Just as I am

Herr, ich komme zu Dir, 

und ich steh' vor Dir, so wie ich bin

(Transl.) Lord, I come to You, 

And I stand before you just as I am

The security guard and I walk together through the dark night; silent and concentrated on the task on hand. The outdoor corridor which links the main building of our hospital to the morgue is long, but we eventually make it to our destination. All the way I can hear the shuffling of feet behind us as a family member of the deceased follows us. Out of compassion, I give him a "job" helping me push the gurney, so as to give him a sense of being a part of it all. Death is funny that way. It's scary and we want to run away from it. But when it's a loved one being wheeled away, we ironically stay put. 

****

(Earlier)

My shift is almost over and I'm taking shift-end vitals of my post-op patients. I'm about the retrieve the glass thermometer from under the arm of my patient when I hear the sirens. My co-worker shouts for me, "Hurry! It's an emergency!" I barely don't break the thermometer or totally drop my instruments tray as I maneuver myself out of the room. I rush into the Nurses' station, toss my tray to the side, grab my cell and don a pair of gloves. 

I can see the ambulance pull up, with its siren blaring and lights flashing. 

"Do I call the doctor?" I ask the other nurse.

"Yes!"

As I pull out my phone and dial, the back door to the ambulance is opened. It like a scene from Greys when I see two white, blond men practically straddling the patient, performing CPR. 

The doctor picks up the phone and for a nano-second I panic. I'm new. This is my first call-in for an incoming trauma. How do I explain to the doctor all he needs to know as quickly as possible? In the end my brain farts and fragments all forms of intelligent conversation: 

"Doctor! Emergency! Come quick!" 

He hangs up. 

I'm already in the ER when the man is rolled in by the paramedic and the two blonde men. I slip the oxygen mask on the patient and ask for a report. One of the blonde men tells me in learned Spanish that he isn't a doctor and points at the paramedic.

"English?" I ask him in English.

"Yes." He replies and continues to detail the sequence of events which led to the man's arrival at our hospital. 

The paramedic informs that the man was on a motorbike, drunk and crashed with a car. His apparent injuries prove this. I ask for a stethoscope and try to listen to his heart. Nothing. I reach to feel a pulse at his neck. Nothing. I open his eyes and check his pupils. Dilated. His lips are already turning purple. The doctor isn't present yet, but pending his confirmation, I call it: "Time of death: 18:34." The doctor arrives and checks the patient again, confirming his death. Instinctively and respectfully, I make the sign of the cross over the man's body. 

***

I concentrate hard on keeping the wheels of the gurney on the sidewalk. Off and on I hear them squeaking. Their rotation, along with the pounding of my feet on the pavement, form a rhythm in my mind. The rhythm translates into silent song as I recall the words to a popular German church song: 

            

               Herr, Ich komme zu dir und ich steh' vor Dir so wie ich bin. 

I can't stop my imagination as it visualizes this man literally standing before God "just as he is." What does God see? Unsolicited, I see the memory of the young volunteer from a couple of weeks ago (the young man from my previous entry) joining my jumbled Judgement Day thoughts. They stand side by side, two completely different people from totally contrasting lives. Yet similar... in death. 

Inevitably, the looking glass turns directions and I find myself looking at myself. What do I look like? Do I like what I see? Just as I am now, does He like was He sees?

Dad says that the moments of crises in life are the times when we are most malleable - most open to change. Trauma and death are definitely crises. I hate to wish anything unfortunate on anyone, but I do hope that experiences others have had or ones that you have observed from the periphery will impact your life enough to open yourself up to self-examination.

Because life is short. 

One more thought: 

What do YOU look like just as you are?