You meet so many people when you’re in hospital with your child. Who are they all? And what do they all do? In this series, we explore the roles you might come across in hospital and meet the humans behind them!
A few years ago, I walked up to a family on the Paediatric Intensive Care Unit (PICU) at Bristol Children’s Hospital. Before I could ask them how their child was doing they asked me how I was. Me!? I was taken a bit by surprise by that, they stole my question, and I heard these words coming out of my mouth as I answered them way too honestly: ‘Well, I’m a bit concerned actually. My wife cooked an epic Cauliflower and Chickpea Curry last night and every time I take a step down our corridors I need to check that there isn’t somebody walking directly behind me.’ Wise words from a holy man. Last night’s food, and its consequences, became a bit of a thing between us, I had the joy of baptising their child a few days later, and when the family were transferred to Great Ormond Street Hospital, they sent me a picture of them eating Cauliflower Curry in the hospital cafeteria.
I’ve been the Chaplain with responsibility for Bristol Children’s Hospital for about six years. At 63 I do sometimes feel like the oldest paediatric chaplain in the world, but our patients and families and staff don’t seem to mind an ancient presence walking around offering spiritual, pastoral and religious care.
Like most people I’ve had a number of jobs before this one. I began life working on BBC Radio 3 and then as an international opera singer, before taking the plunge and becoming an Anglican vicar at a 12thcentury Abbey in Wiltshire. Since 2017 I’ve been a chaplain in a number of hospital contexts, but the Bristol Children’s Hospital wins. I adore my job; patients, families and staff. Love ‘em.
My day begins at home with black coffee, strong. It’s non-negotiable; decaf is of the devil. Being a religious chap, coffee then leads to Morning Prayer for which I use a 17th century text each day. You might think that that’s a bit strange, is God really that old-fashioned? But I find the pain and concerns of the families that I’m working with, particularly those on PICU or Oncology, are sometimes too hard to put in to my informal words. It helps me to have an ancient text to say each day regardless of the very contemporary problems at work.
My daily commute from North Somerset ends with an hour in the office doing the obligatory e-mails. I check which of the 150 families in the Children’s Hospital have connections with the Chaplaincy, usually it’s about 40-50, and then I set about seeing 5-10 families personally across the day. We’re an inclusive service, everyone is welcome to receive our support, religious or not, and it’s important to us that a family or patient really wants our care. ‘But what does a Hospital Chaplain actually do?’ I hear you asking. Three words describe my work: religious, pastoral and spiritual.
Religious care is relatively obvious: arranging for an Imam to visit to recite the Quran, organising a parents’ wedding blessing at their child’s bedside, or saying a prayer with a family before a complex surgery. I’m Church of England, I can’t do everything that’s requested, but I can normally find a colleague, or a volunteer in our community, to offer the most appropriate care, 24/7. Recently I’ve had a number of parents asking me to pray for their child to poo; and I have faithfully brought their concerns to God. Our work is religious, but real.
Pastoral care, which involves a lot of listening, I think is something that we all do for others. I would describe it as walking alongside somebody through tough times. Or encountering somebody in a ditch and getting in to see their perspective. The fact that I know nothing about a child’s treatment and I’m not in a rush to another patient is often really helpful to parents. I also find myself laughing a lot with families; and occasionally crying.
Spiritual care, the third dimension of my job, is perhaps best described by quoting the actual questions of families in hospital: ‘is God really in control? I’m not sure anymore.’ ‘Is my grandson in heaven?’ ‘I’m a good Christian, why was my daughter born with a heart defect?’ And frequently: ‘this is just so unfair.’ I meet parents whose lives are rocked by their child’s illness, to the core of their being. Chaplains call that spiritual pain, or existential pain, and it’s not our job to give glib religious answers. A friend told me that she was given such crass answers and advice by a hospital chaplain that she wanted to punch him. I try not to be that person.
In July 1999 I knelt before the Bishop of Derby and was ordained a Rev. Honesty, it’s been worth every bump along the road since then to have the daily honour of serving parents, carers and their children in the wards of Bristol Children’s Hospital. If you’re one of them reading this, thank you for allowing me into your temporary home.
If you’re reading this in a hospital and would like a confidential visit from a chaplain, you can simply ask a nurse or ward clerk to make a referral.
And if you’re curious about exploring chaplaincy for yourself, the best way to take things further is to ring your local hospital and tell them that you’re interested in becoming a chaplaincy volunteer. Most of us started there.
You can find out more about the Bristol Royal Hospital for Children here, and more about the Chaplaincy services here.
You can see more blogs from our Hospital Humans series on our website. We also have loads of information to guide you through a stay in hospital with your child, all created by parents who have been in hospital with their child. From admittance to discharge and everything in between, we’ve got you covered.
You can support the vital work we do by making a donation. Even a small amount can help us continue to help parents in hospital.
