Our patient was suffering.
Beatrice*, a 45 year-old woman with metastatic cancer lie in bed in her simple home in La Venta, Honduras. Though chemotherapy had smoothed her head, several tiny new hairs had pushed their way out for a look at the world. Beatrice’s face revealed a consuming discomfort caused by her tumor. Even small movements resulted in penetrating pain. She often worked hard to breathe.
In addition to our routine of working in the clinics at NPH Honduras, occasionally we have been asked to aid persons in the community. Beatrice was such a person. We would catch a ride, visit regularly, and attempt to relieve Beatrice’s pain and suffering.
As with much of our work in this country, limited resources dictate the appearance of the medical care we can give. It is always challenging to care for a patient’s physical ailments, and at the same time maintain respect for his autonomy and dignity. How often we are redirected to the essential premises and basic promises of our medical profession.
While we would sit at Beatrice’s bedside, within our control was the ability to a) make no improvement in her acute suffering, b) relieve Beatrice’s pain and breathing difficulty, temporarily replacing it with peaceful sleep, or c) watch as Beatrice’s breathing slowed and ceased.
The force used to push the syringe would determine the result. Unfortunately for us, no exact recipe would guide our finger in our endeavor to help Beatrice.
Scholars and Saints have given much attention to suffering. Redemptive Suffering has been described as a good thing. How, though, were we to know what kind of suffering Beatrice experienced? And most importantly, what were we to do with the syringe?
As unequipped as we felt with our box of modest medicines and supplies, we felt even more unequipped to deal with the deeper and spiritual dynamic of Beatrice’s suffering.
Admittedly, suffering is involved in relationships as they change and grow. Beatrice’s relationships may have been undergoing much-needed reconciliation in these waning moments of her life. In their suffering, Beatrice and Christ may have been finding new union.
How would we avoid getting between Beatrice and the One who calls her?
Ultimately, we aimed our efforts at relieving the pain placed before our eyes, while allowing God’s plan – on His time schedule – to unfold in the life of Beatrice.
Today, Beatrice died.
To say that she suffers no more is the easy and self-comforting refrain. Perhaps, however, we should celebrate that her suffering has accompanied her through an important journey – one which may have seen important healing take place.
What a privilege our profession offers us – the invitation to be close to someone at their death, and to their intimate encounter with God.
*Name changed
