THE ZIG OF LIFE, THE ZAG OF DEATH AND BACK AGAIN~5~PART 2

 

                   In the weeks since I last wrote about being taken seriously ill [non-covid just to clarify] death has come unexpectedly, though not unusually, to many of our brothers and sisters in the US through mass shootings, seven in this month alone, with forty people either killed or seriously wounded.

As I pray for the victims and for their grieving loved ones left to live the rest of their lives with the proverbial empty place at the table, St. Paul’s teaching comes to mind, applicable to the Baptized members of the Body of Christ, the Church on earth, but in solidarity with every human being, applicable to each member of the human family. St. Paul uses the analogy of the human body: If one part suffers, all the parts suffer with it [1 Cor.12:26]

I know from experience, such as my near-death sickness now almost a year ago, most particularly, by their words, by their bringing me back here when I was released from the hospital and all they did for me during the long weeks of recovery, my family, by their love did all that and I could see in their eyes they were suffering with me.

All is grace.

Even the pain of unexpectedly finding yourself overcome by illness, being thrust into the undeniable reality of being powerless, of not knowing what’s going on, not understanding what is happening, the deep aloneness for because of the pandemic at that time the hospitals were in lock down. It was a profound experience of the poverty of how little control we have over most things in life. Since then, everyday, I pray for an increase of trust in and surrender to His Most Holy permissive will.

No family member, let alone a priest to administer the sacraments, was allowed in.

In his spiritual counsels, St. Nicodemos of the Holy Mountain says that if we possess in our hearts the ultimate Good, which is God Himself, then we can endure all the sufferings that come our way. We know we are given this gift especially in every Holy Communion,

This is why St. John Paul, not hiding himself from public view in his final illness, and who can forget the last powerful video of him on the balcony of the Apostolic Palace struggling to speak, remains a powerful witness to the above truth.

The harsh reality I endured for several days, as it seemed I was falling at great speed into a deep, black abyss, aware if I did not struggle to stop falling and reverse direction I would indeed die, was not helped by any ‘spiritual’ thoughts, indeed I was on so many ivs, pain killers, other drugs, oxygen, I could not, try as I might, remember even the words of the Hail Mary, prayed innumerable times these past seven plus decades of my life.

I could remember my son, whom I promised never to abandon, one of my grandsons who, when his great grandfather, my own father died, asked me to promise to live to a hundred. Then I was able – trust me all of this was like pounding my brain as if it were a block of ice in which memories were encased and I needed to smash the ice to remember – so was able one by one to remember my son’s wife, beloved daughter and sister of my heart, then my granddaughter, my other grandsons, the youngest who is in heaven, whose intercession I rely on, and it was both to return to them and to remember prayer that, by grace, I fought.

There was no fear as part of the battle, there was peace knowing that, mysteriously, this was a time to suffer, but not the time to surrender to death.

In a word it was not the Lord’s time for me to die.

The battle lasted almost a week before early one morning I opened my eyes and saw the face of the nurse as she changed the ivs and gave me more needles with whatnot in them to help with the excruciating pain.

Then she gave me a gift, a cell phone charger from my family so I could hear their voices.

I knew then I was out of the darkness, was no longer falling, though the drugs had me sleeping a lot! I knew also that if I kept pounding at that block of ice my words would return and I could call family, and that – and literally it was word by word – I would remember the Hail Mary and other prayers.

Little by little, first with small glasses of water, then ginger ale, small dishes of ice cream, small plates of food, I was able to hold down liquids and solid food. Throughout those weeks there were daily blood tests, cat scans, then little by little the ivs were taken away, the number of daily needles reduced, then replaced with pills, lots of pills! Finally, about a week before I was released, more than a month after being taken to the hospital, physiotherapy sessions for I needed to learn to walk again, regain my balance. For the first few days that meant dragging the last iv with me! Next it was sessions with the dietician, more physiotherapy, a session with a psychologist to assure I was mentally, emotionally astute enough to return to living the hermitical life. One day one of the three doctors caring for me handed me a prescription for the many drugs I would be on. That was when I knew, as happened that afternoon, I would be released.

It took most of the summer for my cognitive abilities to heal, though every once in a while, it is hard to tell if some have not or it is just the normal memory stuff of old age, and by summer’s end the number of necessary daily drugs, if I am to be able to eat, control the hypertension, cope with the ptsd which pre-dates by years the stint in hospital, were reduced to five in the morning and two before each meal, for the rest of my earthly life.

Again, as anyone in hospital in this country and others with universal medical care knows, it is not just being spared worry about the costs, it is primarily the care, the loving care of doctors, nurses, support staff which enhances the healing process.

Many lessons were learned, some just begun, those weeks in hospital.

Since I could not celebrate Holy Mass obviously being so sick and not having anything needed to celebrate with, I stood before the altar here in the poustinia/hermitage, once recovered enough to do so, and wept with gratitude, the same when I held my breviary in my hands and resumed praying the Divine Office, and while once I was on the road to recovery in hospital I had resumed praying the Holy Rosary on my fingers, to hold the rosary while praying, another gift, and the precious grace of waking up each morning, something which doing, like going to bed at night, was happening on autopilot, are now times to give gratitude, to understand the precious grace of each breath of life we are given.

Another grace is remembering exactly what prayer is, communion with Jesus every time He prayed to the Father while on earth and intercedes with the Father still for us in heaven.

We are gifted with prayer to love, adore, thank the Most Holy Trinity and with intimate confidence in God to intercede first for every human being, then for the innumerable graces needed for our own deeper metanoia, conversion of heart, for as St. John Paul taught, we priests, we must be converted anew each day.

The effect of prayer is union with God, and, if someone is with God he is separated from the enemy. Through pray we guard our chastity, control our temper and rid ourselves of vanity. It makes us forget injuries, overcomes envy, defeats injustice and makes amends for sin. Through prayer we obtain physical well being, a happy home, and a strong, well ordered society…..Prayer is the seal of virginity, and a pledge of faithfulness in marriage. It shields the wayfarer, protects the sleeper, and gives courage to those who keep vigil….It will refresh you when you are weary and comfort you when you are sorrowful, prayer is the delight of the joyful as well as the solace of the afflicted…..Prayer is intimacy with God and contemplation of the invisible…Prayer is the enjoyment of things present and the substance of things to come. ~ St. Gregory of Nyssa.

There is no doubt I will be learning to pray, become prayer for the rest of my life. Since returning from the hospital the experience of being near death has shone an inescapable light on so many scars, wounds, from near eighty years of life, which need healing and ever deeper conversion.

There is hope, peace in all of that for truly, a tremendous grace-gift, in God every moment is truly the moment of beginning again.

All is grace.

 

© 2021 Fr. Arthur Joseph