Bruce's Stories

Dr. McCall

Step One: Spotting the Sacred

            The irony of the phone call that evening was as clear as the connection.

            My father’s physician, Dr. Annette McCall, was calling my mother to offer condolences: my father had passed away earlier that morning. He had taken his last breath just before sunrise, after an eleven day final battle with cancer. The family had gathered with our mother to share a late supper and share memories.

            A doctor calling with condolences? One might expect that. But our family had just met Dr. McCall when our father had been transferred to the Palliative or Hospice Care Unit.  But Dr. McCall’s phone call was not simply to offer condolences, she had called to invite our family to her home for dinner and a game of…flashlight tag!  

            Tag? Therein lay the irony.  How many doctors do you know that call bereaving families—whom they hardly know—and invite them for dinner and flashlight tag?  It seemed…well…almost unprofessional.  Aren’t there supposed to be patient/doctor boundaries? Surely this doctor dealt with grieving, distraught f

?>amilies everyday—but shouldn’t she create boundaries between her personal and professional life? The only doctors I have ever met were busy professional types who seemed to keep their distance in an effort to preserve their mystical aura. The doctor’s I know are usually in a rush to get to the next patient—sure, polite, but seldom connecting on a deep personal level. 

            Doctor McCall was different. 

            She had been assigned to Dad’s unit just that week.  She was genuinely interested in our father and the family.  She took time to talk, asking Dad about his favorite music and hobbies.  After discovering his love of jazz, she brought a few CD’s from her home for him to enjoy as he sat by his bedside.

            “I’ll bet she was a nurse first,” claimed my sister, who was a nurse who worked at another hospital. “Doctors who were nurses are generally more compassionate.”

            So the next time Dr. McCall dropped by my father’s bed to check his chart, my mother shyly asked, “I hope you won’t be offended by my question, but, were you ever a nurse before becoming a doctor?”

            The doctor laughed.  “Funny you should ask. Do you want to know the truth?”  We nodded. “I wanted to be, but I actually failed the nurse’s entry exam.” Dr. McCall explained how she had come from Germany, knew very little English but wanted very much to be a nurse, but failed.  After five years of wandering around the country, just working as a waitress and such, she announced to her friends that she was going to apply to medical school.  Nobody believed her.  They just laughed.

Step Two:  Adjusting the Jesus Lens

            “We’re all human,” Dr. McCall told me in the hallway outside my father’s room.  “Life is not about titles and positions.  We’re all just people first.”  Her philosophy seemed to guide her work. There was no condescension in her voice, but always a willingness to move alongside her patients, understanding their fears and pain.  It was a treat to watch her visit with those in her care. 

            One of God’s great gifts to our family was to have this doctor care for my father in his final days.  Her compassion, humility, personal interest, all made the experience so much more bearable, so comforting.

            But inviting us into her home for dinner takes caring to whole new level.  Opening one’s home to strangers is the ultimate equalizer.  It says, “I value you enough to share what is most precious to me—my family and my home.” 

            And there was Dr. McCall, after a busy week of helping the dying, inviting our whole family over for dinner and games.  Unusual behavior?  Behavior worthy of notice?  Absolutely.

            I have always been intrigued by Zacchaeus’ surprise when Jesus invited himself to Zacchaeus’ house for dinner (Lk. 19).  Jesus, the ‘holy’ man, was willing to associate himself with a man detested by his community.  Jesus the religious leader is not concerned with upholding his reputation.  By being willing to eat with Zacchaeus, Jesus models a willingness to connect with anyone.  In that moment Jesus demonstrated that holiness was and is not some technique to lord it over people.  True holiness is about embracing the humanity of the other. 

Step Three: Digest & Share

            I doubt if Dr. McCall invites all the families of her patients over for dinner after they lose a loved one.  Maybe, but those in the caring professions need to protect themselves from burn out by creating boundaries.  But Dr. McCall’s witness and compassion for our family—a group of strangers—has deeply touched me.

            It’s so easy to become full of ourselves. We become intoxicated by our titles and accomplishments, secretly believing that we are somehow better—giving us the right to separate ourselves.  We gain more “authority” and “power” and subtly distance ourselves from those who can not improve or help our career. Then, preserving our image becomes more important than moving alongside those who hurt, preventing them from seeing our humanity.