of being a PK was the fact that your dad was never really totally off duty. There were always the phone calls about so and so who was really sick and just taken to the hospital, or such and such who just had a baby, or just died, or a marriage in a crisis, or a life in jeopardy for one reason or another. And you never knew when those were going to come…during Christmas dinner or as you’re trying to get out the door to your final tournament soccer game, or in the middle of an episode of the Cosby Show. It was just part of the job. I never really thought much of it until I got older. I thought everybody’s jobs were like that…

Now, I have a job of my own like that. How’d this happen? Turns out my mom has a job like that too, but I never really knew it when I decided to follow in her footsteps.

Two weeks ago, a life was in jeopardy and I was not expecting to be on duty. I was sitting by the pool in Jinja, reading, having rafted the Nile the day before. Sarah was taking a pre-dinner shower, and Ashley was sitting across from me with her nose in a book as well. The pool was quiet after a day of visitors enjoying the water. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a few Ugandans walking along the far side of the pool, and then one of the guys jumped into the water. I looked up to see what kind of mischief he was making. When he stood up in the pool, I noticed he was holding something, then as he walked across the pool, I realized it was a child he was holding. The child was lying across his arms, limp.

Ashley must have noticed the look on my face and turned to look and see what I was looking at. The next half hour or so would take a really long time for me to describe in detail here. But in summary, the child died in front of my eyes. For medical, cultural, circumstantial and practical reasons, I made the decision not to do CPR. Have you ever made such a decision? What do you think of me for making such a decision? I could try to defend myself, but when I’ve tried to do that in the last couple of weeks all of the words come out wrong and so I just need to leave it at that.

This is the first time in my life as a nurse that I’ve been the ONLY ONE…the only medically trained person in the vicinity…but my experience and my knowledge of the situation led me to the decision not to do CPR and that had an impact on my heart. I felt okay with my decision in the moment, I had a peculiar peace as I walked away, but a few hours later I began to doubt my judgement, I began to doubt and question everything. Sarah and Ashley and I had made plans earlier in the afternoon to play a rousing game of Nertz after dinner but I was no longer in the mood.

After debriefing some with my mom the next night, and with Jennifer the other night after pizza, I can say that I still stand by my decision with their encouragement. It’s with much trepidation that I write of this, because my biggest fear is what other people will think. But the truth is that This Is My Father’s World, and His shield is my defense. But the purpose of this blog is to communicate what life here is like, to communicate to you what my experiences here look, sound, smell, and feel like…and this one is no different. It’s an experience unique to our life, to my life here, and it has taught me more of who God is, and who I am. But the truth is also that a family somewhere has been mourning the loss of a son, whose chest heaved for the last time as I held his hand and watched.