The Tear of JL

JL is a man, and that is the point of this story.

Because JL is, at the moment, taking his last desparate breaths before going to the next life. As I work through this palliative care rotation, I've seen many responses from those at death's door: happiness, hope, elation, peace, sadness, despair, and ignorance. JL is not responding. He's been denied food and water for almost two weeks now, and defying death, and especially, denying the Culture of Death, he continues to live. His heart beats on and on, quicker every day as his body's supply of fluid runs dry.

JL is not responding, according to his daughter who made the decision to "forego" the "treatment" of food and water. He looks around when spoken to, but who knows what he sees or hears. Poor old man.

I found him alone yesterday (his family absent from their usual cold, bitter vigil). I spoke softly to him about dying. He did not drift back to sleep. I spoke to him about sin and forgiveness - he tried to voice a thought, but his dry hoarse throat just whined. I spoke to him about Christ and His love, His mercy, His hope, His call to repentence. A tear formed in the corner of the eye of this "comatose" man, and he looked at me intently. We prayed together. Now I knew it was WE who prayed together. And he drifted back to sleep.

Today he will die, I do not doubt, a victim of the Culture of Death, who has judged his quality of life too low to be worth living. But I believe he has felt his own dignity, if but for a moment, in the midst of starvation.