Tough Cookie

It took me forever to get an appointment with the head of the chaplaincy department of Roswell Cancer Institute in Buffalo. Online, their spiritual support for cancer patients looks amazing! They seemed to offer the most services and pastoral care of anyplace I had ever seen. I contacted them to see if there was some event where we (PrayerSong) might come and sing. I thought they would send me contact info, or a schedule or form, or some resource about how to sign up or training we could take etc.

Instead, the head of the program said I had to meet with her first. So I asked for an appointment, and it was like pulling teeth to get a time set. I thought she must be terribly busy and wondered that she was willing to meet with people right at the start. She cancelled the first appointment, then asked to meet on a day I had to teach a class. I explained my working situation, and she sent me a rather curt email with a mutually acceptable date to meet.

I wasn't sure what I expected, really. But certainly not what I got. She began our conversation with a defensive "I'm pretty sure I can't help you." and it went downhill from there. It was as if she had already decided against letting me be involved in anyway with anyone. I could tell that from her explosive, "We don't let anyone in a patient's room without a rigorous training process that requires 22 weeks of intensive meetings and complete commitment. It takes a whole year, and I have to know you intimately before I will even consider allowing you to talk to a patient. And even then I don't let most of the people who go through the program deal directly with patients."

I tactfully tried to ask about chapel services, which elicited, "I am not about to let some Christian cram their God down the throat of a dying patient. Don't get me wrong, I am a Christian, but you people have no idea what its like to have cancer." Hum. I made the mistake of mentioning that I had been through cancer and in fact may still be dealing with it. That's when things really blew up. I cannot imagine what precipitated her outburst, but something must have burned her hard. She went off like a Roman candle, her arms flailing the air, her voice getting louder and louder.

I started praying, "Lord, show me what to do, what to say. Are you closing the door here? Should I just leave? What am I doing here? What are you showing me?" I just got quiet and let her talk. She was definitely advocating - not interfaith service, but a no-faith inoffensive mishmosh of nothing specific. They do 2 annual services for family members who have lost a loved one to cancer - nothing religious in them. They do Catholic mass since 65% of their patients are Catholic - no music. You can't do any music that even remotely smacks of one type of faith over another. After all, what happens if a Muslim happens to attend a service and you are singing a Baptist hymn? Or a Jewish person. He will be offended. . .

I listened respectfully for awhile. I think she thought I would leave. I just kept asking what might be allowed. How could we help? What are the rules? She finally quieted down, and suggested that I talk with the head of volunteer services to sing in the lobby. Has to be at noontime. Can't be anything religious. Doesn't affect her program in any way. Translation: go away and leave me alone. I began to chat a bit, telling her about myself, my background, my training.

I think she finally realized I was not who she thought I was, whatever that might be. She finally said, "You wouldn't believe the nuts who are coming out of the woodwork lately who just want to make themselves feel better at someone else's expense." Then we were both quiet for a few minutes while her sentence faded from the air. I sat still and waited. Finally she told me about a workshop she was sponsoring on Friday. A gentleman who had national expertise in dealing with the terminally ill. She showed me the flier. I knew inside that I was to sign up for it, so I did on the spot without even knowing much about it.

And as soon as I did that, I felt a release to leave. She seemed much friendlier as I exited her little office. Not sure what that was all about. Perhaps the Lord sent me to be a shock absorber. That's fine. Perhaps it is the beginning of a tough relationship. Perhaps she puts everyone through the same process to see who might pass her test. Perhaps she just found out she has cancer, or just lost someone she loves to cancer. I don't know. We shall see what the good Lord has in mind.

Meanwhile, I am a bit reeling from the very idea that it is inappropriate to offer hope to those who might be seeking answers as they face their final hours on earth. If not then, when?