On Choosing Peace

I am a medical miracle. And, not a day goes by that I don't think about how I am grateful to the doctors, nurses, and staff at Shock Trauma that worked so hard to ensure my survival.

And yet, sometimes, modern medicine is unspeakably cruel in its quest to save. Sometimes, there is no quality left to the life that has been saved. Sometimes, being able to save someone doesn't necessarily mean that you should.

I believe that it is nothing but good intention that has driven modern medicine so far, has allowed so many medical miracles, and has driven medical practitioners to get better, to do more. And still... at some point, shouldn't it stop? Shouldn't the wishes of the patient be taken into account? Shouldn't a life well-lived be more important than a long-lived life, especially when it is no longer of quality?

The next part of this blog is not just a political agenda. It isn't just what I believe (although I do believe very strongly in a patient's right to choose). It is what I am watching happen to my grandmother, what I have watched happen to the grandparents who've gone before her. So, it is very personal.

Yesterday, my mom called. My grandmother (NanNan) has not been doing well, has been in the hospital for a couple of weeks with pneumonia and other issues, and has recently been transferred to a rehab facility. My mom shared with me that my grandmother feels like it is time for her to go. She is done here on earth. She is not comfortable, she is not happy, she has lived a long and beautiful life, and she just wants "the good Lord to take her home." She wants peace.

And shouldn't she be able to have it? Modern medicine is amazing in its ability to fix her body, to fix her ailments, and yet at some point, it is incapable of fixing her spirit. A semi-functioning, relatively healthy body, does not make a quality life. She is destined to spend the rest of her days in bed, staring at stark walls, and hoping someone will come visit - and then hoping she manages to stay awake when they are visiting, so she can tell them she is ready to go.

Today, I went to see my Nan. I am grateful that I have had almost 39 years with her. I am lucky to have had time to spend - holidays, other visits, etc. My children are lucky that they've gotten to know their great-grandmother. Knowing all of this, I could be selfish and tell her I don't want her to go, but I won't do that. I hope that every person she talks with and spends time with gives her permission to go if she's ready. I won't be so cruel as to keep her peace from her in order to maintain my own.

I understand the conundrum. How can we make the decision not to save when we have the ability to do so? It goes against the nature of medical personnel not to fight like hell for their patients. It is interesting that in saving we can also inflict so much suffering, in not allowing someone peace that they desperately crave. I think this is when we have to let the patient make the decision - and we have to abide by his/her wishes.

I cannot imagine a world without my grandmother. Although most recently she has not been "full of life," that is how I will remember her. She always was a quiet force - unobtrusive and often staying in the background, but a force nonetheless. She has survived much pain, and has also seen much joy. Her life has been well-lived. And though I cannot imagine life without her, I will not ask her to stay for me. I will keep her in my heart instead. Her peace is more important, and I hope she finds it soon.