It’s evident that my faith is far from what it should be.
Saw Million Dollar Baby again last night (that final half-hour is brutal) and my reaction was the same as the before: I saw myself doing for Hillary Swank exactly what Clint did at the end. Turn off the machine, give her the injection. Send her on her journey. Put in the same position, I would have begged her not to ask it of me. I would have prayed, talked to my bishop, pleaded with my Lord. I would have given the woman a blessing– a battery of blessings. Then, when put to the test– when all efforts resulted in no results and it was apparent my beloved was destined to a long, drawn-out existence of paralysis, machine-assisted breathing, pustulent sores, persistent reminders of amputed limbs and endless days of misery– I’d drop the curtain on her.
I think I interpret the Church’s position correctly, that it agrees with me. But for those who’d immediately respond with “You’ll be held accountable for her murder,” I would fire back, “How’s the view from the cheap seats, bud? Seriously.” I’m not entirely convinced that, in such situations, the Lord expects us to sit by and wait for Him to do His will, and I think if those who disagree with me found themselves in precisely that same scenario, more than a few of would change their minds. “But there’s a reason the Lord is allowing them to linger in their pain. It’s a test for them, and their loved ones.” I agree, but what’s the test? Is it for them to learn patience in their afflictions, or is it for us to learn mercy by relieving them from their perpetual and inescapable hell? What more could they possibly gain from their mortal journey?
In truth, I’m torn. I would not fare well with this test. Either decision would haunt me, even if I almost convinced myself it was the right thing to do.
And now for a little Johnny Cash. See how many faces you recognize.
6 responses so far ↓
1 xoxoxoxo // May 28, 2008 at 11:21 pm
Haven’t seen Million Dollar Baby so I have no idea the exact situation you are describing, but can add my own personal experience for consideration.
My father had suffered a stroke and the resulting effect had been a slow slide to the point where he could no longer eat without a feeding tube, could not speak and was completely bedridden etc. (I’ll spare you all the details.) Myself and my half sister had to make a decision, because in Idaho, if you have a feeding tube inserted, you cannot have it removed later without a court order. We had to decide whether to let Dad pass from “natural causes” related to his stroke or artificially keep him alive with no hope of any sort of recovery.
Dad’s brother had suffered a stroke years earlier and had recovered enough to go home but spent numbing month after month in diapers, barely able to speak, fed by his wife, and trapped in a body he no longer controlled. My father agonized for his brother and told me firmly “If it was me, I’d want someone to take me out back and shoot me. I wouldn’t want to live”.
But this was my Daddy, my only remaining parent (my mother gone years before him). What if he had changed his mind and just couldn’t tell us? I prayed and cried and my half sister smoked 12 cigarettes in half an hour.
We went to Dad’s bedside in a desperate attempt to communicate with him, discern his wishes…make HIM responsible for the decision instead of “Please God not us!” etc. But the morning nurse reported that our father had not opened his eyes, nor responded physically to anyone since the previous night. His condition felt like a “sign” and peace finally came in the decision to put him in God’s hands and stop using man’s wisdom and medical instruments to affect the outcome.
My amazing father lived another 8 days without intervention other than morphine to keep him very comfortable, and each day was hell for us I can assure you. But even within the agonizingly long wait came a miracle (longer story I’ll spare you as well) and once that event had transpired, Dad passed within hours. To this day I do not doubt we did the right thing…but it was the hardest “right thing” I’ve ever been asked to do.
I think for me the “test” was to realize that death was nothing to fear and that we were born to die. Who was I to keep my father here with me where I wanted him, rather than letting him be with God where he wanted to be.
2 David // May 29, 2008 at 4:22 pm
xoxoxoxo,
What a harsh and powerful experience. Thank you so much for sharing it. I agree with your father: If it happened to me I’d tell my family “See you on the other side.” I wouldn’t exactly call this fortunate, but when my Dad had his car accident, he held on for a day, never woke up and finally passed on, on his own. Not fortunate, but a blessing. Our test was a still relatively young family (I was 17, my sister 5) losing its single provider and making its own way.
“We’re all put to the test… but it never comes in the form or at the point we would prefer, does it?”
Anthony Hopkins
The Edge
3 xoxoxoxo // May 31, 2008 at 10:48 pm
…but it never comes in the form or at the point we would prefer, does it?”
If it did, it would be more like recess than a test wouldn’t it?
:-)
Keep in mind that this comes from the girl in the third row, second desk who is nervously chewing her pencil while she watches the clock and whispers the bell prayer “ring….ring…ring…”
4 s'mee // Jul 31, 2008 at 5:55 am
hmmm, let’s see; May post and now it’s a day away from August. A tad late and unless you get these sent to your e-mail for approval this may never come to light. I tread on. I found your blog just tonight and, although I have wanted to comment on pretty much *all* your posts, I haven’t until now.
My b-i-l & s-i-l, years ago, delivered the first quintuplets in the US via IVF. They were very early term and as expected weak, frail and doomed. The first to die did so just two hours after birth, then the second a few hours later and then the third and fourth the following day.
There was a funeral held for the tiny babies. A sad horrible funeral.
Their 5th baby struggled for three and a half weeks and finally the dr.s came to the parents and gave them the option of waiting it out for what could have been months and then watching their last baby die, or spare her and “pull the plug”.
It was not the easiest, decision; they consulted with a Bishop, Stake Pres., and also a Temple Pres. just to make sure they “were o.k.” in what their hearts were telling them. And then they pulled the plug on their last child.
The tiny coffin that held the other four siblings was exhumed, the last baby added and then one more sad funeral was held.
To this day the mother wonders if they did the right thing in the eyes of the Lord. The father refuses to acknowledge conversation where this is the topic, it’s still, after 21 years, too fresh, too real, too harsh of a reality.
In the end the extended family felt this was the humane and only option they really had. Later a set of twins was conceived and delivered, (this month they will be leaving for their respective missions) and another child many years later was a surprise!
Still on the death anniversaries there is sadness in the house around the corner.
5 David // Aug 1, 2008 at 2:14 pm
s’mee,
Wow, thank you for that powerful story. I believe in my heart of hearts that your BIL & SIL did do the right thing (although I don’t know if I’d want to talk about it either, being the Dad and all. Oh, man.). Even better, they’ll see the quints again and all feelings of guilt and pain will be forever washed away.
But like I said, I would not fare well with such a test.
BTW, I wanted to thank you. I had recently been introduced as a guest contributor at Nine Moons and while I was stressing over the subject to go in with, you came by and reminded me of this entry. So guiltlessly I submitted it to them assuming I’d be reaching a different readership.
Thank you for finding my blog. I hope we hear from you again!
6 s'mee // Aug 2, 2008 at 4:43 am
hey no worries! I actually found you via 9M, and when I went back today, I was in a brain fade there for a minute, going..”o.k. wait a minute, didn’t I…, oh man!” Then I decided to do a search back at my place and went to look where I put you in favourites, and again I lost you, ugh. So back to 9M and went to where they intro’d you, put in a search on your blog and here I am again. (you lucky devil!)
Moral of the story: If you can at all avoid it, don’t get hit by a truck… it totally messes with your processing and memory! Well that and getting old I guess, but hey that whole truck hitting wasn’t much fun any way you look at it!
Thanks dude.
Leave a Comment