End of Life Issues

I get nervous around end of life issues. You know, when people start talking about "quality of life" and how far we should go to preserve or prolong a life. It makes me nervous because it can take us down a slippery slope toward devaluing life if we are not careful. To me, there is not a great distance between allowing someone to die with dignity and taking steps to "help" someone die.
It is just an issue for which I have few answers - so it makes me nervous.

Last night, my Dad had a heart attack. His second within the year. And after a day of poking, prodding, testing and probing he had had enough. So he decided to leave the hospital.

It was apparent to the healthcare professionals concerned with his case - that he may need some drastic measures and serious attention.

Dad, who hadn't eaten since the day before and who had spent a less than peaceful night in the hospital, didn't like the idea of being told that he had to participate in those drastice measures. He didn't like the prospects of the major surgery that was being proposed; and he certainly was not interested in more tests.

So he acted up. He declared he was leaving, and quickly began to make himself ready to do just that.

I might have reacted similarly - after all, this is a man who has often been in charge. He was always the head of our household and he gravitated to management roles in business and leadership in other areas. Yet today, the entire hospital experience was one that was out of his control. In the past couple of years, his role has been diminished. As his mind has faltered and his strength has decreased ... fewer people ask him for help.

As a Dad myself - I know - it's important to be needed. My kids are beginning to outgrow their questioning ages, so now when they come to me with a question, I am all ears!

My Dad went home -against medical advice - but at least one physician seemed to think it might be for the best for Dad to get back in his element around the trappings of the home he loves.

So Dad went home and somewhere inside me, there was at least an acknowledgement that he may be going home to die.

We will all get to that point. Some of us seemingly much too early. Some of us unexpectedly. But the same fate awaits us all in some form.

I found myself praying that my Dad wouldn't be afraid.

I believe my Dad has a strong relationship with Christ. I believe that his decision to follow Christ and to lead his family and others to do the same, will be richly rewarded. But I hope that he, himself will have that assurance - that somehow the confusion will clear, and the clouds will lift.

We took Dad home and he was still a little irritated with the day and Mom was, no doubt, concerned about the prospects; but we spent a sweet time together. Our conversations were funny and serious, tear-filled and argumentative but always loving.

When I got home tonight, I wanted to hug my wife and hold my children and look into their eyes, and listen to them. I wanted to once again drink in the grand experience of being a Dad to a couple of young adventurers.

Perhaps my own Dad still likes those moments - even though the eyes of his children have lost the gleam of youth - perhaps it still fills his heart to see his child and to drink in their experiences.

I think our heavenly Father is that way, though He is not old and His capacities are not diminished, but I somehow think He never tires of the attention of one of His children.

When you pray, mention my Mom and Dad.
Thank you.