Times of Redemption

The Area Agency on Aging -- which is my sister's legal guardian -- emailed me today to tell me that her doctor and her specialist were asking for a DNR order.

Do Not Resuscitate.

Jan's breathing, and subsequently, her heart, have failed three times. The last time occurred less than two days after I returned home. She's been on a ventilator to keep her breathing since.

The Agency asked me for my opinion, as a family member. They will make the ultimate decision, and if they decide that the DNR is appropriate, they'll take the request to court next week, maybe Monday or Tuesday. At that point, the breathing tube would be removed, and Jan would be left to go to sleep, and let her heart stop ... again.

I've been sliding up and down the scales of Grief: shocked, then angry, then weeping, then accepting, then thinking, "But what if they actually followed through long enough with This treatment ..." Then I cry some more.

Hell, maybe she'll rally over the weekend, and the order will become moot. It could happen. It could.

When I called my pastor and told him about the situation, he said, "She should not have a DNR order until she has a chance to receive the Sacrament of Reconciliation and Communion." Then I told him that Jan had never been allowed to be instructed for that. He questioned me about what her spiritual life has been like, and has she an understanding of right and wrong? I told him that Jan (in my opinion) has never been capable of "sin" -- not in the strict sense of the wrong, which would require serious matter, knowledge of sinfulness, and deliberate choice of the sinful action. "Oh," he said, "then let her go home!"

Once she's "home," you see, she won't be blind anymore, and she'll be able to "get" jokes, and talk to anyone at all without the cloud of her brain damage between her and others. She'll be strong and able to run and play and dance. She'll be so beautiful, you can hardly believe it.

Through the days of sitting with her in the hospital, I saw her beauty so clearly, without our mother jumping in between us like some frenetic yapping demon, as she did throughout our lives. I got to hold Jan's hand in silence, praying for her, had the glory of her sitting up to listen to me read to her, had the joy of Jan taking my hand and putting it to her head and holding it there, felt her hug me as she hadn't been allowed to do since I was little-little. I combed her hair, and stroked her face, and loved her so much -- up close, personal, unabashed. Heart-breaking to think that we had such a short time to love ... but at least we had that. I told her how much I loved her, and there was no "Mom" there to tell me to stop acting like a fool being mushy. At least we had that.

My mother-in-law called, and though a mere two months ago I might have thought, "Now what does that woman want?" now I answered the phone gladly, for Regina has been simply stunningly supportive as I face these end-of-life issues. I told her about Jan, and she (amazingly) echoed my pastor's thoughts. And when I told her that I had no idea how to tell my mother about what was going on, she told me not to worry about it, as my mother is in her own little world now, and doesn't understand what's going on day to day. She seconded (well, actually, it's like fifthed or sixthed) my doctor's orders to stay away from Mom. (By this I know my mother is still ranting about how I've wickedly short-circuited her lifestyle.)

After 30 years of edgy contact, my mother-in-law has become a beloved friend. I would be a fool not to marvel and be grateful for the forgiveness, the acceptance, and the love.

In these end times, there is still beauty, and wonder, and redemption.