Removing the Splinter From My Brain by J.B. Ketner

As a physician, one of the things that I love most about my job is that every day is different there are new patients, new challenges, new information every day. I had no idea, however, as I drove to work that August day that it would leave me forever changed. You cannot anticipate these things.

That sticky summer afternoon I did the most painful thing that I can imagine. I handed two parents their dead baby and softly said, I'm sorry. The pregnancy had gone well enough, but as the baby prepared to descend into the birth canal, his umbilical cord became tied in a knot. It's a seemingly random event. But randomness and chaos don't really mean much in such situations.

I believe that we're all in this together. Physicians as a group tend to view themselves as individuals. When we truly engage other people and invest our lives in theirs, something much greater happens. I made a choice that at that moment of unspeakable pain I would ignore everything inside of me that screamed to get out of the delivery room. I chose to stay, cry and immerse myself in this world of pain. That choice set off a chain reaction forcing me to question my career, my faith and my understanding of the universe.

The pain that we share is the sharp edge of the sword of engagement. I've become convinced, though, that you can't truly share other's joys unless you're willing to shoulder some of their burdens. The little boy's mother, amid a storm of hurt, looked at me and said, It's going to be alright. They serve as my model for embracing adversity. Amid all that pain, she reached out to me.

In the weeks and months that followed, while planes flew into buildings and children died in school bus accidents, I tied myself in knots trying to unravel the eternal question of righteous suffering, what theologians call theodicy. This splinter in my brain begged to be removed. I found no satisfactory explanations in any book not even the book that I was told had all of the answers. It was a problem I found that I could not think my way through. Why does there have to be such unspeakable pain and suffering in this world. Is it sin? Is it God or a lack thereof? Is it chance? Is it choice? Ultimately, those wonderful parents showed me the answer.

Some well-intentioned person, when presented with my dilemma, implied that God just needed that baby up in heaven. I don't think that the Divine Creator has a need to tie umbilical cords in knots or break a mother's heart. Things happen. Maybe what's most important is how well we hold each other up whether our hearts are bursting or breaking. That lovely little boy taught me that a big part of how God works in this world is how we choose to care for each other. I believe that the biggest decision is resolving to engage with others; to share their pain and their joy, to help when we can, to consider others as much as we consider ourselves.