The Whole World Is Medicine

Used to be that I spent a lot of time in the cafeteria of a certain Catholic hospital. It doesn’t matter which one. The circumstances of my life were more demanding in those days. I liked hanging out in the hospital cafeteria because it was the last place anybody would look for me. It was an early-morning refuge. We all need one. The coffee was good enough and I could get a little writing done. Besides, I like to watch how other people approach their jobs.

For instance, those hospital caregivers over there, sitting at that nearby table, four of them, confabulating over coffee. Two are wearing ordinary scrubs, the others designer scrubs. It’s early in the morning and the sun has yet to rise. It’s just us sitting in the well-lit, sanitized spaciousness of this cafeteria. I’m supposed to be writing something, but I have nothing to say. So I write down what they say.

They talk of co-workers and bosses. They complain about the charge nurse. They express dismay over a couple of colleagues who play with Tarot cards in the break room. They discuss what to do on their day off, maybe go horseback riding or to the casino. Ordinary stuff.

Before long the conversation returns to the subject of the charge nurse. They do not like her. She makes their workplace miserable. She bosses them around. One of the caregivers, a young woman wearing designer scrubs, suddenly blossoms into profanity: “Things around here are so fucking fucked up!”

“Yeah!” the rest chime in, “Yeah!” They all laugh.

Overhead, the cafeteria loudspeakers come to life. It is time for the broadcast of the hospital’s daily prayer. A soothing male voice speaks from above. Words of blessing descend through fluorescently-lit air down to the bright linoleum floor. The caregivers maintain a respectful silence.

“May you see with tender eyes
The wounds of those before you.
May you hear with well-tuned ears
The unspokenness of those whose voices are muted.
May you hold with gentle hands
The bodies and spirits of those you care for.
May you know that,
As you care for others,
God cares for you, sees you,
Holds you tenderly. . .”

After a long pause, the voice from above says, “Amen.” Another long pause, then the voice again says, “Amen.” And that’s it. Prayer’s finished. Talk among the caregivers resumes as they stand up and collect their empty cups and disappear into their workday.

Somebody cares for us all.

©John P. O’Grady
Originally appeared in The Mountain Eagle on November 6, 2020