The woman from MeathA palliative care physician remembers a moment of love.
I spoke about these days and what to expect from this point onwards. I then concentrated on the family themselves and recommended, as we do, the usual things -- that they each take turns in being with him, that they try to eat and sleep, that they talk to each other, in short to look after themselves through this vigil. I turned to the patient's wife and said, "I know you've been here all the time over the last few days. It might be good to go and have a rest, even just for a little while." There was a long silence. She looked at me as though down a passage. She turned her head to one side, looked out the window, then towards me again and said, "No, I will not be leaving him". She spoke tenderly of their first meeting at age 17, of their courting and their wedding day, of their marriage and the birth of their children. She spoke in soft beautiful phrases, then sentences that began plainly, but became brilliant, each seemingly more evocative than the last. And with every memory of their life together, each reflection she would end by saying "No, I will not be leaving him", until that phrase repeated became the tolling of a distant bell. And then she said something that I have never heard expressed in the same way before. She said that from their wedding day they were united, that they were, as the prayer states, one body and that as he had fallen ill so had she, that as he was buffeted by the storms of pain, so was she, that as he was suffering, so was she, and that as he lay dying so was she. No James Joyce, no Oscar Wilde, no Samuel Beckett could have put it so powerfully. As Angela Murphy, the palliative care nurse with me in the room that day said later, "She was saying what he was feeling". In many ways of course she wasn't talking to us. She was speaking across the vast sea of their lives. I had spoken at a practical level about rest. The response I received was from a person adrift on that sea, not wanting to leave or soften the fate. Too often, as doctors, we speak practically and are heard emotionally. And, perhaps, that is our role. Angela and I left the room and walked back onto the ward. We were both too moved to say much. Later that day Angela rang me and said "Frank, we may never hear the like of that again." When I returned to Australia I was asked to present some memories from Ireland. I contacted Angela. Without prompting she said, "Of course, you'll talk about the woman from Meath." And in distant years if I ever were to encounter Angela Murphy again walking down O'Connell Street in Dublin or perhaps George Street in Sydney we would stop and, no doubt, remember the woman from Meath who spoke to us of a love that was boundless, a union that was indissoluble and who gave us a momentary glimpse into the mystery at the heart of it all. Frank Brennan is a palliative care physician based in Sydney. |
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The warmth of the Dublin day caught everyone by surprise. Through the window I could see children playing in the garden. We had walked into the visitors' room. The family was waiting. They were from County Meath. He was a farmer only 54, she a teacher. They had seven children. It was clear that he was dying. He had battled seemingly intractable pain, but now over the past few days was much more settled.
Comments (12)
Charles Sendegeya said...Amazing grace!
Thank you Brennan for this inspiring (to say the least)story. Yes, you guessed right...i had to hold my breath to read it to the last word.
Uganda | Saturday, 18 August 2007 at 8:30 pm
maureen cash said...true love DOES mean total self-giving!
United Kingdom | Sunday, 19 August 2007 at 3:12 am
Connaught said...The Catholic Church used to have a prayers for a happy death, that were even in schoolchildren’s prayer books. No doubt the woman from Meath had prayed them; no doubt her husband had. Reading this should inspire all of us to seek such prayers and say them for ourselves and those we love.
United States | Sunday, 19 August 2007 at 4:14 am
B Stuart said...Thank you for this tender story that mirrors my own experience with my dying husband. Love gives us the strength to go beyond our capacity.
Canada | Sunday, 19 August 2007 at 3:01 pm
margaret heavens said...as a psychoanalytic psychotherepist working in palliative care i have the privilege of sharing many patients final days. The woman from Meath remined me of Cicly Saunders book, ‘ Watch with Me’ which was taken from the gospels when jesus said in the Garden of Gethsemane, “Stay awake with with”.
The woman from Meath was beautiful.sadly in my experience not all deaths are as beautiful.
United Kingdom | Sunday, 19 August 2007 at 11:31 pm
Margaret Heaens said...as a psychoanalytic psychotherapist working in palliative care reading ‘The woman from Meath’ reminded me of Cicely Saunders book ‘Watch with Me’ she based the book on the gospel’s Jesus said, “Stay awake with Me” To be there and watch is the most beauiful thing anyone can do for a person. One’s presence is all important.
United Kingdom | Monday, 20 August 2007 at 12:25 am
Kathy Sena said...This touched my heart. We recently lost my husband’s brother to cancer, and he had home hospice care in his last days. This woman’s inspiring words remind me of my sister-in-law’s devotion to her husband. What an inspiring message here.
United States | Tuesday, 21 August 2007 at 4:05 am
That Lesbian Down The Street said...Wow… a beautiful, absolutely moving story^-^ I cannot deny it in the slightest… this seems to be true, deep, powerful love. The closest love to pure love I’ve ever heard of that wasn’t fiction.
That said… would one argue that this love, this most powerful of emotions, is exclusively limited? That this seemingly cosmic amount of devotion can only be expressed by a man to a woman, or vice versa?
Just food for thought, I don’t care if anyone answers. But really, nice story.
-- | Friday, 14 September 2007 at 6:39 am
nicole said...How moving but also how ironic. I was dumped many years ago by a doctor at a catholic college in sydney and this story has resonances for me - love gone wrong, no concern for those we come into contact with. I wonder what the good doctor would think if my story were to be documented ? perhaps he would argue that the best and worst things we do can in an instant define us. But run run away.
Australia | Wednesday, 26 September 2007 at 3:25 pm
Wedding Bride said...sad story
United Kingdom | Monday, 31 March 2008 at 9:10 pm
toronto wedding said...great post! thanks for sharing!
Cambodia | Tuesday, 20 May 2008 at 2:48 pm
Joseph said...Very good article. I appreciate your effort in posting.
http://www.visionomics.com/
India | Thursday, 24 July 2008 at 7:16 pm
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