Naomi looks weary and haggard. She looks as if she has spent
countless nights in a hospital besides her 85 year old mother with stage IV
ovarian cancer which is indeed the case.
“I had to come in and see you today. I had to steal an hour
for myself. I’m not even sure the last time I took a shower. Good thing the
girls are self-sufficient. Although my husband’s been great. No complaints
there.” Pause. “But now there’s my brother. I don’t know if he thinks he’s the
knight in shining armor, but he’s decided he’s going to save our mother. By
prayer. As long as I don’t ‘kill her’ in
the meantime. Does he actually think I don’t want her to live? I’ve spent years
of my life trying to keep her alive; years trying to make sure she had the best
quality of life. But she’s dying. She doesn’t even know who we are any more.
It’s enough. It’s enough already.”
Internally I flinch at my patient’s words: “It’s enough
already.” Those were the same words my
late husband spoke when he decided that he had tried everything possible to
halt the progression of his cancer and that he was ready to let go. I would, of
course, respect his wishes, but the finality of the words took my breath away.
Steeped in remembering, I struggle to bring myself back to Naomi’s current
reality.
“Your mother never made her final wishes known?” I ask.
“No, she didn’t. Every time I tried to bring it up, she’d
change the subject. She couldn’t tolerate dealing with the reality of her own
death. Well, you know how my mother was, never wanting to deal with reality,
her head always in the sand.”
“So now you and your brother disagree about what to do.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“And you’re angry.”
“Yes, I am. I’m almost too tired to be angry, but I am. I’m
not sure when he got so high and mighty religious and it’s not like I’m talking
about killing Mom, just withdrawing treatment and allowing her to go
peacefully. You’d think his God would welcome that.”
Did you and your brother ever see eye to eye?”
“As children we were very close. I was like his second
mother. But then he moved away and I stayed put and I gave my parents
grandchildren which he never did. I guess that made me the favored child.”
“So maybe he’s fighting for favored child status now?”
“A bit late, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps not psychologically.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. So you think I should be more
understanding of my brother?”
I flash on an incident that occurred when my beloved
grandfather died and the samovar that had always been promised to me was taken
by my uncle, the less-favored child. “Being more understanding doesn’t mean
you’ll be any more comfortable with what your brother is doing. I guess I’m
concerned that this battle with your brother is going to divert you from
grieving for your mother.”
“That’s true. Right now I’m more involved with feeling angry
with my brother than dealing with my mother’s death. And it’s only a question
of time before she dies, regardless of what we do or don’t do.”
“So how do you feel about her death?”
“Sad. But it’s time. And I have no regrets. I’ve been a good
daughter. There’s no unfinished business between Mom and me. Hmm. I wonder if
that’s what’s missing between her and my brother. I wonder if he still has
unfinished business.”
“That’s a good insight, Naomi.”
“But I’m not sure he knows it. And I have no idea how I’d
talk to him about it.” Pause. “But you know what I said about it only being a
matter of time until she dies anyway. Maybe I should listen to myself. Maybe it
doesn’t matter all that much what we do. Death will do what’s it’s going to do,
regardless.”
“I’m impressed, Naomi. That’s certainly taking yourself out
of the fight with your brother.”
“The only problem will be if she lingers too long and
suffers.”
“Yes, that would be a problem.”
“But maybe I can just wait and see what happens and try to
opt out of fighting with my brother.”
“Sounds like a good plan.”