Tonya* moved out of Joseph's House the day I began work. She had regained her strength and was able to go back to her apartment, just a few blocks from my house. Her HIV was in check, with help from medication, and her cervical cancer had gone away. Full of excitement in her journey on, she left Joseph's House. About six weeks later, she moved back into the place she had left. Her cervical cancer had returned, and there was nothing the doctors could do to stop it.
We built up a great friendship over the last two months. We watched football together, and I even rooted for the Cowboys with her (sorry Dad). We talked about boys, about friends, about family. We talked about our dreams and things we want to do. She really wanted to go on a Caribbean Cruise again because she had so much fun the first time. We watched soap operas together, her "stories", and laughed at how ridiculous they sometimes are. One evening, we were watching Extreme Makeover Home Edition, and she told me if she ever got a big house, there would always be a room for me.
Her health was quickly declining. Her pain level seemed to be continuously increasing. She spent some time in the hospice inpatient unit, and when she came back, she was a different person. Her pain was in control, but she was pretty sedated. It was difficult to see a woman who I love so much unable to express herself with words, and sometimes unable to even open her eyes. I would spend a lot of my free time at work just sitting with her, holding her hand, watching TV, praying...just sitting.
The day after Thanksgiving, she began to have seizures. I had never seen someone have a seizure before, and witnessing this was really scary. I watched at she held her breath and clenched her jaw. I watched as she made deep fists, so strong that her nails were digging into her palms. I witnessed her legs lock up as they shook, and her body turn red. I heard as her teeth grinded against each other. It was terrifying. I was scared for her. I felt helpless. And one after another, the seizures continued. Along with a few co-workers and Tonya's dear friend, we held her close to us, constantly telling her we were there, that she was not alone, that we love her and that she will always be surrounded by that love. No matter how many times I said that though, I wished so much that there was more that I could do than just love her and hold her. I wished I could take the pain away. I wished that I could just touch her forehead and the seizures would stop or the fevers would go away. But I couldn't...and it is still so hard for me to accept that.
The seizures continued on and off for 6 days. Three days after the first one began, Tonya was taken back to the hospice inpatient unit, and we all knew that she would not be back at Joseph's House. My heart broke and for the first time in a long time, I questioned God. Why would he make her suffer for so long? If he was going to take her, why couldn't he do it sooner....and why did he have to take her from Joseph's House? Why couldn't she die with us? Why did she have to suffer? It didn't seem fair. She died on World AIDS Day, and my entire being wept.
I still feel the emotions so rawly. I miss her a lot and I wonder if she was ready to die when she did. The thing that stands out the most for me though, is my reaction to it all. Typically when things get hard or challenging, I run away. But not with Tonya...I stayed there as long as I could, and my heart is still with her. Yes, it is really hard to sit with suffering. My body aches when I do so. My heart cries out. My mind tries to tell me to do something to make the suffering end. But there is nothing I can do but sit, be, and love. I still want to run away sometimes, but something holds me there and allows me to be vulnerable, allows me to accept heart break. Sometimes I want to doubt God's existence, but something forces me to dive deeper into my faith instead. I want to cry out in anger, but instead I cry out in compassion. I am not sure what it is that keeps me there, but I am glad it does.
At staff meeting yesterday, the administration shared with us a set of mantras by Roshi Joan Halifax. One sticks in my mind and I want to share that with you.
May I offer love knowing that I cannot control the course of life, suffering, or death.
God bless you all.
*Name has been changed.
