I frequently have interactions that leave me with looming questions. This is my recolection and the remaining questions from one such incident:
I was rounding floors and was on 5W where I was told a 14yr old male was inpatient from surgery to set a compound fracture tibia. The nurse relayed that he was speaking in belligerent ways to all staff and that he had no family with him. It was almost 1am and the patient was still up watching TV.
I knocked and entered the room when he acknowledged me. There I met KM who is African American and appears older than his age. He said in a gruff tone, “what do you want?” I said, “My name is Lavender and I’m a chaplain here. I saw you were up and thought I’d say hi since I don’t get to see too many folks awake at this time of night.” He replied, “yeah, I don’t sleep much and I don’t trust these b******. Anyway, what do you want?” I said, “I don’t really want anything. But like I said, I saw you were up and thought I’d check in. Wanna play a game or watch a movie?”
From that point, KM and I had a conversation about card games. He told me he was great at poker and that I’d never be able to read if he was bluffing. He started sharing stories of beating other people. I got a deck of cards and we played dealer’s choice. For the first 20 min, he continued with grandiose stories of things he had won playing poker and said he wanted to play professionally. At some point I asked how he learned to play.
At this point his manner changed into something quieter but he quickly rebounded and told me about his older brother who had been shot and killed. Though not said directly, the context clues told me it was gang related. His stories of his brother were full of the same profanity, grandiosity, and bravado he had been exhibiting. I gathered that his brother was 3 years older and was killed last year. I dropped the subject for a while sensing that he didn’t want to go further than surface details.
After a while I noticed him staring at my badge. He asked, “What’s a chaplain?” I went into my normal explanation of a chaplain being kind of like a minister in a church but instead of working at a church, I only work here. And I added that I like to spend time with all kinds of people no matter what they believe because it’s important to not be alone when you’re sick.
At this he sat up straighter in bed and apologized for his profanity. I told him I didn’t care but then asked him why he would apologize to me but not the nurses who were trying to take care of him. He said, “those b****** don’t care about me. They just want to get my black a** outta here so I can be killed like everyone else.”
I said, “what makes you think that?” He replied, “Are you stupid? That’s how everybody is. Cops, teachers, everybody. My brother didn’t die because he was in a gang. He died because none of you care!”
I sat silently looking into his angry eyes and noticing his heavy breathing for what felt like an eternity though it was only about 10 seconds. I said, “KM, would it be okay if I don’t believe everyone feels that way? I don’t want to sound like I’m arguing with you because it sounds like you feel that way for a reason.”
He said, “of course you don’t think that.” I said, “what do you mean?” He replied, “because of God and s***. You aren’t supposed to.” I said, “no one is supposed to feel that way. No one should want someone else dead.” When I said this, I had a fearful feeling I overstepped. He looked at me angrily and said, “I want those f****** that killed DM dead!” I said, “If it were me, I would too but wanting something because I’m upset and actually doing it aren’t the same.”
At this point he starts telling me about all the people that have his back. There’s something about him that tells me he really doesn’t like violence but I can’t figure out what to say about it. He shared the story of how he broke his leg jumping from something to chase someone away. He said, “my brother would have done the same thing” as he concluded the story. I said, “It’s real important to me to remember people that are dead that are still part of me. Sounds like you work hard to remember your brother. How would he want you to carry him on?”
He showed me his tattoo honoring his brother. He then told me about how his brother never wanted him be in the gang. He said, “DM used to say I just needed to play basketball and take care of momma.”
He continued to talk a while about how he doesn’t have a choice to be in the gang now and how he likes having friends, especially ones that knew his brother. I found myself thinking that I really had nothing to offer the kid. Personally, I don’t think he stands a chance of getting out of the gang alive and I know exactly why he thinks most white people want him dead. Yet, he’s got a really sensitive inside that I catch glimpses of when he gets close to his pain about DM.
Finally I said, “I know there are lots of things you can’t change and I’m not going to pretend like you can. But what is one simple thing that would make your life better?” Without any hesitation, he said, “not hate so much.” I unintentionally chuckled and said, “I said a ‘simple thing’” and he laughed too.
This was a turning point in our conversation. KM spoke with insight into how much he misses DM and how doing what his brother did is a way of keeping DM with him. He said he never felt angry and hateful prior to the murder.
I reminded him of what I said earlier about carrying dead people with me as a way of honoring them and loving them. I asked him what ways he wanted to show his brother honor. We talked about it for a while. The things he wanted to do include continuing to play basketball, staying in the gang, getting another tattoo, and writing DM’s name on some wall. I also asked him if there were parts in addition to the hate he wanted to let go of. He was less clear about this but he was clear that he wanted to smoke pot but never wanted to use drugs like his momma does. I think the unspoken dynamic is that she uses to mask feelings of sorrow. So this was his way of saying he wanted to let go of the sorrow too.
Our conversation started to wind down and I could tell it was time to go. I told him I was really glad to meet him and even more honored that he and I had such a great talk. We had a mildly awkward goodbye with the unspoken piece being that we would never see each other again.
This 2+ hour conversation happened as we played poker. Though many themes exist including racism, I focused on and have continued to reflect upon how to help someone grieve when they don’t have the space or safety to do that in a textbook manner.
• I place a lot of trust in my intuition in such moments. What are some dangers I might miss if I focus too much on his underlying gentleness?
• Is it ethical for me to move him toward grief work when he may need the anger/pain as a mode of survival?
• What other resources could I have offered?
• I wish I had helped him name sorrow. How else could I have helped him continue healthy grieving?
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