Proximate with Purpose | Kayla Concepcion '23
As Bryan Stevenson’s words “be proximate!” rang through my head, I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of how literally I was taking it, washing this patient’s body. I certainly was proximate, and more so than I wanted to be! But was I really allowing myself, not just my physical self, but my emotional, spiritual self to be proximate to this patient – this man?
A few weeks ago, I had the privilege of listening to social justice advocate and lawyer Bryan Stevenson speak about how to sustain the work of pursuing justice and loving others well. He shared that in order to maintain an attitude of mercy and love towards others, the key was proximity to people, specifically the poor and disfavored in society. The following week, I found myself face-to-face with such a person in my clinical shift at UVA Medical Center.
Walking onto the unit that day, I had preconceived notions about my assigned patient for the 12-hour shift. He was a middle-aged man with schizoaffective disorder who had a reputation with staff on the unit as being more difficult and having an unpredictable temper. I’d heard him yelling in his room many times, usually about not wanting to leave the hospital. As I walked into his room to introduce myself and put a face to the angry voice I’d only heard from afar, I am embarrassed to admit that I immediately began judging him. I judged the greasy strands of hair that brushed his eyes. I judged his slack-jawed, open mouth that revealed yellowing teeth. I judged his vacant, unintelligent expression. I judged his stained hospital gown with chunks of scrambled eggs that had escaped his notice and gathered in its creases. I judged his hunched posture and protruding stomach. Worst of all, underneath all that judgment was a thought that I felt but didn’t want to admit — How could this patient be worthy of love?
I wish I could say I caught myself right then and there, repenting immediately for such disgusting thoughts, but I didn’t. Instead, more thoughts like that flooded my mind each time I stepped into his room – especially as I went to provide wound care for his feet and legs. As I unwrapped his old bandages, struggling not to gag at the smell, I thought again — How could this patient be worthy of love? Only this time, I caught it. And it wasn’t really me catching it, but the Holy Spirit in me, convicting me for such thoughts! Now a new thought took its place — Why do I think I’m any easier to love? Here I am, judging this patient when I am an equally sinful and broken person, equally insufficient in my striving, and, therefore, equally in need of God’s mercy and saving grace. I had allowed myself to view him as my project for the day. Sure, I’d help him to the bathroom, wipe him, give him his medications, and change the bandages on his wounds. And in doing so, yes, I would be physically proximate. But I hadn’t allowed myself to look at him in the fullness of who he is. He is a person, not just a patient – a person woven together intricately and intimately by the Father who loves him so deeply He sent His only Son to die for him so that he could be reunited with the Father one day. And this same Son, while on earth, humbly washed his disciples’ feet in an act of service and love. Would not Jesus have washed this man’s feet too?
Jesus was consistently proximate to people’s physical needs, and in doing so, met their spiritual needs, affirming God’s love for them and their need for God. I am struck by the fact that my patient – this man who I viewed with such callous judgment – is loved deeply by the same God who loves me.
One thing Bryan Stevenson said near the end of his talk was, “You should not underestimate the power you have to affirm the humanity and dignity of the people around you.” I can’t help but think I blew my shot at doing so for that man. But God, in his grace, gives second chances and has led me to a career in which I will be proximate to the poor and disfavored in society. I pray that as I step into my career as a nurse, and am met with many more opportunities to affirm my patients’ humanity and dignity, I will remember to treat them as more than a patient and as a beloved child of God.