It never fails. Whenever Steve is gone, (literally) all hell breaks loose.
After long and painful deliberation, Steve decided that he would go to San Jose after all. He was scheduled to help teach a longstanding "Orientation to the Covenant" class, May 12-16, where 13 prospective ministers from all over the country would assemble at Mission Springs Covenant camp. Even though H. had dismissed hospice, it looked like A. was gradually sinking, but would not die immediately. We figured that if necessary, Steve could fly back; but that seemed to be a remote possibility. I would continue to visit daily and report back to him.
So Sunday, after worship, he drove to Portland to catch his flight, and I went to see A. while Joanna was at an ultimate frisbee practice. I was with her for about a half hour when X came. "Doesn't she look better!" she chirped. I couldn't believe it. A. was in her sleepy mode, muttering incomprehensibly. She had gone from her fighting weight of 118 to 74 pounds. If anything, she looked worse to me.
It had been Communion Sunday, so I brought the song sheet we had sung during communion and was singing to A. I invited X to join in, but she didn't know the songs. One of them was Wimber's "Spirit Song." Before long it was time for me to pick up Joanna, so I prayed, with X doing tongues for continuo. I promised A. I would come back as soon as I could.
When I returned at about 4:30 pm, X had gone, but I met Candy, a home health care worker who was setting up the nutritional infusion for A. This was news to me! While H. and Momma D. were with A. (cleaning her up after another bout of diarrhea) I had a chance to have a long talk with Candy. Seems that H. couldn't stand the idea of his wife starving, so he thought she should have food. A's doctor had resisted this, but somehow Candy had gotten permission and had started a line. God had sent Kathy; now he was sending Candy. We spent a long time chatting about A's situation, hospice and Iranian attitudes toward death.
Momma D. was even more agitated than A. When I returned they had her morphine going again (thanks to Candy) and the sides of the bed up, because A. had been trying to get out of bed throughout the night. (So much for miracles!) H. and D. were still disputing the need for morphine, so Candy only increased it to 4 (which, she said, was really next to nothing) A. seemed to be resting comfortably, except for a funny cough/clearing of her throat. H. feared she had caught a cold from someone who had visited the day before, and blamed himself for allowing that person to visit. Candy listened carefully to her lungs, but said they were clear.
After long and painful deliberation, Steve decided that he would go to San Jose after all. He was scheduled to help teach a longstanding "Orientation to the Covenant" class, May 12-16, where 13 prospective ministers from all over the country would assemble at Mission Springs Covenant camp. Even though H. had dismissed hospice, it looked like A. was gradually sinking, but would not die immediately. We figured that if necessary, Steve could fly back; but that seemed to be a remote possibility. I would continue to visit daily and report back to him.
So Sunday, after worship, he drove to Portland to catch his flight, and I went to see A. while Joanna was at an ultimate frisbee practice. I was with her for about a half hour when X came. "Doesn't she look better!" she chirped. I couldn't believe it. A. was in her sleepy mode, muttering incomprehensibly. She had gone from her fighting weight of 118 to 74 pounds. If anything, she looked worse to me.
It had been Communion Sunday, so I brought the song sheet we had sung during communion and was singing to A. I invited X to join in, but she didn't know the songs. One of them was Wimber's "Spirit Song." Before long it was time for me to pick up Joanna, so I prayed, with X doing tongues for continuo. I promised A. I would come back as soon as I could.
When I returned at about 4:30 pm, X had gone, but I met Candy, a home health care worker who was setting up the nutritional infusion for A. This was news to me! While H. and Momma D. were with A. (cleaning her up after another bout of diarrhea) I had a chance to have a long talk with Candy. Seems that H. couldn't stand the idea of his wife starving, so he thought she should have food. A's doctor had resisted this, but somehow Candy had gotten permission and had started a line. God had sent Kathy; now he was sending Candy. We spent a long time chatting about A's situation, hospice and Iranian attitudes toward death.
Momma D. was even more agitated than A. When I returned they had her morphine going again (thanks to Candy) and the sides of the bed up, because A. had been trying to get out of bed throughout the night. (So much for miracles!) H. and D. were still disputing the need for morphine, so Candy only increased it to 4 (which, she said, was really next to nothing) A. seemed to be resting comfortably, except for a funny cough/clearing of her throat. H. feared she had caught a cold from someone who had visited the day before, and blamed himself for allowing that person to visit. Candy listened carefully to her lungs, but said they were clear.
5:30 pm. Momma D. made dinner, so Candy and I stayed to eat. H. decided A. needed a different doctor. When Candy heard about how A's doctor had been treating her pain (or failing to!) she was appalled but not surprised. She suggested a couple of other oncologists who worked with teams, including nutritionists, pain management people and social workers. A's coughing increased throughout this conversation, so much so that Candy left the table to take another listen. This time she heard liquid in the top of A's lungs. "This is the beginning of the end," she told H.. "You could drain that liquid, but it will just come right back. She is not going to get better; it is a signal that she is dying."
Momma D. insisted that A. be taken to the hospital and see a doctor. She began to get hysterical. Poor H.! It was at that point that he finally realized the truth and began the hardest journey of his life. "No! She would have to go in an ambulance, and I am not going to disturb her. She wanted to die here, not in a hospital!" From this point on I got the feeling from Momma D. that she dind't think H. was doing right by her daughter, and things just got more tense as the night wore on.
It was clear to me that I needed to stay, and so did Candy. I called Joanna to let her know I wouldn't be home until after she went to bed. H. called some friends to take M. to their house for the night. My heart broke when it was time for him to say goodbye to his mother. Poor baby, he had no idea it would be the last time she would ever kiss him.
Isn't it incredible how quickly pneumonia can progress? And yet, not quickly enough. Poor A.! She kept trying to sit up and clear out that fluid, but she didn't have the strength to even cough. About 9:00 pm we started to hear nasty rattling sounds. That's when the tug of war began. H. was on one side of the bed, gently speaking to A. about happy times they shared together: their wedding celebration, their honeymoon; riding an elephant in Thailand, parasailing. What tenderness! On the other side of the bed, Momma D. was wailing and pulling at A. and demanding that she stay. "Who will take care of me if you go?" she sobbed. "You cannot die!"
It drove H. nuts, and several times he was so angry he had to leave the room. "Doesn't that woman realize its not about her?" he muttered bitterly. Meanwhile, M. returned. He was crying so much for his father that the friends didn't know what to do, so they finally brought him back. H.'s college-age daughter from a previous marriage and I took turns watching him, making sure he wasn't in the room to see and hear what was going on. It was frightening enough for us; I can't imagine what it might have been for a two year old. Thank God Candy was there to monitor and explain the situation as it developed.
When I wasn't with M, I tried, alternately, to calm Momma D. and then H. His blood pressure must have been off the charts, not helped by his forays into the garage for smokes. Then I sang to A. and read 1 Corinthians 13:1-13 and Romans 8:18-39.
After midnight, A. started in with the Cheyne-Stokes breathing. That cut H.to the core. Momma D. was frantic, waving the Koran all over A's head and body, as if it might magically ward off the inevitable. So sad! Without hope in Christ, H. turned fatalist while Momma D. turned superstitious.
3:00 am. H. and I tried to soothe A. and tell her it was okay to rest, to let go; but Momma D. glared at us and would throw more sobbing fits. After months and months of fighting, I think A's body was not tuned to "giving in," so she continued to fight, fight, fight. H.'s daughter wasn't doing a great job of keeping her little stepbrother quiet, and he would NOT go to sleep. Candy thought that hearing him might be subconsciously affecting A., so I stepped out and took him into the garage to play. We had ony been playing catch a few minutes when suddenly M.'s stepsister threw open the door and yelled for me to come.
When I entered the room, there was H, draped over his wife, sobbing, and Momma D., flat on her back on the floor, having a fit, kicking and keening. It was difficult to know whether this was a cultural practice, or if it was just Momma D's nature to be emotive and dramatic. H. was clearly upset by the display. The more I tried to console her the more physical she became. At last I just backed off.
So while I was not there at A's bedside when she took her last breath, I was there for her last hours, and there afterward to help Candy undress, clean, and re-dress her, and to help H. and Momma D. cope with their loss. H. couldn't believe what had happened. "I've never even been to a funeral," he confessed. "I don't know anything about death. This is the first time anyone I've ever known and loved has died." I silently thanked God that Steve had started the ball rolling the week before he left, going with H. to visit acouple of mortuaries and beginning the conversations about a memorial service.
Monday afternoon I went with H. and Momma D. to the cemetery, to secure a plot, and then Joanna and I took them to dinner. A. had asked to be buried in blue jeans, because she wanted to be able to run and enjoy the new body Jesus would be giving her. To the very end, she wore the golden cross necklace that she received from her husband when she was baptized. I hoped it would not be taken from her.
A's last wish was not to be shrouded, as is the Islamic custom, but rather to be covered with a small carpet her mother brought for her from Iran, showing the resurrected Jesus holding the cross. Momma D. had commissioned it and got it out of the country with no small amount of anxiety, and A. treasured it. The carpet functioned as a sort of icon for her, pinned up against the wall so she could focus on it as she laid in her hospital bed.
Ironically, on the opposite wall, behind her head, there was another wall hanging, a large blanket printed with a life-size image of Marilyn Monroe. The bedroom had been Momma D's before A. needed it for her hospital bed. A. knew how much her mother adored Marilyn Monroe, so she had decorated the room accordingly. These two images--Marilyn Monroe and the triumphant Christ--marked the beginning and the end of A's life. She moved from what this world counts as desirable to what God desires, from what is perishable to what is imperishable, from human love to the love of Christ.
I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Ironically, on the opposite wall, behind her head, there was another wall hanging, a large blanket printed with a life-size image of Marilyn Monroe. The bedroom had been Momma D's before A. needed it for her hospital bed. A. knew how much her mother adored Marilyn Monroe, so she had decorated the room accordingly. These two images--Marilyn Monroe and the triumphant Christ--marked the beginning and the end of A's life. She moved from what this world counts as desirable to what God desires, from what is perishable to what is imperishable, from human love to the love of Christ.
I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
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