In the Name of Whoever I Represent to You - STOP!

The title of this post really has nothing to do with anything, only it came out of conversation that made me giggle out loud.  This morning we were having a staff meeting and the question came up, "What is the chaplain's role if they come across someone trying to escape from the hospital?"  Considering the fact that pastoral authority really means nothing when it comes to restraining someone (picture me running after someone waving a bible in the air, pleading for them to stop and you'll see my point), we all found the conversation entirely more entertaining than it probably should have been.  We also try to be extremely sensitive to the multi-religious needs of a hospital in a place like Atlanta, so we never make assumptions about what God looks like when we are talking to staff, patients and their families.  Hence the part about, "In the name of whoever I represent to you," which just kind of added to the element of humor.

Or maybe theological humor really isn't humorous at all.

Or maybe I'm just a dork.  Jury's still out.

SPEAKING of being a dork - let me tell you all how my morning started.  First of all, I rolled over at 7:00 a.m., 15 minutes before I usually leave.  Whoops.  I leapt out of bed, but I am pleased to admit that I was showered, dressed, grabbed both breakfast AND lunch and still had time to kiss my husband before I left at 7:20.  Impressive, right?

So I get to the hospital at 7:40 and went into the lounge.  I could see the OC chaplain's sunglasses and iPod, but she was nowhere to be found.  I opened up the chapel and started to put my stuff away when I heard the code blue going off.  Because I didn't have the pager, I wasn't supposed to respond, but 30 seconds later the phone rang in the lounge.  I answered and it was the OC chaplain, asking if I could respond because she was dealing with something else that she really couldn't get away from.  I looked sadly at my not-yet-drunk coffee, grabbed my keys and headed towards the elevator.

I got in the elevator, hit 7 and made small talk with the other people riding.  Everyone else got off at 5, so I waited while the doors closed, I rode up further and the doors opened again.  I headed out of the elevator and down the hall.  And then I realized something.

I was on the 6th floor.  Not the 7th.  The elevator had stopped at 6 and I just assumed we were up on 7 and got out.

Sigh ... 

I did a 360 on my heel and headed back to the elevator.  I rode up to the 7th floor, checked to make sure I was ACTUALLY on 7 and headed towards the ICU.  I asked the staff member who sits outside of the unit if she knew where the code was and she told me which room it was in.  I headed towards the double doors of the ICU and crashed directly into them.

Like - literally.

Here's the thing - I was trying to get into an ICU.

All ICU units are locked.

I need to buzz myself into them with my card in order for the doors to open.

Well - I forgot.

"Umm, you have to use your card to get in." I heard the woman say.  I thought that was generous, considering she was probably thinking to herself, "What a freaking moron."

"Oh yeah, thanks!" I laughed awkwardly, then whipped my card out like the old pro that I am (insert sarcastic eye roll here) and strutted into the unit like I'm completely competent.

What can I say?  Chaplaincy should only happen after my first cup of coffee.

I think this can also safely be filed under, "Moments in my life where I would like a do-over."