By Bishop Patrick O’Donoghue

When I became a priest away back in 1967 I had hardly ever been inside the doors of a hospital. Imagine then my surprise, verging on consternation, on finding out that my first appointment was to one of the great Middlesex hospitals in London. After all, hospital chaplaincy had barely figured in my six years of training for the priesthood.

My first day at the Middlesex was spent pacing up and down those long corridors, so characteris-tic of hospitals even today. To tell the truth I was steeling myself for the inevitable, an incursion into the wards and there were 26 of them. I was fearful and wondered how I could cope – was I cut out for this work?

On my second day I ventured down the main corridor. It was now or never. A young man in a white coat, and a stethoscope dangling from his pocket, emerged out of the horizon. As we were about to pass, like ships in the night, he called out to me: “Are you the new Catholic Chaplain?” Eagerly I responded: “Yes, I am”, delighted to be able to speak to someone who knew something of my role. What happened next entirely escapes me but presumably I poured out my fears for he was to invite me to join him for coffee on the following morning in the doctors’ sitting room.

I remember the day and the time: It was a Thursday at eleven I nervously approached and duti-fully rang the doorbell. Peering from a partly opened door the receptionist called out: “What do you want?” On making it known that I was looking for Dr Davies, she retorted: “It is MR Da-vies, and you cannot come in here. This is the Consultants’ private sitting-room”. Recovering slightly from that body-blow, I managed to say: “Tell Mr. Davies that I’m here”. Without a word she retreated and slammed the door shut on my face. However, moments later the man in the white coat, whom I met on the previous day, appeared and invited me in. It was introductions all round and the first was Sir Avery Jones – later I would find that he was a world figure in gastro-enterology and my Australian friend, Mr Davies, himself a consultant, was studying under him.

That morning after our elevenses, and again on the following morning, the Consultant, and a rather timid newly ordained priest, traversed the entire hospital. There were introductions to his fellow consultants, doctors and students, ward sisters, nurses and staff... The welcome and in-terest of that one person started a friendship with hospital staffs and patients that survives even to the present day. I would willingly have remained full time in chaplaincy ministry, if only the Bishop had asked me.

My fear of hospitals fast disappeared and so too my squeamishness about blood and so many other things associated with caring for the sick. I never cease to marvel at the competence and loving care of our medical workers. Sharing the pain of patient and loved ones, torn apart in suf-fering and bereavement, moves me very deeply. I long for developments in the medical sciences that will offer new hope and I’m always inspired by the courage so many show in their illnesses.

My work with the sick has taught me a lesson never to be forgotten – they have more to give me than I have to give them. May God bless our sick and those who care for them.

“This will be a long haul. It is our duty to support these people spiritually - with prayer, as well as materially. Such a tragedy calls us to a deeper contemplation of our faith in a Creator God. We do not fully understand the complexities or powers, of creation, but we do understand the compassion of our God, and how through Jesus we are called to be compassionate.”