Saturday the Met broadcast Pucinni's Il Trittico. "Suor Angelica" was absolutely incredible. "Senza Mamma" reduced me to tears, as I thought of A.
A, the Iranian woman who was baptized two weeks ago, is getting weaker and weaker. She hasn't been able to have chemo for two weeks now, and her platelets are at .5, so unless something miraculous occurs, she won't be having it any more at all.
Yesterday she wasn't there when the service began, and I wondered what was up. She stumbled in during the first hymn, tulips in hand. I settled her in under a blanket, replaced the roses with the tulips, and then held her throughout worship.
She is such a sick little lamb. She was going in and out on me, sometimes seeming to be delirious, sometimes muttering and sometimes actually speaking. My hearing isn't what it used to be so it was difficult for me to always make out what she was saying. Her breathing was rapid and shallow...H's gold cross around her neck barely moved. She was very thirsty, and drank two full cups of water. I have no idea what is going on inside her physically and can only guess at her pain. Yet at the end she snapped back when talking with Judy.
She keeps saying she is so tired. I honestly think the only things that are keeping her here are 1) Her 16 month old son, M. and 2) her desire to see her mother before she dies. Regarding 2) I'm trying to work on the possibility of skyping, so that she could talk and see her mom over the internet, the way we've been doing with Susan. That wouldn't be a problem on this end; but whether it could be accomplished on the Iran end is uncertain. Regarding 1), when her husband H. came to pick her up, he told me he was getting someone (a friend? I was unclear) from Oklahoma to come stay for the next six weeks and care for A and M. Perhaps that will help A see that her son can be provided for.
I don't want to deny the Lord's ability to work miracles, but I also want to make sure that A. is in a position to freely choose as peaceful a death as possible, if that is her choice. I know how important it is for cancer patients to "think positively." But isn't it also important at some point for them to be able to give themselves permission to cease treatment? It seems to me that A might be at that place. Am I assuming more than I should? Should I instead be encouraging her to continue fighting?
Ironic. Or better, providential. All those bioethics articles on death and dying are leaping to life around me, as well as and 1 Corinthians 15 and Plato's Phaedo. I am glad for the way the Lord has provided these texts as ballast for me in this situation, and pray he will use them in me to be a wise and comforting friend to A. Even more, I am grateful to Him and to the VCC congregation for help in shouldering this weight.
Saturday night I got to hear the Puccini Messa di Gloria at the Hult. It ends with the beautiful duet for bass and tenor:
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis.
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis.
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, dona nobis pacem.
A, the Iranian woman who was baptized two weeks ago, is getting weaker and weaker. She hasn't been able to have chemo for two weeks now, and her platelets are at .5, so unless something miraculous occurs, she won't be having it any more at all.
Yesterday she wasn't there when the service began, and I wondered what was up. She stumbled in during the first hymn, tulips in hand. I settled her in under a blanket, replaced the roses with the tulips, and then held her throughout worship.
She is such a sick little lamb. She was going in and out on me, sometimes seeming to be delirious, sometimes muttering and sometimes actually speaking. My hearing isn't what it used to be so it was difficult for me to always make out what she was saying. Her breathing was rapid and shallow...H's gold cross around her neck barely moved. She was very thirsty, and drank two full cups of water. I have no idea what is going on inside her physically and can only guess at her pain. Yet at the end she snapped back when talking with Judy.
She keeps saying she is so tired. I honestly think the only things that are keeping her here are 1) Her 16 month old son, M. and 2) her desire to see her mother before she dies. Regarding 2) I'm trying to work on the possibility of skyping, so that she could talk and see her mom over the internet, the way we've been doing with Susan. That wouldn't be a problem on this end; but whether it could be accomplished on the Iran end is uncertain. Regarding 1), when her husband H. came to pick her up, he told me he was getting someone (a friend? I was unclear) from Oklahoma to come stay for the next six weeks and care for A and M. Perhaps that will help A see that her son can be provided for.
I don't want to deny the Lord's ability to work miracles, but I also want to make sure that A. is in a position to freely choose as peaceful a death as possible, if that is her choice. I know how important it is for cancer patients to "think positively." But isn't it also important at some point for them to be able to give themselves permission to cease treatment? It seems to me that A might be at that place. Am I assuming more than I should? Should I instead be encouraging her to continue fighting?
Ironic. Or better, providential. All those bioethics articles on death and dying are leaping to life around me, as well as and 1 Corinthians 15 and Plato's Phaedo. I am glad for the way the Lord has provided these texts as ballast for me in this situation, and pray he will use them in me to be a wise and comforting friend to A. Even more, I am grateful to Him and to the VCC congregation for help in shouldering this weight.
Saturday night I got to hear the Puccini Messa di Gloria at the Hult. It ends with the beautiful duet for bass and tenor:
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis.
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis.
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, dona nobis pacem.
A. has Butterfly's tenacity, Mimi's fragility, Liu's courage.
She also has Jesus.
Lord, grant A. peace.
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