The bananas were bananas. No, they were not plantains. They were a bunch of Chiquita bananas sitting amongst the other bananas in the fruit and vegetable store. They seemed to look like all the other light green bananas on the shelf that would soon ripen. However, my bunch of bananas were different as I discovered soon after the purchase. As they sat on my kitchen counter, they did not seem to be turning yellow. I decided to expose them to a sunnier area of the kitchen. Day after day passed. They remained green. One week passed. Two weeks passed. They still remained green. I even tried to put them in a brown paper bag as I would do for an avocado (not really thinking that would work…). Three weeks passed! Still green. I found myself becoming frustrated. Why are these bananas not turning yellow? What is wrong? I concluded that I cannot do anything more to help these bananas.
My children had told me to give it up and throw the bananas in the garbage. Of course, I knew I eventually would. However, in the moment, I could not. I refused. I was convinced that there was a message that God wanted me to learn from these non-ripening bananas and I told my kids I would not toss them until I discovered what it possibly could be…
At the same time as I was pondering the green bananas, I had several very deeply moving visits with three particular people in the hospital that week.
Case 1: D.S.— a young-looking 92-year-old, Jewish female. Married for 62 years until her husband passed away two years ago. Has no affiliation with a synagogue of any sort. Believes in God, but currently struggling in her faith. Relatively in good health, except for deterioration in vision and hearing. Has no friends, as they all have died. D.S. has a supportive family but very much feels like a huge burden to them. She feels very lonely and isolated. She swallowed a cup of bleach in efforts to end her life. Her plan did not work too well, as D.S. was still alive to tell me the tale. She realized that she just needs to live out each day and try to make the best of the time she has left.
Case 2: S.M.—a 34-year-old, Catholic female expecting her fifth child. Very spiritual and seemingly strong in her religious beliefs. She is an active member in her church and always doing things for others. S.M. began to experience stomach pains in her fifth month of the pregnancy. Her appendix had ruptured and things were critical, for both her and the unborn baby. As S.M. was under anesthesia, the decision was made to save her life. Unfortunately, by doing that, it was likely that the baby would not survive. S.M. woke up from the surgery not knowing at all what had happened. Her husband repeatedly told her to be grateful she was alive and broke the news that there was no baby. Her parents, husband and close relatives kept telling S.M. how strong she is and that she needs to stay strong for the rest of her family. Though S.M. knew to be grateful to God for the miracle of her life, she was distraught, so very angry and confused with God. She did not want to feel strong. In telling her story, her tears began to flow down her face.
Case 3: F.R.—an 88-year-old, Protestant male. He lives in a nursing facility, but has frequent visits to the hospital. God has never been a focal point of his life; however, over the past few months F.R. has become a bit more connected to God. F.R. has cancer and has decided to no longer pursue chemotherapy or radiation. He knows his time is quite limited. He has one child with whom he does not feel particularly close. Other relatives do not come by too often. F.R. has only one friend who tries to visit with him once a week. F.R. has a very restricted diet, rarely gets taken out of bed or goes outside. He feels so scared whenever he needs to be taken to the hospital. He does not understand his medical condition well. He does not feel that his particular doctors take the time to explain to him his prognosis and always feels that they are in a hurry. On a recent visit with F.R, he broke down, cried and said he “feels like a piece of garbage.”
Each of these cases touched me in a different way; however, there was a common denominator among all of them. With each of these patients, I walked out of the room with the same feelings—an extreme sadness, frustration and helplessness. A feeling of not being able to change a situation that I wish so badly I could change or “fix.” This could be a very difficult feeling to endure as a chaplain, counselor, doctor, other professional, clergy member, friend, relative and very often as a parent.
Of course, I need to do what is in my power to do—I could reach out to the needed professionals on the medical team (if that is appropriate), I could hope, I could pray with and for that individual and I could be there for that person in the way that they need. I can emphasize to my patient or friend that “I am here for you” and show them through my listening, words and actions how much I really mean that statement. These things are all so necessary and each one of them so crucial.
Then, there comes a time when I need to acknowledge and accept my own human limitations.
Could that be a lesson that God was trying to possibly remind me through my green bananas?
Perhaps the lesson was that I can only do my absolute best in whatever I do and then let go and leave the rest to God.
By Debby Pfeiffer
Debby Pfeiffer lives in Bergenfield, New Jersey with her husband and five children. She is a chaplain at Morristown Medical Center and can be reached at [email protected].
