It can be rather interesting being virtually the only female chaplain in a hospital full of men. Patients and staff call me Reverend and Father and Padre and Mother and Sister, and sometimes Lady Chaplain too.
And sometimes I end up in situations like this one.
I was pulling on gloves and an isolation gown outside a patient's room last week when I overheard the following exchange between the patient and his sitter:
"Is there a girl out there??"
"Yes, there's someone here to visit you."
"Is she pretty? Does she have blonde hair?"
(The sitter peeked out at me.)
"Yes, she does, sort of..."
"That's my girlfriend!"
"No, I'm pretty sure she's not your girlfriend."
(I'm laughing now, fumbling with my gloves. The patient says something I can't hear.)
"No, I really don't think it's a good idea to flirt with her."
"Why not???"
(Now I can hear laughter in the sitter's voice too.)
"...You'll see when she comes in. She's... well, she's close to the big man upstairs, let's just say that."
(I bite back the laughter and step into the room, chaplain-mode engaged, but can't help grinning at the sitter.)
There's something holy in bedside laughter, I know it. Never a dull day!
