“Everything that happens in this world happens at the time
God chooses." ~ Ecclesiastes 3: 1-2
Elan Choi grew up poor. He parlayed several of the scholarships
available to disadvantaged youth into a medical school education. His final rotation through various medical
specialties before choosing a residency program was hospice care, a specific
type of palliative care, which focuses on caring, not curing.
The sweet smell of success and recognition intoxicated Elan. He felt absolutely no guilt over those
fixations, as our present culture made them near-impossible to resist. So he’d chosen a profession where pride and
selfish ambition often took priority over humility and compassion.
One dark Friday evening, Elan had just finished bathing,
changing, and otherwise comforting most of the residents. He turned to visit one last room. As he opened the door of a pitch-black room, light
from the hallway trickled in, illuminating an old man staring at a picture on his
nightstand: a handsome, young man, arm slung round a beautiful woman with a contagious
smile.
“May I join you,” Elan asked.
Turns out, the attractive, well-built man in the picture was
indeed him; the woman was his late wife of almost seventy years who’d passed
away a few months back.
“She was my whole life,” he
began. “I loved her so much. She took such great care of our kids. She cared about everyone more than herself. I try to sleep a lot because when I’m awake I
miss her even more.” He shared all this,
and much more, through recurrent bouts of tears.
Elan didn’t know what the man was dying of, or much about
his career, hobbies, or interests. All he
saw at that moment – with every one of life’s essentials stripped away – was
the man himself, and what he loved. The
most cherished films, books, and images of romance or devotion were merely counterfeits
of this unceasing love.
The man was dying, yet had neither uncertainty nor regret on
his mind. He didn’t yearn for years
forgotten, nor was he focused on an eternity ahead. He was simply human, unapologetically consumed
by a lifetime of love. Elan, an insecure
and status-obsessed twenty-eight-year-old, did not even attempt to form the
right words. He put his arm on the old
man’s shoulder, gazed with him at his beautiful wife, and wept right alongside.
At that very moment, he made a life-changing residency
choice.
He’d spend his career sitting and listening with those who
embody both suffering and strength, vulnerability and courage; privileged to
abide with people approaching their final days as alert and pain-free as
possible. He’d never regret it.
Thank God for hospice caregivers. Their work is powerful because it doesn’t
allow for easy, dressed-up answers. When
one enters the room of a dying stranger, there’s no room for pretense. One is forced to courageously confront life’s
awkward presentations.
Dear Lord, help those who provide hospice to be
strong by reminding them that they never walk alone. Guide, support, and comfort them, their
patients and their families like only You can.
Amen
