Privacy Act
Privacy Act
By Lisa Livezey
Their faces were turned away, and they did not see their father’s nakedness.
—Genesis 9:23 (RSVCE)
It was a Tuesday evening when I encountered my younger brother in the hospital hallway outside the room where Dad had been admitted the day prior. He approached me, frustrated. “They won’t tell me anything,” he said. “You have to give them permission.” As the person named by Dad to access his medical records, I needed to provide specific names of those who could receive information about Dad’s condition. Stopping at the nurse’s station, I gave approval that my brother’s questions be answered and from then on, he barely left Dad’s bedside.
Adopted by my parents at age four, my brother was thankful for Mom and Dad’s provision of a stable home in time of need and was deeply bonded with Dad. I greatly appreciated his compassionate presence and emotional support at this time.
Entering the hospital room, I noticed Dad had loose pajama pants on beneath his hospital gown. Thus far, he had worn the standard hospital frock— tied at the neck and open down the back. The pants, although less convenient for hospital staff, offered coverage, and I felt a sense of relief at the increased decency. I later learned that my son-in-law insisted on this measure of propriety, advocating for Dad and thus protecting his dignity.
Pray: Thank you, Lord, for privacy measures and the protections they bring—both legal and physical.
Reflect: Think about the safety and comfort that privacy offers when you’re feeling vulnerable. Are there ways to uphold your loved one’s dignity? Ask God for the means and strength.
(^The author’s brother rarely left their father’s bedside during the week “Privacy Act” took place.)
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The above selection is Entry #3 in Part I: Unexpected Fall of Minding Mom: A Caregiver’s Devotional Story by Lisa Livezey (© 2024, En Route Books and Media)
Minding Mom: A Caregiver’s Devotional Story by Lisa Livezey | En Route Books and Media
Listen to the audio version of “Privacy Act” read by the author.
I cannot recall the topic we were discussing when my director began to share a story about a three-handled coffee mug. She told me when she presented this thought exercise to others in the past, they became overwhelmed and anxious at the thought of how to hold it or use it. As I began to imagine it in my mind, I was intrigued and excited all at the same time. When my spiritual director asked how the three handled mug made me feel, I couldn’t help but share that I saw the persons of the Trinity—a handle for Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
The cup is hand-made pottery, with a bumpy texture. The sentimental type I am, I can imagine the hands of the person who created it. I slide my fingertip across the initials scratched into the bottom, too blurred to make out. A reminder of my imperfections and the faithfulness of God. The space where the handles joined the cup reveals finger swipes, merging the clay. A prayerful moment brings me peace in connecting with another person who loved that cup while combining myself with the persons of the Trinity.
