And Sometimes There Are No Words

I’ve seen a lot. Granted I’m not even half way through my 30s yet, but being in the ER I’ve met people from literally all walks of life and everyone in between. Different hopes, different dreams, different hurts, different pains. From the newborns to the 104 year olds (I think that’s my oldest…may have seen an older but that’s what I remember). I’ve cut open chests and pumped hearts, delivered babies and put Band-Aids on. I’ve held hands, I’ve listened, I’ve been punched, and I’ve been cussed out. I’ve delivered good news, I’ve delivered bad news, I’ve asked lots of questions and provided a few answers along the way. And sometimes all of that happens in just one shift.

But every now and then, and luckily it is very rare, I take care of someone where there are no words. And I walk out of a room and just stand and stare and try to wrap my mind around what just happened. And it can’t process it. There is no spot or category or way to make any sense out of the senseless. When what defines us as humans and makes us who we are no matter the walk or the path we are on is shaken and questioned and destroyed it leaves one speechless. And thoughtless. And numb.

And yet the world goes on. And I am still standing still and trying to figure it all out. There aren’t words or explanations that make sense. And there won’t be. To stare horror in its face and see evil manifested in a way beyond words is not something that one just walks away from.

And so what does one do? There are processes and meetings and discussions. There are tears shed and there are hugs given. But ultimately it’s a healing process that one must go through. There will be scars left. It won’t happen overnight and often there won’t be words to describe what is going on. And that’s ok. One day, one step, one prayer, and one more patient at a time.